#race to the edge roleplay

[reallyprofoundkryptonite]

Okay so Uhm. Anyways. 2nd times the charm ig:)

Roleplay!

Hi, I’m Maea, if you haven’t seen me before, hello, welcome! I’m always looking for roleplay partners! But, anyways.

Once you’ve read through everything you can either reblog this and I will message you, or you can message me!

I have a few rules!

- I will only play Krogan in rp.

- I am okay with CCxCC and OCxCC ships, but please note that Krogan is going to take a while to warm up to any character. MxM ships are preferred, however if the concept of of a MxF rp is interesting enough to me I will do so!

- Please be at least semi literate, however I would prefer a partner who can write as much as me. I can write up to over the 2K character limit on Discord, and can sometimes go over that limit, so if I am going to do as such, I would like my partner to be able to do the same. If you can’t be as literate that day let me know and I can take it easy on you:)

- I am okay with NSFW, but I would prefer if that were a thing that doesn’t focus on the entirety of the plot, since that gets kind of boring. If you are going to want NSFW you MUST BE OVER THE AGE OF 18. ‼️‼️NO EXCEPTIONS FROM THIS RULE. ‼️‼️

- would prefer to rp on discord because of the ability to pin messages. I am very sporadic and tend to jump from idea to idea so this is a vital feature on me if we are going to be roleplaying on discord. It makes it easier for the both of us if we can pin messages and I can pin something so we can come back to the idea at some point.

- Mature topics such as abuse, murder, death, and other things like gore may come up in the roleplay. Self harm and other topics are a part of my lore for Krogan, so while the may not be an entirely large part of Krogan’s place in the roleplay, IT WILL BE THERE OR POSSIBLY HINTED. If you’re not comfortable with that then this is not for you.

- I will not portray Krogan as abusive or violent against his significant other (or towards anyone else, for that matter.)

My Triggers:

- Mpreg/Pregnancy (It makes me feel icky to have it a major staple, and I have a history with this issue that averted me away from roleplaying it.)

- Zoophilia, pedophilic or incestuous relationships. No. Just no. Anything that sexualized animals, children, or siblings in a relationship is a no go.

- If you’re racist, homophobic, transphobic, TERF, ablism etc. I shouldn’t have to say this but get the fuck off my blog. You aren’t welcome here.

- I will not roleplay Dagcup or Vigcup. I don’t play either Dagur, Viggo, or Hiccup. I play Krogan. Don’t even ask. This includes Hiccstrid, or any other ship that doesn’t have Krogan.

AUs/Plots

I have plenty of AUs and can come up with plots as needed. I will rp with characters outside of the httyd fandom as Krogan by putting him into the fandom. If you’re wanting to do that, just let me know and I can do a bit of reading and research in case I don!t know the lore. :)

As an Eye Catcher; Here is some of my aus:)

Modern!Krogan is the first, the second is chunky!Krogan, and the third is a lycanwing!Krogan!

#httyd #krogan #httyd rtte #krogan rtte #krogan httyd #rtte #httyd fanart #httyd fandom #httyd au #fanart #rp #roleplay #httyd roleplay #rtte roleplay #httyd krogan #rtte krogan #race to the edge roleplay #dreamworks #dreamworks dragons #roleplay open

[circusclownsam]

The transition from a lush orange forest to a dead decaying forest is absolutely beautiful.

I will always love HTTYD2. Also love how Astrid gives hiccup a “what the fuck, shut up” look when he’s mocking Eret while he’s talking about drago.

#circusclownsam talks #httyd race to the edge #httyd movies #httyd 1 #httyd series #httyd3 #httyd roleplay #httyd rp #httyd 2 #how to train your dragon rp #how to train your dragon

[ghoulgalore]

Happiness is a Warm Gun

18+ 4.5k ghoul x f!reader. predator/prey roleplay, lite bondage lite cnc into enthusiastic consent, heavy gun kink/play, pet names, clothed/naked sex, creampie, aftercare. ends tender bc i can't help myself. gif credit. written for my darling @luckytiggertalia, who asked for excessive gun kink and captor/captive. thank you! 🖤 Written as a successor to Saddle Up, Sweetheart, but can be read as a stand-alone.

Being in a relationship with the world’s most notorious bounty hunter lands you in some strange situations, but none stranger than those you concoct for yourselves. You run, and the Ghoul hunts you.

The Ghoul is one of the fiercest bounty hunters in New California, yet regardless of how terrifyingly efficient he is, everyone knows he only takes on payouts worthy of his time. With his long shadow stretching out across the west, most hunters are reluctant to take on bounties over a certain threshold, lest they accidentally come between him and his quarry.

Which, at this moment, just so happens to be you.

You’ve made it to a Red Rocket truck stop just half a mile west of Junktown. What was once a glorified gas station in a world long-gone now serves as little more than a hollowed out shell providing shade for all manner of miscreants and creatures wandering the dusty wastes, still decorated in tiny reminders of life before the war.

Crouched down behind a counter, your back pressed to the grime painted wall beneath a window, you spot a heavily aged cardboard carton labeled Grey Tortious Famous Cigarettes wedged at the very back of the second shelf behind the counter. Clicking your tongue softly, you reach for it, using the barrel of your pistol to catch the corner of the box. Carefully–and quietly–you drag it close enough to grab.

Your hopes aren’t high, but–

Jackpot.

Smiling faintly, you extract a crumpled but still half-full pack of cigarettes from the carton. You glance around, eyes wandering until you spot the decrepit remains of some poor bastard collapsed against the far wall, still garbed in their threadbare signature Red Rocket uniform. With a slight nod, you fish a single cap out of a small pouch on your belt and slide it onto the shelf.

“Pleasure doing business,” you murmur to the corpse, tucking the cigarettes carefully into the pack strapped to your thigh.

A shrill whistle, the kind you’d call a dog with, snaps your attention back to the moment. You press your back tight against the wall, sucking in a sharp breath to hold.

“Alright, darlin’, y’little goose-chase is over,” the Ghoul calls into the lot. Your heart begins to race. He sounds close. “I’m man enough to admit y’outfoxed me back at the yard, that was clever. But’cha got nowhere to slip to now,” he says, voice gradually growing louder. It’s not long before you can hear the crunch of his boots in the gravel.

You screw your eyes shut, steeling yourself with a silent breath before opening them again. He’ll have to circle the building to get where you are. The crunch of his boots is louder with each step. If he keeps yapping, it’ll be even easier to track the moment he moves out of eyesight of the window you’re hiding under, and you’ll be able to creep out to get behind him. Your grip on your pistol flexes, finger poised off the trigger.

The footsteps outside grow quiet enough that you can no longer hear them over the thundering of your heart. He hasn’t said anything, but you give it an extra few seconds to be safe, holding your breath as you gingerly lift out of your crouch, careful to keep your head beneath the window frame, eyes on the door across from you. Even if he sees you, you’ll have time enough to–

You’re jerked backwards suddenly by your jacket, a scream yanked out of you as you’re pulled against the window, knocking into it.

“There y’are,” he says through his teeth, hauling you up to your feet. Fuck, he faked you out with his steps. He holds you against the window, the edge of it biting into your back, his fist curled tightly in the collar of your jacket. “Give it up, darlin’. Y’all mine now,” he coos, his voice a sinister rasp at your ear. 

Out of desperation, you drop your pistol and throw your arms up, slipping out of your jacket and stumbling forward onto your hands and knees. Your boots skid on the floor as you scramble to your feet, launching into a run. You look over your shoulder just in time to see him vaulting in through the window, scaring you into running faster.

Where you intend to run is a problem to be solved as you go.

Unfortunately for you, the Ghoul is a step ahead. Gunfire startles you halfway out of your skin, but it’s the sign that falls in your path that stops you in your tracks. You look up and see a woven cable swaying, frayed from where the crazy son of a bitch managed to shoot it clean apart. You gear up to bolt to the left, but it’s already too late. The tell-tale hiss of a rope whipping through the air is your only warning before the lasso tightens around your arms and sternum, one sharp yank pulling you off your feet and down onto your back.

The world spins. You let out a soft groan, moving to roll onto your side, but he keeps you from it with a hardy pull, gathering the rope in his hands as he walks to you.

The Ghoul lets out a low whistle, his shadow falling over you. “Close, but no cigar, sweetheart,” he drawls, crouching over you. 

Disoriented, you stare at his upside down face. He’s got his head tilted, lips parted in a crooked sneer of a smile. His eyes are dark enough that you can see yourself in them, glinting with predatory glee. You can’t hide the trill of excitement that runs through you over being looked at like that. He clicks his tongue.  

“N’aw, don’t you look plumb tuckered,” he says, voice laced with condescending sweetness. “No rest for the wicked, m’afraid,” he says, slipping his hands under your arms and hauling you up to your feet.

“You could’ve killed me,” you rasp, throat scorched by the dry desert air.

“Don’t be dramatic,” he deflects, amused. “Y’all in one piece, ‘ain’t’cha?” His breath is a warm tickle on your neck. With the rope tight across your sternum, arms pinned to your sides, he slides his gloved hand up your thigh, over your hip. His fingers tap along as he does, tickling your ribs, cupping your breast before sliding all the way up to your throat. 

The barest hint of his lips brushes the spot just behind your ear, the feeling so faint you could have made it up entirely. You shiver, pulling sharply away, but he pulls you right back in, the worn leather of his glove soft around your neck, his grip firm. 

“Mmhm, seem perfectly intact t’me,” he says, giving your throat a steadying squeeze. “No need t’put up a fight, angel. Y’comin’ with me either way.”

This time he presses his scarred lips properly to your skin, the feel of them warm and wet. Wanting. You swallow the lump in your throat, clench your thighs against the heat building between them. 

“Let go of me,” you say, fighting to put conviction in it. 

“No can do,” he says, his breath prickling goosebumps from your scalp to your thighs. “I’ve struck the motherlode with you.”

 The rope is tied low and tight enough that you can’t elbow him or shoulder your way free. Impulsively, you move to kick at his leg, but he outmaneuvers you, catching your kick with his boot and spinning you around so suddenly you gasp.

“Oohh, y’ve got fire,” he says, lips pulled thin in a devilish smile. “I’m gonna enjoy breakin’ you.” Something hard presses into your rib, and you don’t need to look down to know it’s the muzzle of his revolver. He draws the hammer back into place with a distinctive click. 

“Why don’t you be a good li’l captive and mosey on ahead?” He says, turning you until the gun is pressed into your lower back. You suppress a shudder. That’s when the world suddenly goes black, the press of the gun briefly vanishing while fabric is pulled tight over your eyes.

Wherever he’s taking you, he wants it to be a surprise.

The Ghoul walks you at gunpoint. He keeps the rope between you taut, the barrel of his gun pressed firmly to your back. The venture there is quiet, your gait tense with anticipation. A sick little thrill runs through you every time he yanks the rope or gives you a deep jab with his gun. There’s pleasure in his voice when he tells you, “Mind your step, sweetness.”

He knows precisely the effect he has on you, even if it took him time and a half to believe it.

His knuckles dig into your back as his fingers hook over the rope, holding it like a harness as you descend a flight of stairs. He catches you when you stumble on the last step, but it still startles you.

“A warning would have been nice,” you say, turning your head blindly, angling to try and get any glimpse of your surroundings from beneath the blindfold.

“Apologies,” he drawls, not sounding very sorry at all. He nudges you forward with his gun. “I like watchin’ you struggle.”

“Yeah, you make that very–” A hard tug on the rope cuts you off and stops you in your tracks. The rope comes loose after that, full circulation returning to your hands in a rush that makes them tingle. The Ghoul’s steps resonate in the room–it sounds large, mostly empty–as he walks away from you. You stay still for a hesitant moment, head jerking at the sound of something scraping across the floor towards you.

“Awwh, ain’t you sweet, waitin’ for permission,” he says, making you flush. You quickly reach up and pull the blindfold from your eyes, blinking to adjust to the dimly lit room. 

It looks like a cleared out storage facility of some kind, with cement support beams lined up in a row down the center of the room, the walls lined with ransacked steel shelving. There’s a wire frame bed braced against one of the beams, heaped haphazardly with some pillows and blankets. 

The Ghoul sits on a rusty wrought iron chair in front of you, staring up from beneath the wide brim of his hat. From his thigh, he has his revolver fixed on you. 

“Atta girl,” he says as the blindfold hits the ground. “Now take off the rest.”

The low resonance of his voice easily commands the room. You swallow the lump in your throat, glancing down the dark barrel of his gun. Biting your tongue to keep yourself from showing too much excitement, you hurriedly reach for your–

The gunshot is deafening in the echoing expanse of the room, drowning out your scream. Already high on your own anticipation, the shot of adrenaline that goes through you with the startle nearly knocks you off your feet. 

His gun smokes in the wake of the shot that narrowly missed your reaching hand.

“Slow,” he tells you, cocking the hammer once again with his thumb.

The pound of your heart is rivaled only by the aching throb between your thighs. Breathing shallowly, you keep your eyes trained on him as you–slowly, this time–reach for your belt, pouches shifting as you unbuckle it. You lay it carefully on the ground, mindful of the treasures you acquired at the gas station, before you kick off each boot.

His gaze is heavy on you all the while, eyes dark and attentive to your every move. Your focus is on the tip of his gun, how it subtly follows along with your hands. You peel each layer off without taking your eyes from him, a shiver moving through you once your hands touch bare skin, purposefully sliding them down your hips, your legs, and then moving them slowly back up as you stand back up, stepping out of the garments pooled on the floor.

He tilts his gun sideways and beckons you forward with it, tipping his head back, dark eyes tracking your every move as you approach him. One at a time, he spreads his legs. “On y’knees, darlin’.” You obey, sinking down–slowly, he told you slow–onto your knees between his legs, bringing yourself to eye level with his gun. The cement floor feels harsh against your bare skin.

“Y’got my gun dirty runnin’ me out into the wastes like that,” he chides, leaning forward, pressing his gun to your sternum. With agonizing slowness, he drags the muzzle up through the valley between your breasts, to the notch beneath your throat, pressing into it briefly. He continues up, the metal cool against your burning skin, though not by much. He hooks the barrel under your chin and tips your head back.

“Clean it for me,” he says, pushing it between your lips.

While you open your mouth too readily for the game at hand, he doesn’t protest. The taste of the gun is bitter and metallic, but what strikes you most is the black powder residue. It’s charred with a sharp tang. A moan escapes you for the way he pushes it deeper, forcing your lips wider apart.

“Don’t be shy. Give ‘er a good spit shine, sweetheart,” he encourages, pulling the gun back only to push it deeper yet. You comply, welcoming the slide of it deeper, pressing your tongue into the grooves on the underside, your eyes half-lidded and glazed with desire. “Good,” he says, voice rough with the effect you’re having on him.

Hands braced on your own bare thighs, your nails bite dull little crescents into your skin. The rock of your body is entirely subconscious, your eyelids fluttering. It’s easy to lose yourself to the work at hand, to luxuriate in the weight of his gaze on you while he uses you, fucking your mouth with the full barrel of his gun. He’s so committed to the fantasy, you can’t help but buy into it wholly.

By the time he pulls the gun away your chin is spit slick and your tongue is tingling where you’d been pressing it to the barrel. He gives an appreciative whistle while inspecting the wet shine of his gun. “That’s better,” he says, gaze sliding to you. He stands, grabbing a thick handful of your hair to haul you up to your feet with him. The noise you make is humiliating. Needy. His answering grin is wicked.

“Time t’oil it,” he says, voice frayed at the edges. He doesn’t let that trace of impatience impact his movements any. He walks you to the bed with that same loose devil-may-care swagger, assured that he has all the time in the world to take you apart piece by piece. 

The mattress’ metal coils groan with your weight as he tosses you onto the bed, standing at the edge of it. The bed stands taller than most, bringing your pelvis parallel to his when you’re on your knees. He grabs your thigh and yanks your ass up into the air, smoothing his hand over the swell of it. He gives a sharp little slap to your rear that wrings a gasp out of you. The way he smooths his leather clad hand over the smarting spot afterwards almost feels like an apology, even if he’s really just admiring his handiwork.

“Spread,” he orders simply. You do so eagerly, widening the splay of your knees, folding your arms to rest your head on. “Look at you,” he breathes with genuine wonder, gripping your ass cheek and holding it firm while he inspects you. You can already feel what he’s looking at, how wet you are from his teasing. “Y’fuckin’ drippin’ for me.”

A shiver rolls through your whole body at the feel of his gun against your inner thigh sliding slowly upwards. Your hips give a reflexive little buck at the first touch of that warm barrel against your soaked cunt, your clit throbbing so hard it aches. “Don’t move,” he tells you. He sounds wrecked. He moves it back and forth, teasing your clit with just the muzzle of it before drawing back, and your thighs tremble with the effort to keep yourself still when all you want is to chase that precious relief.

The hiss of his zipper is the most thrilling noise you’ve ever heard. The gun disappears from between your thighs.

“Up,” he tells you, taking a rough hold of your shoulder and yanking you upright before you have the chance to comply. He holds you still while he lines himself up, the familiar thick head of his cock grinding through the wet slide of you, the length of him rubbing from taint to clit. “Y’made this big mess just from suckin’ down my gun? Christ alive, darlin’. You’re somethin’ else,” he says through his teeth. The ruin in his voice makes it feel like praise, and that feels good.

Almost as good as the slow burn of his cock pushing into you, the sound of it obscenely loud and wet. You tip your head back against his shoulder and reach back over your own, grabbing at his coat, holding onto him for dear life while he sinks deeper and deeper, pulling you back until your bare ass falls flush against him. Feeling his clothing against your bare body intensifies that intoxicating feeling of vulnerability. Never in your life has the thrill of danger been safe to explore.

Not until him.

He gives you no time to adjust, thrusting almost as soon as he’s bottomed out. 

“Fffuck,” you exhale, eyes screwed tightly shut. You start to lean forward, but he catches you by the throat, pinning you back against his chest at the same time he fires his gun, shocking your eyes wide open. Your body goes rigid, cunt seizing up so tightly around him he hisses out a breath.

“C’mon, little bunny,” he whispers in a vicious grit, pressing the still-warm muzzle firmly against your temple. “Bounce for me.” He cocks the hammer back, the smell of black powder filling your senses. 

You nod fervently, lifting up on your knees and using the mattress to bounce yourself on his cock, gravity bringing you down into every one of his hard thrusts. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, sighing his pleasure in strained little sounds. His hand slides down your throat to your chest, cupping your breast and squeezing, thumbing your nipple until you shudder.

“Close,” you moan, fist twisting in the fabric of his coat, your other hand clutching the wrist of the hand he’s fondling you with. “Please.”

His only response is to slide his hand down further, fingers slipping between your thighs. His middle finger finds your clit first, the friction making your hips jerk out of rhythm. He persists, fingering your clit in smooth circles while he fucks you hard.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs, his breath hot and wet on your neck. “All that fight’s gone now, ain’t it? Just a needy li’l thing beggin’ t’cum.” You’re so close you’re starting to shake, breath caught in your throat. “Go on, angel. Lemme hear how pretty you can beg.”

His fingers slow enough that your ascension falters. “Please!” You rasp immediately, squeezing his wrist, begging in every way you know how to. “Please, m’so close, please make me cum, please,” you plead, voice pitchy, your thoughts empty of everything but pleasure. He’s fucking you hard, chasing his own release just as fervently.  

Just like that his touch returns to full force, deftly working your clit until your pleasure crests and your pleas turn to cries. Your orgasm hits like an earthquake, a sudden eruption that renders you silent, your lips falling open on a noiseless scream. Your body locks up like a vice, euphoria turning your vision white and emptying your mind of all thought while pleasure cascades through you in hot liquid waves.

He doesn’t stop, though his thrusts slow. He fucks you deeply through your orgasm, savoring every quiver around his cock while he uses you. You don’t hear him come, but you feel it, the deep rush of heat that he empties into the core of you, his body going still against yours. Your whole body shudders and you exhale a broken little noise, dizzy from the magnitude of it all. Everything around you feels bleary, your vision fading in and out. For a moment, you feel as though you might float away from your body entirely, your consciousness barely holding on, but the feeling of him pressed against your back, holding you to him, grounds you.

He moves the gun from your temple and holsters it, adjusting his grip so that he can ease you down onto your stomach, slipping from between your legs. You pant hot puffs of air into the bedding, your vision blurry at the edges.

“Coop,” you call, signifying the end of your little game of pretend.

“M’right here,” he soothes, his bare hands upon you not a moment later. There’s a marked difference in the way he touches you now, a subtle tenderness that he’d forced out of his touch for the sake of play. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it until now, feeling it as if for the first time. 

He slides into bed next to you, having shed his gloves, coat and bandolier. You find the strength to slip an arm around him, clinging despite the tremble in your limbs. The next several seconds–moments, maybe hours, you can’t be sure–pass by in a haze of touch.

He kisses your forehead, your nose, your lips. He makes you aware of your entire body, grounding you with sweeping touches to every part of your body. It’s an intoxicating intimacy that leaves you feeling warm and drunk, still hungry for more.

 At some point Cooper gets the blanket over you, skirting his scarred fingers up and down your arm beneath it. The adrenaline crash that follows your orgasm is unlike anything you’ve experienced before, leaving you exhausted on a level beyond physical.

“Still with me?” Cooper asks after a time, fingertips tapping idle patterns on your skin as if to call you back to your body. “Mhm… Intense,” you say, the lone word slurred by your lazy tongue.

“Warned you,” he gives back, sounding nearly as ruined. His voice is deeper than usual, thoroughly frayed at the edges. It’s true, he had warned you that you were playing with fire. It’s unclear how much of that had been play, and how much was just him. Still, it had been… thrilling. Amazing. Everything you’d hoped it would be. 

“How ‘bout it, darlin’, do I scare you yet?” He asks, making it sound like an inevitability. He must believe it is.

You sigh a low hum, pretending to give the matter great thought. “Mmm… Mm-mm. Not one little bit,” you say, the words hardly legible.

“Shucks,” he says simply, feigning something like disappointment.

“Why’re you so determined to scare me off?” You ask, adjusting where your head lay on his shoulder so that you can look up at him. You’ve grown accustomed to his unique silhouette, but more than that, you’ve started to figure out what it is that makes him handsome. He’s got a wide chin and a fine jawline, and on the rare occasions you see it, a charming smile.

Much of it is in his eyes. They never fail to make your heart stutter.

“A saner question would be why you’re so determined t’stay,” he counters, those very eyes dropping to meet yours. You can’t help but smile, which–as per usual–catches him just a touch off guard.

“I got a thing for pretty men,” you say, caught up in your own musings.

His expression flattens. “Very funny,” he says, and you realize he thinks you’re mocking him.

“Hey, I mean it. I was just thinking about how handsome you are,” you say, reaching up to touch his jaw.

“There’s a specific kind’a philia for finding corpses handsome, y’know,” he says, though in his afterglow the words lack their usual sharp cynicism. They come to him more like habit than anything else.

“You’re not a corpse, Cooper,” you tell him firmly, cupping his cheek in your palm. “You don’t need to keep living like one.”

He considers you in silence for a long moment. With the back of his knuckles, he brushes your cheek. There it is again; that deep sadness that sometimes appears in his eyes when he looks at you. As if he’s mourning something.

“What?” You whisper. “Why do you–”

He kisses you, swallowing the words clean off your lips. He takes your face between his hands and kisses you, kisses you, kisses you through your meager protests until your lips move with his and you sink back down into the warmth of it. He grows progressively more relentless with it, stealing your breath until you’re forced to break away, turning your head for air.

“You can’t kiss your way out of every–”

“I know,” he interrupts you, lifting his head to level you with a hard stare. “I know, alright? But it’ll come on my terms, in my time, yeah?”

You stare, pinned by the weight in his expression. After a beat, you nod, feeling dazed by both the onslaught and his words. It’s the only time he’s acknowledged that there is something, which you suppose is progress. “Okay,” you say softly, and then again more firmly, “Okay.”

His expression softens, taking in the look of you before he kisses you again. You reciprocate, pressing into his lips with the weight of your conviction, willing him to feel how much you really do mean it. 

“Thank you for today,” you murmur, settling back down against him. “I never thought that I’d be able to… do something like that. And live,” you say, adding the last bit with a rueful smile. “I feel safe with you.”

You wait for some kind of dismissive or self-deprecating remark from him, or even a sly jab at you and your sanity, but neither come. You glance up and find him staring at you, thoughtful and–if your eyes don’t deceive you–a little sentimental.

“I don’t make promises,” he tells you, sounding resigned. “But for what it’s worth, I’d never want t’do somethin’ I thought might hurt you.”

“You’re sweet,” you say, that same sentimentality slipping into your own voice. If not a bit ominous.

“Not really,” he replies, adjusting against the bedding, his eyes falling shut. “Y’standards are just too low.”

You sigh, closing your eyes with an incredulous little smile. “Shut up.”

The two of you drift into comfortable silence, his fingers idly traipsing the contours of your body. It’s like he’s memorizing the feel of you, hyper-aware that these intimate moments together are stolen. You reciprocate, seeking out what bare skin you can with gentle brushes of your fingers. He’s never admitted as much, but you’ve long suspected he struggles with pain. He’s rarely ever unclothed, and sometimes you see him wince when he goes too long between hits of those vials.

Cooper started living on borrowed time long before he met you, but it doesn’t stop you from hoping that he might someday see something more permanent in you. With you.

In the meantime, you’ll make the most of every second.

#the ghoul #cooper howard #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout fanfic #x reader #x reader smut #fem reader #my writing #smut

[linos-luna]

Odd Fantasy ❣️

Yeonjun x Reader

Warnings: roleplay? CNC, rough sex, spanking, hair pulling, HARD KINK ?

—————————————————— 🤍

It’s a slow boring Sunday and you found yourself doing laundry. While waiting, you sat in the living room with your boyfriend. He was supposed to be watching tv but was more interested in what you were inquiring about. Something you read about online.

“It’s really not that weird.” Yeonjun said with a chuckle.

“It just seems like a weird thing to get pleasure from.”

“Well it’s roleplay, baby.” He said with a shrug. “It’s in a controlled environment and admittedly… kinda sexy.”

“Sexy?” You said, quite baffled as you got up to get the laundry. “Not sure about that.”

“What, you don’t find it sexy?” Yeonjun smirked while grabbing your waist from behind and getting close to your ear. “Just a helpless girl… home alone… when a man swoops in and shows you who’s boss…”

“N-no…” you chuckled nervously. “Not sure I like pretending to be robbed.”

“Yeah? But it’d be agreed upon beforehand. It’d be safe.” Yeonjun said while rubbing his hand up your thigh. “Just imagine…”

You blushed at the feeling, whimpering a bit as he got closer to the crotch of your pants.

“…Just a helpless girl… minding her business when someone comes in… bends her over… and fucks her good…” he smirked while rubbing your sensitive area. “… but she loves it… because she’s never felt so good…”

“M-mhm…” you stuttered before he suddenly let go, making you whine a little.

“But of course, it’s not for everyone.” He teased. “Not everyone is kinky like that. Now go get the laundry, sweetheart.”

You paused and blinked momentarily, completely forgetting about the laundry. “Y-yeah… let me go get that…” you said awkwardly before stepping out.

You thought about what he said while going to the laundry room of your apartment complex. After getting the clothes and returning to the apartment, you put them on the bed. As you were about to fold them, you realized you hadn't seen your boyfriend since you got back.

“Yeonjun…?” You called out while walking back to the living room to look for him. After a bit of searching you went back to the bedroom.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you and before you could react, you were grabbed. Pressed against a chest and a hand on your mouth. In a panic, you struggled but it was useless as he was strong.

“Hi darling, I’ve been waiting for you.” The voice said. It was Yeonjun. “Hold still.”

You groaned a bit, trying to say something but his grip was tight. You then tried moving, only for him to sternly jerk you.

“I said hold still!” He said sternly.

You whined and tried moving again, only for him to pull your hair.

“When I say hold still, you hold still!”

Your heart was racing from his stern tone, he’s never spoken to you like that before. It made you freeze but also… excited?

“Good girl…” he smirked while pushing you to the bed, bending you over the edge and yanking your pants down.

“J-Junnie??!”

“Shut up!” A suddenly spank to your ass shut you up really quick, only making you whimper.

“Jun—!”

“Shut up!” He repeated, now pulling down your underwear and lowering his pants and boxers while pinning your hands against your back with one hand.

“You’re gonna take my cock like a good girl, yeah?” He grunted while entering your cunt, surprised that it was already very wet.

“M-mmhm—”

He spanks you harshly and you cry out.

“Yes!”

Yeonjun was pretty satisfied and harshly thrusted, giving no time for adjustment.

“F-fuck! Yeonjun!” You moaned loudly as he mercilessly railed you into the bed. “F-fuck fuck fuck!”

“Taking me well…” he grunts. “You like it, huh?”

It was hard to respond as your mind went to mush. His hips thrusted so hard that the bed would move and sound of skin slapping echoed off the walls. He hit that bundle of nerves over and over, making you lose it. But he wasn’t lying; you loved it.

“Agh—! Fuck—! Jun—!” You moaned louder as he continued pounding you.

The feeling was so exhilarating. You were aroused by his words and enjoyed how rough he was. It opened a new feeling you never thought you could feel from a moment like this.

“Dirty girl… you love this shit!” He laughed deviously as he felt you squeeze around him, getting closer to your high.

Your eyes rolled back as you finally released. Before you could relax, Yeonjun pulled out and flipped you over.

He pumped his length a few times before releasing on your stomach, then putting his hands to your neck, choking you lightly.

“You like that, baby?” He panted, getting close to your face as his cock rubbed against your sensitive cunt. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“J-junnie—!” You whined as his cock was overstimulating you. The lightheadedness from his grip also felt euphoric. “F-fuck…” you panted, sounding almost as if you were giggling a bit from the high.

“Mmhm?” He smirked while giving sloppy, open mouth kisses to your parted lips. “More? You want more, right dirty girl?”

You couldn’t respond, only holding his wrist and gasping to catch your breath as he continued choking you. He only let go when it seemed you were on the verge of passing out.

You gasped when he let go, trying to get your vision to focus on him.

A complete 180 from his rough demeanor just a minute ago, Yeonjun leaned over you and gently rubbed your cheek.

“Did you like that, babygirl?” He asked while kissing your forehead. “Did I please you~?”

“Mmhm.” You responded, still sounding high.

“Would you like it again sometime?” He asked softly.”

You only nodded, still lost in pleasure. Yeonjun thought you were adorable and kissed at your neck, hoping to leave some marks behind. You closed your eyes while feeling his soft plump lips against your neck. It felt heavenly…

#kpop #kpop x reader #fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop smut #txt yeonjun #txt yeonjun x reader #txt Yeonjun x poc reader #yeonjun x poc reader #yeonjun smut #tomorrow x together yeonjun #yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun #txt fanfic #txt x poc reader #txt smut #txt #tomorrow x together fanfic #tomorrow x together smut #kpop x poc reader #kpop fanfic

[marblejack]

Watching RTGame Minecraft playthrough and Daniel's genuine fascination with vanilla experience made me reflect on how I view this game. It reminded me how I first discovered it decade ago, had the ultimate Minecraft experience of trying to figure stuff on my own (and miserably failing), then having a knowing friend behind my back teaching the basics™ and slowly getting on track from there. Surely, it's not a new game. And I feel like over the years, as I grew up, Minecraft-the-game slowly morphed into some hybrid virtual medium to hang out with friends for me. It became less of a world I get immersed in and more of an algorithm I'm really good at navigating and using its restrictions to my advantage. In a weird fashion, the only thing I can compare what modded Minecraft is to me is Hatsune Miku, an entity who functionally is an avatar with million faces and myriad stories for you to tell. In the same manner long ago modded Minecraft became a neutral base to create any game in (almost) any genre I felt like playing. It's a welcome development, but what I ultimately gave up in exchange is appreciation for simplicity of vanilla, and I became desensitized to it. Watching Daniel discover all these novelties with almost childlike wonder, I can't help but get nostalgic over how I used to see it, and how I never will be able to go back to it. That's so obvious, but so many decisions he makes I wouldn't, if I was playing. I'm probably one of those people who kept suggesting creating new world, until Daniel put effort in exploring it and discovering all those gorgeous places that I wouldn't. Seeing him roleplay and genuinely engage with the world surrounding him reminded me how decade ago I used to have a small house with a single dog on the edge of the cliff in the snowy taiga. I didn't really do anything to progress the game and was too scared to go into the caves to upgrade my tools to iron, so I tended to my little garden, fed my dog with chicken and wrote something in my only book and quill as a diary. It was all these same actions every single day, but I never felt bored. I felt isolated, but never lonely with my dog by my side, and as soon as sun had set, I was racing to my tiny hut, afraid of mobs, and my dog would feel really sad if one day I didn't return, after all. For some reason, decade later I remember everything to the tiniest detail. The layout of the house, the surrounding forest and what I wrote down back then. Since those times I had countless worlds and multiple projects, I used to speedrun Minecraft for fun and competition, but I remember so little about it all, a blurred memories of something that vaguely happened. But seeing Daniel build his tower, having beef with villagers stealing his sleeping spot, parting sea and for shits and giggles, spending two hours trying to draw a circle that functionally doesn't work for an assumption he lowkey gaslit himself into believing is true, filling out the maps of surrounding areas and looking for Bubblegum to lead home make me feel those exact feelings again. Maybe that's what it feels like to be the knowing friend sitting behind someone's back and teaching the ways of Minecraft. I never got to know what it feels like. After all, who hasn't played Minecraft nowadays?

#RTGame #Minecraft #RTGame minecraft #RTGame crowd #geometry

[impala-dreamer]

His Doll

A Supernatural Story

~Dean comes back from a hunt in a mood and Y/N is the only thing that will help him relax.~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

2,256 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Dom!Dean. Master/slave Play. Collared!Reader. Face Fucking. Objectification. Roleplay (kinda...) Fluff. 

This is an oldie from Patreon. So many many more like it are there waiting to be read... by you ;)

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

"I’ll be home in an hour. Be ready."

That's all he had said when he called.

The boys had been out on the road for more than two weeks, and time away from Y/N had given Dean plenty of ideas. Some were sweet, gentle, but others were more devious, dark. The case had given him more than a few headaches, so he clutched the steering wheel and pushed his boot down to the floorboards, gunning for home as he dreamt of what he was about to do to her.

Sam knew better than to attempt any small talk when he saw Dean’s knuckles blanch around the leather wheel; kept his mouth shut even though the Impala was breaking the sound barrier rushing down the highway.

It had been a rough few weeks.

Awash with anticipation, Y/N took her place, waiting as instructed, ready for him. She kept her head bowed, her knees slightly apart, shoulders back. Clad in Dean’s favorite white lingerie, her skin glowed against the lace; gleaming with prickles of sweat and goosebumps as she imagined all the things in store for her.

The old carpet offered little cushion beneath her knees, but she stayed there, trying to still her racing heart as she counted the seconds in her head.

Any moment, he’d be home.

Her cheeks flushed.

His hard command over the phone played in her head on a loop; he was in a mood.

Her nipples hardened.

Her teeth dug hard into her bottom lip as she started to sway, imagining his hands on her tits, his lips on her throat. The collar around her neck was tight and she swallowed against it, reminding herself that Dean was taking full charge, that she was going to give in and let him have whatever he needed, whatever he wanted.

She shivered.

Boots echoed through the hallway and Y/N lifted her eyes as they appeared in the open doorway. Not allowed to raise her head, the boots were all that she could see. Caked in layers of dried mud and more than a few splashes of blood, they lingered over the threshold and Y/N held her breath.

“Perfect.” Dean’s voice was rough and heavy, and Y/N’s heart raced.

The boots moved, stepping slowly into the bedroom. She watched the door slide shut behind them as they came close, stopping just inches from her knees.

“All dolled up for me, huh?”

Too excited to think, Y/N nodded and smiled, lifting her face to his. “Yes, baby.”

His amusement was gone, replaced with a stern grimace that hardened his features.

Dean lunged at her, grabbing her throat and lifting her upwards. She scrambled to find her footing, legs tingling with numbness as she stood before him. He hooked a finger through the metal hoop on her collar and tugged. “When you wear this, you call me Master. You understand me?” His tone was as raw and frazed as his nerves and Y/N’s knees buckled.

“Y-yes, Master! Sorry.”

Apology accepted, Dean let his eyes wander down her face and body as he held her up. Her eyes and lips were painted in dark black and red, respectively, lashes coated again and again in heavy mascara that made them pop as if they were painted on. Her tits were smashed and bound, pushed up high by the white bra; perfect and round and waiting for his touch. The collar was his favorite part tonight, and Dean let his finger drop, tugging her entire body downwards, then back up.

“Such a beautiful doll for me,” he said, voice drifting to an even, deep tone that set her body on edge. “Perfectly made up and ready.”

She exhaled slowly. “Yes, Master.”

His left hand moved quickly, jabbing between her thighs. She gasped and Dean threatened her with a look: no words.

She swallowed down a curse and held her breath as a thick finger snaked inside of her panties and traced her pussy lips slowly.

“You are ready,” he whispered, licking his lip teasingly. “I’m glad.” He yanked the collar upwards and her head fell back, exposing her throat to him completely.

“A-always ready.”

“Yes,” he agreed firmly, “you are.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Like a perfect little fuckdoll. Lubed up and ready to be used.” His lips curled around his words and she felt herself go slack.

Her legs went weak but the collar kept her upright, startling her back into her own mind as the leather dug into her neck.

Dean smirked, his eyes darkening with every breath she let go. He pulled downwards on the metal ring. “On your knees.”

Y/N dropped without hesitation; her knees slammed into the carpet, jarring every inch of her.

Dean stepped back and kicked his boots off, watching carefully as she fell into place, waiting with drooling lips and a heaving chest.  He popped open his belt, worked the leather from the brass and yanked it free of his jeans with a swift jerk of his wrist.

Y/N held her breath.

“Been such a long coupla weeks,” he said, speaking out loud but not to her. “Crap motels, long drives.”

The belt fell next to her left knee. She bit her lip, shivering inside.

“Case was fucked from the start,” he went on, slowly opening his jeans and sliding the zipper down. “Nothing went right, Sam was being a needy fuck.”

Denim fell in a stiff pool around his socked feet and Y/N swallowed a moan as gray cotton briefs followed.

“Worst of all…” Green flannel billowed to the floor. “I had no alone time.” He stepped out of his clothes and moved closer to Y/N, her eyes locked on his muscular calves. Black cotton floated into her vision, ripped carelessly from his chest. “No time to pump one out…”

Her cunt pulsed, closing around nothing.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes lifted and Dean clenched his teeth as he fisted his cock, slowly dragging his hand down from root to tip. Instinctively, she opened her mouth and her tongue rested on her bottom lip, wet and shining, ready for him.

Dean clicked his tongue. “Good girl.” He rolled his hips forward and placed the head of his cock on her waiting tongue. “Eyes on me,” he commanded. “My little fuckdoll.”

Y/N let her mind drift and set her gaze on his pure green eyes. He pushed between her teeth and her mouth clamped shut, sealing around his thick shaft and sucking gently.

Dean bit his lip and slid the ring of his fingers down to the base of his cock, pinching tightly as Y/N’s mouth tightened around him. She bobbed her head, but Dean stopped her.

“No. Don’t move.” She sat back on her knees, his cock falling from her lips with a line of spit. “You can’t move,” he told her, eyes sparkling with dominant imagination. “You’re a fuckdoll, remember?”

A wave of pleasure and obedience washed over her and Y/N’s eyes glazed over. She settled back on her heels and dropped her hands to her thighs. Eyes wide and locked on his, she opened her mouth into a perfect circle and Dean hummed in approval.

“Perfect.”

She held still and let Dean do the work, slipping himself back onto her tongue. The drag was slow and heavy, the sweaty tang of him delicious. Y/N lost herself in the push and pull of him; the quickening pace, the deep moans of pleasure that issued from his plump lips. In and out, jerking faster and harder with every pass.

Dean’s eyes closed as he savored the stillness, the wet heat of her pliant mouth. “So fucking good,” he praised, pushing in as deep as he dared. Her eyes bulged as he hit the back of her throat, but Y/N did not move, did not make a sound. He inched in deeper and her breath stopped. She swallowed around him, aching to move. Dean stopped his movements, kept his cock there on her tongue, pressing hard down into her throat, daring her.

A tear rolled down her cheek.

Dean’s eyes narrowed.

Her shoulders twitched uncontrollably.

Dean pulled out and Y/N coughed hard, gasping for air. She bent over, hands hitting the floor as she tried to calm herself, but Dean was impatient. He grabbed her collar and tugged, dragging her down onto all fours.

“That was amazing,” he said, bending to whisper in her ear, “but I wasn’t finished.”

A giant hand curled in her hair and Y/N’s neck was jerked backwards, her face a blank mask staring up at Dean. He let her hair go and stepped in front of her, bending his knees to reach her lips. Cock in hand, he twisted his hips and slapped her across the cheek with it; the hard thud sent an unusual jolt of pleasure to her cunt and she clenched.

“So obedient.” Another slap across the other cheek. “Just an empty fuckdoll.” Her eyes rolled back as her pussy leaked with arousal. “Open up.” Her tongue fell from her lips and Dean dropped his cock flat over it. He pumped his hips slowly, sliding it across her hot tongue. Wetness collected in her mouth and spilled free, trickling down the corners of her lips and onto her chin; droplets landed on her tits, shining and perfect. “So good.” He pulled away, stepping back to look her over. “Don’t move.”

She remained frozen. Wet tits hanging, palms and knees digging into the carpet, eyes up, tongue dropped.

Dean relished the sight, storing it away forever. Slowly, he rolled his fist over the head of his erection; watching, jerking, enjoying the control.

“Strip and get on the bed,” he said, suddenly breaking through the silence.

Y/N climbed to her feet and hurried to peel the lingerie away and toss it aside. She crawled onto the mattress slowly, letting him have a good look at the wetness that soaked her panties as she moved.

“On your back. Legs up.”

She obeyed, rolling onto her back in the center of the bed. She set her hands at her sides and opened her legs, picking her feet up, bent at the knees. She was folded like a Barbie doll, stiff joints and vacant eyes.

Dean grinned and joined her on the mattress.

“Such a beautiful toy.” He grunted and reached through her legs to slap her tits, watching as they moved naturally at his touch. He hit her again and held his breath, waiting for a scream, a cry, a moan that never came.

Y/N remained as quiet as a mouse, as still as a mannequin.

“Excellent.”

He was pleased, but his voice gave her nothing but chills; so deep, dark, firm. It flooded her mind with submissive desire, made her skin tingle and her pussy drip. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him.

Dean dropped half a smile as he grabbed his dick and ran it slowly through her slick folds. Sucking in his bottom lip, he moaned loudly while pushing inside, ready to cum, to fuck her roughly to sleep.

“Perfect and empty.” He bottomed out, pushing so deep inside of her that Y/N thought he would break something. “Silent and frozen.” His balls hit her ass as he pulled out and thrust back in, perfectly angled, expertly aimed. “My gorgeous little fuckdoll.”

Y/N held her breath, trying to be as perfect for him as he wanted, trying to hide all the pleasure behind a blank stare and plastic-like limbs. He felt so good inside of her after so long away, stretching her cunt with a burn that mellowed into a dull throbbing ache. Her blood was screaming, heart racing, mind amuck of unholy words that she refused to let loose.

Dean quickened his pace and her eyes widened a bit too far, her jaw dropped just a millimeter too far. He licked his lip and leaned over her, once more grabbing the loop on her collar. Her eyes flashed to his.

“Cum.”

One word broke her entire universe. It echoed around in her skull, rushed through her veins, tightened every muscle, and pushed right out of her cunt. The orgasm exploded through her like a ball of light and Y/N screamed, her fists balling over the blanket, heels locking around Dean’s trim waist as he plunged deeper and deeper. She convulsed around him, her cunt tightly drawing him back in while shoving him out. Wetness flushed from her hole, coating him, running down his thighs onto the sheets below.

“That’s it...fuck!”

He came inside of her, body stilling and stiffening up like a board and then spasming; his eyes rolled to white and his chiseled jaw trembled.

Dean huffed out a cry and fell down, wasted and sated, into her arms.

Y/N scooped him up as best she could, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and keeping him safe.

He kissed her chest, lingering over her heart before pushing upwards and taking her lips. He hummed into her, breathing his thanks, his love.

“Welcome home,” she whispered, tracing the shadow of his cheek with her fingertips.

Dean smiled and reached around to unlock her collar, stopping halfway to kiss her forehead. “Missed you.”

Y/N exhaled slowly and breathed in deep, relaxing her body and mind as he rolled to settle beside her. “I missed you too, Dean,” she replied, dropping a hand to cover his tattoo. “So, so much.”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@akshi8278 @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05  

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #18+ #one shot

[sanjoongie]

𝔻𝕒𝕪 ℕ𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟/𝔼𝕕𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘

🥀Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader (F)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact

🥀Au: start up (kdrama) au, programmers au, small business au

🥀Trope: rivals to lovers

🥀Summary: Yunho decides the best way to stop you from beating him in a race to create the best app in a technology contest is to distract you... with his body

🥀Kinks: ⚠️yunho seduces reader by beginning to masturbate in her office ⚠️ if this isn't your cup of tea, please skip!, male masturbation, edging, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, brat? Switch! Yunho, mean! Switch! Reader, oral (m), penetrative sex with a barrier, degradation

🥀Word Count: 2,620

🥀Betas: n/a

🥀Day Eighteen: size kink 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Twenty: Soft dom-sub/ Roleplay

“You shouldn't waste your time,” Yunho said as he walked into your office, hands tucked into his pants pockets. “No matter how many all-nighters you pull, you won't defeat us.”

You ignored your rival and focused on the code you were typing out on your computer. “Why are you here, Yunho?”

Yunho meandered over to where you were sitting. He leaned in, bracing one hand on your shoulder and the other gripping your computer screen. “To distract you, of course.”

Your company, and Yunho's, were both recipients of a big tech company’s investment. It was a race to create the best new app and win a coveted spot, sponsored by the big company. You and Yunho were programmer rivals. He, of course, was always ahead of you in school but you were determined to beat him here.

You rolled your eyes at Yunho’s comment. “What are you going to do? Whisper naughty things in my ear?”

“Good idea,” Yunho chuckled, “Only I'll do you one better.”

Yunho vacated the spot beside you and moved to somewhere else in the room, somewhere you couldn't see him. All that could be heard in your temporary office at the big tech headquarters was your adamant typing.

And then you heard a groan.

You couldn't help but lean far over to see around your computer monitors, and your jaw dropped to the floor. Yunho had sat on your couch, pulled up his turtleneck to expose his stomach and chest, and was currently undoing the belt to his pants.

“Yunho!” You shouted in alarm.

“If you're paying attention to me, you're not working, are you?” Yunho's lips twisted into a smirk.

Yunho's pants split into a vee to reveal the chubby that was growing in his boxers. You scooched back over so that the screens were covering your view of Yunho. “You're ridiculous. I can't believe you'd stoop so low just to win.”

“Then you really don’t—hnnnn–know me.” Oh God, what was he doing now?

Did you dare look? Did you dare not? What if someone came into the office and saw what was happening? Would you get disqualified? You had to put a stop to this.

You stood up quickly and then missed your first step. Yunho had his dick out of his boxers and was rubbing his hand up and down his length. His dark eyes were glued on you immediately. “What’s wrong, Pixelstick? Like what you see?” You hated that stupid demeaning nickname of his for you but why did it sound so hot coming out of his mouth while he touched himself?

“You sonofabitch,” You cursed him out, “Get off my couch and get out of my office.”

Yunho bit down on his lip teasingly. “Make me?”

“I'm going to kill you,” You vowed. You walked closer to Yunho and kicked his rather large shoe. “Stop playing dirty! It’s not going to work.”

Yunho looked at you then down at his cock. He used his thumb to smear some of his precum along his sensitive head and bucked up into the air. “Tell me you don’t want to wrap your mouth around me right now. That you don’t want to get down on your knees and swirl your tongue where my thumb is.”

Your nails made painful marks into your palms as they curled into two fists. Yunho’s lips parted and he started to breathe out of his mouth. You don’t know what you were thinking, but you lunged to grab Yunho’s wrist to stop him from doing any more and instead, made him jerk his hand upwards. When Yunho moved to yank his hand away, it came back down, making you fall down on top of his thighs. You were inadvertently on your knees beside Yunho’s leg and your head dangerously close to his cock. You couldn’t help but lick your lips. Damn it, Yunho!

“Are you just going to eat me up by looking at me or are you going to do something about it, loser?” Yunho inquired with a laugh.

“Fuck you, Yunho,” You spat, pushing yourself up.

Yunho patted his thigh. “There’s always room for you.”

You moved back to your computer and started back on your code. Surely Yunho would get tired of this charade and leave, right? Wrong.

Yunho took this as freedom to do exactly what he wanted. He moaned loudly, and to make matters worse, he was including you into his delusions now. “Bet your cunt is wet thinking of fucking me, right, Pixelstick?” Yunho let out a shaky exhale. “Fuck, I bet hate sex with you is hotter than anything.”

You swallowed but you didn’t find any moisture in your mouth. “Come on, Yunho, stop this,” You whined.

Yunho groaned and laughed at the same time. “I think you wanna pull at my hair and get me to gasp for you. You’ve always struck me as a girl who knows what she wants. I think you’ve wanted me for a long time.”

You start to squeeze your thighs together and rub your lips together. You could feel wetness pooling in your underwear and you inwardly cursed yourself. Of course, you knew your rival was attractive, in an abstract way that you would never outwardly admit. But listening to him talk like this, the image of his exposed body only on the other side of your monitor, was driving you insane.

You hear Yunho whine next and then hear some shuffling and then there’s no noise in the room because you can't code anymore. Yunho was successfully distracting you.

“Yunho–” You stood up and your breath caught in the back of your throat.

Yunho appeared a bit flushed, his long fingers holding the base of his cock. If you didn’t know any better, it looked like Yunho had just edged himself and was holding himself back from coming. He was really serious about this right now.

Yunho cocked his head flirtatiously at you. “You sure you don’t want to help me out?”

You abruptly sat back down again. The fuck kind of seduction technique was this and why was it working? “No,” You said rather firmly, causing Yunho to laugh again.

“Guess we’ll go again then.”

Yunho groaned loudly and you muffled a whimper of your own, biting down on your finger. Why did he sound so fucking good right now? You were not–could not–think about fucking your rival. You really had code to write, you had people you couldn’t let down, you–

“Your tiny hands look so cute around my cock, loser,” Yunho grunted. He was definitely still masturbating. “Can you even fit me in your mouth? You’re so cute.”

“Yunho, you have to stop this!” You stood up for the umpteenth time.

Yunho’s hand leisurely worked his length. His head was back on the couch, the line of his jaw and his long neck looking delicious. You shook your head. You couldn’t fall for this. “I’ll stop if you prove to me that you’re not turned on by this; that you don’t want to come over and sink on my dick.”

Well, that was going to prove impossible. What if… “If I fuck you, will you leave?”

Yunho raised his head up slightly, raising his eyebrows at you. “Are you offering to fuck me?”

“Yes. No.” You bit down on your own lip in uncertainty. “If I make you cum, will you leave?”

Yunho smirked. “You’re afraid to show me how wet you are, aren’t you? Such a cute loser.”

You stomped your foot in frustration. “If I’ve got to suck you off to get your smug face out of my office, fine.”

Your feet somehow moved all the way in front of Yunho and you dropped to your knees. You pushed his knees far apart to make room for yourself. You knocked Yunho’s hands away from his cock and took him firmly with two, one stacked on top of the other. You avoided all eye contact with Yunho and took the head of him inside of your mouth. You sucked only on his head, your lips finding the seam of his head. You swirled your tongue around there, tasting Yunho. You tried to not squirm because of Yunho’s breathy groan.

“Oh fuck yes,” Yunho moaned loudly.

You ran your tongue along the slit of Yunho’s cock and he bucked into your mouth, making your tongue lie flat along his head. You continued to play with the head of Yunho’s cock with your mouth and tongue, only moving your hands slightly along his length.

“You’re…you’re driving me wild, Pixelstick, I didn’t think you had it in you,” Yunho rasped huskily.

You hoped to get Yunho to come quickly in your mouth but it seemed like since he had been edging himself, he wasn’t quick to release himself inside of your mouth. You whined in frustration and that made Yunho chuckle. “What’s wrong, loser? Are you having trouble? Want me to take care of you?”

You released his cock from your mouth and scowled at your rival. “I’m not having any trouble at all.”

“If you’re shy, I could fuck you without us facing each other. It’s cute you don’t think you can stare me in the eye while I’m balls deep in you, Pixelstick.” Yunho folded his arms behind his head, confident in his words.

You groaned in frustration and left to go find some condoms. Yunho caught your wrist and pulled one from his pocket. “You think I didn’t come prepared? You're a career woman, after all, you’d never risk getting pregnant on a hook up.”

You really didn’t like how well Yunho knew you. “I will get you to come and then you will leave, do you hear me?” You knelt on the couch, thighs against the arm of the couch, as you braced yourself on the tops of the arm. You pulled up your skirt and looked over your shoulder. “Will you hurry up already?”

Yunho split open the wrapper of the condom with his teeth and then slipped on the bright pink condom easily. You turned your head, not needing to see how nimble his fingers were, working on rolling the condom down his length. He probably kept condoms on him because his cock really was that big–damn it!

“Ready for me, loser?” Yunho whispered into your ear. His breath was hot on your ear and the head of his cock rubbed against your cunt, your underwear still firmly in place.

“If you call me loser while we fuck, I will kick you out so fast,” You bit at him.

“So… should I call you lover, instead?” Yunho mused.

You reached around Yunho’s head and gripped his hair harshly in your hand. You brought your lips dangerously close to Yunho’s. “Fuck me or leave, Yunho,” You snarled lowly.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Yunho chuckled.

He pushed your underwear to the side and pushed slowly into you. “Oh fuck,” Yunho cursed again. He fucked you slowly and that made you frustrated instantly.

“Don’t you dare edge yourself inside of me–or edge me!” You shouted.

“You should be groaning, not scolding me. Hmmm, something isn’t right,” Yunho said out loud. He adjusted his stance behind you. He pushed your legs together and pushed your hips further against the arm of the couch. “Oh shit, you’re so tighter like that, fuck, that backfired.”

You would have cackled in glee until Yunho started to move and you squealed in pleasure. Yunho was right. Something about this slight change made everything a little bit more intense. “Did you like that, lover?” Yunho purred from behind you. “Do you want more?”

“This isn’t about me right now,” You said through gritted teeth. “Just fuck me already, Yunho.”

It was getting harder and harder to keep the whine out of your voice as Yunho fucked you. You were trying real hard to keep quiet but the way Yunho was fucking you was so good, it was hard to keep your noises silent.

“You’re going to mark yourself, stop that,” Yunho commanded quietly. He pulled your hand from your mouth and a low whine built up in the back of your throat immediately at the odd gentleness from the man that was constantly poking at you.

“Yu…yunho…” You panted. “Hurry up!”

“Just admit it,” Yunho said quietly, “Admit that you like the way I fuck you.”

You had had enough. You still had code to write, you were turned on beyond reason at the fact that your rival was fucking you in your office right now and you were tired of fighting with yourself.

“Yunho, please,” You begged.

“Please what, lover?” Yunho growled, hips still moving against your ass.

“It’s good,” You whined, “Just make us come.”

“What’s that?” Yunho teased you, “Could you speak up? Did you just say I was fucking you good?”

“Yunho!” You shouted coarsely.

“Say it properly,” Yunho instructed.

“Your dick is fucking me so damn good,” You cooed and Yunho melted against you.

“That’s my girl,” He hummed back at you. “Gonna fuck you into a nice orgasm and melt your stress away, huh? You won’t have a bad thing to say about me then, hmm?”

Yunho’s hands were firm but gentle on your hips as he fucked you from behind. He coaxed you to an almost-orgasm quite a few times, if only to hear you plead and compliment him. Your voice grew hoarse from the amount of times he denied you, and himself, an orgasm, just to get you to say everything he’d been dying to hear.

Yunho had always wanted to be your peer, someone to share the ambition you both carried, but you had always seen him as your rival. So he played your game; played to be the man you continued to see him as. But this time, in this very important race for a coveted contract from the biggest tech firm in the business, Yunho found an opportunity to get everything he wanted.

It had all started with finding you in said office late one night, fingers in your tight little cunt, whining his name. It had been a god awful hour and you had probably been certain that no one was in the building, but Yunho had been double checking the other programmers work and had been dragging himself home when he had heard the small noises coming from your office. He hadn’t meant to spy but when your name had left his lips, he had convinced himself then and there that he would get you to say his name while his actual cock was inside of you.

When Yunho finally let the two of you come, you were sweating and whining and a total mess beneath him. Yunho had not fared any better, breathing heavily and coming so much, he swore the condom would be bursting when he pulled out of you.

“Try to not be so loud when you masturbate in the office next time, huh loser?” Yunho told you as he patted your ass and pulled out.

“You–what? fuck,” You cursed softly. “Is this what this is about?!”

Yunho pulled his phone out of his pocket and airdropped a note with his phone number. “When you decide your fingers can’t possibly do what I can do for you, you message me, how about that, Pixelstick?”

How you managed to fix your skirt, walk back to your station and work on your code was a mystery to you. Especially when you were daydreaming of getting Yunho to come in your mouth next time… wait, there was going to be a next time? Perhaps Yunho had fucked all your common sense out of you, because that sounded like a mistake just waiting to happen.

🥀Day Eighteen: size kink 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Twenty: Soft dom-sub/ Roleplay

#joongfryefff24 #pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #ateez smut #jeong yungo smut #atz smut #yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #topaz's work #ღatz

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝

Novelties came and went as the years passed — the phases of costumes and trends passed you by with as little care as the last, but not this year. You were determined to make this a surprise that would take Bucky by storm, especially if you reaped the rewards of it. 

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ღ Nurse!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ღ 3.2k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ღ Fluff ჻჻჻ SMUT: Unprotected, clothed and desperate piv, roleplay, clit play, squirting, multiple orgasms, dirty talk to the extreme ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, daddy, uniform

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ღ This was originally a prompt that @smutconnoisseur gave me many months ago, and I hope I did it justice.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ღ Cravin' by Stileto, Kendyle Paige

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ღ @rookthorne's Fright Night — Masterlist ღ @anyfandomfluffbingo 𝗜𝟯 — Nurse/Patient — Masterlist ღ @mcukinkbingo 𝗡𝟰 — Revealing Clothes — Masterlist

𝐀 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

If there was one thing you were grateful for during Halloween, it was the ease of access to costumes. 

At least, that’s what you thought as you stared at the spread of your choice of costume over the bed covers in front of you. It was a simple fit, if only a little sexy — it was the best you could find that looked even remotely comfortable. The kit that it came with included a flimsy, plastic stethoscope, and a headband that looked utterly ridiculous. 

You shook your head and tossed said headband into the waste bin next to the door, and then you eyed the set of thigh high stockings and garters. The lingerie sale had enticed you into getting them and you figured you may as well go all out — it was a treat, why not?

It was only when you were struggling to pull said thigh highs up your legs did you regret the choice to include them at all. “This is ridiculous-” You grunted, yanking the elastic higher and you grimaced at the sound of tearing fabric. “Hard. What the hell, how did women do this on the daily–?”

“Baby?” Bucky called from the living room, just where you had left him. “Are you alright? What’re you doin’?”

“Nothing!” you called back, hopping on one foot to sit on the edge of the mattress. “It’s fine, don’t worry–I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Okay…” He didn’t sound convinced, but you didn’t hear him approaching the bedroom, either. 

You blew out a breath of relief and continued on the painstaking task of dressing up. The skirt of the costume flared out from your waist and ended just below your ass – if you stood straight, you were covered, if you bent over, Bucky would learn just how little you were wearing after all. 

Forgoing panties was a new, foreign feeling, but it made your heart race in the best way – it felt like you were carrying and concealing a secret that only Bucky would find out and know. 

With the stockings and dress in place, you heaved a sigh, panting slightly with the effort. “This better be worth it,” you muttered as you grabbed the small heels from the foot of the bed. In some way, you knew it would be, but you reserved your judgement for when you rounded the corner to face the living room, where Bucky was currently lounging and reading a book. 

You looked back at the bed once more to make sure it was neat, and then you slowly padded out of the bedroom, careful to not let the heels click too loudly over the floor. The stethoscope that came with the costume dangled in your hand before you placed it around your neck. 

Taking a deep breath, you mustered all of the grace, courage, and sensuality you could manage, and you peeked around the corner. 

Bucky was curled up on one end of the couch, legs tucked up and to the side of his body, while he rested the book on his knee. There was a thoughtful frown on his lips, and crease between his brows as his eyes flitted from left to right over the page, and then when he changed the page, the tip of his tongue ran over his lips before that frown would appear once again. 

A navy blue henley stretched over his chest and shoulders while the sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing his muscled forearms and gentle hands. His thighs were covered in the soft fabric of his favourite (and your favourite) grey sweatpants that hugged his thighs and showed off much more. 

Loose strands of hair from the bun at the nape of his neck framed his face, bringing to life just the shadow of stubble he’d let grow over his two days off. The glasses perched on the edge of his nose slipped slightly and you watched, your mouth watering, as his hand moved from the book and pushed the frames back up with his index finger. 

He insisted that they were good for reducing strain on his eyes; you insisted they were an aphrodisiac. 

While you stared, he licked the tip of his finger and flipped the page once more, completely oblivious to your presence around the corner. It was a battle to keep the small whimper in your throat from escaping at such a small gesture, but your cunt began to throb the more you watched his mouth. 

Get it together, you scolded yourself, gritting your teeth slightly in determination. 

You stepped forward and rounded the corner, still careful to keep quiet, and you crossed your arms just under your breasts. 

Bucky didn’t look up from his book when he said, “Hey, you alright?”

“Fine, babe,” you answered, arching a brow. “How’s the book?”

Not missing a beat, Bucky huffed and replied, “It’s okay–I don’t get what the hype behind it, but what can you do?”

“Right.” The two of you fell back into a comfortable, but charged, silence. “Buck?”

“Yeah?” He still didn’t look up from his book. He bit his lip as he turned the page again and the action made you squeeze your thighs. 

Impatience finally stirred you into action, and you cleared your throat. 

Only then did Bucky finally glanced upwards, but what he saw didn’t seem to register, because he looked back down at his book. 

The spell lasted less than a second. 

His head shot back up to stare at you so fast you were worried he would put a crick in his neck, and his mouth fell slack with the shock. Weakly, he uttered, “What the–?”

“Surprise,” you teased, blowing him a kiss. “I think it’s time for your examination.”

Bucky sat stock still for a moment, blinking rapidly as his book fell to the floor, entirely forgotten. “E-Examination?”

“You’ve been a good boy waiting for me, daddy,” you purred, and you beckoned him closer with a crook of your finger. “Come on. I’ll take you back.”

Wordlessly – whether he was too stunned to speak, or unable to even open his mouth to utter anything – Bucky rose from his perch on the couch, his cock already pitching a tent in his sweats. You grinned and grabbed his hand, before you turned and started to walk back to the bedroom. 

It was then something seemed to clunk into place in Bucky’s mind, but it was the wrong gear. 

“How the fuck do they expect us to do our jobs in that beats me, look, it’s so impractical!” Bucky said in one breath. You stopped and blinked at him for a second before he ploughed on, unable to take in the context that this was a sexy nurse costume. “You can’t bend in that; you can’t check vitals. And where the hell would you keep a damn pen?”

“Uh-”

Bucky scoffed, looking at the stethoscope that rested on your chest. “And that? Good luck gettin’ anything from that.” He looked down at your shoes and raised his brows in disbelief. “What- I swear they’re goin’ to kill me. How in the hell are we gonna do shifts with those?”

You couldn’t believe it. Here Bucky stood, in the middle of the living room with his dick half-mast, ranting and raving over a novelty costume. It took all of your will to not burst into hysterical laughter at the sheer humour of the situation – instead, you let go of Bucky’s hand and crossed your arms, sure to push your breasts up as you turned to fully face him again. 

His eyes were drawn to them, and he immediately opened his mouth to speak, but something seemed to click in his mind – this time, the right gear landed in place. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“Fuck.”

Before you could even point out that it was a bit of fun, Bucky launched forward and claimed your lips with his, bodily forcing you back against the wall where you squeaked into his mouth at the impact. “Fuckin’ hell, baby–what made you think a’this?” His voice was raspy and deep with need, and it only made you whine in reply. “I need to fuck you–need it so bad, Sugar, please.”

“Fuck me, daddy,” you whispered against his lips, gripping the back of his neck. He went willingly when you guided him to your throat, eagerly mouthing and nipping at the skin. There was brush of pressure over your costume and you gasped sharply when you realised his hips were stuttering – fucking the air in his desperation. “Need your cock, please.”

Bucky groaned and sucked harshly over your pulse point. 

Your movements were clumsy as you stumbled into the bedroom, pulling Bucky along when he refused to let go of your body and cease his attack on your neck with his tongue and lips. He was breathing heavily as he moved his hands over your waist, roaming over your body until his palms brushed the tops of your thighs. 

The lack of fabric or lace where your panties would have been seemed to make him pause. “You’re not–there’s- Fuck,” he rasped, moving his hands to cup your bare ass.

You moaned and fisted a hand in his hair, jostling the bun and his hair fell from the updo. “Wanted to be bare for you, daddy. Fill me up, c’mon.”

“I’ll do more than that, baby,” Bucky growled, and you shrieked in shock as he forced you down onto the bed, and he followed you, crawling up to your face and settling his still clothed crotch over your bare cunt. “You think you can tease me like this an’ get away with it?”

His forearms bracketed your shoulders as he grinded down into your heat, ignorant of the slick that now covered his crotch. “You’re gonna take my cock like a good girl, and you’re gonna beg for me to stop, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you moaned, and you fumbled with the elastic of his sweats and briefs, while his mouth continued the attack over your neck, going as far as your collarbone. “Give it to me–so ready for it.”

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured against your skin. 

You felt the hitch in his breath rather than hearing it when you pulled his cock free from his boxers – it was heavy and hot in your hands, and for such a short window of arousal, it was already red and purpling over the head.

 “Fuck,” Bucky moaned, and his hips shuddered as you pumped him with your fist, spreading the precum that had leaked down his shaft. You moved your other hand to trace over his head until he whimpered. “Baby–baby, shit. Please-”

In a blind urge of desperation, and with your hands occupied with his cock, you moved your feet to push down his sweats and boxers off all the way, but he gripped your ankle in his hand.

“No,” Bucky growled low in his throat. “Can’t wait, honey. Need your pussy, an’ I need it now. Don’t keep her from me.” 

Heady arousal flushed your system and a wave of dizziness made you gasp. 

“Fuck–yes, come on,” you begged, and you groaned loudly as he slowly forced his cock into your cunt, the stretch of it on the right side of painful. “Yes! Don’t stop, don’t stop–please!”

“Take it, baby,” Bucky moaned, his lips hovering over yours. “Such a good girl, only a bit to go–c’mon, open up for daddy-” The litany of praises was cut off with a harsh grunt when he finally bottomed out. “That’s it, good girl–good fuckin’ girl. Oh my god, fuck yes.”

Your breath turned laboured with him fully seated in your cunt, and you couldn’t stop the flutters that pulsed around him, making the slight jolts of his hips even harder to breathe through. “You feel s’good–so big, daddy.”

“I know, honey, baby,” Bucky murmured, kissing you softly. He rocked his hips slowly, teasingly, and each stroke made you whimper in your throat. “But you take me so well, jus’ like you were made for my cock, huh? Perfect fuckhole for daddy.” 

“Hnng- Yeah, yeah, ‘m perfect,” you mumbled, dizzy with the pleasure of his words. 

“Yeah, you are,” Bucky cooed. “Think you can take more, baby?” Your hair shook out from behind you with the eagerness of your nod, and he chuckled lowly before pecking your nose. “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s see if you can get daddy to do his cardio for the day–need to keep ‘im in shape, yeah?”

Bucky’s hips surged forward and fucked into you with abandon – each thrust punched the air from your lungs with a huff and you gripped his shoulders, bunching the fabric of his shirt in your hands. “Ah–fuck! Yes, daddy!”

“Fuck,” he breathed, and he ducked his head to mouth at your throat. His hips drove forward with such ferocity you were pushed up the mattress. “You feel like heaven, honey–this pussy s’all mine. Mine.”

You couldn’t speak around the litany of squeaks and moans falling from your lips, but Bucky continued anyway. “Seein’ you in this pretty little outfit–shit, baby. You’re gonna kill me.”

“Worth- Oh! It–so worth it!”

“Fuckin’ agree with you, baby,” Bucky huffed. “Now you’ve got me needin’ to fuck this tight pussy so good she’ll be gaping when ‘m done–y’know that right, baby girl?”

Breathlessly, you shuddered and moaned a quiet, “Yes.”

“Good girl. Now take it.” Bucky’s thrusts became impossibly fast and you were sure your thighs would be bruised by the end of this tryst. 

When the coil low in your stomach began to tighten, Bucky moved an arm from next to your shoulder and he whispered, “Want you to cum for me, baby. Need to feel you squeeze my cock.” His fingers brushed over your sternum. “Over, and over.” You could feel the pads of his fingers dance over your hips, and you whimpered when he leaned in close, his lips now right next to your ear. “And over, sweetheart.” 

The pad of his index and ring fingers thrummed over your bundle of nerves with such speed you couldn’t draw breath from the onslaught of pleasure. 

“That’s it, that’s it!” he called over your whines, and he fucked you harder – the strokes of his cock long and deep. “Oh, fuck–sweetheart, give it to me, give it to daddy. C’mon.”

Your climax roared through your body like a wildfire, bright and hot in its destruction; back bowed to the ceiling, you could feel the heat from Bucky’s chest over your middle while he continued to move his hips in a circular grind. 

“Oh, fuck–shit, daddy,” you gasped finally, the waves now settling deep in your core again. “Fuck.”

Bucky chuckled, still rocking his hips. “I know you got one more in you, sweetheart,” he purred, and he nuzzled your neck, kissing it softly. “Let’s see just how hard I can get my nurse to cum for me.”

“Bu- Ah! Ah–fuck!” You gasped as Bucky fucked you up the mattress, his knees planted firmly to give him more leverage. The faster he fucked into you, the faster the feeling of another climax crested. This one felt different; more intense. “Oh, fuck–something- Different,” you hicupped, grabbing his biceps. 

You could feel his grin against your throat. “I know, honey–you’re already squeezin’ me. Do you hear that?” The slick sounds of his cock fucking into you was loud over your pants for air, and you nodded weakly. You felt slick and cum run down your thighs and ass as he moved in and out of your heat. “I think you might even squirt for me this time, baby. You’re so fuckin’ wet–a fuckin’ mess for me.”

A shuddered moan fell from your lips before you could clamp your mouth shut. “Daddy–”

“That’s it, call me,” Bucky grunted, and he pulled away from your neck, balancing himself on his forearms to look down at you, watching your face as it contorted with the pleasure that he was giving you. “Call me, baby–I wanna hear my name on your lips when you fuckin’ squeeze my cock when you cum.”

Sharp, white hot pleasure tore through your body, from head to toe, and you keened as Bucky forced his cock deeper. “You’re pushin’ me out, honey–lemme in, need to feel it,” he moaned. “Fuck, you’re so pretty; that’s it, that- Fuck!”

You felt the dampness of your thighs before you could comprehend the heightened pleasure, and you glanced down to watch Bucky’s lower half become soaked from your climax. “Oh-”

“Fuck, that was hot,” Bucky breathed, and before you could answer, he crashed his lips to yours and forced his tongue into your mouth, fucking it languidly while his hips stuttered in their rhythm. You panted as Bucky pulled back, his breath fanning over your spit-slick lips. “I need t’a cum, baby,” he pleaded, thrusting deeper. “Please, please–lemme cum in-”

“Yes,” you rasped, nodding. The fabric in your fists was damp with sweat, and you suspected your costume was thoroughly ruined, but with the fucked out expression on his face, it was well worth it. “I want you to cum in me, daddy–give it to me, I need it.”

Bucky groaned and shuddered. He lowered his head to your shoulder and rested his forehead on your collarbone. You could hear him panting over the slapping of skin and slick noises of his cock in your cunt, and you fisted his hair. “Fuck me, daddy. Use my pussy–fuck it hard.”

“Oh, fuck,” he rasped. Each thrust sent a shock of pleasure curling up your spine, but you brushed it off, intent on making Bucky cum – you squeezed around him and scratched his scalp, pulling the strands between your fingers. “Yeah–yes, oh shit, baby!”

You grinned and fisted his hair tight, forcing his head up and over yours so you could watch his face. “Cum for me.” Bucky blinked and gritted his teeth as his hips faltered, then his mouth opened in a moan that sent a shiver down your spine. “That’s it–give it to me, daddy,” you cooed, cupping his face in your hands. Warmth bloomed in your cunt, and you moaned with him.

The slow, rocking rhythm Bucky set with his hips soothed you, bringing you slowly down from your high while he descended from his. “Fuckin’ hell, Sugar,” he murmured, and he kissed you on the lips, then the forehead. 

“Do you think your cardio is done for the day?” you teased, and you bit your lip as you ran your hands down his chest, admiring the way the henley was soaked with his sweat. “You worked real hard, daddy.”

Bucky grinned and barked a laugh. “Nah, baby girl. ‘M not done with you yet.” He lowered himself and wriggled his arms behind your back to hug you, trapping you in place. “But I do need a minute. Fuck.” 

The damp strands of his hair stuck to your fingers as you combed through his hair, content to wait a moment for him to catch his breath. “I think we should get you to do a stress test, too–just to be sure.” 

You giggled as Bucky’s shoulder’s shook from quiet laughter, and then he moved to look down at you. “You know, you didn’t do a very thorough exam, nurse. I think you need to be taught how to do it properly.”

“Deal.”

The two of you laid there in one another’s arms, breathing and enjoying the closeness. It was then you decided you truly did love Halloween – especially for the costumes.

ha, yeah I am dead.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #rookthorne's works

[reallyprofoundkryptonite]

Alright so it is, in fact, fishy month. However, I have been, as of recent, CRAVING some mer!Krogan roleplay so like uhhh. Dm me or whatever if you wanna do that ig? I will only rp with Krogan as my main but I am okay with both ocs or canon characters. Mer aus are great too! Since that is the theme of this post kutdkutdkytckytc perhaps planning to use a new siren!Krogan au I have been plotting over for a while but we shall see.

I am alright with ships. (Even romantic ones) though NSFW is not… exactly my cup of tea so uh. Yeah. Shipping probably won’t be the forefront of the roleplay but I’m good with it becoming a thing as Krogan interacts with the character(s) you are playing later down the line

Also I would like for my partner to be able to smack in at least one or two paragraphs.

If you want more info about my roleplay and stuff here’s a link to my boundaries: https://www.tumblr.com/reallyprofoundkryptonite/738359399605747712/reblogging-this-um-like-thisreblog-it-if-you?source=share

#httyd #krogan #httyd rtte #krogan rtte #krogan httyd #rtte #httyd fanart #httyd fandom #httyd au #fanart #race to the edge #roleplay #httyd rp #httyd roleplay #dms open #rtte krogan #httyd krogan #viggo grimborn #kroggo #viggo/krogan #literate rp #rp #rp request

[circusclownsam]

S1E8

The house gothi n Stoick are infront of?

Pretty sure that’s Mildews house from the DOB and ROB series.

Dunno tho.

#roleplay #oc tag #httyd series #how to train a dragon 2 #httyd 2 #httyd #httyd rtte #httyd race to the edge

[bantarleton]

Who Wants a Non-Hessian German Troops of the American Revolution Uniform Identification Flow Chart?

Now you too can roleplay as a harried British staff officer trying to identify which troops are encamped where, or a devious rebel spy collecting intelligence.

As folks may or may not know, only roughly 50% of the German state troops who served the British Crown during the American Revolution were “Hessians” from Hesse-Cassel. There were six other states that provided “subsidy troops.” Here’s how to tell them apart at a glance.

Are their uniforms predominantly dark blue? If yes, go to the paragraph numbered 4. If no, go to the para numbered 2.

2. Are their uniforms predominantly white? If no, go to the para numbered 3. If yes, those are troops from Anhalt-Zerbst. The only German state involved in the war to take its uniform and organisational cues from Austria rather than Prussia, the single Anhalt-Zerbst line regiment deployed to America wore white regimental coats faced with red. Their grenadiers wore bearskins rather than metal-faced caps (the only other German state to do this was Waldeck). One battalion also, according to one shocked British officer, had one of the most outrageous-looking uniforms of the war, including hussar hats, red and yellow waist sashes and red cloaks - these may have been “pandour” irregulars from the edges of the Austrian empire.

3. The coats are neither white nor blue, so they must be red. In this case, the troops are Hanoverian. While still mostly following Prussian style, because they shared a ruler with Britain, Hanoverian troops wore red. Five Hanoverian regiments assisted Britain with vital Mediterranean defence during the American Revolution, before going on to fight in India. They were the only redcoat Germans fighting for the Crown outside the British Army.

4. Your Germans are wearing blue coats. Are the buttons on the coat lapels arranged 1-2-1, and do the cuffs have a “Swedish” style slit to them? If no, go to the para numbered 5. If yes, they’re from Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel. Brunswick provided the most soldiers after Hesse-Cassel, and arguably the most rounded force, with four line regiments, one dragoon regiment, one grenadier battalion and one light infantry battalion. But whether jäger, musketeers or grenadiers, they almost all had coat buttons in groups of 1-2-1 and the slit-style cuffs. Fun fact; the Brunswick crest of a racing white horse on a red field was the same as neighbouring Hanover’s.

5. Your Germans are wearing blue, but don’t have buttons in 1-2-1 and Swedish cuffs. Do they have yellow facings, and cuffs with buttons placed both horizontally and vertically? If no, go to the para numbered 6. If yes, they are from Waldeck. This German state usually provided troops for the Dutch, but raised a new unit, the 3rd English-Waldeck Regiment, for service in America. They mostly fought against the Spanish in the Deep South, where they were decimated by disease. If the unusual position of the buttons on the cuff isn’t enough, look for the belt plate bearing “FF” for “Fuerst Friedrich,” the state’s ruler.

6. Do your blue Germans have red facings, cocked hats and unusual lace on their coats, shaped like a figure-of-eight? If no, go to the para numbered 7. If yes, they’re from Hesse-Hanau. This state was closely related (in the sense of its ruler, literally) to Hesse-Cassel, yet remained independent. While it provided a small amount of artillery, jägers and freikorps light infantry, its main contribution was a single line regiment, Erbprinz. Their distinctive features were scalloped lace on their cocked hats and the figure-of-eight “Brandenburg” style lace. There was also a Hesse-Cassel Regiment Erbprinz (even sharing the same colonel-in-chief), but they were fusiliers with caps rather than the Hesse-Hanau musketeers with their cocked hats. Check the mistake made by this artwork - these are Hesse-Hanau soldiers from the Infanterie Regiment Erbprinz, but they’re wearing Cassel fusilier caps. Bonus fact; Hanau and Cassel’s crest both features a rampant lion with red and white stripes, but there are subtle differences - they face opposite directions, the style of stripes are slightly different, and the Hanau lion lacks the Cassel one’s crown, but does wield a sword.

7. Do your blue-coated Germans have a black eagle on their flags and grenadier cap plates? If no, they’re probably from Hesse-Cassel. If yes, they’re from Ansbach-Bayreuth. This German state consisted of two provinces, Ansbach and Bayreuth (funny that). Besides jägers and some battalion guns, their main contribution was two infantry regiments, one from each of the two provinces. Their ruler’s crest was a black eagle, similar to the Prussian one.

Of course these posts don’t account for the uniforms of the jäger corps, or musicians, or any artillery, but it can serve as a rough guide. For the proper detail, you’ll have to buy my forthcoming book on the topic!

Also would be pretty cool if someone made an actual flow chart out of this, just saying!

#hessian #hessians #german #germany #german army #german military #18th century #history #military history #american revolution #revwar #american war of independence

[houseofanticipation]

You have a cnc kink. You've mentioned it to your boyfriend a few times, how you might be interested in roleplaying something nonconsensual, but you don't think he realizes how badly you need it; how you ache for it. One morning, in bed, you tell him a little more directly: you want him to surprise you, hold you down, and use you as his personal sex toy.

He's hesitant at first. He's sweet; he doesn't have the same darkness in him that you do. He says he's never imagined raping anyone, and you think he's actually telling the truth. But it isn't rape, you say, not really, because it's what you want. It's what you're asking for—begging for, really. He agrees, on the condition that you have a safe word. You say the word "Christmas" and he'll stop, check in, make sure you want to continue. There's no way you'll actually say it, you think, but you agree. If that's what he needs, so be it.

I've been watching you for months. I first saw you on the bus: it was the first time you'd "forgotten" to put on underwear, and the thrill of it had you crossing your legs and clenching your thighs, trying to keep a straight face. You told yourself no one heard the moan that escaped your lips. It was soft, barely audible, and the girl next to you had her headphones in. But I heard it. I was sitting right behind you, and I'd been watching you tremble for almost ten minutes by then. When you got up, I saw that you'd left a tiny wet spot on the back of your dress. That was when I decided to follow you.

You work from home while your boyfriend is at his job downtown. I've sat across the street for hours on end, watching you at your desk. I've seen you scrolling through tumblr during a zoom meeting. I've seen how you start to nod off in the afternoon, only to jerk awake as your head begins to droop. More than once, I've seen the urge come over you; I can always tell when it starts by a subtle motion in your hips. I don't think you even realize you're doing it at first, but before long you're lifting your dress and pulling your panties to the side and stroking yourself urgently, almost desperately. Once, you seemed to look right at me. My heart jumped, but all you saw were the tinted windows of my car. I think you hoped someone would see you, deep down. I think it made you cum harder.

The night before I couldn't stop myself. When I was sure you and your boyfriend were both asleep, I crept into your house. It wasn't hard—I've seen your boyfriend use the spare key in the fake rock. I went first to your office, where I've watched you spend hours of your life. I got down on my knees and buried my face in your chair, trying smell all the cum you've left behind on it, imagining the biggest stain to be from the time we locked eyes through my window. It mostly just smelled like old fabric, but just knowing what you'd done there made my cock twitch with excitement.

I meant to leave. I was putting my plan in jeopardy just being in there. But I couldn't stop myself. I had to see what you looked like when you slept. I crept up the stairs, stepping close to the wall so they didn't creak, and slunk in through your open bedroom door. I took a slow, silent breath to steady my racing heart. You were there, right in front of me, the first time in months I'd actually been close enough to touch you. You were perfect like that. The way that ratty old t-shirt hung off your breasts. The way you slept with your ass facing up, like you were already waiting to take me inside you. The way the outside edges of your pussy lips just peeked around the sides of your panties, teasing me, inviting me. Your boyfriend had his hand draped over your ass, but I didn't mind. It didn't change who you belonged to.

I wanted so badly to take my cock out right there. It was rock hard by then, straining against my belt, throbbing with anticipation, but I steadied myself. If I took it out now, I wouldn't be able to control myself. I'd be plunging it into you before I even had a chance to think. No, I'd spent months planning this. I couldn't waste that now. As a consolation prize, I took a pair of your panties out of the hamper. This time I was sure I could smell your pussy on them. I almost came right there.

That was last night. Your boyfriend kisses you on the cheek on his way out the door. You notice your nipples are hard, thinking about what he's going to do to you. You almost start to masturbate right here and now, but you hold off. Better to let the excitement build. You're just going into the office with your coffee when you hear the click of the front door latch. At first you think your boyfriend forgot something, but you don't hear his shoes on the floor, or his voice calling out to ask if you've seen his wallet. You turn to look out the door to your office and see a shadow on the wall beyond, moving slowly, deliberately.

It's just like him, really, to get right on with it. You'd have liked to let the anticipation build a little more, but this sort of thing doesn't come naturally to him, and you appreciate him making the effort. You turn back around in a hurry, not wanting to spoil the fantasy. You pretend to work, typing random numbers into a spreadsheet, listening intently as soft footsteps cross the floor. They come to a stop right behind you and for a long moment nothing happens. Your breath catches in your chest, your heart pounds. You don't notice that you've stopped typing as you listen to the silent room behind you.

You're moments away from turning around when a hand closes around your throat. You gasp. It's firm, forceful—you didn't think your boyfriend had it in him. You feel a hard body press against you as the hand pulls you upward, forcing you to your feet. You struggle a little bit, but not too much; you don't want to put him off. Another hand pins your arms behind your back and you find yourself being guided to the bedroom. It's actually getting a little hard to breathe, but you don't say the safe word. You don't want to discourage whatever's come over him.

You catch your first glimpse of me when I put you on the bed. I'm wearing a plain black stocking mask over my face, and my build is similar to your boyfriend's, so I don't blame you for your mistake, though I'd like to flatter myself I'm a little sturdier than him. You wonder where your boyfriend got that mask so fast, and you wonder even more, as I get on top of you to hold you down, if for some reason he already had all this rope in his backpack. You're clearly seeing a different side of him today, and you think it'd be okay to struggle a bit harder. You squirm as I wrench your arm over your head, trying to pull away as I knot the rope around your wrist, but my weight is too much. On your chest, you feel my cock twinge through my pants. Unbelievable, you think. He's actually getting off on this.

You're not holding back anymore. You shout and kick and beat my chest with your fist. The room is pretty soundproof, so you're not worried about your neighbors calling the police. With your right hand now tied to the bedpost, getting your other arm tied up isn't much trouble. Your legs are a bit harder—you actually clip me in the jaw with a well-placed kick, but that just gets me more excited, and you're too deep into the fantasy to wonder why I don't react. Before long I have you completely at my mercy, arms and legs spread wide, unable to do much of anything but look up at me.

"Now you've got me," you say. "What are you going to do to me?"

A primal grunt escapes my chest. I see the lust in your eyes, confirmation of what I already knew. You're exactly the whore I thought you were.

Your heart skips as I produce a pair of scissors from my back pocket, but of course you don't believe I'll actually cut you. What I cut is your t-shirt, starting just above your pubis and working up toward your neck. A full body shiver runs over your skin as the cold metal glides up your stomach, between your breasts, coming to rest with a final snip in the dip of your neck. For a long moment you don't dare move, lest the blade slip, and for the first time so far you feel jolt of fear. And the fear just makes you wetter.

I take a moment to admire your breasts before cutting along each shoulder to free your arms from their sleeves. I want you completely exposed. Your skirt is simpler, a single cut, and then there's nothing left but your panties. I groan approvingly when I see how wet they already are. My hands are trembling as I run them over the length of your body. I pause at your breasts to run circles around your nipples with my thumbs, admiring how they spring back up when I press them down. For my own amusement, I give one a hard flick, and you cry out. I smile behind my mask.

I continue down to your hips, and then your thighs, and then your inner thighs. You try to pull away as my fingers brush the edges of your vulva, but there's not even an inch of give in my ropes. I run my thumb down the crotch of your panties, over your clit, and you gasp as I push experimentally inward. The sight of your pussy lips bulging around your panties is enough to push me over the edge. It's time.

I stand up, kick off my shoes, and pull down my pants. My cock stands nearly perpendicular to my body. It's bigger than your boyfriend's, and shaped differently. My legs are a little hairier too. Later these differences will occur to you, but in this moment you've stopped thinking of me as your boyfriend. I am the stranger, the intruder, you wanted him to be. I mount the bed, crawling towards you on hands and knees, my black mask impossible to read. I lay the head of my cock over your vulva, and even that slightest stimulation causes it to jump and pulse as the blood courses through it. You close your eyes and quiver with fear and excitement, waiting for me to enter you, but instead you feel me tracing my way up your body, between your breasts, across you throat, and coming to rest on your lips. You open your eyes. I'm right there, towering above you, my blank face looking down expectantly. I'm not worried about you biting me. I've studied you, remember. I know you'll accept a cock once it's in your mouth.

I press your lips open, but you clench your jaw, blocking my entry. Steadying myself on the headboard, I reach behind me and stuff two fingers, along with a good amount of your panties, deep into your pussy. You gasp in surprise and pleasure and pain, and that momentary relaxing of your jaw is all I need. My cock is in your mouth, pushing past your tongue, cramming itself down your throat. You gag, but there's nothing you can do you. I moan with pleasure as you writhe against your restraints, and just as you're starting to worry about breathing I pull back up. You manage to suck in some air before I'm down your throat again, gagging you, suffocating you.

Tears well up in your eyes. You're somehow equal parts terrified and unbelievably horny. Your pussy aches with need, and you instinctively strain against your bonds, your subconscious mind trying to masturbate for you, but it's no use. Like a girl struggling to keep her head above water you oscillate between choking and gasping, choking and gasping, as my cock pounds your throat. I push down one last time and hold there—I know if I move at all I'll shoot thick ropes of cum down the back of your throat, but I have to hold on. There's more still to do. I stay there for over half a minute, letting my cock relax, struggling not to explode, while you whimper, snot mingling with saliva and tears on your face. You look up at me, convulsing with the effort of keeping my orgasm in check, and you begin to see spots on your vision. You're actually afraid for your life now, afraid you might black out if I don't pull out. You try to say the safe word, but it comes out as something like "hng hng." Even if I was your boyfriend, I'd have no idea what you were saying.

Finally, moments before darkness takes you, you feel the pressure easing, my cock sliding against the walls of your throat as I pull back. I linger in your mouth for a moment, and the euphoria of being alive combined with the anticipation of what surely must come next compels you to give the head of my cock a final parting caress with your tongue. You thank your lucky stars I didn't hear you, didn't stop. You almost ruined everything with your weakness.

Your body is racked with sobs as I crawl backward toward your lower region. It's physiological; the intensity of the moment is too much for your body to handle. I let you sit in that for a moment, stroking my cock as I watch you convulse. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

The scissors long since discarded, I remove your panties the old fashioned way: I pull on them until they tear. The crotch presses between your labia, straining against you clit, and you cry out in pain. A seam in the back rips and I have them off you. Finally, you're completely naked. Like a pig.

I lean down close to you, staring into your face, watching every micro expression. You stare back, transfixed by the flat black stocking, trying to see the shape of the face behind it. You know for certain in this moment, clear as day, that I am not your boyfriend.

"Christmas," you whisper.

I don't give a fuck what you say.

We both shudder as the head of my cock finally parts your pussy lips. It's like food for the starving; finally, your body calls out, finally we're getting what we need. You let out a long moan as the width of my cock spreads your pussy uncomfortably wide. I go slowly at first, savoring every inch of your insides, letting the anticipation build in both of us. You gasp as I reach your cervix, and cry out in pain as I push up against it, trying to fit the entire length of my cock inside you. I begin to pump, and every thrust is a new pain: your pussy straining against my girth, your cervix pounded by the head of my cock, your clit smashed each time my body slams into yours. You're screaming now, actually screaming, and crying and begging me to stop. But there's something else behind the pain (or somehow the same as the pain): a wave of pleasure, more intense than anything else you've ever felt. It starts in the soles of your feet, causing your toes to spread, then curl. It travels up your legs and into your ass, making you thrust your pelvis up into each thrust of mine. It radiates out from your groin, filling you up to the tips of your fingers. Screams turn into moans, and your pussy clenches around my cock as you cum. That's enough for me, and at long last I explode, my semen shooting into you with enough force to make you cum even harder. With each clench of your pussy I shoot another load, and the two of us are paralyzed together for a long minute, spasming in simultaneous orgasm.

At long last I slide gently out of you, my cum dribbling down between your ass cheeks. I put my pants back on, then my shoes, and then I untie you. Just your legs, mind. I don't want you uncomfortable, but it's important you be here for your boyfriend to find when he gets home. I give you a final smack on the upper thigh, and then I leave your home forever.

You feel drunk. Now that your legs are free you raise your hips in the air. Trying to keep as much of my cum inside you as possible. You wonder what your boyfriend will say. You wonder how you'll know if the baby looks like me.

#cnc free use #r@pe kink #r@pe fantasy #breeding toy #nsft

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 18

summary: It’s a lazy Sunday with Javier Peña that starts in the early hours of the morning with you waking him up after having a very sexy dream…

rating: E (18+!! This is literally smut and fluff. No y/n, age gap (around 10 years), Soft Javier Peña, alternating pov, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie(s), BREEDING KINK, shower sex, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, come eating, come play, cockwarming if you squint, spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, slight roleplay, teasing, sex dreams (mention of exhibitionism, edging, & unethical interrogation techniques), DOMESTIC FLUFF, fluff, romantic comedy, slice of life, cutting Javier’s hair, talks of future, Javier being so in love, Javier being a romantic, my favorite smut I’ve ever written)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 18.4k (It’s such a good time)

a/n: Hello there! I know the last few chapters have been emotionally draining, so this is just a smutty, fluff fest. I’m talking it’s them enjoying some domestic bliss and Javier just having the best time with the love of his life (and his massive breeding kink). Shoutout to @theewokingdead, who very specifically guessed what the word count would be and was correct! Thank you to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for betaing this on such short notice. You are the literal best, and I appreciate you so much. Hope you all enjoy!

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

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Javier wasn’t necessarily a light sleeper—he’d been able to sleep fine in a place like Bogotá, where there were gunshots almost nightly and a constant stream of noise outside. With all of his years working, he’d gotten accustomed to waking up immediately to the sound of the telephone ringing, or a knock at the door, always having to be alert at the drop of a hat when something was going down.

Basically, if he was sleeping and someone needed him, he was getting up and already putting on his clothes to get to work.

It was the middle of the night, his body warm under the blankets, the air conditioning softly whirring, lulling him in his slumber—at the sound of his name being whispered, he was rocketing back to consciousness, his dream slipping away like a whisper in the wind, forgotten and replaced with concern as he came to. There was confusion for a split second as he reoriented himself, the soft sheets and warm body next to him telling him he was in bed with his girlfriend, recognizing her familiar scent and soft hand rubbing gently over his bare chest.

“What’s wrong, baby?” His voice was deeper and raspier from disuse, blinking his eyes open to see the only light in the room was the alarm clock’s red numbers softly glowing on her bedside table. He sat up, his heart beating faster, adrenaline hitting his system while he assessed the room for any signs of danger, ready to get up and fight if he had to, listening for anything outside their bedroom door in the rest of the apartment.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she answered quickly, pressing her hand over his racing heart. He laid back down, turning to face her, pulling her close. “Everything’s okay,” she continued. “I’m sorry for waking you up.” There was guilt in her tone, his eyebrows furrowing.

He couldn’t make out her features, seeing the outline of her body from the small amount of illumination the clock offered, knowing where her head was, carefully sliding his palm along her cheek.

“Cielito, what is it?” he asked gently. “Did you have a bad dream?”

He needed to make sure she was okay.

“Um, not a bad dream, kinda the opposite, and of the sexy variety…”

That had him perking up, feeling the blood rush to his groin as a smile curled up on his lips, understanding now why she woke him up—she wanted sex.

Excitement was an understatement for how he felt that she’d woken up horny and, instead of taking care of herself, wanted him. He was wide awake, his cock already half-hard.

“What was it about…?” he asked, trying not to sound too excited. “Was I, uh, in it…?”

He hoped he was.

“Yes, you were in it.” She paused. “I don’t want to say what it was about…” She sounded embarrassed, making him curious as fuck.

“Well, now I really wanna know,” he said mostly to himself. “You can tell me,” he reassured her. “I’m not gonna give you shit—I told you about my dirty dream last week.”

“Yes, but yours was very tame, just me riding you in a field.”

She was in one of her pretty dresses he loved, tits out, bouncing in his lap. It was a good dream, which led to him getting out of bed and fucking her against the bathroom counter.

Her first comment stuck with him.

“Yours wasn’t… tame…?” he asked slowly. “Baby, you gotta fucking tell me.”

Her hand moved in the tiny space between them to poke his chest.

“You have to promise not to judge me or give me shit about it.”

He grabbed her hand, bringing it up to kiss her knuckles.

“I promise,” he said into her skin.

Taking a deep breath, she sighed loudly. “This is entirely your new job's fault.”

Monday morning, he’d be starting at the Sheriff’s Department as a drug enforcement consultant.

“My new job’s fault?” he asked, now holding her hand over his heart, the warmth of it soothing.

“Yes, and the fact I know you’ve got six fucking suits in our closet.”

“What…?”

“I haven’t even seen you wear one yet, but I keep imagining you looking like a detective? Suit, tie, shoulder holster, a goddamn badge, just so fucking sexy and in the dream—” she pressed her hands to her face mumbling the rest.

“What happened in the dream?” He was dying to know, his cock throbbing over her having one about him that turned her on so much, she needed to wake him up to fuck her.

Her hands fell, speaking barely above a whisper. “In the dream, you were a detective interrogating me, which led to you bending me over the table while I was handcuffed with people watching on the other side of the two-way mirror.”

“Fuck,” he breathed. It was practically the plot of a bad porno—the thought of handcuffing her and fucking her from behind had arousal scorching in his belly, thinking if it was something she really wanted, he could probably play out the scenario without the audience. “Kinkier than my fucking dream,” he mused. “Gonna have to get some handcuffs.”

She sucked in a breath. “Would…you?” she asked.

“Yeah, Hermosa,” he rasped. “I fucking love you.”

“I fucking love you, too.” There was a smile in her voice, Javier leaning forward to kiss it with his own.

“You all wet?” he asked when pulled back. “Need me to fuck you, baby?” He moved to hold her jaw, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip.

“Yes,” she moaned. “I’m sorry for waking you up, but I’m so fucking horny.” Her hand skated up his back.

He stroked her cheek. “Cielito, always wake me up for sex.”

“That’s the plan because I know you’d give me sad puppy dog eyes if I masturbated.”

“And I make you come harder,” he said matter-of-factly with a shrug of his shoulder.

“You don’t have to be smug about it,” she groused.

“I’m not—I was stating a fact.”

“Uh-huh. You gonna fuck me, Mr. Facts?”

“It’s Detective Facts, and yes, I fucking am.”

She laughed, “You’re so fucking ridi—” The last word devolved into a moan when he crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her passionately.

Rolling her onto her back, he licked into her mouth, his hand skating down the soft skin of her stomach to between her legs, slipping two fingers through her slit.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmured into her mouth, marveling at just how much sticky moisture there was, gathering some onto his fingertips to glide them over her perky little clit, languidly circling it. He wagered if he looked where she was sleeping, there’d be a wet spot, the thought making his cock twitch.

“What part got you this wet, Cielito?” he asked. “Me interrogating you? Bending you over with your hands handcuffed behind your back?” A soft moan came from her, his fingers speeding up. “Or was it people watching while I fucked you?” He smiled at the louder noise she made, knowing he fucking got her, his cock so painfully hard he needed friction, gently thrusting it into her hip to ease the ache.

She reached down to wrap her fingers around his dick, his mouth falling open as she slowly stroked him, it taking him a second to get his bearings.

His hand moved, pushing two thick fingers into her soaked cunt, her hips bucking into his palm.

He cleared his throat. “You want people to see how good I fuck you?” he questioned, his thumb moving to her bundle of nerves, pumping his digits. “Want people to know no one else fucks you like I do?” Moans were spilling from her mouth, her hand leaving him to grab onto his hair. “It gets you off that someone could find us when we fool around in the truck, doesn’t it?”

Crooking his fingers, her breath hitched when he found that spot that made her toes curl. He focused on it, pressing into it over and over, his thumb massaging her swollen nub.

“My dirty fucking girl,” he said, giving her a filthy kiss, his tongue sliding along her own before nipping at her bottom lip. Her pussy was starting to spasm, his fingers fucking into her with abandon, hearing the wet slide of them between her legs, it bordering on squelching. “You gonna come for me, baby?” he asked. Her jaw was slack, soft sounds coming from her lips, the tip of his tongue flicking up the top one. “You want me to dress up in one of my suits and play out your dream?”

“Oh, god,” she moaned.

“Handcuff you and bend you over our kitchen table? See if I can fuck the information out of you?”

That was it, her body tensing, her cunt clenching up hard. Arousal spilled around his digits as she came with a cry of his name, a tingle moving down his spine that he got her off.

“My good fucking girl,” he praised, kissing her hard as he worked her through it.

The need to be inside her was intense, his hard cock pressing into her hip, dripping precum onto her skin.

“Still want my dick?” he asked after breaking the kiss.

“Need it,” she answered, making him smile.

“You can fucking have it, Cielito.”

Kissing her quickly, his hand left her, twisting to his other side. “Close your eyes, baby,” he said.

“What?”

“I’m turning on the light—don’t wanna hurt your eyes, so close ‘em.”

“Oh.”

“They closed?”

“Yep.”

He switched it on, squinting at the sudden brightness, flipping back over to face her, shoving the blankets off them, and kicking them to bunch at the end of the bed. His attention moved back to her, taking in her naked body—seeing her skin was a little dewy, admiring her curves and softness, looking cute with her hand covering her eyes.

A little smile pulled up on his lips, his fingers itching to touch her, so he rubbed them over her belly.

“You gonna keep your eyes closed while I fuck you?” he asked.

She moved her hand a little to peek one eye open.

“No,” she answered. “But I don’t get why we have to fuck with the lights on.”

“I love seeing you,” he answered truthfully. “Love seeing how good I make you feel.”

Her hand left her face. “You know, I used to be a low-lighting or fully off girl, but you look at me like that—” She pointed at his face. “And I can see the genuine love you have for me and my not-at-all-perfect body, which honestly makes me feel really comfortable with you—so I’ll allow the lights.”

“Not-at-all-perfect body?” His eyes were narrowed in confusion. “What the fuck are you talking about?” His hand moved up to grab her breast, leaning closer to her face. “I fucking love your body. It is perfect. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

She scoffed. “That’s a dirty fucking lie.”

He took offense to that, disliking that she didn’t believe him.

There was literally no other woman on the entire fucking planet he’d rather be with, or even fuck. She’d ruined him for anyone else—when he thought of his dream girl, she was who came to mind, nobody else. She was the star of his fantasies when he got lost in thought while out riding on his horse or driving, imagining all the things he wanted to do to her, and she was the one he was having sex dreams about.

She was perfect, and he loved everything about her.

“I’m not fucking lying,” he said sternly. “There’s no one who’s sexier than you, and I’m fucking serious when I say I love your body, and that it’s perfect. You find me attractive, right?”

“Well, yeah, but you’re a ten.”

“A ten?” His head cocked in question.

“You know, on a hot scale where ten is smokin’—you’re a ten.” She pointed at him.

“You don’t think you’re a ten?” He frowned.

She snorted. “Absolutely not. Now Winona Ryder? She’s a ten.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Beetlejuice, Edward Scissorhands, Dracula?”

“I’ve never seen those...”

Shock was on her face. “You haven’t seen Dracula? That movie awoke some things in me…”

“Is it based on the book…?”

He’d read it in college.

“Yeah.”

His mind was going through what he remembered reading, trying to figure out what she meant.

“What things?” he asked.

“What things, what?” she asked innocently in return.

“Did it awaken…”

She smiled, poking his nose. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would.”

“Well, too bad. So, can we have sex now?” Her hand moved down to palm his hard cock again, making him gulp.

“You can’t distract me.” She was slowly pumping him.

“Did I mention the dream made me so fucking horny when you were pulling on my arms behind my back to fuck me on your dick?” she purred. “Gonna need you to do that, with or without handcuffs.”

The image flooded his brain.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

He’d really need to get some fucking handcuffs.

“And I didn’t tell you this part, but you wouldn’t let me come. Told me if I gave you the information you wanted, you’d finally let me. Just kept getting me there, then stopping, over and over…”

His skin was feeling hot.

“You like it when I edge you, baby?”

“Yes, Javi—makes me come so hard.” Her strokes on his cock sped up, feeling that need to be inside her again, hitting him hard. “God, you fuck me so good,” she moaned, and it had a jolt running through him.

“You want my dick, Cielito?”

“Yes. Please. Dámelo, give it to me, Papí.”

He could see how much she wanted him in her gaze, her words making him close the distance to have his mouth on hers in a searing kiss. His hand was on her tit, moving his fingers to pinch her stiff nipple, swallowing her moan.

He didn’t want to waste another fucking second, feeling like electricity was thrumming under his skin, separating from her, as he sat up with a groan to get on his knees.

Pushing her to lie on her right side away from him, he grabbed some pillows.

“Keep your hips like that,” he said, seeing in his mind exactly how he wanted to do this. “Sit up a little and rest back on these.” She sat up, turning her upper body, so when he put the pillows behind her, they supported her head and shoulders, propping her up a tiny bit. “Are you comfortable?”

She smiled warmly. “Yes,” she replied. “I’m very thankful for yoga with how you’ve got me a little twisty like this.”

Her hips and legs were to the side, while her top half was lying back.

He huffed out an amused breath, making his way down to her legs.

“You’re gonna fucking love it—trust me.” He was at his destination, bending her left leg at the knee and lifting it to hook around his hip while he straddled her right thigh on the bed.

“I always trust you.”

The truth of her words shone in her eyes, and it warmed him.

“I know.” He smiled.

The position opened her up, seeing her arousal glistening on her pussy and inner thighs, his hand coming up to his mouth to spit on his fingers, using it to slick up his cock, needing the extra lubrication for how he was going to fuck her.

He shuffled forward, holding his dick to press the tip to her entrance, slowly pushing it in, his mouth falling open as her wet warmth enveloped him, loving to watch himself disappear inside her while she moaned.

Getting halfway in, he pulled all the way out, his cock shinier from her arousal, him pushing back in to the same point, mesmerized by how her pussy practically sucked him in, pulling back out again.

He did it once more, attention stuck on her tight cunt swallowing his girth, seeing her stretch around him, taking him so easily, the image making sparks ignite in his belly.

“Fuck,” he groaned, not able to get enough.

“Javier, if you don’t put that thing inside me and keep it there right this second, I am getting my fucking vibrator,” you said through your teeth, annoyed he pulled all the way out for a third time, your fingers digging into the sheets.

You enjoyed some teasing, but this was bordering on torture with how horny you were, needing him to fuck you already.

The dream had been… a lot.

After Javi moved in, you’d been curious about his suit situation and snooped through the garment bags containing them, finding a range of colors: navy blue, charcoal grey, medium grey, light grey, black, tan—and they’ve been haunting you. It was stuck in your head that he was basically a cop, or at least had been one, and with getting the job with the Sheriff, it had you picturing him dressed like a goddamn sexy detective. In the photos you’d seen of him in Colombia with the Murphys, he was in his signature button-up/jean combo, but you knew his second go-around he was the head bitch in charge and had to dress the part, thus the suits that were fuel for your horny imagination.

And your brain had the audacity to play out a scene where he was a goddamn sexy detective willing to do whatever it took to get the information he wanted, including fucking you within an inch of your life while people watched.

It’d felt so real—dream Javi made all the same noises—the grunting, the groans, him talking in that low, deep rasp that made shivers move down your spine. Then the fucking? You were at his mercy, having to take what he was giving you, and it’d been so fucking good.

Yeah, the scenario was a bit fucked up, but it was just a fantasy, something a tad taboo that excited you, knowing full well your Javier would never.

The dream had really riled you up, waking up so horny all you could think about was getting his dick inside of you, and now you were so close to having what you wanted, and he was being a fucking tease.

His eyes met yours, one eyebrow arching, notching his cock at your entrance.

“Your vibrator,” he rasped in the same tone from your dream, “doesn’t feel like this—” He punctuated the sentence by pushing into you, sliding home in one smooth thrust that had your eyes rolling back and gasping when he bottomed out, needing to dig your fingers into the sheets for something to hold onto.

Your eyes opened wide, unable to speak with how fucking deep he was and how full you felt; it was almost too much to the point you were beginning to sweat. Javi’s head was thrown back, staring at the line of his throat and the perspiration starting to bead in the hollow of it.

He was right that your vibrator definitely didn’t feel like this. He’d stretched you open, staying still so you could feel every ridge and vein on his dick while it throbbed against your sensitive walls.

Your breaths were coming out harder, one of his big hands on your thigh resting on his hip, the other squeezing the round of your asscheek, moaning when he gave it hard slap as you waited for him to move.

It seemed to be taking longer than usual for him to get going—was he making sure you had enough time to adjust to him? Did he need a minute to calm down, so he didn’t come?

“Javi?”

His head tilted down to look at you, his eyes dark with want. “Yes, Cielito?”

“Move, baby.”

A smirk pulled up under his mustache.

“No.”

Your eyebrows flew up to your hairline. “No?!” It came out incredulous, not believing what he said.

“No.” He shook his head. “You said stick it in and keep it there, so I fucking am.” His hand landed on your ass with a loud smack, making you tense up, stifling your moan.

“You’re joking,” you breathed.

“I’m not.”

Two could play this game, reaching your hand between your legs to start playing with your clit.

“Fine,” you replied. “Stay right there and look pretty. I’ll get myself off.”

A grumpy look came over his face.

“Like fuck you will,” he said, batting your hand away.

“Oh, so are you finally going to fuck me?”

His fingers dug into your ass, feeling as he slid his dick almost all the way out, leaving just the tip, answering your question, “Yeah,” as he slammed back into you, the breath leaving your lungs in a gasping moan. “I… fucking… am…” Each word ended in a hard thrust, him setting up a punishing pace that had you going dizzy with pleasure.

This position was magical.

Why haven’t you done it before?

It felt like he was fucking you in doggy but better, somehow going deeper and hitting it just as hard, the wet slap of his hips sounding in the room.

You got to watch him in action, which was a thing of beauty, seeing the flush blooming on the skin of his chest and up his neck as he slowly started glistening all over in sweat and the feral look on his face—teeth bared, furrowed brow, grunting as he fucked into you.

The best part?

His hands were free, and he couldn’t keep them off of you—one on your ass, squeezing it, spanking it, the other sliding over the skin of your stomach and reaching to palm your breast and play with your pebbled nipple.

He was watching you, his eyes scanning your face and lowering to the jiggle of your tits while his thigh pressed deliciously against your clit.

The bed was softly squeaking, hearing the slap of skin hitting skin, your soft sounds filling the air and mixing with his rougher ones to create an obscene soundtrack for the early morning hour.

Every push and pull of his hips was building you up—the heat in the base of your spine was growing rapidly, his thick cock pounding into you, filling you over and over again. Your hand grabbed onto his sweaty forearm as your moans got louder, eyes on his.

Hair was sticking wetly to his forehead, his hand smacking your ass hard, the sting making your cunt clench around his cock, spearing into you. “You gonna come, baby?” he grunted.

“Yes, Javi,” you moaned. “It’s so good—you fuck me so good.”

“Yeah, I do.” His thigh moved so his hand could get between your legs, circling the engorged berry of your clit, the sparks of pleasure making you gasp. “You love how I fuck you, even in your fucking dreams.”

It felt so insanely good, tears were streaming down your face, your fingers clawing into the skin of his arm, your other doing the same in the sheet.

“It’s yours, Javi!” you cried.

“What’s mine?” he asked, pistoning into you with strong, even thrusts.

“My pussy is yours, I’m yours—fuck, I love you!”

His head fell back, a long groan of fuck coming from his throat.

Looking at you again, he said through hard breaths, “I’m yours… All of me is yours… Every fucking part of me belongs to you… I fucking love you.”

It all came to a head, the muscles in your belly winding so tight, the tension snapped, and you were coming with a shout of his name, euphoria overtaking every molecule in your body.

“There it fucking is,” he grunted, slowing his speed as you clenched around him, fucking you through your high. “My good girl—my good fucking girl. Te amo, mi amor. You did so fucking good.”

Your eyes were closed, feeling all floaty as you tried to catch your breath.

Javi’s body was suddenly blanketing you, a hand pressing into the pillows beside your head for support as he crashed his mouth to yours, kissing you. A surprised sound came from your throat, reaching your hands up to push your fingers into his wet hair, opening your lips when he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a practiced dance.

He started thrusting faster, chasing his own end, his free hand palming your breast.

“I’m gonna come inside you.” His words were muffled into your lips. “I’m gonna fuck you full of me—I’m gonna keep you full of me—” Oh, he was in the rambling stage of being lost in the sauce, his pace getting uneven. His mouth moved, biting your chin, before continuing to speak when he pressed his nose against your neck, sounding wrecked, “—fuck my come so deep inside you, I’m with you for days. Make you drip with me. Want it to—“ His sentence cut off in a strangled moan as he came, pushing his cock as deep as it would go, feeling it jerk and the wet pulse as his hot seed flooded your depths.

“Yes,” you moaned as he rolled his hips, fucking his spend deeper.

A hiss slid through his teeth when the overstimulation became too much, him finally stilling.

You knew the moment he could think again after a minute passed, Javi groaning as he sat up on his knees, carefully untangling your leg from around his hip while staying inside you.

There was a deep frown on his face as he stared at where you were joined.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him, your voice rougher than usual.

“I don’t wanna pull out…”

“Okay…?”

His head came up to look at you with big sad eyes. “I wanna hold you.”

“And your dick needs to be inside me for that?”

A long sigh left him, seeing him deflate.

“No…”

“You’ll feel better when we’re cuddling. I’ll play with your hair and give you kisses.”

He smiled a little, his eyes closing, hissing when he pulled out of you. There was some shuffling, where he got off your leg to roll you flat on your back while he kneeled between your spread thighs.

His attention was back on the puffy lips of your pussy, his fingers suddenly scooping up some of his come that had dribbled out of your sopping opening to push it back inside.

“Fuck,” you moaned.

He slowly pumped his digits, twisting them a little as his eyes met yours.

“Don’t wanna lose any.” His voice was quiet and raspy. “Can you keep it inside for me, baby?”

It turned you on hearing him ask, blurting out the first thought that came to mind, “You’re really testing my birth control—it’s working overtime.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed, you continuing to speak, “I know I’m ridiculous and wake up every goddamn morning at six a.m. to take it and pee, but you know it’s still only 99% effective, right?”

He frowned, his fingers stopping inside you. “Do you want me to pull out sometimes? Or—” His frown grew deeper. “—do you want me to use condoms…?”

You made a face. “Um, hell-fucking-no.” You answered. “We are in a committed relationship, and I expect to be rawed, thank you very much. I just want to make sure you understand there’s still a teeny-tiny risk you could knock me up.”

He mumbled something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like ‘I fucking wish,’ looking away.

“What?” you asked.

He met your eyes, shrugging. “If it happens, it happens.”

Your eyebrows lifted.

“Wow.”

“What?” he asked.

“Just your growth,” you answered. “You used to be adamant about not risking babies, and here you are—“ You waved a hand at him. “—Mr. Casual about the prospect now.”

“Things have changed…” he said slowly. “Like you said, we’re in a committed relationship—we’re gonna get married one day, buy a house.” A small smile turned up on his lips. “You want to have my kids, and truth be fucking told, you’re the only person I want any with. I know you wanna wait until we’re married and I get the shit in my head worked out, but if by some fucking happenstance I beat your birth control and get you pregnant, I wouldn’t be upset.”

“Well, I’m really happy that it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Now, back to the horny.” You wagged your eyebrows. “I’ll keep your come inside me—keep it there all night.”

He crookedly smiled, pulling his fingers out from between your legs. “My good girl,” he rasped, sucking his digits clean with a lewd groan.

Once finished, he quickly crawled up the mattress to lay down beside you. There was some maneuvering to get the pillows back where they belonged, the bed jostling when he turned over to switch off the lamp, him rolling back to face you, pulling you into his arms to cuddle you close.

You were chest to chest, and as you promised, your fingers were in his hair, stroking through it, and scratching lovingly at his scalp, both languidly kissing as you relaxed, exhaustion starting to catch up to you now that you were thoroughly satisfied. You’d stay like this for a little while, then you’d need to get up and use the bathroom, just wanting the closeness and being with him—loving how he held you, one of his hands rubbing along your spine, getting lost in him.

His mouth left yours.

“Was I better?” he asked in the darkness.

“What?” You didn’t know what he was talking about. “Were you better than what?”

“The sex. Was I better than the me you dreamed about?”

“Oh my fucking god,” you giggled, lightly pulling his hair. “You’re so fucking ridiculous.”

“But was I better?”

“Yes, Javier,” you answered in exasperation. “You were better than the you in my dream. But, uh, get some handcuffs…”

“I fucking will.” He replied, his mouth back on yours in a toe-curling kiss.

Sundays were for relaxing and preparing for the week ahead—running errands and getting chores done.

After his Cielito had woken him up in the middle of the night, they slept in until a little before ten, getting up to do their normal morning routine, taking turns in the bathroom, dressing at the same time, and both ending up at the bathroom sink to brush their teeth together—Javier in just his sweatpants, Cielito wearing her panties and his army green shirt, it always making him feel some kind of way seeing her in his clothes.

Breakfast was a joint effort, the two of them padding around the kitchen comfortably and efficiently, Javier ending up behind her at the stove with his arms around her middle while she cooked their omelets. She smelled so fucking good, kissing her neck and nuzzling his face in her skin while she giggled, one of her hands coming up behind her to push into his hair as she told him she loved him—he was in heaven, having the best time making breakfast with the love of his life on a lazy Sunday morning.

When the food was almost done, it’d taken a lot of effort for him to separate from her, moving to her side, turning her head to give her a lingering kiss before he went across the kitchen to pour their cups of coffee, the pot having brewed while they cooked. Their mugs were kept on a stand that looked like a tree—one pole in the middle and smaller ones coming out of the sides to make it tree-like, it could hold five cups, but only three mismatched ones were hanging on it.

Grabbing their mugs, his was a gift from her that made him groan when she’d given it to him, the white coffee cup with Garfield the cat looking grumpy on it, his arms crossed with a speech bubble reading, ‘I hate Mondays,’ all because Javier had said the same thing one morning after spending the weekend with her—he loved his mug and never used another. Cielito’s was just as silly and always had him smiling with how much it made sense it was her favorite. Hers had a cartoon of the alien from that weird show from the 80s, Alf, dressed to go to the beach: swimming trunks, a matching shirt, goggles with a snorkel on top of his hairy head holding a colorful beach ball in one furry hand and a beach umbrella in the other, while it rained down on him, lettering below the cartoon proclaiming, ‘Life’s a beach.’

The coffee was poured into their respective silly cups and made to their liking, Javier’s black, as usual. Moving them over onto the kitchen table, he placed them at their seats. His was put beside the rolled-up Sunday newspaper he’d grabbed earlier from outside their front door and his black framed reading glasses he’d brought out of the bedroom.

“Breakfast is ready,” she said, the food plated on their white ceramic plates, sitting on the kitchen counter.

He walked up behind her as she stood there sprinkling more cheese atop her omelet, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the skin right below her ear.

“Looks good, Cielito,” he said softly.

“It wasn’t all me—my sous chef is getting better at his knife skills and has learned you can never grate too much cheese.”

Javier smiled.

“His mistake for thinking half a block was too much,” he replied. She’d finished and put the lid on the Tupperware containing the shredded cheddar, his hands moving down her body and up her bare thighs to under his shirt she was wearing. He grabbed her hips, spinning her to face him, a beautiful smile on her gorgeous face. “Bésame,” he said, leaning closer to her. “Kiss me, mi amor (my love).” He nudged the tip of his nose against hers, whispering, “Por favor (Please).”

“So polite,” she said just as softly with a look of amusement. “You’re acting like you didn’t just kiss me five minutes ago.”

He frowned. “I need another.”

“In order to survive?” she teased.

“Yeah, it’s life or death.” He grabbed her hand, pressing it over his heart. “Necesito tus besos para vivir—moriría sin ellos (I need your kisses in order to live—I’d die without them).”

“You’re so dramatic,” she laughed, making him smile. “Kiss me, you big dork. I don’t want the food to get cold.”

He didn’t have to be told twice, his lips meeting hers, kissing her so tenderly. It ended, him stealing a quick peck and giving her ass a little smack, moving to grab his plate and taking it over to the table to eat. Getting seated, he put on his reading glasses, grabbed the newspaper, and removed the rubber band, unrolling the paper to read the front page.

This wasn’t something he did in Colombia—reading the newspaper while having breakfast. He’d been too busy, all of his news coming from the United States Government or listening to the local radio station while he drove. He’d kept up to date on what he needed to know and what was essential to his job, and now he was reading about Laredo’s plan to vote on building a new fire station and NASA holding a memorial for the first American in space who’d recently passed away.

There was always a little bit of nervousness when he got to the world news section, wondering if he would see anything about South America. He had an idea of what was going on down there and in Mexico because Steve Murphy was a big fucking gossip who kept him up to date on everything on their weekly calls when Javier checked up on him, Connie, and the kids—Steve still worked for the DEA in Miami, mainly doing office work now that he had his family.

When Javier had revealed the corruption going on in Colombia, it’d caused a shitstorm with the citizens demanding the president’s resignation, and of course, it was all over the fucking news.

A government taking money from a cartel in exchange for virtual immunity? The United States of America being aware and not doing shit about it? The highest-ranking DEA agent in Colombia going on record about the corruption and calling the country a Narco-Democracy?

It was reported worldwide, a hot topic for a while, before the next fucked up thing took its place.

Honestly, he’d been surprised Cielito had no idea who the fuck he was when they met since his name had been used in some of the media, though a lot kept him nameless, more focused on the scandal, which he appreciated.

He liked knowing what was happening in the world or at least what was being reported by the media, so he read the newspaper, finding stories today about China and Cuba.

The paper was on the table beside his plate, him holding it open with one hand while he read, the other forking bites of his omelet into his mouth.

“Crossword me,” Cielito said, reaching her palm out across the table.

He smiled, flipping through the pages to pull it out and handing it to her.

“Thanks, babe.” She smiled, folding the paper once to see only what she wanted.

“You’re welcome, baby.” Taking a sip of his coffee, he fondly watched her eyes moving over the writing. “What’s my horoscope say?” he asked after setting his mug down, knowing that section was below her crossword and she always read theirs. He didn’t get the astrology stuff, but she enjoyed it, and he loved seeing her smile whenever he’d ask.

“That your intellect and personality are needed when others are feeling insecure,” she read, “and since you love challenges, you should dig into a problem.” Looking at him over the newspaper, she smiled, continuing, “So, use being a big ol’ smarty pants for good, not evil, and find a problem to solve.” She shrugged.

“Got it.” He nodded, digging into his food.

He loved this—eating their breakfast while he read the paper, her sitting across from him with her page folded down to just the crossword, her fork in one hand and a blue ballpoint pen in the other, filling in the tiny squares.

It was so fucking domestic, the type of shit his parents did on the weekends, and he was so happy he thought his heart might burst.

He especially loved when she’d get stuck on a clue, chewing on the end of her pen, deep in thought and either visibly brightening when she realized the answer or asking if he knew, and sometimes he did, loving the big grin she’d give him if he was right.

Their breakfasts were eaten, coffees drunk, the paper read, and her crossword done, her plate pushed away from her, setting her elbows on the table as she held her face in her hands, smiling at him.

“So, haircut,” she said, his attention on her.

“Haircut.” He nodded, taking off and folding his reading glasses, setting them on the tabletop.

“How do you want it to look?”

“I’ve got a picture I can show you.”

Her eyebrows creased. “One I’ve seen?” she asked.

“Have you gone through my wallet?” he asked.

“No? Of course not.”

“Then you haven’t seen it,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“When’s it from?”

“Right when I got back to the States this last time.”

“So, I get to see your head-bitch-in-charge look,” she said.

His face scrunched up.

“The head, what in charge?”

“The head bitch in charge.”

He frowned. “Cielito?”

“Yes, Javi?”

“I know I’m… older than you.” He sighed, closing his eyes, one arm crossed over his chest, his other hand pressing to his forehead, hating that he had to bring up his age. “Sometimes you say shit I don’t fucking get, and I don’t think you are, but are you… insulting me? Does bitch mean something different now…?”

“I cannot believe you just called yourself old.”

His hand dropped, arching his eyebrow. “I feel fucking old,” he groused.

“You’re not old,” she said, waving away his comment. “You’re older than me, yeah, but that just means you’re my freakishly hot and sexy older boyfriend.” She grinned. “It turns me on that you’ve got a decent retirement savings and are actually serious about our relationship and know what you want out of it. Maturity is sexy. Stability is sexy. And Javier, of course, I wasn’t insulting you.” Her face softened. “You know I love you very much. There’s been kinda a movement to make bitch more empowering, and women sometimes use it amongst friends as an endearment. When I worked in Dallas, the head of our nursing program was this woman who was a real badass that got shit done and didn’t take no for an answer, and she called herself the head bitch in charge. So, I’m saying you were the big boss and really good at your job.”

“Thank you.” He felt better having an understanding. Leaning forward a little, he smirked. “You like having a freakishly hot and sexy older boyfriend?” he asked.

“Oh my god,” she laughed. “Yes.” She nodded. “Fucking love having a freakishly hot and sexy older boyfriend. There are so many perks.”

“Besides my retirement and maturity…?”

“You’re fishing!” she accused, pointing at him.

“What?”

“You’re fishing for compliments!”

“It’s a valid question…”

“Fine, I’ll stroke your ego.” She playfully rolled her eyes. “You’re older, so you have experience, which means you are literally the best fucking lay I have ever had in my entire life, and frankly, you’re so fucking good, you’ve ruined me for all other men.”

His chest puffed up a bit, preening as he smiled. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Yes, Javier. You know this.”

He did, but he always liked hearing her say it.

“Wanna know something?” he asked.

“Of course.”

He pointed at her. “You’re the best fucking lay I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

She gasped, covering her mouth, her eyes widening. “You’re lying,” she said in a shocked tone.

“I’m not.” He shook his head. “Never had better.”

It was the truth; he’d really never had better.

When they met in the grocery store, she’d genuinely wanted to help him and hadn’t expected anything from him; their interaction could’ve ended after she’d given him the tomato, maybe never seeing each other again. But he’d made the move to invite her to drinks and she’d accepted. He was the one who’d offered to drive her home, wanting to be alone with her, and as they kissed, she’d finally made a move and asked him to touch her. He’d gotten her off, and instead of the date ending then and there, she’d wanted to return the favor—she was fucking adamant about it.

From their first interaction, he could tell she cared about him; he could also tell that she just wanted him for him.

She didn’t want his money or a visa out of the country; she didn’t want to use him for sex or to get back at anyone. There was no ulterior motive to her intentions and absolutely nothing transactional about it.

She wanted him, she cared about him, and when they fucked, he could tell, he could feel it. It was different and so much better—intimate, loving, more than just sex, and it was so fucking good.

He was addicted. He couldn’t get enough. It was hands down, the best sex he’d ever had.

Her hand lowered, revealing a big toothy grin. “I love you so fucking much, it is honestly insane,” she said.

He smiled back. “I really fucking love you, too.”

Her face turned curious. “The best lay?” she asked, double-checking. “Me?” Her finger pointed at her chest. “I’m the best lay of your entire life?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “You are. Nobody else even comes close.”

“Wait, wait.” She looked at the stuff in front of her, finally settling on grabbing her empty ridiculous Alf coffee mug and holding it up in both hands. Her voice was a little louder as she spoke, “This is one of the happiest moments of my life. Okay, I gotta keep it together. There are so many people I’d like to thank. First is Marc for taking my virginity the first weekend after I started college and being kind enough to give me a crash course on what guys like.” Javier was trying his best to hold in his laughter that she was really doing a fucking acceptance speech like she’d just won a goddamn award. “That guy I met in a bar in downtown Portland, that I don’t even think gave me his name, who was happy to teach me how to deepthroat and didn’t care when I puked a little—you were a real one, thank you.” He also would like to thank the nameless man in Portland, raising his cup as she spoke with a big smile on his face. “—the other dudes I don’t feel like naming who taught me so much, including Wham! t-shirt guy—”

“Wham! T-shirt guy?” Javier whispered, setting his mug down.

“—I’m so grateful for all like four of you, wait, five, thank you—next, I’d like to thank God for my bangin’ body, my boyfriend is super into—” That one got him, sputtering as he started laughing, unable to keep it in. “—and most of all, I’d like to thank the love of my life and the best boyfriend in the history of forever, Javier Peña for this honor. I am truly humbled and will hold this title close to my heart, something to remind me that dreams really do come true if you’re horny enough.”

Chuckles were still coming from his chest as he started clapping, her looking very delighted with herself as she set the coffee cup on the table.

He wiped at the tears in his eyes, starting to calm down.

“That was really fucking good,” he finally said.

“Thanks!” She grinned. “I mean, this is literally my crowning achievement, and it deserved a speech.”

He was smiling. “I love you, Cielito.”

“I love you, too, Javi.”

“I love being with you.”

“Careful, you’re getting sappy,” she teased. “But I really fucking love being with you, too. So, back on topic, your haircut.”

“My haircut.”

“This picture, uh, are you wearing a suit in it?”

Her question made him smirk, remembering the night before and her dream. It had a thrill running through him at how horny it made her when she thought about him wearing one.

“I’m not.” He shook his head.

Her shoulders slumped, sighing loudly. “Bummer,” she replied.

“I’ll put one on if you want me to…”

She smiled at him. “I know you’d be down to model one for me, but I kinda want to wait until tomorrow when you get dressed for work, so I can see the whole shebang, with the hair and suit. It’s like a surprise—a sexy surprise.”

“Okay, baby.” He chuckled.

“Let’s clean up, and you can show me the picture.”

“Sounds good.” He said as he got up from the table, his chair squeaking across the floor.

After loading up the dishwasher and cleaning the kitchen together, they went into the living room, her following him to the entryway, where he got his wallet out of the bowl on the console table by the front door.

The worn black leather didn’t contain much, just some cash, a credit card, his debit card, an old picture of his parents on their horses, and his driver’s license that he pulled out from the windowed pocket, handing it over to her.

“I had to get a new one when I came back,” he said while she inspected it.

“God, you’re always sexy—how is your photo good?” Her eyes met his. “It’s some law of the universe that driver’s license photos are supposed to be the literal worst picture you’ve ever taken. Mine looks like a mugshot if I’d been arrested for public intoxication. This isn’t fair, Javier!” she exclaimed, holding up the plastic.

Confused by her outburst, his eyes narrowed as he grabbed her hand to look at the picture. There wasn’t anything great about it, just a shot of his head—short hair neatly combed, trimmed mustache, looking annoyed with a frown on his lips and a slight furrow in his brow.

“This isn’t a good photo of me…” he said slowly. “The lighting is shit, and I look mad.”

“That’s just how your face looks, babe. It’s your resting face. You naturally look grumpy, and I think it’s so fucking cute.”

He looked at her. “You think it’s cute that I look pissed off…?”

Their gazes were locked, her smiling. “Yes.” She nodded. “It’s very cute because you look like that—” She pointed at the picture. “—and then you’ll see me, or I’ll talk to you, and suddenly the expression melts away, and you’re smiling, just looking so happy—I love it.”

“Oh.”

“I love your face a lot. So, you want it cut short.” Her free hand went into his hair, running her fingers through it. “I’ll have to take down the sides and up top. When was the last time you got a haircut?”

“Uh.” He thought it over. “Four months, I think? It’s longer than I usually let it get.”

There was enough length that it had started to curl.

“I love that there’s more for me to play with. Can you grab a chair in the kitchen and bring it to the bathroom? There’s better light in there.”

“Of course, baby,” he said, leaning in to kiss her quickly.

He put his license away and his wallet back in the bowl, making his way to the kitchen while she headed for the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he was sitting on the chair in their bathroom, seeing his head and bare chest in the large mirror over the sink. On the countertop, she’d laid out her supplies—hair-cutting shears and a handheld mirror.

She’d grabbed a small purple spray bottle and a black comb, currently beside him spraying water in his hair and combing through it, him watching her in the mirror.

Moving his arm, he wrapped it around her waist.

Snorting, she said, “I fucking knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me.”

Lowering his hand, he squeezed her ass, making her giggle.

“Of course not.”

“No feeling up the hairdresser.” She went back to wetting his hair, moving out of reach behind him to get the back of his head.

He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Are you seriously pouting?” she asked, glancing at him in the reflection.

“No,” he sniffed.

He wasn’t.

He could sit here and not touch her just fine.

“Sure, Javi. Your hair is so nice.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s just so soft and thick.” Her attention was on it. She held the bottle and comb in one hand, sliding her fingers through the dry side. “I love how when it’s longer, it starts to curl, just gets all wavey.” The spray bottle sounded as she got more water on the brown strands, the comb’s teeth moving through them again. “I want our kids to have your hair,” she mused.

His heart sped up at her words, swallowing hard. “You want them to have my hair?” he asked softly.

Her gaze met his in the mirror.

“Your hair, your eyes, god, your nose—I would be delighted to have little miniatures of you running around.” She waved the comb in the air.

His eyes had gotten bigger, imagining children that were a mix of them both, and it had warmth spreading through his veins.

It always caught him off guard when she mentioned them having kids or her getting pregnant, still so fucking surprised she even wanted that with him. He’d gotten it in his head that he’d never be a father, had thought it for so long it’d become ingrained, feeling like a fact he’d done too much fucked up shit he didn’t deserve to be one.

In college, he was too focused on his goal of swimming professionally, kids hadn’t even crossed his mind aside from preventing them. He sure as fuck didn’t want Lorraine to be the mother of his children, and when she claimed to be pregnant, he’d been so young and scared, all he wanted to do was what was best for the baby, and if that meant marrying a woman he didn’t love, he was willing to do it for his unborn child, because they were all that mattered to him.

She’d burned him—she’d ruined his life and prospects of doing the thing he loved, and her lie put him off of wanting kids, not with knowing how manipulative someone could be, she’d made him not want to date either, instead focusing all his energy on building his career.

He had figured he’d do the wife and kids thing after he finished his stint in Colombia, imagining having an office job with the DEA in the States and time to dedicate to dating and actually getting to know someone before jumping into it.

Things in South America were too fucked up, though, and he’d become married to his job, it becoming his life and all he cared about, willing to do whatever was necessary to get it done. When he started doing the sketchy shit, that’s when the guilt began eating away at him, the voice in his head telling him what a piece of garbage he was. It constantly reminded him that he wasn’t a good man and didn’t deserve a loving wife like Steve. When Olivia came about, it taunted him about how he didn’t deserve the family either, and it fucking killed him because he believed it—he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting that kind of life with someone like him.

But here was Cielito, who didn’t give a single fuck about the things he’d done in his past and wanted their kids to look like him.

Him!

She loved him, all of him, and wanted to have a family with him, and he was so fucking happy, his throat was feeling tight, and his eyes were starting to water.

He had never been happier in his entire life, and a lot of joyful tears had been shed since that night they watched his mamá make tamales. He didn’t tell his girlfriend this, but the next day when he’d gone back to work at his father’s ranch, the first thing his dad asked was if he’d watched the VHS. Through tears, Javier answered he had, and that his mom and dad would one day get those grandkids they always wanted, both men hugging as they happily cried, having a celebratory beer together when the day was over.

“You needed the reminder, Mijo,” Chucho had said as they drank. “Your mamá and I have always been proud of you, and it’s true that you’re a good man with a big heart. Those things you did that you beat yourself up about, Mijo? Your heart had been in the right place ‘cause you cared so damn much, but just because you made mistakes doesn’t make you any less of a good person. You know, when I found the video a week back, and I watched it, it made me grin how much your mamá would’ve loved your Cielito—they would’ve gotten along like a house on fire.” Chucho chuckled. “And I think your mom would’ve been better at getting your butt in gear about finally giving us our nietos (grandchildren)” He’d clapped Javier on the shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, Javi, and can’t wait to spoil my nietos rotten—now hurry up and marry this girl.”

“I’m gonna propose on our first anniversary,” Javier had replied. “When I’m ready, can I have—”

“Your mother’s ring?” His dad cut him off, grinning. “Yes. She wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He knew, without a doubt, he was going to marry her. It was so set in stone in his brain that he sometimes thought of her as his wife instead of his girlfriend because she was so much more than just his girlfriend—she was his life partner, his other half, his media naranja (soulmate). They were going to spend their lives together, and he’d planned the proposal, knowing exactly how he would do it; they just had to wait.

“Oh god,” Cielito exclaimed, taking him from his thoughts. Her face had a look of realization, and her hands were paused in his hair.

“What?” he asked.

Their gazes met. “I’m gonna have to build up my immunity.”

He could see the expression on his face was confused. “What?”

“Your fucking eyes!” She pointed at them in the mirror with the comb. “Your sweet, puppy dog eyes that make me fucking weak. If our babies have them, it’s gonna be game over for me—they’ll be so fucking adorable, and they’ll get everything they want! How can I say no to those eyes?” she accused. “They’re so beautiful and expressive, and when they get all sad, I wanna do whatever I can to cheer you up. Our babies will have secret weapons they better only use for good, Javi!”

Every time she said ‘our babies,’ his heart skipped a beat.

“Can they use them for evil?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah.” She nodded. “I’m honestly so surprised you don’t use them against me—I wouldn’t be able to say no to the eyes, and our children cannot know my weakness.”

He smiled. “I really fucking like when you talk about our future kids.”

Her face matched his, going back to wetting his hair.

“I do, too.” She sighed happily. “They are gonna be so fucking cute.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re their mom,” he said, pointing at her in the mirror.

She glanced at him. “That was so fucking smooth—careful, you’ll make me fall even more in love with you.”

“Good.” He smiled as she moved to his other side to wet the last of his hair. His arm instinctively went around her waist, seeing her smiling in the mirror.

Once she was done, the spray bottle was set on the counter, and she moved to stand in front of him. There was a thoughtful expression on her face as she brushed the comb through his brown waves to part it where she wanted.

She was so close, his eyes stuck on her tits under his green t-shirt right in front of his eyes, calling to him—wanting to touch them—unable to stop himself when he leaned forward to press his face between the soft, pillowy mounds, his hands going behind her to grab her panty-covered ass.

“Javi!” she laughed. Her hand went into the hair at the back of his head, tugging on it to pull him away from her, his mouth turned up in a lazy smile. She was smirking as she looked at him. “I said no feeling up the hairdresser.”

“You’re only wearing my shirt and a pair of panties…”

“True. I’ve made it too tempting. I can change if it’s too much…”

He made a face. “Fuck no.” He smacked her ass, making her giggle. Squeezing the plump flesh one more time, he sat back, crossing his arms over his chest again. “Don’t change. I’ll keep my hands to myself if I can keep looking at you.”

Her eyebrow quirked. “Ten bucks says you grab my ass before I’m done cutting your hair.”

He scoffed. “I can go a fucking haircut without touching you—deal.”

“Sure, Javi…” she said, not sounding convinced.

“I can,” he grumbled.

A warm smile was on her perfect lips. “There’s that adorable grumpy look I love.” Her hands moved, the comb held in one as she cupped his cheeks, her upper body bending to kiss him. It was too quick, and he chased her lips as she pulled back, her mouth still curved up. “And now it’s melted into that happy smile—god, you’re cute.”

He hadn’t even realized he was smiling.

Swallowing hard, he didn’t know how to respond, watching as she went back to combing his hair, concentration etched on her brow. She turned to grab her shears, moving beside him, her fingers pulling some of his hair away from his head and cutting it, doing that over and over.

His attention was on her profile in the mirror, seeing how serious she was, her hands moving in practiced movements like she’d done this many times before.

He was drinking her in, his eyes moving along her body, unable to pinpoint what he loved most.

There was her nose that he loved, and when she did that cute thing, scrunching it up, that made him smile. Her chin, his mouth always finding it—her lips, too, needing to kiss her constantly in order to feel their softness. He loved the spot where her earlobe met her face, loved pressing his nose into it to smell her. That crinkle between her eyebrows when she was concentrating, that was showing right now; he found it adorable, loving it, too. She told him she wanted their kids to have his eyes, but he loved hers more, hoping to see tiny versions of them one day.

Javier softly sighed.

Something about looking at her made him feel good, and he loved it, ignoring how his chest fluttered as his gaze trailed over her body.

Earlier, she said he was getting sappy when they were talking, and right this second, he felt like the biggest fucking sap, thinking about how he loved all of her lines and curves, her laugh, her voice, and how she smelled.

He loved her.

He loved everything about her.

She was perfect to him and the only person in the entire fucking world he wanted to look at.

He could stare at her for hours and never tire of it, simply spend the time memorizing every little detail because he never wanted to forget.

She’d made her way around his head, the sound of her scissors snipping as she cut away his length and shaped his hair sounding in the room.

His fingers itched to touch her, her body so close, clenching his hands into tight fists.

There was a lot less hair on his head now, her standing behind him trimming the top.

He couldn’t believe how much had changed in such a short amount of time.

He’d met the most amazing woman he started dating, and now they were living together, planning their future of getting married and starting a family, and he was so unbelievably happy.

It was a stark contrast to how he’d been when he returned to Laredo almost a year and a half prior.

Resigning from the DEA and coming back to Texas, he was tired, feeling the exhaustion deep down in his bones that he had dedicated so much of his life to a worthless cause. Sure, they got Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel, but even with those wins, the war on drugs didn’t end, and it would never end—you cut off one head, and two more pop up even worse than the last in a neverending vicious cycle of violence and death.

He was done when he got home. All he wanted to do was lay low and live as quiet of a life as he could while he figured out what the fuck he was going to do with himself.

Amongst all of the pain he had from South America and the things he’d done, there were a lot of reminders around the ranch of how happy his parents had been, and it was like a stab to his heart seeing pictures or hearing his dad talk about his mom, knowing he’d never have something like that. They were the blueprint for what he wanted in a relationship—the love and happiness. He yearned so much for what they had, there were nights when sleep escaped him, and he cried that he’d never get it—he knew, for a fact, he wouldn’t find it in Laredo because he basically knew all of the women or knew of them, and there wasn’t a single one he could see himself having that with.

It was a big reason he’d kept to himself and hadn’t been seen with anyone—there was no future for him with any of them, and he was tired of meaningless, casual sex, so he turned down anyone who hit on him. He also didn’t want the town gossiping more than they already were, so he kept a low profile, wallowing in his self-pity that he’d be alone for the rest of his life.

Honestly, things were bleak before her, everything black and white, but she showed up bringing color and life, turning his entire world upside down for the better.

Meeting her and falling in love was the best thing to ever happen to him.

She was moving around him to even his hair out, and he had to admit he was impressed with her skill. It was turning out very well, but she was perfect, so, of course, she was good at it.

There was a soft smile on his lips. “Do you still cut your hair?” he asked her.

Her attention didn’t leave what she was doing, continuing to cut.

“Yeah,” she answered. “No point in paying someone for something I can do at home.”

“You’re good at it, and I love your hair.”

Standing in front of him, she smiled as she made sure the top looked good—combing through the little bit of length and snipping away any stray long hairs.

“Thanks. I read some books, and it took a lot of practice to get it down. Exhausted med students are great guinea pigs—they give absolutely zero fucks. Eventually, though, people started paying, which was nice.”

That reminded him about how he would pay her for the haircut, having promised food and a foot rub.

“Where do you want to get lunch?” he asked.

“Um—“ She thought it over for a second, continuing to trim “—tacos sound good.”

“El Mercadito?”

That was their favorite.

“I was actually thinking Taco Bell.”

He couldn’t help the look of disgust on his face. “You’re joking…”

He really fucking hoped she was.

Her hands stopped, and she leaned back to look down at him, her eyebrows creased as she asked, “Why would I joke about wanting Taco Bell?”

He took a deep breath. “Cielito,” he started. “We live on the border with Mexico… We can get authentic Mexican food. Fuck, we can cross the border and get food in Mexico if you want. I—“ He pointed at his chest. “—can make you better Mexican food than fucking Taco Bell,” he spat out the name. “That place isn’t real food—it’s shit in comparison.”

“Oh my god,” she laughed, throwing her head back. “I knew you’d have thoughts about Taco Bell.” She met his eyes again, her hands holding the scissors and comb moving to carefully cup his cheeks. “I was joking, babe. I would be fucking insane to choose Taco Bell over El Mercadito.” She leaned in to kiss him.

“Thank fuck,” he sighed in relief, the words said into her mouth.

She pulled back to look at him, her eyebrow raised. “If I was serious, would you have eaten it?” she asked.

He inhaled deeply, letting the air out slowly. “If it was what you really wanted?” he said, “Yeah.” Javier shrugged. “Of course, and I would’ve hated every fucking bite, but I’d eat it for you—I’d eat anything for you,” he answered truthfully.

Her face went soft. “That’s very sweet, but I don’t want you eating things you don’t like because of me.”

Frowning, he replied, “I’d rather you be happy…”

She crossed her arms. “Well, I’d rather you be happy, Javi.”

“I am happy eating what you want, even if it’s something I don’t like. I thought I’d hate that raw fish place you took me to in San Antonio, and ended up liking it.”

“The sushi?”

“Yeah.”

“You let me take you there when you figured you’d hate it?”

“Yeah?”

“Javier!” she exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say anything? We could’ve eaten somewhere else.”

He was frowning. Sighing, he replied, “You were excited about finding a place that sold it. I told you I’d never had it before, and I was willing to try it.”

“Yeah, but you thought you were going to hate it. God, you were probably so uncomfortable.”

“I wasn’t,” he reassured, rubbing her upper arms. “You showed me how to eat with the, uh, chopsticks and did a good job of ordering shit you knew I’d like. It was good. I enjoyed it. I like trying new things with you.” He smiled.

“Promise?” she asked.

“Yeah, Cielito.” His hands cradled her face, pulling her down to kiss him.

His plush lips were so soft on your own, melting into the tender kiss. He nuzzled his perfect nose against yours when he ended it, whispering, “I love you.” His thumbs stroked the apples of your cheeks.

“I love you, too,” you replied just as softly.

When you straightened to continue your work, his arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you to stand between his spread legs, shoving his face into your breasts as he hugged you tightly. Juggling the comb and scissors, you got them into one hand while your other rubbed through the wet, shortened hair at the back of his head.

“Just needed to touch me, babe?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah,” his muffled voice answered.

It had to be torture for him to sit in the chair and keep his hands to himself, so you let him hold you for as long as he needed, knowing how important physical touch was to him—it was one of his love languages or how he liked to be loved, his big three being affirmation, physical touch, and quality time.

He needed reassurance by putting the love you had for him into words, telling him you loved him, complimenting him, appreciating him, and encouraging him. He liked to feel your love, giving him kisses, hugs, holding his hand, cuddling, and of course, the most intimate of all, sex. It made him feel adored when you actively wanted to spend time with him and were always down to hang out—there were these little things you could do that meant a lot to him, and you made it a point to do them, wanting him to understand how much you loved him, like how he did the same for you and catered to your similar love languages, except acts of service being a big one for you; Actions spoke louder than words, and it made you feel loved when someone went out of their way to do something for you, and Javi did this often, like this morning when without even asking he made your coffee exactly how you liked it, and had it waiting on the table.

He sighed happily in your bosom, making you smile, his hands rubbing along your spine.

A minute later, he was sitting up in his chair, looking at you with a dreamy smile on his lips, still touching you.

“You get enough?” you asked. “Can I finish your hair?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

Pieces of it in various sizes clung to his broad shoulders and down his naked chest and back, knowing he’d need to shower it all off when you were done.

Those big hands of his trailed down lower, grabbing handfuls of your ass, causing you to giggle.

“You owe me ten bucks,” you said, poking him in a pec with your free hand.

A frown appeared on his face. “Fuck,” he groaned unhappily, looking down. His head popped up with an angry expression, “This is fucking entrapment,” he accused, pointing at you. “You cheated.”

You were taken aback, pressing your hand to your chest. “I cheated?” you asked. “How the fuck did I entrap you?”

“You kissed me.” He crossed his arms in front of him as if his answer cleared up everything.

“I kissed you? Sure, but you also kissed me and hugged me. It’s not my fault you decided to grab my ass, too. I didn’t entrap you. You did this yourself and now owe me ten dollars, ya filthy ass grabber.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’ll show you a filthy ass grabber,” he rasped, grabbing your hips and turning you to face the mirror, quickly pulling down your underwear. His hands squeezed the round flesh of your ass hard before slapping the sides to watch it jiggle, making you moan. “Fucking love your ass.” He gripped it again with his fingers, one coming off and his mouth taking its place.

“Javi,” you gasped when teeth sank into your skin, the pleasurable pain making your eyes close, him smoothing it over with a loud, sloppy kiss.

One of his hands pushed your shirt up, the other landing on your asscheek in a hard smack, him rubbing over the hurt to soothe it, placing one more kiss on your plump cheek, finally pulling up your panties.

“You can finish now,” he said, spinning you back around.

His sweatpants were slightly tented between his legs, your skin feeling heated, him smirking beneath his mustache.

“You’re a goddamn menace,” you said, breathing a little harder.

“I’m your menace.”

You smiled. “Yeah, you are, you fucking dork.”

The haircut was almost done. All you needed to do was his bangs, using the comb to pull the hair forward, sliding it between your fingers to measure it, and snipping away the excess, doing it repeatedly until it was done. From playing with his hair, you knew he had a cowlick on the left side of his head where his hair parted, and when you combed his top and bangs, they swooped over to the other side of his head from there, just like how it looked in his driver’s license picture.

The scissors and comb were held in one hand, your other pushing through his brown strands to get it just right.

“You’re so fucking hot it should be illegal,” you mused, leaning back to take him in.

It was a very put-together and professional look, it trimmed down on the sides, then the little bit of length on top combed over from his side part. There weren’t any sideburns for you to deal with since he shaved them pretty much every day, which looking at his face, he hadn’t the day before seeing a tiny amount of stubble on his face.

“It looks good?” he asked.

“I’d fuck you.”

He chuckled, a big smile appearing on his face that had his dimple showing. “Let me see in the mirror,” he said, his hands landing on your waist to get you to move, so you did, stepping out of his way and turning to grab the handheld mirror to give him, Javi taking it right away.

“It’s fucking perfect,” he marveled. “Looks better than how my barber did it.” He’d turned in his chair to look at the back of his head in the small mirror, pride swelling in your chest over the compliment.

“You really like it?” you asked.

He moved to face you. “I love it,” he answered, leaning forward to set the mirror on the counter, his hands pulling you into his lap, sitting sideways in it, his eyes on yours, his hand holding your cheek. “You did so fucking good—thank you.” His mouth met yours in a heated kiss that had you moaning when his tongue slipped between your lips, pushing your fingers into his shortened hair.

His arm was held tightly around your back as he licked into your mouth, stealing your breath. It was like he couldn’t wait any longer for this moment to have you in his arms and his lips on yours—the kiss was so thorough that when it finally slowed to a stop and he gave you one last peck, you felt dazed when his mouth left you, his eyes on yours.

“You wanna trim my mustache?” he asked.

You weren’t sure if you heard him correctly, asking in a confused tone, “What?”

“Do you want to trim my mustache?”

“Your mustache?”

“Yeah.” He smiled.

It took a second to respond with how shocked you were by his question. “You’d let me trim your mustache?” you clarified.

“Yeah?”

Reaching your hand to stroke his cheek, you replied, “It’s lovely you’d want me to, but that is too much pressure, babe. Your mustache is a work of art.” You rubbed your finger over it. “It’s a part of your identity—it’s who you are. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I fucked it up. It’s just so perfect. Nope. No way. I’m not touching it. That’s all you, Javi.”

He was smirking. “A work of art?” he questioned amusedly.

“Oh, like you don’t know how iconic the stache is,” you said, patting his cheek. “You haven’t gotten rid of it since college, and you make it look so good, Javi. It absolutely is a work of art.”

“It’d be hard for you to fuck it up—I trust you. You sure you don’t wanna give it a try?”

“Nope. I’ll watch, though, as usual.”

He liked it when you kept him company.

After a quick kiss, you were getting up and out of his lap, putting your stuff away while Javi went to get the broom and dust pan in the kitchen after brushing the pieces of hair off his body, it not doing much with the amount still sticking to him as he swept the floor.

Once he’d finished, and the dustpan was emptied and put back where it belonged, It was Javi’s turn to pull out his tools, getting them out of his drawer: shaving cream, razor, fine-toothed comb, and trimming scissors, lining them up neatly on the countertop.

He turned on the sink, and automatically you were walking over to get a small towel from the in-wall cabinet, returning to him, his head leaning over the sink as he splashed water on his face with his hands. He reached for your various skincare products on the counter, grabbing the cleanser, making you smile as he straightened to massage it into his skin and facial hair.

“Don’t forget your neck,” you said.

Glancing over at you, he smiled immediately doing as you said and making a show of getting his neck, too, his face now having a nice soapy layer on it.

After rinsing, he dried off his face with the towel you handed him, you taking it again when it was time for him to shave. Your hip rested against the countertop as you watched him lather his cheeks and chin in shaving cream, washing his hands quickly before grabbing his razor.

“I forgot to tell you—” you started. He had a look of concentration on his face, hearing the blade scrape through his stubble. “—I’m going out for drinks with Robyn tonight.” She was your best friend and co-worker.

“What time do you need me to drop you off?” he asked, his eyes not leaving his face.

Fuck.

You hadn’t anticipated that question.

Technically, you were going out for drinks with Robyn, just not in a usual place like a bar or restaurant. You had a surprise planned for Javi the next day when he got off work, and Robyn was your cover to sneak over to Chucho’s to start working on it. So, you girls were going to have a beer or two at the ranch with your boyfriend’s dad while you prepped.

“I’m not planning on drinking that much, so I’ll drive myself.”

He turned on the sink to wash the razor, him looking at you with a furrowed brow, half of his face shaved, leaving his mustache untouched.

“I’d feel better if I drove you and picked you up…” he said, turning off the water. “I’d worry about you being alone and driving home in the middle of the night.”

You let the air slowly leave your nose.

“Well,” you finally said, “I wasn’t expecting you to be so fucking chivalrous, which is unbelievably sweet, and I love you, but I’m gonna need you to trust me that I’ll be super safe, and I’ll call you on my cellphone when I get there, and when I leave.”

The understanding was clear in his eyes as he sighed, his attention moving back to the mirror.

“Of course, I trust you, Cielito,” he said, shaving again. “So, are there really drinks involved?”

“A couple of beers at most,” you answered.

“Uh-huh.” When he finished his face, he washed the razor, shaking off the water. His eyes met yours in the reflection, a little smile on his lips. “Are you doing something for me, baby?”

Keeping your expression as neutral as possible, you asked in return, “Why would you think that?”

He scoffed. “Because you tried to mislead me by saying you were going out for drinks with Robyn, so I’d assume the bar, but you won’t let me drive you, which means whatever you’re actually doing is a secret and something you don’t want me to find out about. I trust you—” He emphasized the sentence. “—I know for a fucking fact you’d never fuck me over, so this is you being adorable and trying to surprise me. You can keep your secret.” He winked at you. “Please call me when you get there and leave,” he said, looking too pleased with himself.

You sighed loudly. “You really just went all Detective Peña on me, and I’m both horny and frustrated that I couldn’t pull one over on you.”

He snorted, setting the razor aside as he turned on the facet, going through the motions of rinsing off his face, then taking the towel from you to thoroughly dry it.

His words were muffled as he replied, “You tried, though—cute attempt.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you don’t have to be patronizing.” You grumbled, playfully swatting his bare shoulder.

His hands paused, lowering them to turn his head and look at you, his face adorably pinked up from shaving and washing it.

“I’m not being patronizing,” he said with a furrowed brow. “You would’ve gotten me if you hadn’t turned down my ride. You should’ve just had me drive you to Robyn’s and had her take you both to the secret second location.” He shrugged.

Your eyes squinted. “Are you giving me pointers on how to fool you?”

“Yeah,” he answered, smiling. “I, uh, like when you surprise me, but I can’t turn off my fucking brain with shit like this.”

Nodding in understanding, you responded, “Has your cop senses tingling.”

“Spider-Man, right?”

“Yeah!” You grinned.

His face matched yours. “Fucking got one.”

“You did, and I’m very proud.”

Leaning in, he gave you a kiss, his eyes on yours when he broke it.

“You sure you don’t want to trim my mustache?” he asked softly. “You did so fucking well on my hair. I know you won’t have any issues.”

It warmed your heart that he thought so highly of you, chewing on your bottom lip as you decided. He trimmed it every Sunday, and you’ve watched him do it for many weeks now, having an idea of his technique.

“Fine,” you answered. “I kinda know what to do, but talk me through it.”

He gave you a beaming smile, moving in to kiss you quickly before tossing the towel in the hamper and suddenly moving into your space. His hands held your jaw as he kissed you hard, maneuvering you to back up into the bathroom counter, feeling it behind you. His palms trailed down your sides, going low until he got to your bare thighs, breaking the kiss as he lifted you with a grunt to sit on the countertop, him standing in the space between your open legs, kissing you again. He smelled like shaving cream, and your face wash, his mustache tickling your skin, sliding your hands into his short hair as he licked into your mouth.

No one kissed like Javi.

It was an experience—feeling the kiss on your lips and all the way down to your toes with how your body tingled, making your cunt throb for more. His hands always had to be on you, the weight of them burning the skin of your thighs, and there was no point in trying to think when he was taking up all of your senses—he became the only thing on your brain, making you forget about what you were doing, or were about to say, it was a shock you even remembered how to breathe.

Your skin was heated, feeling your pulse between your legs when it hit you, the thing you were supposed to be doing that surprisingly wasn’t Javi.

“I thought… I was trimming… your mustache…” you panted between kisses.

“In a second.” His words said into your mouth, filthily tangling his tongue with your own, making you moan and your fingers tighten in his hair.

Your lungs were aching when he gave you one last soft kiss to the lips and another to the tip of your nose.

He was smiling, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths. “You ready?” he asked.

“You kiss me like that and then expect me to be able to function?” you asked, sounding just as winded.

His head cocked to the side. “Yeah?”

“You’re so fucking ridiculous.” You shook your head, starting to catch your breath.

“You ready?” he asked again.

“Yeah, but if I fuck up, you only have yourself to blame.”

He chuckled, moving to grab the fine-toothed comb and trimming scissors, returning back to his spot between your spread thighs, handing them to you.

“I dried my mustache,” he said. “You’ll want to brush it down.”

His hands were soothingly rubbing along your thighs.

“Right,” you replied, raising the comb up, and sliding it down the short hairs, seeing some were on his lip that’d need to be cut.

“You start by shaping—trimming the bottom, going from the middle, out, the top, then edges.”

You waited for him to stop talking, taking a deep breath, you got to work, the scissors in your dominant hand as you did what he said, trimming all of the longer hairs until you were finished.

“Now, it’s the same way you used the comb to measure and trim the length when you were doing my hair,” he said, meaning you combed some hair to see how long it was on the comb, and trimmed it to the length you wanted. It was easy enough to do, going through the practiced movements and seeing how long he usually had it, cutting down to it.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he mumbled, trying not to move his lips.

You smiled. “After this part, it’s just going through it again to make sure I didn’t miss any strays?” you asked.

“Yeah.”

“Got it.”

You were concentrating, making sure it was nice, and even going over it once more until you were satisfied.

“I think it’s done,” you said, holding the comb and scissors in one hand close to your chest.

“Let me see,” he replied, moving to look around you in the mirror. “I fucking told you there was nothing to worry about—it’s perfect,” he said, leaning back to meet your eyes, smiling.

He did look fucking amazing with his freshly shaved face, trimmed mustache, and cut hair. God, it seemed insane this handsome man was in love with you.

“You really like it?” you asked. Pointing at his head with your free hand, you continued, “The hair, too?”

He moved closer, you setting the things you used onto the counter beside you as he slid his big hands along your arms.

“Yeah,” he answered, his gaze burning into yours. “I love ‘em. You did so well, you could open up your own hair salon.”

You huffed out a breath. “No, thank you. I’m happy with my job.”

Leaning in, the tip of his perfect nose slid down the bridge of your own as he said in a low rasp, “Well, you’re the only one allowed to do my hair from now on.”

“I am?” you whispered, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Yeah—I love you.” He ended the sentence with a kiss.

You pulled back immediately. “Nope, I got your hair on my lips, and I don’t want it in my mouth,” you said, wiping at it. “You need a shower.”

His shoulders slumped as he sighed, looking away. “Fucking covered in them.” He stared down at his naked chest.

He was covered in them—thousands of tiny brown slivers were all over his skin.

“Strip,” you ordered. “In the shower.” You pointed at it. “Then we can be horny.”

“Good idea,” Javi said, meeting your gaze, his hands rubbing up your outer thighs to slide his thumbs under your panties. “You gonna join me?”

Your palms moved up his sternum, ignoring the tiny pieces of hair as you asked, “You want me to?”

Smiling, he replied, “Always, and you know it.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you do.” He grabbed your ass, helping you off the counter to stand as he continued, “Let’s go—I’m dying to kiss you.”

“It’s been less than five minutes,” you laughed, him taking your hand and pulling you toward the shower.

“It’s been too fucking long.”

“You’re adorable,” you said as he opened the shower door and turned on the spray.

“I’m horny.” He was pushing his sweatpants down his legs, kicking them off, then facing you, his hands gripping the bottom of your shirt.

“You’re always horny,” you replied, raising your arms; he impatiently tugged it off, dropping it to the tiled floor haphazardly. His thumbs dipped into the waistband of your underwear while he leaned in to kiss your bare neck, making you gasp his name when he sucked hard on your pulse point.

“I’m always horny for you,” he murmured into your skin as he kissed your shoulder. Suddenly he was dropping into a crouch in front of you, pulling your panties down to your ankles. He hummed in the back of his throat, his voice lower when he said, “Such a good fucking girl keeping my come inside you all night—it’s leaking.”

You swallowed hard, knowing there was some pooled in your underwear.

“I told you I would,” you answered.

Two of his fingers slid through the wet lips of your pussy, moaning when he pushed them inside you to feel what was left of himself.

He looked up at you, his eyes so dark with want, slowly pumping his digits. “Gonna have to fill you up again, baby,” he husked. A shiver moved down your spine, having to keep a whine from escaping your throat. “Gotta keep you full of me.”

“Yes,” you breathed, nodding your head.

There was something about having him come inside you that made your brain purr happily. Was it a kink? Maybe, all you knew was you enjoyed being his stuffed little creampuff.

If you really thought about it, you loved the intimacy of Javi losing himself in your body and how you could feel him get bigger and harder as he came, knowing it was all because of you. There was another thing you discovered hidden in the deep recesses of your consciousness that only came to light recently, and it was the fact of there being a teeny, tiny risk of you getting pregnant that really riled you up.

Have you fantasized about him knocking you up while he was fucking you? Yes.

Does his saying all this stuff about keeping you full of his come add fuel to the fire? Also, yes.

Sex with Javi has always been incredible, but some kind of switch flipped that has made it even better, and you were as addicted to cream pies as he was.

Your agreement had him moving into action, his hand leaving you to help you step out of your underwear, Javi rising to his feet with a groan. His attention turned back to the shower, putting his hand in the water and seeming satisfied with the temperature since he tugged you into the stall with him.

There were many reasons you chose to buy this apartment, the oversized south-facing windows were a big plus for your plants, but the best feature was the bathroom that’d been upgraded with a large shower stall two people could easily stand in with a small bench on one side and the spacious bathtub that was excellent to soak in.

Steam was rising in the small space, noticing Javi’s dick was hard between his legs, him immediately getting under the spray to rinse himself off as you stood behind him, staring at his naked back, watching the muscles flex under his freckled skin while his hands moved to clean his upper body.

Quickly he was turning, his eyes closed, tilting his head back into the water as he pushed his fingers through his hair, washing it. Your eyes trailed over his front, seeing his chest and belly had reddened, his cock heavy and hard, jutting out from his hips, and you needed to touch him, pressing your palms over the heated skin of his pecs, feeling his heart beating under your hand.

It caught you off guard when his mouth came crashing down on yours, stifling the surprised sound in your throat, Javi kissing you like his life depended on it. He wrapped his arm around your back to pull you into him, the broad palm of his other hand cradling your face.

This was one of those kisses where you could feel deep down how much he wanted you—how much he needed you. It was all-consuming, teeth, tongues, and lips as he kissed the breath from your lungs.

His mouth didn’t leave yours as he maneuvered you to take his place under the showerhead, the hot spray cascading down your back.

“It’s nice and hot, just how I like it,” you said when you broke apart, him kissing along your jaw.

His head moved to look you in the eyes, his hair wetly slicked back while his hand left your face.

“Baby, there’s hot—” He held his hand flat in between your faces. “—and then there’s how you like it—” He raised his hand above your head. “—where it feels like the water is being pumped straight from the fiery pits of hell.”

“It feels nice!” you laughed. “And you’ve gotten used to it. You never complain anymore.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I’ve gotten used to being cooked alive because my wi—girlfriend—” Your eyes widened at his almost slip up. “—loves it so fucking much.”

Did he think of you as his wife? Was he going to propose soon? You knew the idea was to get married at some point. Did he already have a plan? You were excited by the prospect, happiness had your skin feeling like it was vibrating, knowing it had nothing to do with the water falling down your back, and you couldn’t keep the cheek-splitting grin off your face.

“Javi?” Your hands skated up his chest to loop your arms around his neck.

“Yes, Cielito?”

“Do you think of me as your wife…?”

Blush appeared on his cheeks as his eyes darted away, clearing his throat. “Uh, kind of? You’re more than just my girlfriend… I, uh, think wife is better…?” He met your gaze. “I am going to marry you and have everything figured out.” Javi sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “But, I’m trying to be romantic and wait…”

Your heart was hammering in your chest that he did have a plan and if he was waiting for something in particular…

“You waiting for our anniversary to ask me to be Mrs. Javier Peña, babe?”

His hand fell, revealing rounded eyes. “Am I that fucking obvious?”

It was taking everything in you not to jump up and down in excitement that he was going to propose in less than a year. Did he have a ring? Where was he going to do it? Was he going to take you away somewhere? Your mind was racing with the possibilities, aware that however he chose to do it would be perfect.

You smiled as you answered, “You’re just very sweet and romantic, so it makes sense, and I can’t wait.” You leaned in to kiss him, saying into his mouth, “Now, your wife is very turned on by this conversation, and I’d like my husband to fuck me.”

He loudly groaned, his arm on your back pulling you closer to him, the other moving down to squeeze your ass, Javi kissing you harder.

His lips found your chin, nibbling it with his teeth, followed by kissing a wet streak across your jaw and down your neck, pushing your fingers into the hair at the back of his head when he nipped at your pulse.

Your body was thrumming with energy, arousal coating the insides of your thighs, wanting him inside you so badly to fill the needy ache.

“Wanna eat my wife’s pussy.” His words were muffled into your collarbone, sending a thrill through you.

“Yes,” you moaned.

With a groan, he was getting down onto his knees on the shower floor, pulling you closer to him, his big hand grabbing your thigh to set up on his shoulder, while the other had a firm grip on your ass to keep you steady.

Your head fell back as he dove in, licking a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, pulling it between his lips and sucking—sparks of pleasure were lighting up in your core, needing to put your fingers in his hair for something to hold onto.

The water was somewhat muted with it hitting your spine, so you could hear Javi between your legs, groaning as his tongue licked up every bit of your arousal he could taste on the lips of your sex and between your folds. He made you moan when he shoved the wet muscle inside you, greedily licking up the mix of his come and your juices.

“Oh, fuck, Javi,” you gasped. “It’s so good—it feels so good.”

Heat was building in your center, growing rapidly while he worked you over, feeling his tongue dragging along your inner walls to get every last drop and licking back through your slit when he’d gotten his fill.

Javier knew how to use his mouth, be it for saying romantic things, filthy things, or him just wanting you to see god. He put it to good use, especially right now, with his lips wrapped around your engorged clit, pushing you closer to your release.

He pressed two thick fingers inside you, moaning at the slight stretch, and you were so close, the muscles in your belly beginning to tighten, your cunt starting to spasm. You knew what was about to come, yet, you still weren’t prepared for him to crook his digits and rub something so divine it had your vision whiting out, gasping his name.

“You gonna come for me?” The question was asked into your pussy, punctuating it by sucking your bundle of nerves hard, his fingers sliding into that heavenly spot, over and over, working you up until you hit your breaking pointing, shattering with a cry of his name as you came, ecstasy flowing through your veins.

His fingers kept moving to extend your high, Javi’s mouth coming off you to say in a rough voice, “Good girl—you did so good for me.”

You were thankful he kept you standing, pretty sure you would’ve crumbled to the ground if he hadn’t. Panting breaths were leaving your mouth, your thoughts muddled in a pleasurable haze.

He wasn’t going to last.

They’d talked about their future kids, and now all he could think about was fucking a baby into her and add in her calling him her husband, he fucking knew once he got his dick inside her, it was going to be embarrassingly quick—which was why, even though his cock was painfully throbbing between his legs, he needed to make her come on his tongue to guarantee he satisfied her.

Her pussy had finally stopped fluttering around his fingers, licking her taste off his lips as he rose to stand, groaning at the ache in his knees. She had her eyes closed, her face relaxed, looking all blissed out, and it made him smile seeing her like that, still able to smell her on his mustache.

Wrapping an arm around her, he turned to press her back into the wall, the hotter than hell water hitting his side, wondering in the back of his mind how fucking big their water heater was—tenderly he kissed her, feeling her reciprocate, her hands landing in his wet hair, gripping it in her fingers.

The kiss slowed to him pecking her lips, each of her cheeks, and the tip of her nose while she smiled.

“You good, Cielito?” he asked, nuzzling her nose with his.

“I’m fucking amazing,” she answered.

“Yeah?” he rasped. “You still want your husband to fuck you?”

Just saying it had his heart swelling and his cock twitching between them, Javier pressing it into her belly, letting her feel him.

“God, yes,” she moaned. “I want my husband to fuck me and fill me up.”

A sharp spike of pleasure cut through him like a knife, Javier groaning.

This would end before it even started if she kept talking like that.

He moved quickly, pulling her leg up on his hip to give him room to work.

“My wife gets whatever the fuck she wants,” he said.

He spat on his fingers, spreading it over her dripping hole, spitting on them again to coat his dick, gasping at how good the friction felt.

There was no way he could wait any longer, pushing the tip through her folds and notching at her entrance. His mouth fell open as he pressed in, her warmth so inviting, sliding home in one thrust, her walls tightly massaging his cock.

Fuck, she felt so good—nothing was better than this.

He fit so perfectly, he thought he was meant for her.

Heat pulsed in his gut, threatening to explode, making him swallow thickly with sweat already beading on his brow.

He sounded wrecked when he told her, “I’m sorry, baby—I’m not gonna last.”

Her eyes opened, smiling warmly at him, moving her hands to rub over his back, his own clutched on her thigh and hip.

“Don’t be sorry,” she reassured. “I want you to come—I want you to fuck it deep inside me. Please, Javi, let me have it.”

He could see in her eyes she meant it. Javier groaned, “Fuck.” He crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her as he started moving, thrusting into her hard and fast.

His fingers were digging into her skin, feeling her all wet and warm, taking him so well, moving in and out of her smoothly with the slap of his hips echoing in the stall.

He was grunting, Cielito’s hands tightly gripping his ass, her moaning into his mouth as he kissed her—every slick slide of his cock was pushing him closer and closer, feeling the heat growing hotter and hotter in his gut.

The things she said were playing over and over in his head—her calling him her husband, asking him to fill her up and fuck it deep inside her. He was imagining her asking in that same begging tone to put a baby in her, have him as her husband fuck one into her, the thought making a pained groan pull from his throat.

His face moved to the crook of her neck, panting hot breaths against her skin.

“Give it to me, Javi,” she whined. “I want it.”

The words shot straight to his dick, speeding up to pound into her, his belly knotting up so tight that Javier lost his rhythm.

“Gonna come,” he said through his teeth.

His balls tightened up, feeling his cock thicken, pushing into her deep one last time as he came with her name on his lips—the wet gush of his spend filled her inner depths, rolling his hips with a whispery hiss to fuck it deeper, wanting to get his come as deep as possible inside her.

The overstimulation became too much, and he came to a stop, pleasure rolling through his body and relaxing him to the point he slumped against her.

His eyes were closed, humming happily when her fingers started stroking through his hair, kissing his bare shoulder and cheek.

Javier was in heaven—he was always in heaven with her.

Fuck, he loved her.

He loved her more than life itself.

He loved her more than anything.

It took a lot of energy to move his head.

“Por favor bésame, mi amor (Please kiss me, my love).” It came out slightly slurred, Javier puckering his lips.

“You’re so polite—is this a life or death situation again?”

“No.” He shook his head. Opening his eyes, he looked at her as he tried to put how he felt into words, saying what came to mind slowly, hoping she’d understand, “Estoy enamorado de ti (I’m in love with you)—” Her face softened, smiling. “Y te amo más todos los días (And I love you more every day). Seré solo tuyo hasta el final de los tiempos e incluso cuando mi corazón deje de latir, seguiré amándote (I will be only yours until the end of time, and even when my heart stops beating, I will still love you).” Javier sighed wistfully. “Me enamoro mil veces al día, y cada vez, es contigo (I fall in love one thousand times a day, and every time, it’s with you). Tus besos se sienten como un rayo de sol después de que ha llovido, devolviéndome la vida—besarte es como ver las estrellas y soy codicioso (Your kisses are like a ray of sunshine after it’s rained, bringing me back to life—kissing you is like seeing the stars, and I’m greedy). Quiero todos tus besos (I want all of your kisses). Necesito todos tus besos (I need all of your kisses). Siempre necesito todo de ti (I always need all of you). ¿Por favor, me puedes dar un beso (Please, can you give me a kiss)?” Her eyes had squinted, trying to put together what he said. “Need me to translate?” he asked.

“I think I got it?” she answered. “Which, dear god, Javier, this is so romantic. I’m pretty sure you said you’re in love with me and love me more every day. You’ll only be mine until the end of time and even when your heart stops, you’ll still love me—“

“Deje de latir,” he corrected, smiling. “Stops beating—latir means to beat.”

“Oh! Cuando mi corazón deje de latir, seguiré amándote—when my heart stops beating, I will still love you.”

“Sí!” He kissed her nose.

“Yay! And same.” She grinned. “Then it was, uh, you fall in love a thousand times a day and every time it’s with me. Like, Javi, just give me the ring, I’m gonna say yes.”

His heart sped up.

“Todavía no… (Not yet),” he replied. “Quiero que sea perfecto (I want it to be perfect).”

She pouted and it was a struggle not to kiss her.

“Fine. My favorite part was when you said my kisses feel like a ray of sunshine after it’s rained and kissing me is like seeing the stars.”

“¿Y me hace (And it makes me)?”

“Codicioso,” she giggled. “Greedy.”

“Es cierto (It’s true).” He kissed her cheek.

“¿Estás seguro de que no quieres ponerme un, uh— (Are you sure you don’t want to put a—)” She paused thinking of the word. “Oh! Anillo en el dedo (Ring on my finger)?” she asked, holding up her left hand.

“Te amo, pero todavía no (I love you, but not yet). Sé paciente (Be patient).” He pressed his lips to her other cheek in a smacking kiss.

“God, okay, but you keep saying these things…” He gave her a look, and she sighed. “I’ll stop asking. Now where was I?”

“Quiero todos tus besos (I want all of your kisses)...”

“Right, you want and need all of my kisses.”

“Claro (Of course),” he said, nodding.

“You’re so fucking adorable. Finally, you said you always need all of me.”

“Sí, verdad (Yes, it’s true). ¿Cuál era mi pregunta (What was my question)?”

“¿Por favor, me puedes dar un beso (Please, can you give me a kiss)?”

“¿Y me puedes dar un beso, por favor (And can you give me a kiss, please)?”

“No sé (I don’t know)…” She said it slowly and he frowned. “¿Cómo esta mi español (How is my Spanish)?”

He was honestly very proud of how well she’d been learning, grinning as he said, “¡Perfecto! Fue mejor que ayer (Perfect! It was better than yesterday) Ahora bésame, por favor (Now kiss me, please).” He puckered his lips again, her laughing.

She cupped his cheeks as she finally kissed him, Javier feeling like he was melting into her, loving how her mouth felt on his.

It was languid, soft, and he was happy.

When it ended, and he looked at her, his eyes were bigger.

“¿Mi amor, me puedes lavar el pelo, por favor (My love, can you wash my hair, please)?”

She started giggling.

“Not the eyes! My weakness.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Of course, I’ll wash your hair, babe.” She put her hand in the water. “It’s gonna be a cold shower, but that question doesn’t require the use of your secret weapons.”

He wasn’t even paying attention to the shower’s temperature he was so focused on her.

“Needed to make sure you said yes.” He smiled.

“I gotta build up my immunity somehow.” She shrugged.

“Because of our future kids?”

She nodded. “Sí, uh, debido a nuestros muy adorables futuros bebés (Yes, because of our very adorable future babies).”

He was pretty sure he might burst from the happiness inside him.

Kissing her, he murmured into her lips, “I really fucking love you.”

“I really fucking love you, too, my future husband.”

He smiled into the kiss.

He was her future husband, and she’ll be his wife, and they’ll live happily ever after with their future kids, like one of those fucking fairytale Disney movies she’d watched with him.

Jesus Christ, he had become such a fucking sap.

Steve could never know.

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[ihaechans]

Hallows Eve || 1-800-SLASHERS - N.JM

PAIRING ▸ Na Jaemin x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut!!!!!!!!!!!

WARNINGS/CONTENT ▸ profanity, phone sex, mutual masturbation, Jaemin fear kink(?), edging, orgasm control

SUMMARY ▸When your friend told you about 1-800-SLASHERS. You could almost laugh at her. Paying people to roleplay as characters from scary movies? Who does that? But once you found yourself calling 1-800-SLASHERS way more than you’d like to admit, even going as far as using their video call feature time and time again. You don’t think you can stop. 

WORD COUNT▸ 1.6k

A/N: this was kinda hard for me to make because Michael Myers has NEVER spoken in any of the movies. Also, I was too lazy to proofread so sorry for any mistakes. 😭 Part of @jenoslutie '1-800-SLASHERS' Halloween Series'

Every time you dial the number, your heart races with excitement and fear, knowing that you are about to enter a world of terror and pleasure. As the line connects, you hear heavy breathing on the other end, followed by a sinister voice.

You hesitate for a moment, trying to choose between Freddy Krueger, Michael Myers, or Jason Voorhees. Finally, you make your decision and say, "I want to talk to Michael."

The operator chuckles darkly and says, "Very well. Please hold while I connect you."

Suddenly, the screen comes to life, and there he is, Michael Myers, staring right at you from behind the screen.

His eyes bore into yours, and you can feel a shiver run down your spine. You can't help but feel a sense of excitement and fear mixed together as you stare back at him. His mask is as emotionless as ever, and you wonder why you haven't one this sooner.

You can't deny the thrill that runs through your body as you stare into those lifeless black eyes.

"Hello," you start, trying to break the silence.

You take in his surroundings through the screen, black room, dimly lit, nothing but a bed visible in the background. He's wearing a name tag on his blue jumper. Jaemin was his name.

He doesn't respond, but you can see him tilt his head slightly to the side. You feel a sense of unease, but you can't stop staring at him.

You try to steady your breathing as you watch him in silence. You can feel your heart beating faster and faster, and you realize that you're getting turned on by the fear that he evokes in you, starting to wonder what it would be like to be at the mercy of someone like Michael Myers.

Suddenly, you hear a faint sound coming from the other end of the line, and you realize that Michael Myers is breathing heavily. You can see his chest rising and falling in rhythm with his breath, and you start to feel a sense of excitement building inside you.

Without thinking, you say, "What do you want from me, Michael?" There's no response, but you can see his eyes narrow slightly, and you know that he's listening to you. You start to feel a sense of exhilaration at the thought of being watched and listened to by someone like him. You continue to stare at him, transfixed, as he remains silent.

Suddenly, you see Michael Myers moving closer to the screen, his eyes still locked onto yours. You can feel his presence invading your personal space, and yet, you find yourself wanting more.

His white mask fills the entire screen, and you can see the faint outline of his muscular body standing behind it. You feel a sudden urge to touch him, to feel his skin against yours, to experience the thrill of being with someone so dangerous. "Michael," you whisper his name again, hoping to elicit a response from him.

This time, he moves even closer, his mask almost touching the camera. You can practically feel his breath on your skin, and you shiver with anticipation. His eyes seem to be searching for something, and you wonder what it is that he wants from you.

You're not sure if it's the fear or something else that's making you feel this way, but you know that you want more of it. You want him to touch you, to take control of you, to make you feel alive in a way that you never have before.

Suddenly, Michael Myers speaks, his voice low and menacing.

"You want to know what I want from you?" he asks, his words sending a chill down your spine.

You nod eagerly, unable to speak. "I want to make you scream," he says, his voice sending shivers down your body. "I want to hear you beg for mercy while I take everything from you."

You feel a jolt of fear mixed with excitement course through your veins at his words. You swallow hard, your mouth dry as you try to reply, but no words come out. Michael Myers moves even closer to the screen, his mask filling your entire view. "I know what you want, and I can give it to you," he says, his voice deep and menacing. "I can make you feel things you've never felt before, I can make you forget everything except for the fear and pleasure I can give you."

The softness of his voice sent a wave of warmth through your body, and your heart beat grew faster as goosebumps rose up your arms. Every word he said felt like an intimate secret that was only meant for you. You're not sure if it's Michael Myers himself or the thrill of danger that's making you feel this way, but you know that you want more.

"What do I have to do?" you ask, your voice barely audible. Michael Myers leans back slightly, his eyes still locked onto yours.

"I want you to touch yourself for me," he says, his voice growing softer, deeper and more dangerous. "I want you to make yourself cum while I watch. I want you to cum until you can't remember your own name, until you're begging for me to allow you to stop. And then, I want you to start all over again."

His words send a wave of excitement through you, and you can feel your heart beat faster as you nod in agreement. You never thought you'd be so turned on by a man like Michael Myers, but you find yourself strangely attracted to him, and the thought of making yourself cum for him is more than enough to make you start.

You can feel your cheeks flush red with embarrassment as you start to tug down your pants and pull off your shirt. You can feel Michael's eyes on you as you undress, and you can't help but wonder if he's getting off at the sight of you.

You pull your shirt off, and suddenly, you can feel the cool air of your room on your chest. Your body trembles, craving for Michael to provide you with further affection.

You bite your lower lip as you see Michael's eyes staring at your breasts, and you realize that you want him to touch them. You want him to pin you down and make you feel helpless while he pounds into you without mercy.

You feel your left hand grab one of your breasts and start massaging it gently, starting with your nipple, and you can't help but moan in pleasure. You're embarrassed by the sounds that you're making, but you know that Michael is listening, and the thought of him getting turned on by your sounds of pleasure is enough to make you push yourself further.

Jaemin is still watching you, his eyes filled with lust as he leans towards the screen. You feel your right hand start to move towards your pussy, and you desperately try to push down your panties. You're embarrassed by how wet you are, but you can't help but continue to touch yourself.

You start to massage your clit with your middle finger, and you moan as you feel your pussy throbbing with pleasure and anticipation. You spread your legs slightly to give yourself more room to work, and you can feel the cool air of your room caressing the wetness of your pussy. You start to rub your clit faster, your mind filled with thoughts of Michael Myers, and you can feel your body tense up as you're getting closer to orgasm.

You can feel your heart beating faster and faster, and your breathing gets heavier as you near your climax. Just as you feel yourself about to cum, Michael Myers says, "Stop." You're about to protest, but then you realize that you can't.

You can see his hand move to the bottom of the screen, and you feel a wave of excitement run through your body as you realize that he's stroking his dick. You can't help but feel a sense of arousal at the thought of him touching himself while he's watching you.

His chest rises and falls in rhythm with his breathing, and the sight of him getting turned on by your fear makes you tense up even more. You can feel a sense of anticipation building inside you, and you realize that you want him to watch you cum. You want him to see just how much pleasure you can feel.

You slowly slide your fingers into yourself, and you can hear the sound of your juices flowing from your pussy. You can feel your pussy throbbing, your body desperately trying to cum, and you feel your thighs shake as you thrust your fingers faster into your cunt, hitting that spot that makes you dizzy.

As the waves of pleasure crash down over you, you can hear moans escaping your lips. You're embarrassed by how loud you're being, but you can't seem to stop yourself.

You can feel the rush of cum coursing through your body, and you can feel your legs shaking as you're pushed to the edge of your orgasm. You bite your lower lip, desperately trying to keep in any other sound other than moans of pleasure.

Finally, the waves of pleasure slow down and you can feel your heart beat slowing down. In that moment, you hear a faint moaning sound come from your computer speakers, and you realize that it's Michael Myers. You look at the screen, and you can see a clouded outline of where Michael Myers is, and you realize that he's cumming.

A moment of silence passes, the sound of your heavy breaths the only thing audible. Then, Michael Myers speaks. "Very good," he says, his voice soft yet somehow still sending a strange feeling of dread through your body. "We're going to have lots of fun together in the future."

#jaemin #na jaemin #Jaemin na #nct jaemin #nct jaemin smut #jaemin smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #kpop boy group smut #boy group smut #nct #nct dream #nct u #nct u smut #jaemin fic #na jaemin fic #jaemin x reader #nct smut #ihaechans

[moonshynecybin]

you cantttt just say rosquez feminization and not elaborate…. penny for your thoughts

shout out to @lestelledreams who sent me another ask like this but tumblr ATE my response when i tried to post it. luckily i draft in notes app…okay so it would be easier to list thoughts i DONT have about rosquez feminization… under the cut bc we do in fact get a lil nasty here

so i’ve talked a bit about some of the non-racing oriented things marc does for his body like his hot girl routine (laser hair removal. skin creams. slutty workout videos) like my girl enjoys being SMOOTH he enjoys being conventionally SEXY (personally. bush til i die but whatever live your truth marc) and the first time he’s doing it as. okay i’m famous and photographed all the time AND around my hot older crush/idol who has fucked more people than i’ve ever even met in my lifetime… like a little insecure part of marc is like this is what vale wants… and one thing about my man marc is he will COMMIT. so he waxes himself hairless the entire time they are fucking the first from 2013-2015 (and beyond) and frankly vale would like him either way but MARC gets off on it so hard… making himself pretty for vale… and maybe vale says something like that in the moment, just like mindless dirty talk about how good he looks how he made himself all pretty like a girl, and marc jolts like he’s been electrocuted and whines and comes right then even though vale had like JUST got inside him… and he’s curled around vale panting eyes shining leg hitched around vale’s hip asking him to keep going and it’s SO clear he liked whatever that was a LOT.

so vale uh. catalogs that information. and starts to test some hypotheses #olditalianmeninSTEM by which i mean the next time marc is blowing him he curls his hand into marc’s hair and tugs a little until marc looks him in the eye and vale just sends it like they’re whipping 310km/hr around the track— like breathless mischievous confidence… starts feeding him a stream of dirty talk, calling him gorgeous telling him nasty stuff about his tits riding that lovely edge of complimentary and degrading and getting sooo gender about it, and he watches marc’s eyelashes flutter and his hand on vale’s hip tightens and then marc like. literally chokes himself on valentino’s dick he’s clearly so so into it and vale feels crazyyyyyyy… SORRY..

and then it’s onnnnn baby it is. using the feminine forms of italian endearments in bed. playing with his tits. losing the condom. weird roleplay where they laugh so much. it is delightfully horny and slightly goofy gender transgression that they are both SO obsessed with… like the sex whiplashes through tonal dissonance it is simultaneously the most intense thing they’ve ever felt and like. lethally campy. at one point they are BOTH the baby girls bc they love being hot and are not serious people

that being said it culminates with vale just like. buying disgustingly expensive neon yellow designer lingerie and leaving it in marc’s motorhome with a lil note that has like. a dumbass turtle doodle on it instead of his signature. like something very silly and valentino. and then they have the WORLD’S most insane sex about it where vale says all kind of nasty stuff about marc being his best girl and spits in his mouth and tries to get him pregnant. hashtag catholic weirdo moments. crucially it is never formally discussed until like. genuinely ten years later when vale is like impish nervous smile WE REALLY SHOULD HAVE TALKED ABOUT THAT EH? and marc’s like ? best sex of my life? wdym?

#i love them they’re like one big red flag. NOT the racing kind… #PLEASE know. i am a lover and haver of body hair this is just what i think would go on in their brains vis a vis their perceptions of gender #and marc’s deep commitment to being smooth all over like a dolphin #callie speaks #motogp #rosquez #asks

[13as07]

Weekend #2

(Neji Hyuga & Shikamaru Nara)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to unknown. Again I couldn't find the source, I'm sorry]

Requested by: xxziggy

Word Count: 3,415

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

I just realized this is the second FWB story I've put Shika in. Our poor man.

Love Triangle

Name Calling: Pet, Princess

Second part is a Neji half-smut so beware :)

Fingering (Female Receiving)

Teacher/Student Roleplay (for like two paragraphs)

Voice Kink

Praising

Verbally Fighting

———————————————————————

"Hey, Pet?" Shikamaru's voice calls out, followed by the sound of the zipper of the tent Ino and I are sharing being pulled down. "Are you ready to meet up with everyone?" He asks, eyeing the swimsuit he never got the chance to see.

"Ya, are you ready?" I ask back, grabbing the beach bag before crawling out of my tent. Once I'm out and standing straight again, I fix the cover I've wrapped around my hips.

Shika hums a soft yes, his eyes trailing over my fingers as I fix the knot. "Let's go," he murmurs, gripping my wrist before he leads me forward. His hand slips into mine, toying with my fingers as we head towards the beach. "Hey?" He peeps up a few steps away from the start of the sand.

"Hey, what?"

"Come here," he mutters, tugging me toward him by our joint hands. I'm pressed against Shikamaru, his free hand sliding up to cup my neck before his lips brush against mine. His kisses are hungry and quickly get rougher the longer he kisses me.

"Hey," I giggle, gently pushing him away from me. "You know the rules. No conjugating on the friends’ weekend."

"Ya, I know," he grumbles, pecking my lips again before turning back to tugging me forward. "A kiss or two won't hurt though," he mutters, jumping down the small edge from the forest grass to the sand of the beach.

"I guess so," I mutter, jumping down the edge too, Shika's hands holding my waist on my way down. 'Hello's are thrown our way by our friends as we walk across the beach. Ino and Choji wave us over their spot, getting an eye roll from Shikamaru. "Come on, stop being so boring," I tease, taking over the tugging as I beeline for our friends.

"Ino!" I cheer, racing forward to gushing over her swimsuit. "You are looking so hot."

"Bsh, this old thing?" She says, fake coyness in her voice. "I just got it off the Clarence rack last season. Look at you though! Hot damn, mamas!"

We both giggle, getting groans from the other half of our little group. "Can we just go swimming now? That's the whole point of this trip," Choji teases, standing up from the sand to stretch. "Aside from the s'mores of course."

"Of course," the three of us mock, following after the large man.

When we get to the dock, Choji races forward, jumping into the lake and making a huge splash. Ino dives in after him, her jump a lot more majestic than Cho's. "Alright, our turn," Shikamaru says, taking hold of me, and hoisting me up before I can stop him. He jumps off the deck, tumbling the two of us off the deck.

"Shika!" I shriek, gripping his shoulders and taking a deep breath before I'm pulled under. The water envelopes us as we sink, the strands of our hair tangling together as we slowly float back up to the surface.

My head breaks the water surface first giving me the chance to catch my breath first. "Meanie!" I giggle, splashing him when he breaks the water’s surface too.

"'Come on, stop being so boring'," he teases, splashing me back before he swims towards me. "Come here," he grumbles again, wrapping his arms around my waist and tugging me against him again.

Shikamaru situates us, letting himself float on the water's surface with me sat on him like a surfboard. "What are you doing?" I ask, squeezing his sides with my thighs as my hands rest on his chest. I paddle my legs in the water, slowly shifting us around the lake.

"I'm going to take a nap," he murmurs, letting his eyes fall closed.

"Shika!" I whine, splashing him again. "We're supposed to be swimming."

"We are swimming," he answers, splashing me back. "Just relax, Pet. We can waste energy paddling around later. You should take a nap too."

I grumble but give into Shika's plans, leaning my head back with my thighs squeezed tighter. As I sink into a half float, I let my upper body rest in the water like he's doing.

In my upside-down sight, I catch a glimpse of Neji and Lee on the beach. Neji's sights are set on us, his face scrunched up as he looks our way. Jealousy or is Lee annoying him? It has to be Lee, Neji doesn't take me as the jealous type.

————————————

"Nara-Chan?" Neji's voice echoes from outside my tent, getting me a teasing look from the girls. "Are you still awake?"

"Yes, I am. Give me a second," I answer, shooting a look at them to knock it off before I unzip the tent.

He pops his head in, a huge smile on his face as he looks at me. "What are you girls up to?"

"Playing a game of poker, a game I'm winning by the way," Tenten taunts enjoying her victory streak and pulling mumbles from the other girls in the makeshift room. "How about you, Nej? What are you up to?"

"I came back to see if Nara-Chan wanted to go on a walk," he answers, focus turned toward me again. "Would you like to go on a walk?"

"Sure Neji," I say, my heart fluttering a bit. We haven't had any alone time since we got here and it would be nice to finally have some. A string of teasing noises spill from the girls as I climb out of the tent, making me roll my eyes. "Hey Nej," I greet once I'm out, climbing to my feet.

His hands shoot down, clinging to my elbows and helping me to my feet. "Hello, Nara-San."

"Would you stop calling me that?" I tease, enjoying the feeling of his hands on me.

     "I suppose I could call you something else. I will have to think about it though," he mutters, eyebrows pressed together in thought. "As for now, let us go on our walk." His arm slides into mine, hooking us together as we start our stroll away from the army of tents.

Our walk is sweet, the two of us walking in silence and enjoying the scenery. Soon the forest gives way to the beach again, a soft yellow of light poking into the night sky a few yards ahead. "Neji," I murmur, my senses heightening at the thought of someone else being around.

"Calm down, Princess."

"Princess?" I ask, the nickname catching me off guard.

"I set us up a spot to enjoy some time together," he explains, blowing off my question.

"Did you?" I ask, letting him lead me forward. He hums a yes, helping down the split between the forest and the sand of the beach. "That's so sweet Nej!" I coo, the little scene he set up falling into view.

A small fire burns, with a blanket laid out in front of it. Pillows and rose petals are littered across the blanket, adding to the romantic star-gazing spot. "Do you like it?" He asks, shifting behind me with his hands softly resting biceps.

"I love it! It's so sweet," I praise, leaning against his chest. After a beat, I take hold of his hand and race forward, sliding a bit in the sand. "How'd you manage all of this? Hasn't Lee been attached at your hip all day?"

"Lee helped me set it up," Neji explains, his hands gripping mine to help me onto the blanket. "He wants 'a full report of the night' when I get back," he adds, sinking to the ground as well.

"A 'full' report?" I tease, adjusting some of the pillows before I lay down. My fingertips got with some of the petals, enjoying how soft and smooth they are.

"Yes," he answers shortly, lying down next to me. "Lee is a bit invasive."

"He's just excited for you," I murmur, letting my eyes jump around the sky, lazily counting the stars.

We fall quiet again, enjoying our star gazing before Neji's voice rings out again. "Are Shikamaru and you something? I feel like I'm intruding."

"No, we're not together," I answer, my hand sliding over the blanket in search of his. When I find Neji's hand, I tangle our fingers together.

"Then what is going on between you two?" He asks, squeezing my hand gently a couple of times.

"Sometimes we just... help each other out... with... our needs."

"Is that so?" He asks, the sound of his head turning against the fabric of the pillow following his question.

I turn my head towards him, squeezing his hand in return. "Ya, that's so," I mutter, looking into his white eyes. "Does it bother you?"

"No, Tenten and I do the same thing on occasion." Neji's eyes jump around me before settling on my face again.

     "Oh ya?"

     "Yes, does that bother you?" He asks, a flicker of concern flashing across his face.

     "No, Nej, I'm not that sallow. I just assumed you were a virgin," I giggle, a string of laughter falling from me because of my honesty.

     "I am not a virgin! I have... been with a woman," he huffs out, cheeks turning red as he turns his head back toward the sky.

     "I don't believe you," I poke, turning toward the stars too. "I think you're a virgin that doesn't know what he's doing."

     "I know what I'm doing," he grumbles, squeezing my hand again. "I know what I'm doing," Neji repeats, now squeezing my hand in repeat.

     "Ya? Prove it. You won't though, I know you won't," I taunt, turning my head again as I let out another round of laughs.

     His voice and squeezing stop before his movements pick up. Neji turns over, the hand not wrapped up in mine slides into my hair, clinging to it as his head moves forward. His lips crash against mine, a bit unbalanced with nervousness for a moment before we fall into a pattern.

     "That..." I start to mutter when he pulls away, my eyes hazily opening to look at a red-faced Neji. "Proves nothing."

His lips purse together as he scans me again. "You are a very attitude-filled person," he mutters, shifting again so he's hovering over me, legs tangled with mine and hands pressed on either side of my head. "But that is alright. It is part of what attracts me to you."

This time it's my face going red as I turn my sights away from him, a smile breaking out on my face. Damn it, Neji, why do you have to be so straight-forward about everything?

"Well that's good," I peep out, slowly focusing back on the man hovering over me. "What else attracts you to me?" I ask, letting my hands wander over his sides.

We're both still in our swim attire, Neji in his swim trunks and a t-shirt, and me with a pair of shorts and my swim bottoms underneath, an open sweatshirt covering my arms and leaving nothing but my bikini top. It's pretty generic rom-com beach wear if I think about it.

"Aside from your attitude, you are also pretty, and nice, and devoted to your work, and good to the people of the village, and get along with Hinata," Neji starts, peppering kisses to my neck after every compliment that spills from her.

"Well... pretty beside the bruise Shikamaru seems to have left you," he mutters, tapping his nose against it before shifting further down my body. "You are very vocal too, at least when you're with close friends," Neji continues, now peppering kisses across the exposed parts of my breasts. "Are you vocal during other times as well?" He asks, head tilling up to lock eyes with me as his fingers toy with the elastic band of my swim bottoms. "Shall I test it out? After all, a virgin like me could use the experience."

Cocky little shit. I go for cocky little shits. "Well..." I stumble out, clinging to the material of his shirt as I get turned on by his soft touches. "Who... who am I to deny an eager student?"

Neji smiles at me softly, pecking my lips as his hand slowly snakes down to my bottoms undoing my shorts before continuing his trail down. He finds my clit almost instantly, rubbing slow circles into the material it's still hidden under. His mouth stays busy with softly sucking on my neck. "Ya... ya, okay," I mumble, fingers digging into the loose material of his shirt. "Defiantly not a virgin."

He chuckles softly, stamping a kiss to my temple before shifting towards my ear. "I told you, but you wanted proof, so I'm giving you proof." Neji's fingertips shift, slowly crawling down before dipping into me.

"Neji," I breathe out, my hands climbing up from his sides to bury themselves into his hair. I toy with it, trying my best not to tug or pull on it as his fingers curl inside me before being pulled out and thrust into me again.

"Princess?" He hums, lips brushing against my jaw now that he's gotten bored of my neck.

      "Aren't you like... like... like a goodie two shoes? A... a... 'follow all... all the rules' guy?" I stumble out, squeezing his arm between my thighs as my orgasm quickly builds.

     My movements don't go unnoticed, Neji's fingers move faster, his thumb moving around before tapping against my clit. "Neji," I whine again, tugging on his hair this time.

     "Princess," he says softly, a gentle smile on his face as his tilted head looks at me. "Yes, I am a bit of a rule follower. I don't think a tad of conjugating will hurt anything though."

     I tug on his hair again, the sound of his voice adding to my quickly building orgasm. "Keep... keep talking," I mutter, using my grip on his locks to tug him closer to me.

     Neji's head settles against mine, lips brushing against my ear as he talks. "Is that what does it for you Princess? My voice? Do you like hearing me talk to you?” He softly taunts, his smile present in his tone. “I’m glad because I like hearing your pretty voice too. I like seeing the way your beautiful face shifts in pleasure. I like seeing arousal in your pretty eyes. I look seeing your chest pump up and down with your breaths. I like - ”

He cuts himself off, my next praise falling silent as I let out a pitched whine, my pussy clenching around his fingers as I ravel undone. “Neji,” I hiss, tugging on his hair as if he could get any closer to me. “Neji, Neji, Neji,” I call on repeat, my voice a whine as I cling to him.

“Calm yourself, Princess. You are alright,” he soothes, rubbing my clit a time or two more before pulling his touch away from my cunt. His hands settle on my bare sides, rubbing circles into my skin as he litters my stomach with kisses. “You made such pretty voices,” he coos, his mouth jumping past my chest to press another kiss to my lips. “Focus on the stars, count them as you breathe, Princess,” he gently orders, tipping my head back before littering my neck with fresh lingering kisses.

One, I count to myself, eyes settling on a star. Two, I continue letting out a shaky breath. Three, Neji is now softly sucking on my skin again, enough to make it tingle but not enough to leave a mark. Four.

————————————

Shikamaru's eyes keep fluttering from Ino to Neji and me walking back to the clearing we've set up camp at. He's not paying attention to the lecture about paying attention Ino is giving him.

Neji's arm which was loose around my hips is no longer loose. His hold is tight, pushing me against his side as we finish the short walk back to Ino's and my shared tent.

"Where have you been?" Shika asks, cutting off Ino's lecture.

"I already told you, she went on a walk with Neji. Do you ever listen when I talk?!" Ino complains, even more huffy at Shikamaru.

"To be fair," Choji says around a mouth full of chips, head poking out of our tent. "If you didn't complain so much, we all would listen to you more." Cho doesn't help the situation, but he does shift Ino's focus from lecturing Shika to lecturing himself.

Shikamaru ignores her, eyes cast at me in their 'I'm waiting for an answer' way; dark and slightly slit with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Like Ino said, Neji and I went on a walk."

"You were gone for an hour. That's a long walk," he grumbles, eyes slitting some more as he noses around the situation.

"We star gazed for a little while. What are you, my dad?" I snip, glaring back at him, mimicking his stance.

"No, but I am your friend, and at the very least your chief. It's my job to care about your safety. You shouldn't be out for so long while it's dark out." Our staring contest continues for a beat or two before Shika's eyes jump towards Neji. "I don't like you taking her out and about so late."

"She's a grown woman. She can make her own decisions. It's not like I dragged her out of her tent and used my legal standing to force her along," Neji shoots back, poking at Shika's 'I'm your chief' argument chip. "It just so happened she chose to go on a walk with me."

"Don't think you're special because she went on a walk with you," Shika hisses, arms falling to his sides as he takes a step forward. "She would have gone on a walk with anyone. Hell, even if annoying ass Lee asked she would have said yes."

"Alright, that's enough," I pipe up, moving out of Neji's grasp to gently shove Shika back the step he took. "Maybe let's not insult Lee since he didn't do anything wrong. Since no one did anything wrong," I look up at Shikamaru during my last sentence, eyebrows raised in an attempt to remind him of his place. "Just a nice reminder boys. I'm single. Do not have a boyfriend. No girlfriend in sight. Haven't been asked on a date in like two years. As single as a person can be."

After my little rant, I grab a hold of Ino, shoving her into our tent before I duck in behind her, zipping it up after myself. The two boys outside continue to argue, comments about my 'honor being taunted and rumors growing' thrown by Shika and comments about 'abuse of power and feeling intimidated' being thrown by Neji.

"Well this is entertaining," Choji says, shifting his bag of chips closer to me. I shoot him a glare but do take a handful. "Who are you going to choose?"

"Neji, duh," Ino butts in, rolling her eyes at our friend as she gets comfortable on her makeshift bed. "He's from a top clan, not to mention he's pretty high up on the ranks in said clan. Plus he's so sweet and soft-spoken. Neji is the smart choice."

I settle on my makeshift bed, leaning on Choji since he's taking up most of the space. "Absolutely not," he says, plopping another bunch of chips into my hand. "Ya, Neji is all like badass and cool or whatever, but Shikamaru is better."

"Shikamaru?" Ino asks, lifting an eyebrow as she gets up, walking across the small space to join me leaning against Choji. "The man that is bored of everything but still somehow complains about even more, is better... than Neji?"

"In this situation, ya. He knows her better than Neji. They grew up with the same culture, same traditions, same childhood, same memories. That's something Neji can learn but never truly understand as Shika can. I think you should choose Shikamaru," Cho says, focusing on me during his last sentence.

"I don't know," I mutter, snapping my eyes closed. "I think I need to sleep on it." For the next two years or however long it takes this to blow over, I mentally add. What the hell am I going to do? Why did it have to all bubble over on our friends’ weekend? This trip is supposed to be about relaxing. I sure as hell was relaxed about twenty minutes, and I sure as hell am not relaxed now.

———————————————————————

#naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden oneshot #naruto shippuden x reader #naruto shippuden smut #shikamaru nara #shikamaru nara x reader #shikamaru oneshot #shikamaru nara oneshot #shikamaru x reader #neji hyuga oneshot #neji oneshot #neji hyuga x reader #neji x reader #neji hyuga #neji smut #neji hyuga smut