#rose curved surface

[jackalgirl]

At 2:40:22 - “Rose Curved Surface” - the winner of the Education, Science, and Data Visualization category. So cool!

#resonite #mmc24 #rose curved surface #math #art #vr #Youtube

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Interiors

As a followup to the very popular post on architecture, I decided to add onto it by exploring the interior of each movement and the different design techniques and tastes of each era. This post at be helpful for historical fiction, fantasy or just a long read when you're bored.

Interior Design Terms

Reeding and fluting: Fluting is a technique that consists a continuous pattern of concave grooves in a flat surface across a surface. Reeding is it's opposite.

Embossing: stamping, carving or moulding a symbol to make it stand out on a surface.

Paneling: Panels of carved wood or fabric a fixed to a wall in a continuous pattern.

Gilding: the use of gold to highlight features.

Glazed Tile: Ceramic or porcelain tiles coated with liquid coloured glass or enamel.

Column: A column is a pillar of stone or wood built to support a ceiling. We will see more of columns later on.

Bay Window: The Bay Window is a window projecting outward from a building.

Frescos: A design element of painting images upon wet plaster.

Mosaic: Mosaics are a design element that involves using pieces of coloured glass and fitted them together upon the floor or wall to form images.

Mouldings: ornate strips of carved wood along the top of a wall.

Wainscoting: paneling along the lower portion of a wall.

Chinoiserie: A European take on East Asian art. Usually seen in wallpaper.

Clerestory: A series of eye-level windows.

Sconces: A light fixture supported on a wall.

Niche: A sunken area within a wall.

Monochromatic: Focusing on a single colour within a scheme.

Ceiling rose: A moulding fashioned on the ceiling in the shape of a rose usually supporting a light fixture.

Baluster: the vertical bars of a railing.

Façade: front portion of a building

Lintel: Top of a door or window.

Portico: a covered structure over a door supported by columns

Eaves: the part of the roof overhanging from the building

Skirting: border around lower length of a wall

Ancient Greece

Houses were made of either sun-dried clay bricks or stone which were painted when they dried. Ground floors were decorated with coloured stones and tiles called Mosaics. Upper level floors were made from wood. Homes were furnished with tapestries and furniture, and in grand homes statues and grand altars would be found. Furniture was very skillfully crafted in Ancient Greece, much attention was paid to the carving and decoration of such things. Of course, Ancient Greece is ancient so I won't be going through all the movements but I will talk a little about columns.

Doric: Doric is the oldest of the orders and some argue it is the simplest. The columns of this style are set close together, without bases and carved with concave curves called flutes. The capitals (the top of the column) are plain often built with a curve at the base called an echinus and are topped by a square at the apex called an abacus. The entablature is marked by frieze of vertical channels/triglyphs. In between the channels would be detail of carved marble. The Parthenon in Athens is your best example of Doric architecture.

Ionic: The Ionic style was used for smaller buildings and the interiors. The columns had twin volutes, scroll-like designs on its capital. Between these scrolls, there was a carved curve known as an egg and in this style the entablature is much narrower and the frieze is thick with carvings. The example of Ionic Architecture is the Temple to Athena Nike at the Athens Acropolis.

Corinthian: The Corinthian style has some similarities with the Ionic order, the bases, entablature and columns almost the same but the capital is more ornate its base, column, and entablature, but its capital is far more ornate, commonly carved with depictions of acanthus leaves. The style was more slender than the others on this list, used less for bearing weight but more for decoration. Corinthian style can be found along the top levels of the Colosseum in Rome.

Tuscan: The Tuscan order shares much with the Doric order, but the columns are un-fluted and smooth. The entablature is far simpler, formed without triglyphs or guttae. The columns are capped with round capitals.

Composite: This style is mixed. It features the volutes of the Ionic order and the capitals of the Corinthian order. The volutes are larger in these columns and often more ornate. The column's capital is rather plain. for the capital, with no consistent differences to that above or below the capital.

Ancient Rome

Rome is well known for its outward architectural styles. However the Romans did know how to add that rizz to the interior. Ceilings were either vaulted or made from exploded beams that could be painted. The Romans were big into design. Moasics were a common interior sight, the use of little pieces of coloured glass or stone to create a larger image. Frescoes were used to add colour to the home, depicting mythical figures and beasts and also different textures such as stonework or brick. The Romans loved their furniture. Dining tables were low and the Romans ate on couches. Weaving was a popular pastime so there would be tapestries and wall hangings in the house. Rich households could even afford to import fine rugs from across the Empire. Glass was also a feature in Roman interior but windows were usually not paned as large panes were hard to make. Doors were usually treated with panels that were carved or in lain with bronze.

Ancient Egypt

Egypt was one of the first great civilisations, known for its immense and grand structures. Wealthy Egyptians had grand homes. The walls were painted or plastered usually with bright colours and hues. The Egyptians are cool because they mapped out their buildings in such a way to adhere to astrological movements meaning on special days if the calendar the temple or monuments were in the right place always. The columns of Egyptian where thicker, more bulbous and often had capitals shaped like bundles of papyrus reeds. Woven mats and tapestries were popular decor. Motifs from the river such as palms, papyrus and reeds were popular symbols used.

Ancient Africa

African Architecture is a very mixed bag and more structurally different and impressive than Hollywood would have you believe. Far beyond the common depictions of primitive buildings, the African nations were among the giants of their time in architecture, no style quite the same as the last but just as breathtaking.

Rwandan Architecture: The Rwandans commonly built of hardened clay with thatched roofs of dried grass or reeds. Mats of woven reeds carpeted the floors of royal abodes. These residences folded about a large public area known as a karubanda and were often so large that they became almost like a maze, connecting different chambers/huts of all kinds of uses be they residential or for other purposes.

Ashanti Architecture: The Ashanti style can be found in present day Ghana. The style incorporates walls of plaster formed of mud and designed with bright paint and buildings with a courtyard at the heart, not unlike another examples on this post. The Ashanti also formed their buildings of the favourite method of wattle and daub.

Nubian Architecture: Nubia, in modern day Ethiopia, was home to the Nubians who were one of the world's most impressive architects at the beginning of the architecture world and probably would be more talked about if it weren't for the Egyptians building monuments only up the road. The Nubians were famous for building the speos, tall tower-like spires carved of stone. The Nubians used a variety of materials and skills to build, for example wattle and daub and mudbrick. The Kingdom of Kush, the people who took over the Nubian Empire was a fan of Egyptian works even if they didn't like them very much. The Kushites began building pyramid-like structures such at the sight of Gebel Barkal

Japanese Interiors

Japenese interior design rests upon 7 principles. Kanso (簡素)- Simplicity, Fukinsei (不均整)- Asymmetry, Shizen (自然)- Natural, Shibumi (渋味) – Simple beauty, Yugen (幽玄)- subtle grace, Datsuzoku (脱俗) – freedom from habitual behaviour, Seijaku (静寂)- tranquillity.

Common features of Japanese Interior Design:

Shoji walls: these are the screens you think of when you think of the traditional Japanese homes. They are made of wooden frames, rice paper and used to partition

Tatami: Tatami mats are used within Japanese households to blanket the floors. They were made of rice straw and rush straw, laid down to cushion the floor.

Genkan: The Genkan was a sunken space between the front door and the rest of the house. This area is meant to separate the home from the outside and is where shoes are discarded before entering.

Japanese furniture: often lowest, close to the ground. These include tables and chairs but often tanked are replaced by zabuton, large cushions. Furniture is usually carved of wood in a minimalist design.

Nature: As both the Shinto and Buddhist beliefs are great influences upon architecture, there is a strong presence of nature with the architecture. Wood is used for this reason and natural light is prevalent with in the home. The orientation is meant to reflect the best view of the world.

Islamic World Interior

The Islamic world has one of the most beautiful and impressive interior design styles across the world. Colour and detail are absolute staples in the movement. Windows are usually not paned with glass but covered in ornate lattices known as jali. The jali give ventilation, light and privacy to the home. Islamic Interiors are ornate and colourful, using coloured ceramic tiles. The upper parts of walls and ceilings are usually flat decorated with arabesques (foliate ornamentation), while the lower wall areas were usually tiled. Features such as honeycombed ceilings, horseshoe arches, stalactite-fringed arches and stalactite vaults (Muqarnas) are prevalent among many famous Islamic buildings such as the Alhambra and the Blue Mosque.

Byzantine (330/395–1453 A. D)

The Byzantine Empire or Eastern Roman Empire was where eat met west, leading to a melting pot of different interior designs based on early Christian styles and Persian influences. Mosaics are probably what you think of when you think of the Byzantine Empire. Ivory was also a popular feature in the Interiors, with carved ivory or the use of it in inlay. The use of gold as a decorative feature usually by way of repoussé (decorating metals by hammering in the design from the backside of the metal). Fabrics from Persia, heavily embroidered and intricately woven along with silks from afar a field as China, would also be used to upholster furniture or be used as wall hangings. The Byzantines favoured natural light, usually from the use of copolas.

Indian Interiors

India is of course, the font of all intricate designs. India's history is sectioned into many eras but we will focus on a few to give you an idea of prevalent techniques and tastes.

The Gupta Empire (320 – 650 CE): The Gupta era was a time of stone carving. As impressive as the outside of these buildings are, the Interiors are just as amazing. Gupta era buildings featured many details such as ogee (circular or horseshoe arch), gavaksha/chandrashala (the motif centred these arches), ashlar masonry (built of squared stone blocks) with ceilings of plain, flat slabs of stone.

Delhi Sultanate (1206–1526): Another period of beautifully carved stone. The Delhi sultanate had influence from the Islamic world, with heavy uses of mosaics, brackets, intricate mouldings, columns and and hypostyle halls.

Mughal Empire (1526–1857): Stonework was also important on the Mughal Empire. Intricately carved stonework was seen in the pillars, low relief panels depicting nature images and jalis (marble screens). Stonework was also decorated in a stye known as pietra dura/parchin kari with inscriptions and geometric designs using colored stones to create images. Tilework was also popular during this period. Moasic tiles were cut and fitted together to create larger patters while cuerda seca tiles were coloured tiles outlined with black.

Chinese Interiors

Common features of Chinese Interiors

Use of Colours: Colour in Chinese Interior is usually vibrant and bold. Red and Black are are traditional colours, meant to bring luck, happiness, power, knowledge and stability to the household.

Latticework: Lattices are a staple in Chinese interiors most often seen on shutters, screens, doors of cabinets snf even traditional beds.

Lacquer: Multiple coats of lacquer are applied to furniture or cabinets (now walls) and then carved. The skill is called Diaoqi (雕漆).

Decorative Screens: Screens are used to partition off part of a room. They are usually of carved wood, pained with very intricate murals.

Shrines: Spaces were reserved on the home to honour ancestors, usually consisting of an altar where offerings could be made.

Of course, Chinese Interiors are not all the same through the different eras. While some details and techniques were interchangeable through different dynasties, usually a dynasty had a notable style or deviation. These aren't all the dynasties of course but a few interesting examples.

Song Dynasty (960–1279): The Song Dynasty is known for its stonework. Sculpture was an important part of Song Dynasty interior. It was in this period than brick and stone work became the most used material. The Song Dynasty was also known for its very intricate attention to detail, paintings, and used tiles.

Ming Dynasty(1368–1644): Ceilings were adorned with cloisons usually featuring yellow reed work. The floors would be of flagstones usually of deep tones, mostly black. The Ming Dynasty favoured richly coloured silk hangings, tapestries and furnishings. Furniture was usually carved of darker woods, arrayed in a certain way to bring peace to the dwelling.

Han Dynasty (206 BC-220 AD): Interior walls were plastered and painted to show important figures and scenes. Lacquer, though it was discovered earlier, came into greater prominence with better skill in this era.

Tang Dynasty (618–907) : The colour palette is restrained, reserved. But the Tang dynasty is not without it's beauty. Earthenware reached it's peak in this era, many homes would display fine examples as well. The Tang dynasty is famous for its upturned eaves, the ceilings supported by timber columns mounted with metal or stone bases. Glazed tiles were popular in this era, either a fixed to the roof or decorating a screen wall.

Romanesque (6th -11th century/12th)

Romanesque Architecture is a span between the end of Roman Empire to the Gothic style. Taking inspiration from the Roman and Byzantine Empires, the Romanesque period incorporates many of the styles. The most common details are carved floral and foliage symbols with the stonework of the Romanesque buildings. Cable mouldings or twisted rope-like carvings would have framed doorways. As per the name, Romansque Interiors relied heavily on its love and admiration for Rome. The Romanesque style uses geometric shapes as statements using curves, circles snf arches. The colours would be clean and warm, focusing on minimal ornamentation.

Gothic Architecture (12th Century - 16th Century)

The Gothic style is what you think of when you think of old European cathedrals and probably one of the beautiful of the styles on this list and one of most recognisable. The Gothic style is a dramatic, opposing sight and one of the easiest to describe. Decoration in this era became more ornate, stonework began to sport carving and modelling in a way it did not before. The ceilings moved away from barreled vaults to quadripartite and sexpartite vaulting. Columns slimmed as other supportive structures were invented. Intricate stained glass windows began their popularity here. In Gothic structures, everything is very symmetrical and even.

Mediaeval (500 AD to 1500)

Interiors of mediaeval homes are not quite as drab as Hollywood likes to make out. Building materials may be hidden by plaster in rich homes, sometimes even painted. Floors were either dirt strewn with rushes or flagstones in larger homes. Stonework was popular, especially around fireplaces. Grand homes would be decorated with intricate woodwork, carved heraldic beasts and wall hangings of fine fabrics.

Renaissance (late 1300s-1600s)

The Renaissance was a period of great artistry and splendor. The revival of old styles injected symmetry and colour into the homes. Frescoes were back. Painted mouldings adorned the ceilings and walls. Furniture became more ornate, fixed with luxurious upholstery and fine carvings. Caryatids (pillars in the shape of women), grotesques, Roman and Greek images were used to spruce up the place. Floors began to become more intricate, with coloured stone and marble. Modelled stucco, sgraffiti arabesques (made by cutting lines through a layer of plaster or stucco to reveal an underlayer), and fine wall painting were used in brilliant combinations in the early part of the 16th century.

Tudor Interior (1485-1603)

The Tudor period is a starkly unique style within England and very recognisable. Windows were fixed with lattice work, usually casement. Stained glass was also in in this period, usually depicting figures and heraldic beasts. Rooms would be panelled with wood or plastered. Walls would be adorned with tapestries or embroidered hangings. Windows and furniture would be furnished with fine fabrics such as brocade. Floors would typically be of wood, sometimes strewn with rush matting mixed with fresh herbs and flowers to freshen the room.

Baroque (1600 to 1750)

The Baroque period was a time for splendor and for splashing the cash. The interior of a baroque room was usually intricate, usually of a light palette, featuring a very high ceiling heavy with detail. Furniture would choke the room, ornately carved and stitched with very high quality fabrics. The rooms would be full of art not limited to just paintings but also sculptures of marble or bronze, large intricate mirrors, moldings along the walls which may be heavily gilded, chandeliers and detailed paneling.

Victorian (1837-1901)

We think of the interiors of Victorian homes as dowdy and dark but that isn't true. The Victorians favoured tapestries, intricate rugs, decorated wallpaper, exquisitely furniture, and surprisingly, bright colour. Dyes were more widely available to people of all stations and the Victorians did not want for colour. Patterns and details were usually nature inspired, usually floral or vines. Walls could also be painted to mimic a building material such as wood or marble and most likely painted in rich tones. The Victorians were suckers for furniture, preferring them grandly carved with fine fabric usually embroidered or buttoned. And they did not believe in minimalism. If you could fit another piece of furniture in a room, it was going in there. Floors were almost eclusively wood laid with the previously mentioned rugs. But the Victorians did enjoy tiled floors but restricted them to entrances. The Victorians were quite in touch with their green thumbs so expect a lot of flowers and greenery inside. with various elaborately decorated patterned rugs. And remember, the Victorians loved to display as much wealth as they could. Every shelf, cabinet, case and ledge would be chocked full of ornaments and antiques.

Edwardian/The Gilded Age/Belle Epoque (1880s-1914)

This period (I've lumped them together for simplicity) began to move away from the deep tones and ornate patterns of the Victorian period. Colour became more neutral. Nature still had a place in design. Stained glass began to become popular, especially on lampshades and light fixtures. Embossing started to gain popularity and tile work began to expand from the entrance halls to other parts of the house. Furniture began to move away from dark wood, some families favouring breathable woods like wicker. The rooms would be less cluttered.

Art Deco (1920s-1930s)

The 1920s was a time of buzz and change. Gone were the refined tastes of the pre-war era and now the wow factor was in. Walls were smoother, buildings were sharper and more jagged, doorways and windows were decorated with reeding and fluting. Pastels were in, as was the heavy use of black and white, along with gold. Mirrors and glass were in, injecting light into rooms. Gold, silver, steel and chrome were used in furnishings and decor. Geometric shapes were a favourite design choice. Again, high quality and bold fabrics were used such as animal skins or colourful velvet. It was all a rejection of the Art Noveau movement, away from nature focusing on the man made.

Modernism (1930 - 1965)

Modernism came after the Art Deco movement. Fuss and feathers were out the door and now, practicality was in. Materials used are shown as they are, wood is not painted, metal is not coated. Bright colours were acceptable but neutral palettes were favoured. Interiors were open and favoured large windows. Furniture was practical, for use rather than the ornamentation, featuring plain details of any and geometric shapes. Away from Art Deco, everything is straight, linear and streamlined.

#This took forever #I'm very tired #But enjoy #I covered as much as I could find #Fantasy Guide to interiors #interior design #Architecture #writings #writing resources #Writing reference #Writing advice #Writer's research #writing research #Writer's rescources #Writing help #Mediaeval #Renaissance #Chinese Interiors #Japanese Interiors #Indian interiors #writing #writeblr #writing reference #writing advice #writer #spilled words #writers

[lokisgoodgirl]

Heirs [Asgard!Loki x Fem.Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki starts your marriage by breaking tradition. Naturally. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Fluff & Smut. Oral. Asgardian HC Lore. Language. Loki POV. (w/c 1.9k)

Loki’s eyes followed the ripples your palms made over the water. Over the curve of your back. The delicate line of your spine. Steam rose in a mist, braiding upwards in the amber glow of sunset through the arched windows.

Sodden rose petals clung delicately to your waist, peppered sporadically on your skin like clean wounds. Beautiful, he thought, letting his robe fall with a rustle around his ankles to the ancient stone of the palace baths.

He smirked as you turned with a splash, instinctually covering your breasts before breaking into a smile. “Husband,” you giggled in greeting. It was the first time you had said it.

The word made him shiver, despite the heat thumping between his legs.

Loki enjoyed the slow crawl of your eyes up his body. You took in every inch of his long legs with the unrestrained hunger of a horny stable-hand, thumbs beginning to subconsciously massage your nipples. There was a flicker of pink as your tongue flashed over your lips, gaze lingering on his cock heavy set between tensed thighs. All yours, my love.

The water was perfectly warm. Hot – but not overly so. Carefully controlled thermal springs which ran into the palace saw to that. With each step into the stilling pool he took, you took a step back.

Even now wed, still ever the tease. Loki’s lips stretched in a mischievous smile, matching your own.

Heat kissed his knees, then his thighs, then his hips– dipping backwards to wet his hair in the perfumed baths. He could feel the weight sink into the tight weaves of his ceremonial braids, wound from his temples, the ends sinking down between floating strands of black. He rose up, rivulets running from his temples down to the nook of his collarbone. The Prince let out a small groan as you reclined on the steps by the side of the pool, only the curve of your mounds visible above gently lapping water. Beautiful.

You bit your lip, resting your elbows on the side. Waiting.

“I might even apologise for interrupting but I believe that would not be the most auspicious start to our marriage,” he coyed, before stopping directly in front of you.

He could feel the cool of your breath against his skin, wafting in teasing waves over the fat tip of his cock protruding from the water. “There will be plenty of time for lies, I'm sure,” you replied with a knowing smile, neck craning up.

Loki shivered again as your lips melded against his stomach, thumbs pressing into his obliques while your fingers curled around his trunk. He could feel droplets roll between his shoulder-blades as his neck tilted back. The feeling of your fingers wrapping around his base of his cock, the gentle suck of your mouth on the thick, swollen head threatening to make his knees buckle. How long he had waited for this. How long you had both waited for this.

“Stop,” he gasped, just as you primed to swallow him whole. Loki would never forget the way your eyes shone with innocent confusion. He looked forward to seeing that moment reflected in your beautiful gaze many times in the coming years. The god bent down, capturing your lips with a messy kiss while he slid beside you on the stone seat concealed beneath the surface.

“Do you know," he began, pausing to brush a thumb over your lips, "that the royal men of Asgard are forbidden from pleasuring their wives with their mouths?” His eyes searching yours, nerves fluttering in his belly. “I have heard it said,” you hummed, curling a thick ebony strand of Loki’s wet hair around your finger. “But it never made sense to me.”

Loki chuckled, leaning forwards to suck gently against your neck.

His tongue would never sate from the taste of your skin. Never. He let out a rasping moan in your ear, one of his hands sliding between your open thighs beneath the water.

The tips of his fingers grazed the plump folds he found, the arch of your back against the terracotta making his shaft twitch against his stomach. “You see, if my tongue is buried between your thighs, wife, it is not my cock.”

“Heirs?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Heirs.” Loki smirked. You rolled your eyes playfully as his finger trailed lazily down your inner thigh, dragging softly over your knee.

“The most beautiful sounds a woman can make are thus,” he postured casually, leaning one elbow on the side with a fist beneath his temple. Your palms slid teasingly over his stomach, inching further with each time-wasting word. “Firstly, the primal grunt as her blade pierces the flesh of her enemy. And second...”

Loki paused to follow the descent of a particularly fliratatious droplet down the curve of your neck with one long finger, “the shameless groan in her throat as she cums into the mouth of her lover.”

“Is that so?” you said, sliding your hands up over his shoulders. Oil swirling within the heat of the baths made them soft and slick, the lady’s delicate grip against ropes of ferocious muscle making him weaken. Loki felt his brows slant. “You do not believe me?” he murmured incredulously.

The laugh that chimed from your throat made his heart swell.

“My Lord, I am innocent of such things as you well know,” you said, a sarcastic smirk tugging your lips. Loki tutted, playing the game. “I have fought beside you many times, wife. I know that you keep the highest count of men slain by a woman’s hand.”

You nodded thoughtfully, before your head tilted to the side. “I meant the other thing,” you whispered, pressing your lips together. Loki cupped your cheeks as your stare focused on the narrow valley of lapping water between your bodies. He frowned. "Truly?" You nodded. He could feel your cheeks warm beneath his touch. How can it be that a man has never pleasured her so, he thought.

“Then let me show you how black of a steed I truly am in this family of mine,” he heard himself mutter, seeing your chest begin to heave with quickening breaths. “Of all our inane traditions, that is by far the most loathsome.”

The nervous laugh that escaped you bounced to every vault in the high ceilings, sinking through the cross-breeze from the open arches.

“More so than the Ceremony of the Sacred Seed?” you giggled, biting your lip again. Loki nodded, a smile curling one side of his mouth. “The Ceremony is a farce, but this…?” his hands found the curve of your waist beneath the water, lifting you effortlessly to the final step before the bath’s edge. “The waste of my wife’s pleasure from my talents would be unforgivable.”

Water lapped gently at your hipbones while Loki carefully placed your calves over his shoulders. He turned his cheek, placing three kisses gently on wet skin. “Besides, was it not the Ceremony which set our path in motion?” he murmured, before grazing his teeth over your ankle. Your hips bucked upwards, a splash. “At least we may be thankful for that.”

Loki watched in awe as your body leant back against the smooth terracotta ledge, the clear bathwater making rivers and brooks through the creases of your hips. The way your curves stretched and moulded to the stone, fat streaks of water languishing down your supple, oiled skin.

He spread his knees against the bottom step, sinking down. His stomach flipped as your breath hitched, desire roaring behind a demure moan. Your glistening pussy was being lapped by the sway of water, swollen lips revealed and hidden with the graceful tide. Loki hoisted your thighs, positioning you perfectly.

“You know, technically, this is treason against the crown,” he purred teasingly, working sucking kisses up the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He felt them tremble around his neck.

“Husband, please,” you gasped, letting your head drop back. The wet of your hair slopped against the warm stone floor. Loki smirked against your skin, feeling a long breath leave your lungs as his palms lightly gripped your waist. “Very well, Princess-” he smiled.

Loki let his eyes drink in the sight for as long as physics would allow before his lips formed a soft latch to your centre. He stilled, letting you buck into his mouth with a shudder. The warmth of the bathwater lapped at his jaw, liquid silk mingling his tongue with your sex. And like a tame beast, he began a flat ascent up your slit.

The subsequent rattling, gasping cry from your body would never leave him. Surprise, relief, pleasure, freedom – it was all contained in that wordless pitch wavering amongst the bathhouse steam.

He let his tongue curve the softness of your womanhood, hands roaming further up your waist. The curvaceous weight of your breasts cupped in his hands made his cock ache. A vision of sinking himself inside you flashed through his mind, rolling and wrapping in once-pristine matrimonial bedsheets. With every rock of your hips, that delicate pussy crept further from the surface before retreating; never fully submerged but always caressed by the touch of water.

Loki felt your hands slide over his temples, fingers that did not know what to do with themselves playing at his intricate ceremonial braids.

It was tradition for the bride to undo the braiding on the wedding night while her husband rested, utterly spent of course. Of course, Loki thought; as the flat of his tongue pressed against your clit. Your back arched from his palms, an ambrosial moan of his name ringing around the cloisters. But there is time enough for that.

He was vaguely aware of the rumbles of wet enthusiasm bubbling from deep in his throat, the taste of jasmine mingling with the sweet nectar leaking from your entrance. All of it. He wanted all of it. All of her.

Your fingers had knitted into the thick of his braids, pulling his face gently between your thighs. Deeper. Loki smiled against your cunt. He rocked you back, sitting up further on his knees. The god took a breath, pausing to observe the once-forbidden glory of your pussy displayed beneath his loving command.

“How are you mine?” he hummed over your pleasure-drunk form, water dripping from his chin. You melted into his open mouth as he delved down again. His worship was rhythmic, each wax and wane of his talented tongue ringing new wells of praise from your lips. Your hands slid down his glistening biceps, feeling every solid curve and vein on their descent.

He could feel the growing frequency of twitching in your calves, the tense of your thighs as you clung on to the wave of pleasure building in your gut. Gasping, you patted his forearm; but Loki shook his head against your sticky heat.

His eyes rose, seeing your brow furrowed in panicked anticipation. The Prince ran his palms up your thighs from where he knelt, never ceasing his gentle laps against your slit. Relax, my love, it said. I have you.

And with a choked cry of his name, Loki felt a warm well of sweetness against his tongue.

Water splashed against his cheeks as your hips shuddered, your tightened thighs pressing him closer. He slurped, kissing your sex as he would your mouth; massaging the sparks of ecstasy sizzling on every nerve for as long as they could last.

You had dug your fingertips deep into his triceps, riding out your pleasure. As she should, he thought; moaning against your cum-soaked sex. He hoped your enthusiasm would leave bruises. However fleeting.

“My Lord…” he heard you gasp through broken breaths. Loki took a moment to hover before lowering your legs, sinking your hips below the comforting glaze of water. Tendrils of his onyx hair spread on the ripples as you slid down the step to meet his lips with yours.

“My Lady,” he heard himself slur; drunk on the taste of your cum and the tone of your voice, “shall we to bed?”

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, drawing him close. Fingertips played over the wet knotting of his braids, a loving smile tugging at your mouth. “Heirs?” you said, biting your lip.

“Heirs,” he smouldered.

Keep the wedding night journey going with Husband (follow up)

Tags (cont in comments)

@meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @loopsisloops @glitchquake @joyful-enchantress @nyxlaufeyson @arch-venus25

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fluff and smut #loki x reader smut #loki x yn #loki x you #loki x yn smut #loki x you smut #loki imagine #loki gif #loki marvel #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson x reader smut #lokismut

[sleepydeprived]

A Chance for Redemption

—A mysterious high school student appears out of the blue, bearing the face of the late Martha Wayne and puzzling even Gotham’s greatest detectives.

[chapter 1]

| Platonic!Yandere!Batfam x Reader

| Inspired by the work of @e-nonsense “GHOST OF A LONG GONE WOMAN”

The Gotham City skyline stretched across the horizon, its towering structures standing as silent guardians in the night. Inside the dimly lit study of Wayne Manor, Bruce Wayne sat alone amidst shadows that mirrored the complexities of his own mind.

A sudden beep from the Batcomputer broke the stillness. Bruce glanced at the screen, and his piercing gaze narrowed at the news report flashing across the monitor. The headline sent a ripple through him.

"Wayne Heiress Emerges: Striking Resemblance to Late Martha Wayne. Who is she?"

His heartbeat quickened as images of the young girl filled the screen. The uncanny resemblance to his late mother, Martha, struck him like a blow. The gentle curve of her smile, the warmth in her eyes — it was as if a much younger version of Martha had been reborn in a face he had never known.

For a moment, the air in the study thickened with silence. Bruce's jaw tightened, and a flood of memories surged, carrying him back to the night of his parents' tragedy. He saw Martha's face, radiant and full of life, before the darkness took her away. Now, that same face stared back at him from the screen.

"What is this?" Bruce muttered to himself, his fingers tapping impatiently on the polished surface of the mahogany desk.

With a decisive gesture, he rose from his seat and moved toward the Batcave. Alfred, his ever-watchful confidant, observed the turmoil in Bruce's eyes.

"Master Wayne, might I inquire about the cause of your distress?" Alfred's calm voice cut through the tension.

Bruce handed Alfred a tablet displaying the news report. As Alfred scanned the images, the lines on his forehead deepened in concern.

"An unexpected development, sir. Shall I investigate further?" Alfred offered, his loyalty unwavering.

"No, Alfred. I'll handle this myself,"

In the heart of the Batcave, surrounded by the symbols of his dual life, Bruce Wayne accessed the Batcomputer with purpose, initiating a search that would unravel the truth behind the possible Wayne heiress.

As information unfolded on the screen, Bruce's stoic demeanor flickered with a kaleidoscope of emotions. The mystery of his potential blood-related daughter, bearing the face of his beloved mother, demanded answers that eluded even the World's Greatest Detective.

In the shadows of Wayne Manor, a silent storm brewed. All veiled behind the haunting gaze of a daughter who bore the visage of a long-lost woman.

#yandere batfam #batfam #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #nightwing #red hood #yandere #platonic batfam #platonic #batfam x reader #platonic yandere #x reader #x fem!reader #batsis #batfam x batsis #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader #x you #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere bruce wayne

[keeksandgigz]

hi i am here with a horny thot. 😈

eddie buying witchy one of those dildos made of rose quartz and making her fuck herself with it while he watches.

MARIAH THE WAY I RAN TO MY LAPTOP

Horny hours indeed omg

"Eddie this is stupid" you say, huffing at the sight of the suggestively shaped crystal on your counter.

He claimed he had a surprise for you. He had you close your eyes while he stood behind you. He put it in front of you while you opened your eyes, a puzzled look on your face.

"It's rose quartz, witchy. S'gonna make your pussy love me so much, huh?" he's relentless in the way that he touches you. The way he knows that if he grazes your shoulders with the tips of his fingers he can have you whimpering in a matter of seconds.

Hands, fingers, mouth, tongue.

"It looks... cold" you look at it with a raised eyebrow, a bit offended at the idea that Eddie has boiled down your witchy interests down to sex. A pink rose quartz dildo on the kitchen counter.

"Warm it up then" he says, biting your earlobe. You sigh. He always has to win.

And so you guide him to your room, shedding yourself of your clothes in the process, aside from a pair of black knit knee socks that your pervert of a boyfriend seems to enjoy a little too much.

He perches himself on the pink brocade armchair in the corner of your room, the rose quartz tight in your hand.

"Need me to warm you up, witchy?" he asks, smug and annoying as always. A devilish smile on his lips as you shyly lay yourself down on your silk sheets, back against your headboard.

You don't need to be warmed up. You'd been ready to go since that morning, when he'd worn a cutoff shirt with a pair of sweats that were hung low on his tummy, letting his happy trail peek through the fabric.

You shake your head.

His demeanor is different than his recent submissiveness. Eyes dark and alert, contrasting yours- hazy and half- lidded.

"Gimme a show then, my pretty witch" he commands, his hands gripping the armrests of the seat as he watches you run the crystal down your body. The coldness of the surface makes your skin jump, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Your eyes don't leave his for a moment, as it reaches the apex of your thighs, you shudder at the cold object, and at how sensitive you are.

It is by no means as big as your boyfriend is, but the idea of the heavy object being inside you makes your clench around the feeling of nothingness.

"God, witchy, you're so fucking hot like this." He's palming himself through his jeans, the impatience of seeing you play with the crystal seems to be eating him alive.

"C'mon put it in" he urges, as his belt clinks open, and almost like a pavlovian training, your mouth opens a little bit. Enough for him to notice.

"My strong and powerful witchy brought down by me taking my cock out. Aren't you sweet" he chuckles, taking his dick out, letting it rest against his tummy.

His chin moves, urging you to put the crystal in. A wordless command, no more playing around. You oblige, and the feeling of it filling you up, with the cold surface of the object against the warmth of your walls provides a pleasurable contrast as you begin to fuck yourself with it.

"How's that feel, witchy? Is your pussy falling in love yet, or do I gotta give it a couple kisses first?" he taunts you, beginning to touch himself at the sight of you relentlessly fucking yourself.

You don't like the way that it's not curved, unable to hit the spot you so deeply crave. So you whine, the stretch of it so delicious you can't help but keep going, albeit it not being enough.

"Eddie- oh- please" you hiccup, looking at the way he's stroking himself, head thrown in pleasure as you're tempted to take advantage of his distraction to use your magic, to match up the thrusting movements of your hand to match up his. Perfectly in sync.

You decide against it, as his distraction is only momentary. His eyes are fixed on yours once again. A sheen of sweat on his naked torso, a lusty Adonis, as you try to thrust the quartz further inside you, eliciting a weak moan from your mouth, as an unabashed hand comes down to play with yourself.

A broken moan coming from your boyfriend, hooded eyes looking at you through his sweaty bangs.

"Witchy, you should see yourself. You look like a fucking goddess, Jesus Christ" he whispers through gritted teeth as he lets his cock go, standing up and walking towards you.

You stop with him, intrigued by the change in action. You stare at him with glassy eyes, begging him to make you feel better than the quartz inside you.

"Let's see how in love that pussy is, shall we?" he chuckles, dipping his hand in between your legs, taking the object out. You shiver at the feeling and the feeling of being empty.

A low whistle comes from Eddie.

"God, she must love me, huh? This thing is soaked. M'flattered, witchy" he says, examining the crystal.

You can't do nothing but shake, as he stands there and ponders.

"Open up that mouth, messy girl. Gotta keep it busy while I fuck you."

God i don't know what this is I'm so sorry

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x witchy!reader #witchyverse #moots🫶🏻 #mariah 🪐 #keeksgetsasks!

[k2padfoot]

Perfect

Eddie Munson x Y/n

summary: when your mind is plagued by bad thoughts Eddie wants nothing more than to comfort and reassure you just how perfect you really are. best friends to lovers.

warnings: TW. body shaming, mentions of anorexia, smoking, self loathing, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. SMUT!! (unprotected sex).

A/N: this fic is based on my own experience of skinny shaming. i don’t think a lot of people realize how hurtful it really is to be shamed in any way about your body. please be understanding and kind, all bodies are beautiful! also this is my first time writing smut so i hope y’all like it!!

“She’s so skinny it’s gross.”

“Look at her chicken legs.”

“Does she even eat anything?”

“She looks anorexic.”

“Isn’t she eighteen? She literally looks twelve.”

When your ears caught echo of the painful words from the girls behind you, you abandoned your lunch tray, it’s contents untouched on the table. A rush of emotion had you swiftly leaving the cafeteria, seeking solace beyond its walls.

It's not as if the whispers were unfamiliar to you. They’ve been a haunting refrain since childhood, but with the passing of time their intensity swelled, casting a darker shadow over you.

You harbored a self-loathing, a visual disdain to your own reflection, fueled by the relentless comparison to every other girl in school. Your legs seemed too slender, arms too skinny, lacking in curves, and a chest that barley made its presence known.

You found yourself walking into the woods and taking a seat at the aging picnic table nestled in the clearing. As you settled onto its weathered surface you allowed your head to fall into your hands while the tears began to flow.

The cascade of tears persisted, blurring your perception of the world around you, but the subtle sound of someone settling into the seat across from you reached your ears.

Aware that it was none other than your best friend, Eddie Munson, you didn’t have the courage to lift your gaze and meet his eyes.

You felt his comforting touch on your wrist as he delicately withdrew your trembling hands from your face, his voice laced with genuine concern, “What’s wrong sweetheart?”

Your gaze barley rose to meet his, and the tears that welled in your eyes tugged at the strings of Eddie’s heart.

A fractured sigh escaped your lips, “You know just the perfect little cheerleaders spitting insults at me like usual.” You remarked with a scoff, a touch of bitterness in your voice.

A wave of distress swept over Eddie, unsettled by your words. “I’m sorry sweetheart. They’re just a bunch of preppy assholes, I know how shitty it feels to be the focal point of their laughs but you don’t deserve that. How can I help?”

In the quiet recess of your mind you considered a little temporary solution. “Hmm, you got a joint on you by any chance?”

A sly grin splayed on his lips, “Of course I do.” He quickly reached into his backpack pulling one out and sparking the end, “Don’t go anywhere without one.” Your eyes were glued to his lips as he took the joint into his mouth and slowly exhaled the smoke.

You finally broke the unyielding hold of your gaze when Eddie passed you the joint, taking it in between your lips and drawing in the smoke, Eddie couldn’t help but stare at the way it left your lips.

After the joint was passed back and forth until it was no longer burning you began to gather your things.

“You going home?” Eddie asked as he started to get up from the table.

“Yeah, don’t really feel up to going back to class.” You said, following his actions standing up and swinging your bag over your shoulder.

“Okay, I’ll join you.”

A rough sigh left your lips, “No Eddie, you have to go back to class if you want to graduate this year. I’ll be fine, seriously don’t worry about it.”

Eddie was hesitant to leave, in all honesty he just wants to take you home and tell you how beautiful you are, but he knows he can’t. “If you’re sure.” He said.

“I am Eddie, I’ll see you later tonight okay? Now get back to class.” You teased and he nodded before turning around, reluctance lingering in his every step away from you.

Eddie Munson found himself entangled in an enchantment with you, a feeling reciprocated by your own infatuation of him. However, the unspoken truth hung in the air, an uncharted territory where vulnerability loomed, both fearing to confess thinking the other might not feel the same.

Eddie hurried out of Hellfire in anticipation to get to your house. It was a movie night just like every Friday night, and in the wake of todays events, Eddie felt an undeniable urge to make this night special for you. To get your mind off of the harsh realities of the day. So he stopped at the general store grabbing all of your favorite snacks and picked up one of your favorite horror films from family video, A Nightmare on Elm Street.

When Eddie pulled into your driveway he was confused to see no lights on, he knew your parents were out of town but not even your bedroom light was on. Eddie jumped out of the van and hurried to the door, he knew you were home because your car was in the driveway so with his hands full of snacks he knocked a few times.

After the fourth unanswered knock, he hesitated briefly before cautiously turning the doorknob, and to his surprise it was unlocked.

Venturing into the dimly lit living area, he called out your name, the echoes of his voice fading into an unsettling silence. He continued on through the house making his way upstairs to your bedroom. As he reached your bedroom, Eddie’s worry intensified at the absence of your presence.

In that moment a delicate murmur of hushed sniffles reached his ears coming from the direction of your bathroom.

As he got closer he could hear the sobs racking through your body resonating through the closed door like a haunted melody.

Slowly as to not startle you he eased the door open revealing a sight that sent a shiver through him. There you were, a fragile silhouette against the wall, your form cradled by the floor. Knees drawn close, hands entwined in strands of your hair, and your face pressed against the haven of your legs. 

“Y-Y/n?” Eddie's voice, a gentle whisper, faltered as he knelt before you. "Sweetheart, I'm here.” He uttered, his warm hands finding solace on the curve of your knees.

At the sudden awareness of his presence, your head snapped upward, revealing your puffy red-rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks. Your words struggled to escape, “Shit, I-I forgot you were coming over, I’m sorry.” A wave of guilt and embarrassment draped over you as you let your head fall back to your knees and your fingers grip into your hair.

“Princess, please stop pulling at that beautiful hair of yours.” Eddie’s gentle touch eased your hands from your head. “Can you look at me?” He whispered, delicately lifting your chin, his eyes searching the depths of your own.

“Talk to me sweetheart, tell me what’s bothering you.” His soft voice accompanied the feather-light dance of his thumb along the curve of your cheek.

A pause hung in the air as more tears fell from your eyes. “I-I hate my body. I hate the way I’m so fucking skinny compared to all the beautiful girls at school. I wish that I didn’t look like this, it’s disgusting!”

A heavy ache settled in his chest as he looked at you with sad eyes. “Don’t say that, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen Y/n.” His words softly spilled.

“W-What?”

He smiled gently, fingers softly sweeping to push aside a stray hair from your face, his touch lingering there for a moment. “Yeah, to me your perfect.”

Once more, you lowered your head, “Eddie—

“Stop, just listen to me for a second.” Again, he tenderly lifted your chin coaxing your eyes to meet his. “The first time I saw you, you took my breath away. Everything about you is so captivating, every facet of your being mesmerized me. From your striking eyes, to your infectious smile, the tiny little freckles like constellations on your skin. To the curves of your hips, and the shape of your thighs like a dance of contours, God you are just so beautiful Y/n.”

In that instant, your eyes welled up with tears stirred by his unexpected honesty. Caught in the shock of the moment, you instinctively surged forward bridging the gap as your lips met his in a tender, unexpected embrace.

Initially catching Eddie off guard, the awareness finally dawned on him that your lips had found his, instantly melting into the kiss. His hands ascended, gently cradling your face, while you fervently grasped at his soft locks. You both felt a whirlwind of sensations as neither of you had the intention to stop, yet the necessity for a breath of air became an undeniable plea.

As you reluctantly pulled away, a glistening thread of your mixed saliva separated your entwined lips. In that lingering moment you exchanged an intense gaze full of unspoken emotions.

“W-Wow, I’ve been waiting forever to do that.” He admitted, a warm smile splayed across his lips that was woven with threads of love.

You couldn’t help the flutter of butterflies in your stomach, and the undeniable love swelling within your chest. “Me too.”

“Good, I’ve always liked you I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship incase you didn’t feel the same way about me.” He told you.

You let out a light hearted giggle, “Well that’s ridiculous isn’t it, because I’ve had feelings for you for years now.”

A curious frown etched across his brow, “So you’re saying you could’ve been mine all along?”

“Yes, because I’ve always been yours Eddie. I think we’ve wasted some serious time tiptoeing around our feelings for each other.” You let out a playful laugh.

“Well we don’t have to waste time anymore, do we?” Eddie said, his lips turning into a cunning grin.

You had to squeeze your thighs together when your eyes caught the bulge forming in his jeans. “Well, I-I guess you’re right.”

He roughly planted his lips on yours in a needy manner, swiftly pulling you to your feet and tugging you flush against his chest. His hands were exploring all over your body as he gently guided you towards your bedroom.

He softly tossed you onto the bed before reconnecting your lips in a desperate manner. “So beautiful.” Eddie muttered between kisses before his lips trailed to your neck and then to your ear. When he placed a gentle bite to your ear a hushed moan escaped your lips.

After placing a few more marks on your neck he drew himself back, his hands reaching for the hem of your t-shirt.

“W-wait!” you hastily rose your voice.

Eddie’s eyes went wide with fear, “I-I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? Is this too much?”

“No! No, it’s just— I don’t want you to be disappointed.” A sad frown cast upon your face as you looked down to your hands.

“Disappointed? Baby I could never be disappointed by you. Please, let me show you how truly beautiful I think you are.” Eddie pleaded with you, his hands gliding softly up your arms until they reached your cheeks, gently cradling your face to meet his gaze.

You hesitated for a moment but you trust Eddie, and his earlier words echoed in the chambers of your mind reassuring your decision to trust him. “O-Okay, you can take it off.”

Gently Eddie pulled off your shirt and you instinctively wrapped your arms around your chest as to conceal yourself.

“Hey, don’t do that sweetheart, I want to see all of your beauty.” His gentle words resonated as he reached for your arms, slowly encouraging them away from the protective fortress of your chest.

“See, you’re gorgeous baby. Is it okay if I take this off?” He gestured to your lacy pink bra and you tentatively nodded.

The clasp of your bra broke free and Eddie took this chance to take the rest of it off, “Fuck.” He let out a hushed breath as he took in the sight of your bare chest. “So fucking perfect.” He muttered through sloppy kisses down your neck until he reached your breast. Without warning he took your nipple into his mouth and began swirling his tongue around it, earning a loud moan from you.

“Mmm, you sound so pretty baby.” Eddie groaned against your tits.

Through muffled moans you pushed Eddie off of your chest, “Eds, c-can you take your shirt off? I wanna see you too.” You practically begged.

Eddie grinned at your anticipation before throwing his shirt over his head and onto the floor. Your fingers ran across his exposed skin stopping to trace the tattoos adorning his chest. “You’re so pretty Eds.”

Immediately he closed the gap between you engulfing your lips into his with a hungry intent. Swiftly his hand slid into your shorts and found your clothed heat, he didn’t waste a minute before rubbing soft circles on your clit causing you to moan even more. “Eddie, please.” you plead against his lips.

“Shh princess, I wanna show you how pretty you are.” Before you could grasp any thoughts they were quickly swept away when he yanked down your shorts along with your panties earning a sultry gasp from your lips.

“Shit. You’re fucking unreal.” Eddie kneeled in front of you staring at you like a piece of art. He bent down planting tender kisses across the landscape of your stomach, continuing with equal devotion down to the curve of your hips. Delicate kisses lingered in the warmth between each thigh, “So, so beautiful.” He whispered with an unwavering devotion

You could feel your heat dripping in anticipation. In any other situation you would’ve halted any advance to get your shirt off, let alone your pants, but this was Eddie. Eddie, who was currently worshiping you as if you were a divine being.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good princess.” He uttered just before engulfing his face into your pussy. “Ahh, fuck Eddie!” you cried out between breathless moans, his tongue lapping at your clit like a starved animal.

“That feel good baby?” Eddie struggled to say with his mouth on your cunt.

“Fuck yes baby, keep going!” you shouted out in bliss.

A wave of confidence swept through him at the passionate sounds he was eliciting from you, compelling him to slip a finger into your entrance while he worked at your clit with his tongue.

Intense waves of pleasure began to consume your body as his fingers plunged in and out of your hole, finding yourself having no control you gripped onto Eddie’s hair, “I-I’m gonna, fuck I’m—

“Let go sweetheart, I’ve got you.” His words were enough to have your orgasm rushing through you as loud moans and Eddie’s name repeated like a mantra from your lips.

He quickly lapped up your juices, gazing at you with blown eyes before gently caressing his hands up and down the length of your legs. “Jesus, I love these gorgeous legs.” He uttered softly before trailing his hands up to your hips, delicately tracing them with the grace of his fingertips. “And these sexy hips.”

Before you knew it his hands were gliding up your stomach, ascending to your chest, only to stop with a gentle touch to your face. “Beautiful girl.” He whispered, allowing his thumb to tenderly stroke your cheek.

His sweet words stirred a spring of tears in your eyes, an irresistible surge of emotion that had you crashing your lips into his. Your lips worked in sync, tongues dancing in a fervent rhythm, creating a mess of wet kisses and the occasional collision of teeth.

“Eddie?” You pulled away from the kiss, “I want to feel you.”

Eddie could feel his cock angry against his jeans and he wanted nothing more than to give it to you and only you. He quickly jumped up, pulling his pants down along with his boxers before he reclaimed his position, settling once again atop you. In a breathy whisper, he spoke softly, his lips grazing yours, “You don’t have to tell me twice sweetheart.”

He took his cock in his hands and swiped it through your glistening folds a few times before slapping it against your clit. “Oohh, Eddie please.” You begged.

A content smile traced its way across his lips as he hovered above your entrance, leaning down to kiss you before sinking into your pussy. An audible gasp could be heard from your lips as his cock filled you up, “Fuck you’re so tight.” Eddie practically moaned into your mouth.

He was taking it slow, indulging in the warmth of your walls, but you reached a point where you couldn’t take it any longer. “Eddie fuck me, fuck me faster!” You practically yelled after parting your lips from his, and your legs wrapped around his back, a deliberate gesture to have him deeper inside of you.

Eddie reached his limit, unable to resit your desperate pleas for him, unable to resit the way your walls sucked him in. “Yeah? You want more?” He said, words laced with desire. You watched as he began to relentlessly thrust into you, the way his cock slid in out of your wet hole so easily had your head spinning, and his hands trailing all over your body earned more sinful moans from your mouth.

“Mmm, that’s it. You’re so fucking gorgeous Y/n.” He uttered before seizing your hips with a firm grip to draw you closer as he settled onto his knees, a new angle that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

With each rough thrust he skillfully targeted that sensitive spot you craved the most, you were seconds away from unraveling, that familiar euphoric wave rendering your brain with bliss and leaving you breathless. Your walls began clenching around him and he knew you were coming undone, “Cum for me baby, cum all over my cock.”

As your orgasm washed over you, you were a moaning mess unable to stop yourself from the cries and disarray of words leaving your lips. “Ahhh! Fuck, oh fuck Eddie I love you!”

Eddie’s thrust we’re starting to get sloppy as his own orgasm was approaching, “Say that again.” He muttered, grabbing your chin with a gentle but firm touch ensuring you were looking at him.

“I love you Eddie.” You repeated for him, and Eddie’s hips rutted into yours roughly.

“Ohhh fuck Y/n, I love you so much!” He practically cried out, his lips latching onto yours as his cock twitched inside of you, his warm release spilling into your pussy.

Through breathless pants and sloppy kisses, Eddie laid you back down on the bed and slowly eased out of you. “Let me go get something to clean you up.” He told you before darting to your the bathroom.

When he came back, a fresh towel in hand, he couldn’t help but smile at the way you looked so fucked out against the pillows.

“I’m just gonna clean you up quick.” He said and in response you mindlessly nodded as he gently wiped away your mixtures of cum.

After tossing the towel into the hamper, he leaned down to grab his discarded clothes when you protested. “No don’t, lay with me?”

The warm smile upon his lips illuminated the room as he gracefully joined you in bed. You gently raised your head, resting it upon his chest, as he nestled below you. His arms instinctively wrapping around you, legs entwined, a profound sense of comfort and familiarity enveloped you both, as if this was the missing piece, the way you were always meant to be.

Eddie’s fingers gently threaded through you hair, almost sending you into a soothing slumber when his voice gently interrupted your sleepy state.

“Can I ask you something?”

You blinked your tired eyes glancing upward at him,“Hmm? Yeah sure.”

Eddie’s voice carried a delicate hesitation, “Did you really mean that? You know when you said—

“When I said I love you? Yeah, I meant it.” You interrupted before he could finish.

Emotion quietly unfolded in the depths of his gaze, a softness reflecting in his eyes at your words. “Good, because I did too.”

A broad smile crept across your cheeks as you leaned in sealing the connection with a kiss, a kiss filled with not only passion but the language of love.

As Eddie gently withdrew, his gaze lingered in a tender lock with your eyes, “One more question, can I be your boyfriend?”

A fluttering storm of butterflies danced within the confines of your stomach as a delightful giggle escaped you, “Yes. Yes, yes, 1000x yes!” The sheer excitement had you throwing yourself into his arms as he embraced you with an even firmer grip.

You knew with Eddie by your side, the shadows of doubt would never cast themselves upon you again.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie supremacy #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fic #eddie fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fandom #eddie x y/n #eddie st4 #eddie x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader

[distantdarlings]

HARD EDGES (PT. 2) // t. riddle

RATING: R / 2.2K WORDS (PT. 2)

Tom Riddle x Reader-Insert (Gender not specified, but mentioned that reader is wearing a skirt) Part One

+ SUMMARY - *Requested* A follow-up from the rather interesting update on your relationship with Tom Riddle. After asking Tom to the Winter ball, he reacts in a rather interesting way. A way you've been hoping for, for a while.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Heavy sexual material, Tom is mean, choking, slight degradation (If you know me irl....no you do not)

+ MUSIC (Listened to while reading) -

Church - Chase Atlantic

---

Your eyes found his again as he pulled his away from your neck. A shudder ran down your spine at his dirtied words. The smirk never left his face. Your lips parted once, twice, trying to think of something to say in response to what he had said, but you came up with nothing. You reckoned you look like a bloody fish standing here, staring at him. 

“Well?” he said, his thumb and forefinger coming up to pinch your chin between them. “Is that what you want?” His thumb rose to your bottom lip. He pressed against the chapped surface and pulled down gently. His eyes flickered down to your mouth and acknowledged how your teeth parted along with your lips.

“Yes,” you barely whispered, your lip moving against his finger.

“Yes, what?” his eyes flickered back up to yours. “You have to say it.”

You gathered what little courage you had and pushed it all into staring up at him through your eyelashes, allowing your tongue to push through your teeth, and gently touch the pad of his thumb. His eyebrow quirked. You wrapped your lips around his finger and sucked gently, watching as his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared ever so slightly.

“I’m yours, Tom,” you breathed. He smirked and pulled you as close to him as you would go by your hips. His hands dropped beneath your ass to grip the thickest part of your thighs. He pulled up swiftly with no warning. You stifled a gasp and wrapped your arms around his neck as your lips met once more. 

He turned and walked the both of you over to one of the sinks that sat in the middle of the room. The cold of the rounded porcelain stung beneath your legs as you wrapped them around his waist and pulled him into you, his hips snapping against your core. You sucked in a breath against his lips, every bit of his air stealing down your lungs. 

His hands came down to the tops of your thighs, caressing every inch of your legs through your tights. His lips never once stopped on yours. His slender fingertips brushed beneath the hem of your uniform skirt, tracing the sensitive spot where your thighs curved against your stomach, but never touching where you wanted. 

Your hands fell down to the buttons of his uniform shirt and began shoving the buttons through their slits as quickly as you could. Once they were undone all the way to where the top was tucked into his trousers, your hands pushed the fabric over his shoulders and discovered the expanse of his chest. His paled skin caught the light and reflected against your eyelids. One hand curled into the dark curls at the base of his neck, while the other dragged its nails down his abdomen, relishing in each shudder you pulled from him. Roughened breaths pushed past his lips and into your mouth at every hand that got closer to the edge of his trousers. 

He pulled away from your lips for only a moment as he rushed to loosen your tie and rip your shirt over your head. Whether on purpose or not, he left the loosened tie dangling between the valley of your chest. He dropped to his knees, just before your parted thighs, and applied a series of bruising nips to the soft skin. A small cry raised from you with each sharp pain and your hands wrapped in his curls. 

The faucet on the sink was digging ever so slightly into your back. You weren’t sure how long it had been doing so but the flesh along your spine was rather sore. You tilted your hips forward to avoid the rough metal. Tom, however, must have taken it as a sign to get on with things so he rose back to his feet—no longer slow and gentle. He wrapped an arm around your lower back and yanked you back off the sink. A small yelp slipped between your lips at the sudden movement.

“Tom—”

“Shut up,” he growled. He spun you around to face the sink and slammed your hips against the hardened material. You gasped at the slight pain. He pushed your upper body against the cold porcelain and placed your face against the mirror just above it. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his reflection as his eyes trailed down your bare spine. His hands followed where his eyes led, his fingertips brushing down your sides slowly. Chills rose against your skin everywhere he touched. His fingers wrapped around to the front of your abdomen while his thumbs continued their path on either side of your spinal cord. Fuck, his hands were big.

You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as he took every bit of time he could possibly take to finally reach your hips with his hands. He was entirely unpredictable. One moment his hands were soft and gentle and the next, they were rough and abusive. It made the heat in your stomach pool rapidly. 

His fingers cupped your hip bones. He was barely moving. He seemed to be thinking or watching or something. You didn’t know what he was doing, but you really wish he’d get going, already. Your hand gripped the base of the sink’s faucet and you placed an arch in your spine. You bumped your body against his hips once, waiting for a response. As soon as you made contact with his front, he quickly gripped the tie still strung around your neck and yanked—hard. A yelp left you as he yanked your head back against his chest and gripped your hips in place against him. You couldn’t move.

“I swear to Merlin, if you move one more fucking time, I will leave you right here,” he spat, his eyes looking down into yours from where your neck was craned so roughly against him.

“‘M sorry,” you choked out, your eyes flickering away from him nervously. 

“Good,” he spoke, releasing the hold on your tie. Your head came to rest back against the mirror. The ache in your neck and throat began to dissipate slowly. 

His hands went back to slowly moving over your hips before slowly beginning to dip over your skirt-covered ass. His fingers massaged slowly over the muscle, never stopping even when a whispered moan fell from you. He was slow and gentle. And then he was rough and abusive.

He pushed the arch back into your spine as he flipped your skirt up and over your hips. The blackened tights over your legs barely covered the bottoms you were wearing—if you could even call them that. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have ulterior motives any time you went to talk with Tom. Nothing had ever happened up until now, but that’s why you were always dressed for the occasion. 

A quiet but shaky groan poured from his lips as his fingers ran over you again, tracing the thin fabric as it sunk between your ass and barely covered the rest of you. The tip of his finger, feather-light, traced the path of the fabric, curving over the spot you needed the most. A moan fell from you as you propped yourself on your toes, attempting to continue his touch. As soon as you did, he pulled back. A frustrated groan pulled from you.

“Don’t fucking move,” he growled. His hand grabbed hold of the tie once more and pulled, not quite as far as left time. “I will leave you right here, naked and pathetic.”

“Just fucking do something,” you spat.

“I will….when I want to and there is nothing you will do about it, isn’t that right?” he cooed. He let you fall back against the mirror once more. You clenched your eyes as tears began to pool. The want you felt for him was so deep and extending, you wish he’d just touch you.

“You’re so pathetic,” he whispered, his fingers curving around the base of your thighs, moving slowly towards your core. “This is what you wanted? This whole time? To be bullied by your classmate. How disturbing.”

His finger pressed against you gently. Your lips parted in a breathy whimper at the feeling. The heat between your legs was growing exponentially. A wet breeze blew against the inside of your thighs and you cringed internally at the embarrassment. The degradation of his words. 

You never came down from your toes, trying to offer him the best access possible. His hand fell away from you once again, much to your dismay. But it quickly slid between your thighs, wedging a space between them. You exhaled roughly. The tip of his thumb slightly rubbed against you as his fingers slid through the wetness on your thighs.

His hand pulled away from your legs and, through the mirror, you watched as his reflection pulled its hand to his face and slid the material across his lips and chin with the end of his palm. His eyes remained closed as his lips parted in a shuddering exhale. You could see the shine imprinted on his face. 

Then, as if the two if you had run out of time, his fingers slid against the material of your tights and pulled as hard as he could. The thin material ripped over the expanse of your ass as his cold fingers came into contact with your bare skin. The sudden clank of his belt buckle as he separated it from his pants made your stomach sting in anticipation. You could see him working rapidly to free himself and your hand tightly gripped the sink, your eyes clenching shut. 

There was a moment of silence before his bare warmth touched against the bottom of your leg. You sucked in a breath. He slid the material of your bottoms to the side and lovingly ran two fingers between the slit of skin. A rather loud moan left you as you reveled in his finally touching you. The tips of his fingers brushed over your entrance a few times before slowly sliding them in. Your eyes clenched tighter and your jaw fell slack. He ran them in and out slowly as he gathered as much of you as he could. 

Once he removed his fingers from you, he slid the wetness from between you across himself, sucking in a groan through his teeth.

“Don’t fucking move,” he repeated. “I’m serious.” His voice sounded less demanding as before. Quieter, ragged, a breathless beg, almost. 

His heat slid against you from top to bottom. Words were no longer an option for you as he pushed into you, feeling the tight wetness sink around him. He pushed into you until he bottomed out and his hips were pressed up against you. You could hardly breathe, could hardly do anything but whisper his name over and over again. 

It took him only a moment before he began moving. He drove himself into you over and over, each push making your legs weaker by the moment. He concealed groans with shuddered breaths and growls from within his chest. One hand gripped your hip while the other slid around you and came to grip your throat tightly. His large hand wrapped around your neck and applied tight pressure. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his pleasured face, angled towards the sky, his lips parted and eyes fluttering to the back of his head.

“Tell me—” you breathed, stuttering over your words. “—what you think, Tommy.”

An audible groan slipped from between his lips at the teasing tone coming from you. His lidded, darkened eyes found yours from where you watched him, nearly fucked out. Your lips, swollen and covered in your own saliva, your mascara sliding down your cheeks, and his hand wrapped around you. He struggled to find his words.

“So fucking good,” he groaned, his breaths becoming harder. His hands tightened and his hips became faster and rougher. You weren’t going to make it much longer if he continued like this. How was he so fucking good at this? He couldn’t have been a virgin before this… 

The mascara and saliva he had been watching so closely had begun to mix against the mirror as you tried to find a comfortable resting spot. Your curled hair was pressed up against you messily and mixed in with your mouth. But you couldn’t care less.

He slammed his hips into you faster and faster and messier and messier until he was choking out a groan and releasing your throat. He lay against your back, his bare skin touching yours, and his lips touching your ear. The noises spilling from his lips were addictive, so much so, they sent your own end rushing towards you. The two of you became a chorus as the sweat and heat and thrill of the moment began to die down. He sat there for a minute, his head laid against your shoulder.

“So, yes?” you asked.

“What?” he replied, tilting his head to look at you.

“Does that mean you’ll go to the Winter ball with me?”

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #oneshot #reader insert #harry potter smut #slytherin #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle smut

[slut4daviii]

character(s): d.kaminari

pt: 02/02

cw: fingering, cum/anal eating, edging, praise kink(?), daddy kink, brat taming, caught, post-shower sex, mind-fucking, slight degradation, belly bulge, size kink, thigh-fucking (kinda)

your step-brother thought he had a few more minutes before you got out of the shower. he learns the hard way what happens when you’re caught masturbating.

a/n: i hate this shit sooo fucking much. | i gave up halfway through (thats what took it so long to come out. | minors and fem-aligned DO NOT INTERACT

title: whatcha up to, sparky?

wc: idefk (prolly 2000-2500)

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he only had another minute or two.

steam rose from the crevices of your locked bathroom; music blaring from the other side.

“[n—name]! ng—ngmh! nhg!….fu—fugk! right there!” the words left his mouth in an unceremonious fashion, sounding more like a broken record; he said it again, and again, repeating himself almost indulgently. a hand ghosted his twitching erection, blazing forth a sleuth of high-pitched moans.

your hands reached for the knobs, twisting it off in one swift movement.

“just a little longer baby.”

I—I can’t…! pl—please [name]! I need to— nghm! cum!” the machinery within his body continued to spear his insides, impaling the deepest depths of his mind. with a steady flow of electrons— curtesy of his quirk, the speed of his ‘toy’ increased drastically, now entailing itself into his stomach.

“mmhg! [na—name]! I—I’m gon—gonna cum!”

he listened intently, already having memorized the audio’s contents. your voice spoke to him, shooting daggers into his body.

“does my good boy wanna cum?”

Denki nodded— phonetically speaking through gritted teeth. “tes! [name] le—lemme cuhm!”

“no.”

his body retreated away from the sound, his head snapping backwards at the edging.

sweat trickled from his forehead, exhaustion clawing at his hips. he pressed your shirt— sweat-ridden and freshly used— further against his nose, inhaling deep breaths of your musky scent, the smell sending him overflowing with lust.

he squirmed against your sheets, moving his hands to slam your pillow over his face. “nmfgh…! [n—name]! mfg—ghm!” he pulled the pillow away— vision still slightly obscured by your shirt.

“aww, I’m hurt… comparing me to something as small as that.”

Denki shot up, his quirk mushing more elegant arcs of electrical surges into the machine— it picking up enough speed to make him lurch to his side. “uhng! wa—wait! wait [n—na]! wait, it—it’s not what—what it looks like!”

your body coupled into his vision, the tranquil curves of your muscles blurring behind the liquid wall of lust coaxing Denki’s body. beads of water rolled over your smoothing skin— the moisture from your shower still sticking to the surface of your body.

“oh? is it not? then what’s goin’ on, …zappy?” the nickname fell from your lips like a satin blanket, dully dressed in the glorious afterglow of pleasure.

the toy inside of Denki was still moving, strongly striking his nerves in mind-blurring fashion. “nnguh! it—it’s because of—of your v—oice! the video you made!”

you smirked, a dark chuckle leaving you. “so you watch my videos? that makes you a perv, y’know.”

Denki fumbled, his facade falter alongside the coiling strings of semen erupting from his slit. “unug—ha!” his moan was spun on the web of a gasp, snatching his body’s actions away from him. “I— uhg! …n—no! that’s n—not what I—nghm! meant!” he gulped back his shame, sitting up against your wall. “I— was j—just…” his eyes traveled everywhere, looking for a plausible explanation as to what he was very obviously doing.

you pushed off the frame of your door, dragging your tongue along the ridge of your teeth. “so what did you mean…Denk?’”

the way the nickname burrowed yourself into his skin make him quiver with anticipation. though he didn’t know what to expect. “anything you wanna say?” the question was laced with greed— almost as if you were teetering on the idea of turning him into a, your slut.

your knee connected with the edge of your bed, your weight dipping the mattress intolerably. the water from your hair dripped down your body, running circles on your torso before making way to your v-line. “I—nghm! I was, just… just trying to…” his eyes lowered. “uh! uhm, well… I guess you— we…!”

“eyes up here, Denk’.”

you brought your hand to his chin— almost in a cliché sense, your eyes locking in a one-sided battle. “so, Denk… what were you doing?”

you were hovering over him, your height difference clouding, if not completely obscuring his perspective. your bulge pressed into the cusp of his thighs.

a shallow gasp escaped you, your head dropping to look at him. his legs were shaking slightly, the skin of his body smooth and perfectly poised. “god, your so beautiful.”

Denki flushed; his eyes darting around articulately. his body was cleansed of its own blood, now replaced and replenished by the torrents of your own; he was bound to you. bound in your spell.

“is this my shirt?” his eyes finally focused, the grey material momentarily filling his vision before you took it from him. “is this where my clothes have been going? on your pervy little curves? helping you masturbate?”

“n—no! I haven’t been d—doing anything, man! I’ve ju—just been low on—NGHM!” Denki’s hands came up to your shoulders: gripping and scratching along the skin. “[n—name]! I—I just said that— ngh! I didn’t st—steal your cloths!”

your fingers intersected themselves in the innermost nerves of Denki’s body. he reflected the feeling of arousal in his eyes— the sensation causing the irises of his eyes to gloss over with tears.

“this isn’t about my clothes, Denk’” you groaned, feeling Denki’s legs press on the head of your cock. “its about you. and what you’re doing in my room. with my shirt over your face, and a fuck machine in your ass.”

you displaced your fingers, rubbing them along his prostate. “so, what exactly are you doing?”

Denki threw his head back— a sound erupting from his mouth in a dysphoric rage of moans. “mmgh! I— I w—was low on—ahgn!” a sharp thrust of your fingers stopped his sentence, his cock twitching with precum.

“stop lying Denk’ you know mom hates that shit.”

your cock throbbed painfully, the towel around your waist falling to your thighs— your cock rubbing against your step-brother’s abdomen. “c’mon Denk’” you almost whined, desperation washing over you in arcs of painful crescent moons. “I’m so… fuckin’ horny.”

your fingers glistened within him— a grandeur sound resonating within him. he audibly gasped at it, trying to move away from you but your sudden grip on his thigh altered his movements, making him slide under you instead.

he gulped, finding himself floundering around at the feeling of your cock against his stomach. it aligned with the skin just above his belly button. his movements were spastic, a jumble of jerks and twist sending molten plasma down your shaft.

“Denk…” your words were cold— rigid with seething but controlled gasp. “if you keep movin’ like that, I’ll cum.”

Denki blushed, a liquid crimson band covering his entirety. his movements momentarily halted, the surges of lust nestling into his stomach, coiling into a warm feeling that tightened with each move of your fingers

however, they left his body in a sickly masochistic way. you brought your fingers to your mouth and slid your tongue along the skin, maintaining a dysphasic tone of eye contact. the look in your eyes heating Denki’s body to an all time high.

your fingers, now covered in a flowing sea of spit and lube reached for Denki’s lips— breaking the surface of his mouth. his heartbeat was in his throat, yet, he still took your fingers into the depths of his mouth.

you played with his tongue, using your index and middle to balance the pink muscle in a titillating, slightly uncomfortable fashion.

you moved once more, shoving yourself into his throat. he choked and gagged, spitting around your knuckles but made no attempt to stop your brutality.

after a few seconds, you took your fingers away from him, letting him breathe.

“what were you doing in my room, Denk?” you asked once more.

“hnah! mng—h! I—I wasn’t doin’ anything, ma—man!”

you chuckled, moving your hand to your cock— stroking from base to tip. with your other hand, you wrapped his torso in your forearm, lifting him to your v-line. “tsk, tsk. mom would be disappointed.” your tip grazed his hole, “first, you have the shameless idea to masturbate in my room, then you lie about it.”

you pushed inward— also grabbing your shirt and shoving it into Denki’s mouth. he moaned around the fabric, his eyes crossing when you had yourself fully excavated within him. “I guess you’ve always needed a little more time to learn things…”

your hips fell away from him, dragging your tip down the ridge of his spine. the afterimage of your shaft was still intact; exhibiting through his pelvic muscles. it was filthy. utterly disgraceful to witness. “but… it’s a good thing you’ve got me.”

not a second later, his catalyst was filled once more, your cock reaching intolerably deep into his physique. his arms slid down your chest— leaving scarlet marks on your abdominal walls.

a hiss left your lips, the sound similar to a snake. you grabbed his wrist with one of your hands, using the other to snatch your shirt from his mouth. “haah! [n—name]! de—deep! c—cock too deep’n me…!”

you wrapped his wrist in your shirt, taking the edges of the bindings and crossing them into his drooling lips— the knot forming a gag. “my what?” you mocked, laughter soon filling your white-walls. “too deep? you were just using a fuck machine, jerking your dick to the smell of my clothes! now it’s too deep?”

you began thrusting shallowly, moving his thighs to your chest and pulling his legs to fall down your back. a swift motion of your hips shook Denki’s body, pushing him into his second orgasm.

he tightened around you, a convulsive throbbing in his cock and rapidly clenching hole gave way to the white twine and muffled moans of your step-brother. he thrashed his hands around— vigorously trying to grip onto anything.

you grinned at this, continuously thrusting into him. Denki felt his consciousness leaving him, his eyes falling lidded and heavy.

you, stuttering over the feeling of your own body, groaned profusely— your hips stinging with exhaustion. “you— mgh! you can’t handle my dick? if you wanna tap out, just tell me what you were doing in here.”

Denki mumbled, not knowing how to form correct words. “I—nguhm! ne— never anyth’ng! do th’ng!” he consulted his eyes, the orange pupils glass-like and heart-shaped. “nghu! FUGKH! m—man! ca—can’t think!”

a skeletal architecture altered into his body, forming a permanent semicircular shape— an arch lifted his body off the bed, rubbing your slit into his prostate.

both of your came— your cock trembling with painful arcs of melancholy emission staining the onslaught of Denki’s organs. his body spasmed with crude pleasure— his eyes rolling into emptiness.

his body went limp in your arms: mouth slack, eyes closed, and breathing shallow.

he’d passed out.

your body heaved, heavily burned from your orgasm. your cock was still deep within him, your semen creating a barrier between the two of you— however his warmth was still surrounding you in surreal relief. it begged you to keep going, begged for you to unload your balls and every drop of cum you had into him.

a gulp traveled intermittently across your tongue, cascading into your throat. you casually slipped your finger onto his waist— gripping the skin in a gentle embrace.

you pushed your pelvis further into him, your tip ramming against the bottom of his enclosure. your head tilted back, eyes closed with plenty more pleasure.

you pulled from him, slamming back against his skin in a single breathless moment. his body rippled through with waves of light. sweat enchanted his body like a giant cloud, puddling on his stomach— entrancing the skin alongside the pool of his cum.

you again thrusted into him— this time harsher. you were transported to another world, blissfully unaware of Denki’s stirring body. he was waking back up, his cock sleek with pre-cum.

his vision was still obscured, the feeling of fabric still plastered over his tongue. he whined, more pre-cum falling from his slit. “mghph— phuhk muh! [nuhmhe]! chaut c—can’t cuhm! n’more!”

you couldn’t hear him. you were completely lost in your own thoughts: the same words repeated throughout the entire time, “fuck him! fuck him until he can’t walk! fuck him! fuck him! fuck him fuck him fuckhimfuckhimFUCKHIMFUCKHIM!”

your thoughts mushed together, a singular statement that dug deeper and deeper into your mind. it burned into your brain, forcing your hips to move internally deeper, milking a third orgasm from Denki. he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, he was racked with tears— crying out in ecstay

you were panting heavily, biting down on your lip to keep your sounds of elation. your orgasm was slowly steeping upon you, the feeling setting off a buzzing sensation all over your body.

“fuuhk… Denki, I’m gonna— Imma cum.”

Denki’s legs shook with excitement, another orgasm rumbling through his body. he screamed around your shirt, pressing his hips against yours. spit dripped from his chin, running down his abdomen and onto his maroon shaded tip.

overwhelming coils of heat knotted within you, pushing your hips into an uneven pace

you weren’t aiming at anything, just hitting Denki’s body over and over again. you were chasing after an orgasm that was mere inches away.

sloppy thrust turned to harsh, animalistic tactics— erratically fucking Denki into the soft cloth rubbing against your balls. you were going crazy, the heat from your abdomen shooting into your tip, choking you in a panicked rage.

you leaned down to Denki, ripping your shirt from his lips, quickly replacing the cloth with the chapped skin of your lips. you messily kissed along his face, moving sloppily to his neck. “who’s your daddy?”

Denki moaned— the sound hoarse and cracking. “y—[name]! m’daddy! m’yer slut!”

the words only continued to edge you, your tip twitching inside him, “say it again— fuck… I’m so close to giving you my kids…!” your shaft throbbed at his mindlessness, the moans bouncing like embers from a raging river of fire. “please, say it again…! what’s my name, Denk?”

“daddy! da—duaddy! mngh!… ma’cuhm! cuhm n’daddy’s cock!” again Denki clench around you, his swollen hole screaming at you to keep going— keep abusing him until your name was spelled into his organs.

“fu—“ you couldn’t finish your sentence, a powerful surge of pleasure rushing through every blood cell in your body, energetically jerking your lower body around. like an angry explosion your cum clawed its way through you, pushing out any and everything you had within you, transferring it into Denki.

Denki’s cum was clear— thin and falling onto his pecs, dripping like water onto his face. he shivered at the feeling, not having the energy to move or even breathe correctly.

you sighed, head falling painfully to your pillow, the feeling of Denki’s hair right beside your face annoying the nerve endings of your skin.

you pushed his head away, closing your eyes and drifting into a deep sleep.

until…

“[NAME]! DENKI! WHAT IS GOING ON?! WHAT ARE THE TWO OF YOU DOING?!!”

you gulped.

shit.

#dom male reader #gay #seme male reader #top male reader #mha smut #mha x male reader #mha x dom male reader #gay smut #bnha denki #denki x male reader #denki x dom male #denki x top male reader

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 28

summary: It’s a beautiful day in Miami, and you’re spending it with Javier and the Murphys at the beach, where you discover there’s a limit to Steve’s annoying behavior your fiancé can handle before he loses his cool. That evening, you, Javier, Steve, and Connie go out for drinks and find out you really will fight anyone who disrespects your future husband, leading to him having to calm you down. 

With his dick.

In the bar bathroom. 

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), explicit smut, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, kinda rough sex (he’s gotta fuck the anger out of you), dirty talk, breeding kink, spanking, spit as lube, Javier being bossy, mention of lactation/pregnancy kink, mention of panty sniffing, slice of life beach day, Javier being cute with the kids, physical altercation (Javi and Steve get into a tussle), decorating for Christmas, insecurities, feelings, yelling, insults, Angry Javier Peña, Angry Reader, almost bar fight (you get angry enough to throw hands), Javier having to physically remove you from the situation, Javier saying romantic things in Spanish)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 21.5k+

a/n: I’m sorry about how long this took! The holidays threw off my groove, along with all the shit I’m dealing with in real life. As always, thank you to @juletheghoul for ensuring my Spanish made sense. And thank you to @senorabond for betaing!

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

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The sun was high in the clear, blue sky, its rays beaming down and heating the salty ocean air, while you stood on the shore, your feet atop the sturdy wet sand; you were wholly mesmerized as you stared down, watching the water as it lapped against your ankles before it was pulled back out to the Atlantic like a yo-yo on a string. 

There was a beach you'd go to growing up where even on the hottest day of the year, the ocean was too cold to swim in—you'd lie in the sun, play in the sand, fly kites, build bonfires, collect sand dollars and seashells, and when you got too warm, you'd cool off by dipping your toes in the chilled water that washed ashore. 

It was December, the month before the coldest of the year here in Miami, and you were in your bathing suit, basking in the sun's hot rays and the salt water soaking your feet that was at a temperature more than comfortable enough to swim in. 

The waves crashing was the loudest sound, followed by children's laughter and birds screeching in the distance, but splashing is what caught your attention, lifting your head and your hand shielding your eyes from the brightness as you took in what was before you. Out in the waist-deep water, a handsome man's head popped up above the surface as he threw it back, seeing his profile while he rose to stand, sliding his hands into his hair, the sun hitting the drops rolling down his bare upper body to make him glitter in the light. 

There was the beautiful curve of his nose and plush lips, the softness of his belly, and the prominent muscle tone in his arms, watching as he wiped his face with one large palm. 

He was gorgeous and had your heart picking up in speed and butterflies fluttering around in your stomach; then he was facing you, his chocolate-colored eyes meeting yours, flashing you a panty-dropping smile that had you forgetting how to breathe as he started walking—no, strutting—your way, with the confidence of James Bond on a mission.

There was a chance Javier Peña was going to be the death of you by simply being too damn pretty. 

More of his body was revealed as the ocean got shallower, allowing you to see the salmon-colored short swim trunks he wore that didn't even make it halfway down his thighs. The moment he was within reach of you, his long arms were wrapping around to pull you flush against his wet body, not even caring because his lips sought out yours, tasting of salt and coffee. 

The kissing stopped, and his nose nudged yours. 

"Come swim with me," he said in a low rasp. 

"Okay," you whispered and understood why sailors were so afraid of sirens; Javi could ask you to do anything at this moment with his smoky-sweet words, and you would—like joining him in the ocean when you planned on sunbathing. 

He took your hand and led you into the warm water, and once it was to your chest, he turned your way, looping your arms around his neck and grabbing onto the globes of your ass to lift you, your legs immediately going around his waist like he wanted. 

"This isn't swimming," you said, smiling. 

"It's better than swimming," he replied, nuzzling his face into your neck and kissing up the column of your throat to your jaw. 

Tiny waves were hitting against his back, the bigger ones a distance away. 

"And you better keep things PG—there are children on the shore who can see us." 

The three kids in question belonged to Steve and Connie Murphy. 

You were at the same little stretch of beach Javi had taken you to earlier that morning to propose, and you were both caught in a compromising situation by a lifeguard. It was away from the busier, touristy areas, so you and his friend's family were the only people there.  

His head came up while his hands tightened on your backside, the front of his swim shorts grinding into you. 

"They can't see shit under the water," he said, looking you in the eyes. "We're too far away." 

“I guess we are.” Your lips met his, kissing him hard and welcoming his tongue that licked into your mouth. 

Both of you were still riding the high of being newly engaged, even with your beautiful ring staying behind at Steve and Connie’s to keep it safe. And that wasn’t the only exciting thing to happen that day—you’d finally given the go-ahead to start trying for a baby, and your fiancé was beyond ecstatic and utterly insatiable, which you were loving and not even a little surprised he was getting handsy. 

As if on cue, there was a loud shout of "Tío (Uncle)!" followed by splashing. Turning your head, you saw the Murphys’ nine-year-old, Olivia, paddling toward you on a bright yellow boogie board. Her parents were at the shore with her two toddler brothers, the tiny Murphys looking adorable in their swim trunks, shirts, and little floppy hats as they played in the water. 

You untangled yourself from Javi, your feet sinking into the sand under you. He smiled, looking past you at the child heading your way in her black wet suit.

"Tesorito (Little treasure)!" he called. "¿Vas a ir a las olas (Are you going to the waves)?"

"Si (Yes)! Dame un empujon (Give me a push)." 

The small waves were crashing not too far from you, and as soon as she was close, Javi was giving her a shove toward her destination. He stood beside you with his arm over your shoulders, both watching the young girl as she easily caught a wave with her belly on the board, riding it all the way ashore. 

"She's pretty good at that," you commented. 

"You wanna try it out?" he asked, kissing your hair. 

Olivia was running down the beach, heading to where the rest of her family was to get back into the ocean. 

"I'm good. I just wanna enjoy the water." You moved to have your body floating on the water’s surface, closing your eyes. 

"I'm gonna do some laps." 

"How do you have the energy to do laps?"

"Could be how great my day's been." He kissed your cheek, and it made you smile. "We're engaged, getting married soon, and hopefully starting our family. Plus, I got a couple of hours alone with you to fool around. It's been a great fucking day." 

"My money's on that large black coffee you chugged when we stopped at McDonald's to get Olivia and Stevie apology Happy Meals for getting back to the house so late." 

He sighed, and you just knew he was pouting. "Maybe it's the coffee, but I like my reasons more..." 

"I like your reasons more, too. Go swim your laps. I'll stay right here." The little swells had your body rocking softly. 

He kissed your cheek again. "Okay."

Splashing sounded, telling you he’d started swimming; you also heard Olivia kicking her feet nearby to paddle back out to the waves. 

"You're really good at shredding those waves, kiddo,” you said.

"Thanks!" she replied. "It's fun!"

"It looks fun." 

She was close to you now. 

"You wanna try it?" 

Your feet touched the sand as you stood up to look at her with a smile. 

"I'd rather watch you."

"Okay!"

She continued her journey toward the crashing waves, seeing her feet behind her disturbing the water as she kicked them for momentum. Your hand was shielding your eyes again, finding it interesting how the girl took a minute to decide on the wave she wanted before paddling hard to catch it. 

It seemed quieter, and you realized you could no longer hear Javi swimming, turning your head from side to side and not spotting him, looking over your shoulder to see if he'd gone to shore and not finding him there either. 

You'd be lying if you said you weren't worried, but right away, your mind was thinking the worst, like he got swept out to sea or something got him... That had you starting to freak out, the Jaws theme playing in your head not helping.  

Something under the water grabbed onto your hips from behind, and you screamed, the following bite to your ass causing you to scream louder—your heart was pounding in your chest, adrenaline making you turn in place and push the man away by his broad shoulders. 

Javi chose to stand then, rivulets of water dripping down his face and off his arms as he laughed; his grinning smile was so big it made his dimple appear, his eyes crinkling at the edges in pure glee, his hand flat against his chest. 

His merriment had you scowling. 

"It's not funny!" you exclaimed, lightly shoving his shoulder. "You scared the shit out of me!" 

He wiped the wetness from his face as he calmed down. 

"I'm sorry, Cielito." He was still smiling, his hands gripping your waist to step into your space so your bodies touched. "I didn't mean to scare the shit out of you." His head dipped to kiss over your thudding pulse point, shivering when his lips trailed up to your ear, feeling his hot breath tickling your skin as he spoke softly. "How can I make it up to you?" 

"Are you seriously seducing me to get out of me being mad at you?" 

"Is it working?" He nipped at your earlobe. 

“Of course, it’s working, and you’re rude for exploiting my weaknesses." 

He huffed in amusement and straightened to meet your gaze, his large hands coming up to cup your face. 

"I'm sorry for scaring you, mi amor (my love)." His thumbs stroked over your cheeks. "I was just having fun." 

You smiled, touching his hands. “You’ve got my fucking number and know all the ways to get me to stop being mad at you—I’m fucked. Apology accepted ‘cause you’re so damn cute.”

He leaned in to kiss you sweetly. 

Within a minute, he had your legs wrapped around his hips again while you made out in the warm water. At some point, you found yourself clinging to him from behind as he swam you around and watched Olivia bodyboard. 

When you finally went to lie in the sun on the beach, Javi stayed behind to play with Steve, Olivia, and Stevie. 

Connie was sitting in a chair under a large umbrella with their one-year-old, Nate. There were two more seats on either side of her, along with towels on the sand, a gray cooler, and a wagon they used to haul it and the rest of their stuff. You got into a tote bag that had yours and Javi's things to grab your sunglasses and sat down next to the other woman in a chair outside of the umbrella's shadow for the sunlight to dry you off. 

"I've never seen him this happy," Connie said. Nate was in her arms, drinking a bottle filled with water. 

"Seen who happy?" you asked, looking at her through your dark lenses. 

Connie's sunglasses were resting atop her head, and she was smiling at you. "Javi," she answered. "I've known him for a long time, and he's never been this happy.” Her face shifted to something thoughtful. “Even when he came to stay with us here, he'd try to hide it, but you could see the sadness in his eyes. This time, though?” She smiled once more. “All I see is happiness and excitement when I look at him." She reached over to put a hand on your arm. "Thank you for making our friend happy and helping me get that guest bedroom remodel." 

When Steve found out Javi and you had fucked in their guest bedroom, he freaked out and decided that room and the bathroom attached to it needed to be completely redone, including new furniture and bedding, after you left. This was a project Connie had wanted done for quite some time, but her husband always said they couldn’t afford it. 

Her gratitude for the remodel made you laugh, and you patted her hand on your arm. "You're welcome," you told her. "If there's anything else you want done around the house, Javi and I are more than happy to offer our services." 

"I'm sure you are," she teased. A wistful sigh came from her. "I remember what it was like when Steve and I first got together—we couldn't keep our hands off each other. We were like that up until we moved to Colombia, and he got real busy with work. Then we had Olivia, and I know you guys are excited about having your own babies, but sweetie, between working full time, taking care of my kids, and keeping the house from being a complete disaster, there's hardly any time for us to be alone. We are so busy, I haven't even had a chance to decorate for Christmas, let alone think about getting properly laid."

A big frown was on your face, feeling bad for Connie and worrying your relationship might meet the same fate. 

You took her hand in both of yours. "Here's the plan," you said. "When we get back to the house, we're decorating." She started to say something, but you cut her off. "—we'd love to help, Connie, and with two extra adults, there are enough people to wrangle the children while we get it done. Then, it might be last minute, but we'll need to find a babysitter that I will pay whatever amount they ask, so the four of us can go out to a bar, have some drinks, and hopefully get you properly laid."

There was a little smile on her lips. "That's sweet of you, but I can't ask you to do any of that."

"And you're not asking me; I'm insisting, and Javi will insist, too. We're gonna help you out. It's the least we can do." 

She seemed to be weighing it in her mind. "You're sure?" she asked. 

"Oh, yeah," you answered immediately. "Us women gotta stick together, and it's my duty as your friend to help you get dicked down."

She snorted. "I think we're gonna be best friends." 

You smiled. "I'd like that." 

"I'd like that, too." 

After the conversation ended, you returned to relaxing in the sun. There was a thin layer of sunscreen on your skin, Javi was more than happy to help you put on when you first got there, having done the same for him.

Out in the sparkling ocean, Steve was playing with his son, and Javi was crouched down under the water with Olivia standing on his shoulders and abruptly rose to launch the girl into the air, hearing her laughing and the loud splash when she cannon-balled into the saltwater. 

In your mind, you imagined Javi with little kids who looked so much like him that he'd splash and play in the water with, making your heart squeeze. 

It wasn't much longer when the four of them returned to where you were sitting, each getting water bottles from the cooler, Stevie a sippy cup. Your fiancé kissed your head, then plopped down on a towel beside you, chugging his drink and lying back, his hand reaching up to hold your thigh. 

Looking over, he had his other arm over his eyes. 

"Having fun, babe?" you asked. 

"Yeah." 

"Do you want your sunglasses?"

"I don't wanna move." 

"I can go grab them." 

"I don't want you to move." 

You smiled, lacing your fingers with his on your leg. 

"I'll stay right here." 

Steve was in a chair beside his wife with Stevie perched on his leg; Olivia was sitting on a towel in front of them, the children snacking on sliced watermelon.

"You two want any snacks?" Connie asked you.

"I could go for some watermelon. Javi?" 

"Sounds good," he said, groaning as he moved to sit up, and you took the two pieces offered to you, passing one to him. 

It was chilled, seedless, and juicy; Javi’s hair was sticking wetly to his forehead, seeing the cute little pudge of his belly, and his hand still in yours while the other held the slice as he ate it, pink juice dripping from his plush lips down his chin.

Truly, it was ridiculous that the most mundane things he did managed to turn you on. 

He finished eating, and you let go of his palm to take his chin between your fingers, turning his head your way—his big eyes were curious, and you were unsure of what possessed you to lean down and lick the watermelon’s juices from his skin and lips that turned up into a smile. 

He caught your mouth with his, dropping the fruit’s rind to cup the back of your head and pull you closer to deepen the kiss.  

“Oh, come on!” Steve shouted. “There are children here.” 

You broke apart, Javi’s forehead resting against yours as he sighed. 

“I'm gonna kick his ass," he hissed, "if he keeps interrupting us."

"You're not gonna kick his ass," you whispered back. 

He sighed again in defeat. 

"Fine." He pulled back. "All we were doing was kissing," he said loud enough for Steve to hear. 

"Yeah, inappropriate kissing," Steve replied. "If they wouldn't see it in a Disney movie, it's inappropriate." 

"Jesus Christ," Javi breathed. "That won't be a rule in our house—I'll kiss you however I want." 

You stroked his smooth cheek. "Yes, you will," you said, kissing the tip of his nose. 

You went back to eating your watermelon, and the man you were going to marry got up from his towel to throw away what was left of his fruit and get his aviators. 

It was cute watching Stevie hold up his little arms toward Javi and excitedly repeating, "Tio!" until your fiancé picked him up, taking him quickly into his arms. 

"You wanna go play in the sand, bud?" he asked the toddler. 

"Yes!" 

"I want to play in the sand, too!" Olivia said. 

"Okay, Tesorito (little treasure)," he replied, facing her. "Can you grab the bag with sand castle stuff, please?" 

"Yeah," she answered, jumping up and moving to grab a tote bag with what looked to have a plastic bucket, tiny shovel, and sand castle molds. 

You watched them head closer to the water, staying a little away from the tide, moving up the sand, Javi sitting down and getting into the bag. You couldn't hear what he was saying, but it looked like he asked Olivia to fill the bucket with water since she grabbed it and took off in a sprint to the ocean, Stevie taking the little red shovel to start digging. 

Connie had passed Nate to Steve while she drank a can of soda. 

"It's crazy to me that man never thought he deserved to be a father," you mused. 

"Javi's his own worst enemy," Steve said. "For as long as I've known him, he's let his past mistakes eat away at him and has had the biggest chip on his shoulder. It's good he's finally seeing he deserves to be happy." 

"It wasn't easy convincing him of that…" 

Steve covered Nate's ears as he smiled at you. "I can imagine—Javi's a real stubborn asshole. He gets something in his head, and good luck convincing him otherwise." 

"He's a cute stubborn asshole, though, and I love him a lot." 

"We know," Connie said, patting your arm and smiling. "It's obvious how much you both love each other, and we're happy he has you—Steve was right yesterday when he said our kids need more cousins, and just imagine the fun we'd have. We could take trips to Disney and other places." 

The thought of Javier walking around Disney World wearing a pair of Mickey ears and carrying around your child made you smile big enough to make your cheeks hurt. 

"Okay," you started. "In the future, what are the odds I can convince Javi to wear a Disney-themed button-up and Mickey ears?" 

Steve had moved his hands away from Nate's head. 

"Oh," he said. "If you're the one asking? He'll do it. He'll pretend like he hates it, but I think he'd love it." 

"I think you're right, Steve," you replied. 

There was something soothing about the beach—maybe it was the warmth or the rhythmic drone of the swells crashing toward shore. All you knew was it had a relaxing effect on you and calmed your busy mind. Not to mention how beautiful it was to see the ocean stretching out to the horizon; the sheer magnitude of it was breathtaking. 

Since you were probably Stevie's age, maybe even younger, you loved going to the coast. It explained your love for aquariums, your fascination with sea life, and why The Little Mermaid was your favorite Disney movie—you loved the ocean. If your parents hadn't put it in your head early on that you were destined to be a doctor, and you didn’t end up falling in love with nursing, odds are you probably would've become a marine biologist.

Javier was with the two older Murphy children building an impressive sandcastle and doing his best to keep the three-year-old from wrecking the entire thing—which was like trying to wrangle a drunk person who’s lost their motor skills and wanted to touch everything.

You'd gotten up from your chair to join them, and your betrothed greeted you with a beaming smile and a pat to the spot beside him that you sat down in. From talking to Javi and Olivia, she was the mastermind with a vision for how she wanted it to look, and he was walking her through what she needed to do to bring it to life while also making sure Stevie felt involved but not letting the toddler roam free—a true testament to Javi, in regards to children, having the patience of a saint. 

The sandcastle had fortress walls connected by four towers, and in the center of them, it rose up to look like a castle, topped with three pointed spires, the center one the tallest. Olivia added details of windows and doors with a twig to really make it pop. Honestly, it was impressive.

"Are you going to put in a moat?" you asked. 

The girl had a serious look on her face. "That's a good idea," she answered, quickly getting up to her feet and grabbing the nearby bucket. "You guys start digging. I'm going to go get water!" 

"Aye, aye, Captain," you replied, using your hand to start scooping out sand from around the perimeter. 

"Use your shovel, buddy," Javi said gently to the three-year-old, helping him dig with his tiny red plastic shovel.

"We're helping Sissy!" Stevie excitedly exclaimed. 

Your fiancé was smiling softly. "Yeah, we are. You're doing a really good job." 

"I'm thirsty," the little one said. "Can I have juice, pleeeaaassseee?"  

"Let's go ask your mom." Javi looked over at you, and you nodded at him with a smile, saying that you were okay to stay behind and help Olivia. He got up, and Stevie had to raise his hand high for Javi to hold it as they walked to his parents. 

Olivia arrived with a bucket of water, and most of the moat had been dug out, the two of you finishing it fast. She dumped the water into it to harden the sand, then went and got another pale and another to fill it. 

"It's very impressive," you told her as she stood beside you, both admiring it. 

"Thank you!” Her head turned to meet your eyes. “Now I'm hungry." 

“Hi hungry, I’m Cielito.” 

“Ugh.” She made a face. “That’s something my dad would say, and Cielito isn’t your real name.” 

You smiled. “Well, your tío seems to think it is. He never calls me by my real name.” Which was kind of true. The only time your actual name passed through his lips was when he was moaning it, and that was for you to know and no one else.

She was clearly wracking her brain to see if you were telling the truth. “Tío does only call you Cielito or his amor (love),” she finally said. “Yuck.” She had a disgusted expression.

You giggled. “I told you. Now, let’s get you a snack. You spent all that time building this masterpiece; you deserve one.” 

Javier was sitting on a towel in the sun with his long legs out in front of him, having just finished a meat and cheese sandwich on white bread Connie had given him and everyone else from the cooler. Uncapping his cold plastic water bottle, he brought it to his mouth, relishing the cool liquid traveling down his throat as he chugged. 

This wasn’t the first time he’d visited the beach with his Cielito. 

Back in August, Javier had surprised her with a weekend away to Corpus Christi as his way of showing his appreciation for all she’d done when he started his job at the Sheriff’s office—and he needed to do something special for her after she finally let him fuck her ass. 

He’d gotten them a nice room at a beachfront hotel with a private balcony—the first night, while the moon was glowing over the ocean, they’d been a bit tipsy after dinner, and he fucked her against the railing. And, he had to say, it was pretty romantic. 

They spent the majority of that Saturday at a beach he used to go to as a teenager that wasn’t overrun with tourists and partying college kids. It was a place where he was comfortable messing around with her in the water and out of sight of the other beachgoers and had no qualms feeling each other up when they laid under the sun together. 

He knew how much she loved sushi and took her to an expensive restaurant that served it for dinner that night. 

On their last day, they explored the city before heading home. 

It was a great weekend.

She loved it. 

A lot. 

So much so she let him fuck her ass the following weekend.

This trip was different. 

They were here with his best friend's family and had to keep things tame—he couldn't freely touch her no matter how much his fingers itched to feel the swell of her ass in that swimsuit; the way he wanted to kiss her was off-limits, too, according to Steve, and it was driving him crazy that he couldn’t wrap himself around her and get as close to her as possible with his tongue in her mouth. 

He knew Steve was a bit of a prude and judgmental about his sex life, but his friend was being a goddamn Puritan with a righteous stick up his ass. It had Javier beginning to think his holier-than-thou attitude had little to do with morals and was actually just 100% pure, unadulterated jealousy—his conclusion: Steve needed to get laid. And even though his best friend was being a grade-A dick with his rules and trying to sabotage Javier from getting to fuck, he wanted his friend to get some and was going to talk to his fiancée about them babysitting the kids so Steve and Connie could have a date night. 

Basically, Steve needed to chill the fuck out, and Javier was going to figure out how to make that happen because, on a day like today, Cielito would fondly call him clingy with how he needed to be near her and constantly touching some part of her body—like the back of his freehand currently pressed against the side of her thigh. Feeling her skin on his soothed something deep inside him and made him feel less restless—it grounded him. It calmed him. It was better for his nerves than a glass of top-shelf whiskey. They'd make millions if they could manufacture the way he felt just from simply touching and being close to her. 

And because he had to watch himself with everyone around, he was keeping some, not a lot, but some distance with her so he didn't fuck up. 

It felt like when he'd tried quitting smoking cold turkey and the overwhelming craving for nicotine; how he needed it more than anything, and was the only thing he could think about, consuming his every thought. She was right there, sitting criss-cross on the towel next to him, eating her sandwich; the woman he loved, the woman he was going to marry, have children with, and spend the rest of his life with. So close, so beautiful, with so much skin on display, and he wasn’t allowed to rub his hands all over her body. 

This was torture. 

He’d finished drinking, and his frustration had his jaw clenching and his fist crushing the empty plastic water bottle.

What Connie was doing caught his attention as she put more sunscreen on Olivia, who was standing before her. 

"Can I borrow that when you're done, Con?" he found himself asking all of a sudden, dropping the mangled plastic next to him in the sand. 

She held the lotion in one hand, rubbing it in on her daughter’s face with the other. 

"Sure thing," she replied, closing the lid and tossing it his way, which he caught easily. 

"Thanks." 

He moved onto his knees, ignoring the ache while shuffling onto the other towel beside his to get behind Cielito. He snapped open the cap, pouring a generous amount into his palm, shutting the lid and setting it down within reach, rubbing his hands together to spread the lotion on them. His eyes were on the back of her neck, and he was like a moth to a flame as his head dipped to kiss the side of it right behind her ear. 

She hummed in the back of her throat, her arm coming up to push her fingers into his hair since she'd finished eating. 

"Hey, handsome," she purred. "I was wondering when you'd find a way to get your hands on me without causing Steve to clutch his pearls." 

Her nails softly scraped against his scalp, and it made him shiver. 

"You've noticed how fucking ridiculous he is, too?" he whispered against the shell of her ear. 

"Babe, he went to absurdly great lengths to keep you from boning in the guest bed; he just about goes into hysterics if we do anything more than peck each other on the lips or if he sees your hands wander," she said, for only him to hear. "Yeah, I've noticed how ridiculous he's being, and I'd ask if this is normal behavior for him, but I know I'm the first girlfriend you've brought for a visit, and you probably don't know." 

"I knew he was vanilla, and he's been judgmental of my... history. He, uh, forbade me from bringing girls back to the house when I'd stay with them—I wouldn't do that in the first place, and this last time in Miami after quitting the DEA, I was giving celibacy a try." 

"Wait," she quietly asked, "was I...?" 

He smiled. "The gorgeous woman, who was too tempting, shattered my resolve and ended my, honestly, really fucking impressive amount of time as a celibate? Yeah, you are." 

They were having the conversation low enough that no one else could hear them.

"This is doing wonders for my self-esteem." 

He kissed her neck. "Good." The temptation was too much, and he slid his hands along her arms, rubbing the sunscreen into her skin, feeling the tension leave his body. 

"So, was Steve super annoying when you stayed here after getting fired and weren't celibate...?"

The only reason she was asking that was because she wanted to know what his sex life had been like, and that made him curious, seeing as she'd never paid his past dalliances much mind. 

"He wasn't any more annoying than usual. You know, I don't talk about that shit unless someone asks, or I'm being an asshole, and Steve never asked. But you don't care about how he was—ask me what you really want to know." 

He got more lotion on his hands and started working on her neck and shoulders. 

"I want to know, but I also don't want to know." 

His eyebrows pulled together, and his palms slowed. 

"Why wouldn't you wanna know?" 

"Because, um, it's dumb and makes zero sense, and I know it all happened a long time ago, and I swear I'm not possessive, but you're mine." 

Hearing her say it had sparks dancing down his spine. 

"I am yours, and no one before you matters.” He kissed her hair. “I know it's shitty, but if they weren't an informant and I only slept with them once, I probably don't even remember their name. Now you—" He poured more sunscreen onto his hands and reached around to rub her thighs. “—I couldn't stop thinking about you after the first night, and there was no way in hell I was forgetting your name, that cute yellow sundress you wore or those beautiful eyes that saw me for me and not the town fuck up, a joke of a hero, or a quick fuck.” His hands paused. “I mean, I could tell you found me attractive, and I thought you were going to start drooling when you first spotted me at the bar, but you were never interested in me for just my looks, and I liked that." 

Her tone was somber. “It always hurts my heart how lonely you were before we met.”

“And the fact you even give a shit is one of the reasons why I’m marrying you.”

“I love you.” Her head turned, and her upper body twisted so he could lean in at an awkward angle to kiss her lips.

"I love you, too,” he said into her mouth. They separated after a second, and he whispered in her ear, “No one compares to you in bed—you’re hands down the best lay I’ve ever had, and you’ve got me so fucking whipped with your perfect pussy, I’ll do anything for you—fucking anything.”

“Why is that so romantic? You know I’d do anything for you, too? You bring out my inner Gomez Addams—I’d fight for you, I’d die for you, I’d kill for you, and I’d choose you over anyone else in the entire world.”

Everything she said was true, and it had energy thrumming in his veins and happiness overtaking every cell in his body. 

“I know, mi amor (my love). It's the same for me. You're the most important person in my life." His hands were rubbing all over her thighs, and he nuzzled into her neck. "Is the insecurity gone?"

"Yes, but I have a question." 

"Yeah?" 

"When you were here, where did you pick up chicks?" 

"A bar, away from where the college kids and spring breakers go, that was more low key." 

"That definitely sounds like your kind of place." 

He moved, taking the bottle of lotion with him as he walked on his knees to in front of her crisscrossed legs, getting more sunscreen on his hands and extending one of her arms that he massaged it into. 

They were still whispering so the others wouldn't hear them. "I think I know why Steve's being so fucking obnoxious." He had her hand in his, rubbing each of her fingers.

"Because he needs to get laid?" 

His head popped up to look into her dark, lensed-covered eyes. "How'd you know?" 

"He smells of jealousy, and Connie was saying she hasn't had a proper dicking down in a while."

"Would you be mad if we spent tonight watching the kids so they can have a date night?" 

Speaking of the children, the two tiniest Murphys had been put down for a nap on a blanket under the umbrella. 

She smiled. "Javi, baby, I'm two steps ahead of you. I've already planned it out with Connie. I'm paying for a babysitter, and the four of us are going out."

Don’t get Javier wrong, he loved babysitting the Murphy children and had done it so many times he’d lost count and was more than willing to do it again tonight. Still, he’d much rather go out with his fiancée and best friends and didn’t want to turn down the chance to do so, not when it was something so rare; he was pretty sure the last time he went to a bar with both Steve and Connie, all of them were still living in Colombia and Olivia hadn’t been born yet. Usually, it was just Steve and him having a couple of drinks and shooting the shit while Connie stayed at home with the kids. Or it was Javier watching the kids so their parents could have a date night. 

“You’re perfect, and I don’t know how I got you to fall in love with me.” 

He got more lotion on his hands and started working on her other arm. 

“Oh, stop that.” Her free hand swatted away his words. “And I fell in love with you because you’re a goddamn catch.” Her fingers were smaller than his as he massaged sunscreen into them. 

“Hard to believe I’m a catch,” he said and kept talking, even though her mouth opened to say something, “But, I’m not gonna argue with you since I know you meant what you said.”

“Kiss me.” 

Smiling, he leaned forward and pecked her on the lips. 

She was frowning when he pulled back. 

“Javier, kiss me.” 

“Steve will yell at us.” 

“Steve can kick rocks—I wanna make out with my husband-to-be. Now kiss me." She puckered her lips, and he chuckled.

He'd let go of her hand, and this time, when he kissed her, she grabbed his face and made him follow her as she laid back, her legs uncrossing for him to rest his hips in the crux of her thighs while he was on top of her, kissing every last bit of air from her lungs. His arm beside her head held up his weight, his tongue plundering her mouth, the sun's hot rays beaming down against his bare back. 

Javier loved moments like this where she encompassed his every sense, and the world fell away to leave only her—she was all he could smell, all he could taste, all he could feel, her breaths were all he could hear, and if he opened his eyes she was all he could see. It was all her, and nothing else mattered. 

She was his everything and forever.

Ice cold water landed on his spine, Javier's body tensing at the sudden chill, his surprised, 'Fuck!' muffled with his mouth on hers. 

Steve was laughing as he screwed the cap on the empty water bottle, anger swelling inside Javier to the point he thought he might explode. 

He was scrambling onto his feet, ignoring his fiancée shouting, "Javi, no!" All he saw was red, and the moment he stood, facing his asshole of a best friend, and noticed the ground behind him was clear and the children weren't close, Javier launched himself at the other man, completely catching Steve off guard. A wheeze sounded as his shoulder rammed into his friend's stomach, followed by a pained grunt when Javier tackled him to the ground onto his ass. 

In his rage, he failed to remember a very important fact: Steve Murphy wrestled in high school and was the Tennessee Secondary School Athletic State Wrestling Champion back in '72.

The water bottle was long forgotten, Steve somehow managing to twist out from under him with Javier's arm getting put behind his back and shoved face-first into the sand. 

"You really wanna do this, Jav?" the blonde man panted. 

He did, and he was angry enough, thinking that with strength and weight in his corner, he stood a chance. 

Truthfully, Javi could take a lot of shit, and it required an astronomical amount of it to make him snap. In the time you’d been together, you could only think of one other time when he lost his cool: Stechner. That weasley fucker deserved the broken nose he had to get repaired at your hospital’s emergency room and the lack of good bedside manner from the nurses in that unit—word had traveled fast to watch out for the asshole, thanks to Robyn, and if there’s one thing you don’t do, it’s fuck with nurses. 

There was the bullshit with Lorraine he had to put up with, and Tammy, the girl at the farmers market who dared to hit on him with you there that pissed him off; how insanely annoyed and jealous he got at all of the guys who wouldn’t leave you alone in San Antonio, and your fight when he told you he loved you. 

Then you had Steve, who you’d been staying with for going on two days, poking the bear, if you will, and repeatedly doing things to annoy your fiancé until he finally reached his breaking point. The only reason you weren’t freaking out was that neither man had thrown a punch—they weren’t looking to cause the other any outright harm or too much pain; it was them letting off some steam. 

Now, here you were watching. 

It wasn't that you thought Javi couldn't take Steve in a fight. You just didn't see how he could get out of the position his friend pinned him in—he was fucked, and his only choice would be to tap out. 

Your eyes rounded when he seemed to leverage his weight to roll them and somehow break the hold—it was pretty impressive, especially since his aviators had managed to stay on his gorgeous face. 

The two men were grappling now, neither wanting to give in. 

You got up from the towel, dusting your legs off to sit in the chair beside Connie's, the other woman over at the cooler. Her two sons were asleep on a blanket under the umbrella's shade, Olivia sitting in the seat previously occupied by her father, watching the wrestling match with fascination and mindlessly eating a bag of Goldfish like it was popcorn. 

Connie returned with two bottles of beer, handing you one as she sat next to you. 

"Thanks—should we break this up?" you asked, unscrewing the cap and taking a long drink.

They were tussling on the ground, and you couldn't tell who was winning with how they were rolling around. 

"We should let them get it out of their systems," she replied. "I know Steve hasn't been easy, and it's better than Javi getting fed up and punching him." 

You looked at her. "Has he punched him before?" 

She met your eyes, her sunglasses on. "No." She shook her head. "But he's gotten real close. Steve knows just how to push his buttons. This time around, though, you're here, and Javier's very protective, so he's not putting up with Steve's crap as well as he usually does."

You frowned. "I'm sorry I'm causing problems." 

"There's nothing to be sorry for." She patted your knee. "They'll fight this out and be so tired and sore, they won't have the energy to do it again." 

Javi had Steve in a headlock, seeing the muscles in his arm and naked back flexed, his skin shiny with sweat and dusted with sand from tumbling around in it—his sunglasses were defying all odds by staying on his face, now just a little crooked. 

"You're obviously rooting for Steve," you stated, taking a swig of beer. 

Connie had just finished taking a drink. "I'm required to since I'm married to him." 

"And if you weren't married?" 

Her gaze was on yours. "I'd root for the underdog. Steve was a pretty good wrestler back in high school, and he'll tell you all about it." She rolled her eyes. "We have all his trophies and medals in a box somewhere because I will not have him displaying the ugly things in our living room. Anyways, he knows Javi swam, but where he's from, all that matters is wrestling and football, so he doesn't consider swimming a real sport—as I've told you, Steve knows how to push Javier's buttons, and he likes to tell him bowling requires actual skill and is more of a sport than Javi splashing around in water. So, I'd love to see a swimmer kick his butt, but that’s our secret."  She winked, and you smiled. 

Your eyes went to the old partners, seeing your fiancé was down on his stomach with Steve half on top of him, Javi's bicep in the bend of his elbow as he pulled it back in a lock to try and immobilize him. Perspiration was dripping down their faces, and you had no idea what the next play would be since your betrothed had a lot of surprises up his sleeve.

"I would love to see the swimmer kick his butt, too,” you said.  “It's about time Steve gets knocked down a peg." 

At that second, Javi got his knees under him and twisted, flinging the blonde man off of him.

"Yes!" you cheered. "Get him, babe!"

"Get him, tío!" Olivia shouted. "Beat him up! Do you think he’d really hurt Dad?” she asked her mom.

“No, baby," Connie answered. "Your father will be fine. They’re just roughhousing like a couple of giant kids." 

Her dad was on his back, Javi straddling his stomach and leaning forward to trap Steve's bent arm under his chest. You knew the man you were marrying had to know how to fight without a gun or weapon, as you imagined he would've been trained when he first joined the DEA on all sorts of ways to protect himself. 

What you didn’t expect was his next move, which was executed so smoothly it made you gasp.

Turning his body across Steve’s torso, his ass and feet were on the ground, knees bent, squeezing his heels against the other man’s side to hold him still while yanking Steve’s arm to his chest from up between his legs and pulling it with him as he sat back, causing the appendage to go uncomfortably straight—and if he went back any further you knew, it’d break.

It looked painful.

"I give!" Steve said through heavy breaths, his free hand hitting Javi's thigh. "I give!"

His sunglasses were sitting lopsided on his nose, his lungs heaving and making him pant as relief washed over him that Steve finally tapped out. 

He let go of his friend's arm immediately and moved off of him to lie in the sand with his feet going the opposite way than Steve's to catch his breath. 

He was too tired to be happy he won. 

Javier had gotten up at ungodly hours the last two mornings, and for him to think it'd been too early was saying something since he usually was up before the sun rose, and his fiancée woke almost every day. Add in traveling the day before, spending a couple of hours fucking in a hotel today, playing at the beach, and now finishing whatever the fuck Steve and he just did (Was it fighting? A brawl? A battle for dominance? Javier taking out his anger on the subject of it?), exhausted, didn't correctly describe the bone-deep, having-to-fight-to-keep-his-eyes-open tiredness he was overcome with.

The sound of footsteps sinking in the sand was heard coming in their direction. 

"Are you okay, Dad?" Olivia asked his friend. 

Javier's head lifted to see the girl kneeling beside her father and lowered it again.

"I'm fine, baby girl," Steve answered. "Your tío—now Olivia, your brothers are asleep and can’t hear what I’m about to say, so you better not make me put money in the swear jar when we get home—but your tío is a real sonofabitch and a cheating asshole for using his goddamn Brazilian mumbo jumbo bullshit that’s fucking illegal to do in real wrestling matches.”

Steve didn’t care for martial arts, especially the ones that allowed choking and locking joints as valid ways to make opponents submit. 

“I didn’t realize we were having a regulation match, Steve,” Javi said. “You got a spare singlet? I left mine in the high school locker room back in Laredo ‘cause I never—mi tesorito (my little treasure),” he said to Olivia. “If your dad doesn’t have to put change in the swear jar, I don’t either.” He went back to talking to Steve, “I left mine in the high school locker room back in Laredo ‘cause I never wore that shit. Now, stop being a sore fucking loser. You’re setting a bad example for your child.”

“I’m sorry, Olivia,” Steve apologized. “I shouldn’t have said all that and accepted my loss with more grace. Losing never means you’re a failure. It’s a chance to learn from your mistakes and do better next time. You got that, kiddo?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good.”

Javier's head was back to resting in the sand, fixing his aviators, and closing his eyes—which was a mistake, feeling himself start to doze. 

He groaned as he sat up and moved to stand, holding out his hand for Steve to take. The other man let Javier help him to his feet. 

Steve and Olivia headed toward the rest of their family as Javier wiped the remnants of the beach off of his body to remove whatever of it he could. 

His eyes found Cielito's the moment he looked forward, and it made him smile, his feet moving in her direction without him having to tell them. It seemed she was drinking the rest of her beer in one go, her throat bobbing with each swallow. 

His attention moved to her breasts covered by the swimsuit top, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip at the thought of how easy it'd be to pull it down to play with them—they'd get bigger when she was pregnant, and she might choose to breastfeed... a hot spike of arousal shot through him and it caught him so off guard, he stumbled wondering why the fuck it turned him on thinking about sucking on her tits while she was lactating. 

They didn't keep secrets from each other, and he wouldn't call them secrets; there were just things that turned Javier on that he was too ashamed to tell her about—like how it made him hard to sniff her panties after she'd worn them all day; she loved that he'd taken over doing their laundry and had no idea it was him being a fucking pervert, smelling her clothes. 

And now she couldn't find out he wanted to taste her milk because he was also apparently a freak. 

He must've had a look on his face because when her beer bottle lowered, he was met with a concerned expression. She sat the empty drink down in the sand and got out of her chair to have them chest to chest with barely a second passing. 

"What's wrong?" she asked, framing his face with her hands. 

His head turned to kiss the center of her palm while he grabbed onto her hips. "Nothing's wrong," came his muffled response. "I'm just tired." 

Her other hand swept his bangs off his forehead. "You wanna take a nap? Connie's gonna go play in the water with Olivia and Stevie, who just woke up, while Steve watches Nate sleep. We can rest for a bit—it's honestly surprising you're even still awake."

"Barely." 

"Then it's naptime, babycakes." She smiled and grabbed one of his hands, pulling him over to their towels on the ground, letting go of him to fix the terry cloth and leaving no space between them. She got down on one and tugged him to join her, Javier going immediately to lie beside her on his side, removing his sunglasses, her doing the same, with his arm going under his head and bringing her front to meet his, tucking her under his chin.

He kissed her hair. 

Her finger was drawing circles on his pec, and he was so relaxed and content he felt boneless. 

"I'm not saying I condone you attacking Steve," she said. "Even if we both know he had it coming. I will say it was very sexy of you to kick his ass." 

"You're not mad at me?" 

She didn't seem angry, but then again, he hadn't listened when she tried to stop him from going after his friend.

"Nah," she answered. "It wasn't a try-to-do-as-much-damage-to-the-other-person-as-possible fight and was more a let-me-show-you-I-can-kick-your-ass fight—basically, you were showing off and taking your anger out on him." 

"How was I showing off?" 

"Well, let's start with the fact you decided to wrestle a wrestler and all those flashy moves—especially the last one. Definitely showing off." 

"Was just trying not to have my ass handed to me." He yawned, cuddling closer to her. 

"Uh-huh. Sure, Javi."

"Knew I had a chance of beating him." 

"Your final move was fucking brutal. You know you could break someone's arm like that?" 

"In real combat, you do break their arm."

"Jesus."

His eyelids were heavy, his words slurring a little. 

“When I got my assignment to Colombia, I looked into what I was getting myself into. I had the information the DEA gave me, but I wanted in-depth shit about how people fought down there, like preferred weapons and fighting styles.” He yawned again, speaking through it, “I found out about this Brazilian self-defense martial art—” His tone went back to normal. “—called jiu-jitsu and took some classes while stateside so I wouldn't be completely fucked—has come in handy a few times, but the cartels preferred guns.”

"Of course, guns. Where's the finesse, though? The skill? Guns are so boring and loud, I wanna see people actually fight." 

He smiled. 

"Shooting a gun isn't as easy as it looks." 

He was the best shot in basic training, all thanks to the fact he was born and raised in Texas on a ranch and was taught early on how to properly handle firearms—he’d do target practice with the empty cans his mother would save for him while she was cooking; when he was older, he’d go out with his father and cousins to hunt coyotes who threatened their cattle. 

"You aim and squeeze a trigger; how hard can it be?" she asked.  

"If you'd let me teach you, you'd know—we can do targets out at Pop's." 

"No, thank you. My hands are for healing, not killing." 

He breathed out a sigh. 

This was something they'd argued about before, and he didn't have the energy to fight with her right now. 

Javier wanted her to know how to use the gun he kept locked up under their bed in case of an emergency—it would give him peace of mind to know if he wasn't home, she could protect herself. She didn't know this, but since starting his new job consulting, he'd gotten a surprising amount of offers to speak at events and universities on his expertise and time with the DEA. He was shocked by how much they wanted to pay him to do forty-five-minute to an-hour talks, and he was willing to do them, but it'd mean going out of town for days at a time, and he'd worry too much about something happening to his fiancée while he was gone. 

Stechner shook him up with his dossier on her, and Javier wouldn't put it past the bastard to do something if he was out of town. This was why she needed to know how to defend herself and why it was such a point of contention for him—he was scared.

He couldn't lose her; it'd ruin him, and if something happened to her because of his past, there would be no coming back from it. He loved her more than anything, and if she wouldn't protect herself, he was going to do it for her until the day he died.

"Go to sleep, baby," she whispered, softly kissing his chest. 

His words came out mumbled. "I-love-you." 

"I love you, too." 

The steady crash of the ocean waves, the comfort of holding the woman he loved in his arms, and the warmth radiating from the sun lulled him to the point that his consciousness was slipping free, falling into sleep. 

—★—

He didn't know how long he slept. 

He did know he woke up because a small, wet body collided with his back. 

They were leaning over him, a tiny hand stroking his cheek, speaking quietly, copying how their parents always woke them up, "Wake up, tío. It's time for you to go bye-bye." It was cute and mildly threatening. "You gotta get up, tío." 

His wif-fiancée was still snuggled in his arms.

"Where am I going?" his sleepy voice asked. 

"Home." 

"To my house? You want me to go home?" 

"No! MY house. I don't want you to leave!" Stevie sounded on the verge of tears, and Javier felt terrible. 

He turned his head and moved his arm behind the child to rub comforting circles into his back. 

"Hey, mi principito (my little prince)," he said softly. "I'm not leaving yet, bud. I'll go back to your house. Are we done playing at the beach?"

The boy nodded, his hat flopping with the motion. "I wanna go home. I miss Moose." 

Moose was his floppy-eared, stuffed dog. 

"Yeah? Did you wake me up so I can take you and your Sissy home?" 

"Yes, it's time to say bye-bye to the ocean." 

"Okay, principito (little prince). We'll say bye-bye to the ocean, and I'll take you home to Moose." 

The child smiled and hugged his neck, choking him a little. 

"Thank you, tío!"

"You're welcome." 

Stevie let go of him and ran around toward the rest of his family, Javier seeing they were packing up. 

He looked down to see Cielito was still sleeping. He slid his fingers along her cheek, whispering, "Wake up, baby. It's time for us to go bye-bye." 

"Why is that vaguely threatening?" her tired voice asked. "We might be at the beach, but I am not gonna be sleeping with the fishes, thank you very much." 

"That's fucking dark." 

Her head tilted up to look at him with squinted eyes from the light. 

"Too much?" 

After what he was thinking about before he passed out? 

"Today? Yes." 

She frowned. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was in my head earlier." 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

"Not today or while we're on this trip. It's something for when we're home." Because it will end up being a fight, and they'll need the privacy of their own space to have it out and make up by fucking. 

"Okay. Guess it's time to get up." 

With that, they were getting up and helping their friends pack everything and clean the sand off the children and themselves. Only a little later, they were in their vehicles and hitting the road. 

When Connie said she'd been too busy with work and taking care of her kids to decorate for Christmas, it saddened you because Javi had told you once that when they all still lived down in Colombia, she was one of those people who decorated the day after Thanksgiving. Which wasn't a bad thing, and you completely understood since a Christmas tree was put up in your living room the weekend after Turkey Day—you were also one of those people who loved decorating the first chance they had, and it broke your heart a fellow enthusiast was missing out on something they loved doing. 

So, after getting back to the Murphys and washing away the beach in the shower like everybody else, you asked Javi to keep the children busy while you helped Connie and Steve get out her big plastic storage totes with the decorations and the giant box with the artificial tree. 

The Christmas tree went up first in the sitting room at the front of the house in a spot between the couch and dining room, and for a fake tree, it looked pretty real with how full the limbs were. 

You helped her string it with colorful lights, and once the red skirt was put down at the base, Connie called for Javi to bring in the kids to help her decorate with ornaments from an open, almost full bin. 

This seemed like an intimate family moment with Christmas music softly floating in from the room past the dining room, Connie holding her one-year-old who was looking at the pretty lights in wonder and speaking nonsense, Olivia and Steve laughing about something you didn't catch as they grabbed ornaments out of the container to hang on the tree with Stevie. 

It was the perfect picture of a happy family, and it made you yearn so hard to one day have the same thing, your chest squeezed tight. 

What made your eyes start to water was the realization that you were going to have something like this—this was a taste of your future and what you had to look forward to. 

A large palm wrapped around yours, and your head turned to see Javi beside you. He nodded once toward the front door and quietly led you out of it so as not to disturb the family. 

He was in jeans and a pastel pink button-up that matched the color of the t-shirt you were wearing with large, thin, teal letters across your chest spelling out, 'Oregon.' It was something you picked up on a visit to the rainy state years ago.

He faced you, wrapping you up in his arms once you were outside on their porch, that was nothing more than slightly raised pavement under an outcropping of the roof. 

"You okay, Cielito?" His face was pressed into the side of your head. 

"Yeah. I'm great." He tightened his arms around you a little. 

His lips were close to your ear, softly rasping, "I was thinking about what our Christmas could look like next year. We could be in our new house. It could be our first Christmas with a baby, or you'd be pregnant at least. But what I know for sure is we'll be together, we'll be married, and we'll be so fucking happy."

Tears were brimming in your eyes, moving your head to meet his gaze, smiling. 

"We will, Javi. We'll be so fucking happy, and we'll be a family." 

His hand cupped your cheek as he softly smiled. 

"You know we're already a family? You, me, Pop. We're a family, and mi mamá is gonna watch, wherever she is, as it grows, and I know she'll be so happy." He made sure your eyes were on his. "Cielito, mi amor (my love), I don't want you to think that we become a family when we get married—you don't need my last name to be family, and we've been one for a long fucking time now, at least to Pop and I, we have." 

There was a lump in your throat, and your eyes burned with unshed tears. 

For as long as you could remember, you'd always felt out of place within your family. Your brother got all of your parents' attention, your cousins all shined with their 4.0 GPAs, attendance to the top schools in the nation, and on your father's side, graduating with medical degrees and going right into internships at the best teaching hospitals. And there was you, the one who went to a state school to save on tuition; you did get good grades, but it was for a degree that wasn't flashy enough. 

There wasn’t a time you felt good enough or loved by your immediate family. 

All of this meant that you'd never had a family like Javi or the Murphys. There was never any warmth or unconditional love for you. At least there wasn't until this man in front of you came into your life. He gave you a family with him: his dad, his tías, tíos, and primos (aunts, uncles, and cousins). They all welcomed you with open arms and open hearts, treating you like you'd been a part of the family for years and weren't a stranger. Knowing Javi thought you were already a family made you so happy you struggled to keep yourself from crying. 

It wasn't blood that made a family. It was love; pure, unconditional love. 

"Thank you," your voice was small. 

His eyes got a little bigger. "For what, baby?" 

"Loving me and giving me a family, at least one that cares about me." You could see how sad it made him to hear that. "And," you continued, "wanting to have tiny Peñas with me, so I'll have even more family to love and love me.” You took in a breath. “This is the first time I'm saying this out loud, but I've felt so fucking alone for I don't even know how long. I tried to drown it out by working—which didn't work. And it led to me moving to Laredo where I’d have a better work/life balance, and by fucking serendipity, I met you my second week there." Tears started falling down your cheeks. "I met my soulmate in the produce section of an H-E-B and absolutely cannot look at tomatoes anymore without remembering how small they look in your enormous mitts." There was a slight shift of his head, and you knew there was a question on his mind. "Yes, Javier, I get a little horny looking at tomatoes now because they make me think about your hands. Are you happy? I get turned on by a fucking vegetable." 

"Strawberries." 

Your eyebrows creased. "What?" 

He was looking at you seriously. "Strawberries turn me on."

Your brow lifted. "The time with the whipped cream?" 

He smiled. "And I got your come all over a strawberry and ate it? Yeah, can't look at them without getting half-hard." 

"That makes me feel so much better. I'm not the only weirdo." He grimaced for a split second. 

"No... You're not..." 

His mouth was suddenly on yours, kissing you tenderly, a hand caressing your cheek while the other slipped into the back pocket of your jean shorts. 

There happened to be another reason he'd brought you outside, you came to find out after making out for a few minutes. One of Connie's Christmas totes was out there with lights for the house, the long green wires dotted with multi-colored glass bulbs. 

Javi procured a metal ladder from god only knew where, and you wondered how exactly the lights were going to be hung—they had a tiled roof that overhung a little over the front and back of the house, and there weren't any wooden edges or gutters that could be used. 

Another thing about their roof was it was a tad steep, yet you watched as Javi climbed up the metal rungs of the ladder with a string of lights in his hand to get up onto the tiles and, to your absolute horror, laid down on his belly to lean over the edge. 

This was how you found out there were nails in the home's exterior wall for the sole purpose of Christmas lights, and your dumbass of a fiancé was choosing the most dangerous way to put them up.

You didn't want to spook him, so you whispered harshly. 

"Javier, why are you doing it like that? Use the ladder." 

His voice was strained from how he was positioned. "I hate going up and down and moving it, when doing it like this, I just have to move over." 

"You're gonna fall and crack your head open." 

"I've done this before. I'll be fine." 

Your arms crossed over your chest, hmphing. 

"Well, I don't like it." 

His head tilted to look at you. 

"We should make sure it's not this fucking hard to put up lights on our house. Remind me to check the plans when we get home." The draft plans for the house you were having built; they weren't the final ones since you had yet to make all the edits and additions you wanted. 

"Will do. Be careful. You're stressing me out." 

He scooted over. 

The front door opened, and Steve came out. 

"What are y'all doing out here?" 

"Javi's risking his life to make your house pretty," you said, pointing at the man. 

Steve moved to stand next to you. 

"If you fall, we're not paying the medical bills," Steve called out. 

Javi flipped him off. 

The blonde man turned his head toward you. "Thank you for doing this. You don't know how happy it's made my wife. This is her favorite time of the year, and I know it's been killing her that she hasn't had the time to decorate."

"We're happy to help," you replied. 

"She used to do it first thing the morning after Thanksgiving. She'd always make sure she had it off from work and I'd come home to our place looking like Santa Claus moved in." He chuckled. "Then, after the kids, it got harder for her to find the time, and the thing is, she doesn't even need to work full time. I make enough to support our family, but if I were to suggest her becoming a stay-at-home mom? Hey, Jav?" The man in question had slowly been making his way across the roof. 

"Yeah?" 

"What would Con do if I suggested she became a stay-at-home mom?" 

"She'd have your balls."

Steve spoke to you, "She'd have my fucking balls." 

Your eyes were on his blue ones. "Well, she loves her job, and I completely understand where she's coming from. Why is she the one who has to quit her career to take care of the children? Aren't you tired of the DEA's bullshit? Why don't you quit and become a stay-at-home dad?"

He made a face. "Might as well let Connie take my balls. I wouldn't want my wife being the breadwinner." He looked toward the roof, saying loudly, "Javi, would you want your wife to be the sole breadwinner?" 

"No."

That wasn't the full context of the question.

"He didn't give you the full scenario," you told your future husband. "Would you be okay with your wife working full time? She wants to do it and loves her job while you were a stay-at-home dad?"

He completely stopped moving and was silent for some seconds. 

"Javi?" you said. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, sorry. To answer your question, yes, we both pull our weight and love what we do."

You turned to Steve, "See, there's nothing wrong with a woman being the breadwinner if you're equally putting in the effort for your family. She works, and you handle the kids and everything with the house. It's an even trade and doesn't make you less of a man. You gotta work on being more of a feminist, Steve. You've got a daughter with an absolute boss bitch of a mother showing her it's possible to have a successful career and a family. Sure, Connie doesn't need to work, but she loves it, and maybe next year you could surprise her by keeping the kids out of the house all day on her day off or hire a babysitter so she can do this one thing that makes her so fucking happy."

"I never even thought of that," he said quietly.

You gave his arm a pat. "That's why it's good to have an outside perspective sometimes. Now I swear to god, you better grab that ladder and take care of the lights on that part over the patio—" It was a steep A-shape, and you didn't want Javi on it. "Or, I will have your balls, and Connie will absolutely back me up." 

"Yes, ma'am." He started moving toward the ladder. "Javi," he said to his friend. "That woman you're marrying is scary—it's no wonder she and Connie got on like a house on fire." 

"I hate admitting we both like strong, independent women, who can kick our asses," Javi said.

Steve chuckled. "They're sexy as hell." 

While the men finished the lights outside the house, you went inside to see if Connie needed help. 

The tree was beautifully decorated with the lights, shining ball ornaments in many colors, some decorations made by the children, a string of beads around it, and at the bottom was a train track at the perimeter of the tree skirt with a model train slowly chugging along. 

On the couches and chairs in the sitting room, festive pillows were put out that were white and had red poinsettias as a design on them, one small rectangular pillow in red velvet, and white cursive writing reading, 'Jingle Bells.'

Stockings were hung for each family member, with their names neatly embroidered on them on the wall beside the tree. The dining room table had Christmas-themed table settings atop it, and in the kitchen, the towels were all replaced with red and green ones. 

The mother and her kids were nowhere to be found at the front of the house or in the kitchen, but there was laughing at the back in the family room where you headed. 

Connie was outlining the windows with a string of rainbow-colored lights while Olivia danced with her brothers to “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town” by The Jackson Five—Nate doing more of a shimmy while Stevie did a shake and their sister twirled about. 

This was another one of those moments where you felt like you were intruding on core memories being made—these children, the older ones at least, would remember dancing their hearts out to Christmas music after spending the day at the beach with their favorite uncle. 

A special day for them. 

Like how it was a special day for you and memories were made you'd never forget. 

You'd always remember the warmth of Javier's leather jacket over your shoulders, the smell of the salty, briny air, how your hand felt in his, the beautiful colors of the sky as the sun rose and the light reflected off the ocean, and the moment you realized he was proposing, the surprise, the shock, the unbridled happiness, and seeing the gorgeous ring you'd find out belonged to his mother. He tasted of mint when you kissed him the first time after you said yes. When you finished breakfast, his kisses were laced with coffee and the sweetness of fruit and glazed pastries. The words of his love and devotion were etched in your brain, and how he knew he would marry you on your third date during another moment you could never forget, of dancing in the kitchen with him for the first time. 

This was a day you'd think about on the bad days. You'd use these memories in the future to remember why you loved Javier Peña so much when he pissed you off, annoyed you, or fucked up. Your children would hear about their mother's best morning of her entire life. 

You turned around and started walking toward the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

One day, it’d be Javi and you making core memories with your own children, and the thought made you smile. 

The Christmas lights were a pain in the ass to put up on the house, but he'd gotten it done and didn't fall off the roof and crack his head open—he had to change his shirt, though, which annoyed the fuck out of him because he wouldn't match his fiancée when they went out. 

It was later on in the evening, they'd eaten dinner, the kids had been put to bed, and the last-minute babysitter willing to come and charge them an arm and a leg had shown up to make bank watching TV and eat his friends’ food. 

They were on their way to the bar in their rental while Steve and Connie took his little truck. 

"Why are you pouting?" Cielito asked. 

"I'm not pouting." 

"You're absolutely pouting. Is it the shirt?" 

"No..."

"We can go to a bar not looking like twinsies one time, baby." His hand was holding hers on her thigh, and she rubbed the back of his with her other one. "Besides, the shirt you're wearing is still a shade of pink."

"But not the right shade." 

"I like your coral shirt. I'm sorry my matching shirt to that one is absolutely disgusting from today's events. We'll match again tomorrow." 

He deflated as he sighed. 

"Anyways, we're going to a bar in Miami. Is this like a party bar? Should I be expecting a bunch of college kids? Or something low-key?" 

His face scrunched up. 

"Definitely not a party bar. We're going to my usual place." 

"Oh." 

He glanced over at her. 

"Is that okay?" he asked. "Or do you want to go to a party bar? I can take you dancing if that's what you want. Steve and Connie won't give a fuck. They're just happy about getting a night without the kids." 

She was looking at her lap. 

"The place we're going is fine."

His bullshit detector in his head was going off, looking back at the road. 

"What's wrong with this bar? Why don't you want to go to it?" 

"I didn't say anything was wrong with it or that I didn't want to go to it."

"Your reaction when I told you where we're going begs to differ—cut the shit, mi amor (my love). What's wrong?" 

She let out a long sigh and mumbled a reply he couldn't understand. 

"What?" he asked, looking over at her. "Use your words, baby." 

"I said I don't like that we're going to the place you'd find women to fuck at! There, are you happy?" 

Her outburst caught him off guard, and it took him a second to respond. 

"You've never had a problem with the bar in Laredo..." he said. 

"That's different." She slumped. 

"How is it different...?" 

"We're just really digging into my insecurities today." 

"What are you talking about?" 

He was so confused. She was the one who wanted to go to a bar, and he was taking her to one that had a decent atmosphere she’d like. 

"The women you hooked up with in Laredo are all around your age—I'm an outlier. Then we have Miami, that's a whole different playing field because it's filled to the brim with young gorgeous women—like so many chicks walking down the street who could be models, and then there's fucking me who isn't even looking her cutest and was dumb to not pack a single pretty dress, and we're going to the place you used to pick up hot ladies to bone!"

"I don't give a fuck about anyone else at the bar, and you're the one wearing my mother's ring. Cielito?" He glanced over at her, and she met his eyes. "Anywhere we go, it doesn't matter the place or how many people are there, you're the one I look for—nobody else matters. They don't fucking exist. It's you. It's always only you that I search for in the room.” He focused forward again. “Yeah, we're going to the bar I used to frequent, but that's because it's a nice place that I know you'll like. If you're really bothered about it, we'll go somewhere else. But you need to understand that—name a female celebrity the world thinks is the sexiest." He sure as fuck didn't know. The only one he could name off the top of his head was Farrah Fawcett.

"Um, Jennifer Aniston." 

"I have no fucking clue who that is." 

"Rachel on Friends and the main chick in that movie we watched where the woman gets pregnant and wants to raise the baby with her gay best friend instead of her boyfriend and the baby daddy." 

He vaguely remembered the movie and what the actress looked like. 

"Okay, yeah. You need to understand that Jennifer Aniston could be in the room, and I wouldn't fucking notice because I'd be too busy looking at you." 

"Well, if we're out in public, there'd probably be fans flocking her and paparazzi, so she'd be pretty hard to ignore, on top of that fact, she's stunning." 

He took a deep breath and let it out. 

"Cielito?" His head turned toward her.

"Yes?" She met his gaze.

"I love you and only have eyes for you. Do you understand that?" 

"Yes, and I'm a little overwhelmed by how sweet it is that you search for me, and I do the same thing and search for you, and literally Harrison Ford could be in the room, and you'd be the one I was ogling."

"Really?" 

"Yes, because, as I've stated, you are the sexiest man alive." 

That made him feel really good about himself.

"Do you want me to take you somewhere else?" 

"No. I'm okay now. You made me feel better." 

"Good." 

He raised her hand to kiss her knuckles and the large diamond on her ring.

When Javier spent a lot of time somewhere, he looked for three things: a decent barber, a good bar, and Mexican food. This meant his first couple of weeks were spent getting acquainted with his new surroundings and searching for his big three. 

In Colombia, he didn't have a barber but instead went to a woman-owned salon, where an abuela, her two daughters, and a granddaughter ran the place, and he had the best time listening to the chisme (gossip) while the old woman did his hair. 

Aside from the bar everyone at the embassy went to, there was also this little hole-in-the-wall place he liked to go to when he didn't want to be seen by colleagues called La Sirenita (The Little Mermaid) that Cielito got a kick out of when he told her about it. 

He managed to find Mexican places in each place he lived while in South America, though Bogotá had the best tacos.

Miami, Steve told him to get his hair cut at the place he went to, and Javier laughed because he thought it was a joke. He found a barber within the first week by simply asking a guy working at the mall with a nice, fresh haircut where he'd gotten it done. 

There was a huge nightlife scene and more bars and clubs than he could count, but his preference was dive bars where the atmosphere wasn't too rowdy, and the drinks were poured well, which led to him finding a joint whose name was taken from a euphemism for drunken hallucinations, called The Pink Elephant—he got a kick out of the name, and the place wasn’t half bad.

It wasn't flashy; the lights were dimmed, with a handful of bright neon signs on the walls advertising different brands of beer. The wall behind the long bar had dozens and dozens of liquor bottles displayed behind it on shelves. The seating options included the bartop, tables, and booths, and a small stage was at the back for live music with a dance floor that wasn’t too big. A hallway separated the kitchen from a small room attached to the main one that had a couple of pool tables and down the hall led to two single-stall bathrooms, a janitor’s closet, and a door to the outside where people could smoke if they wanted air, and didn’t want to do it inside.

Since it was a Friday night, there was already a light haze of cigarette smoke when they walked in, and a cover band was playing hits from the 80s. Only a few seats were empty at the bartop, and it wasn't looking good in terms of tables until Connie spotted some people leaving a booth and snagged it before they even made it out of the door. 

It wasn’t terribly loud, but he had to speak in Cielito's ear as they walked to the bar with his arm around her. "Go sit with Connie. Steve and I will get the drinks." 

"I'm staying with you," she said.

He shrugged to himself. "Okay," he replied and kissed the side of her head. 

Steve and she were on either side of him when they got to the bartop, and her right arm was around his waist with her hand on his ass. Her left elbow rested on the top of the bar, and she seemed to be really interested in touching her hair. 

He smiled as they waited for the bartender to come over and take their order. His head turned to speak in her ear again. "You want me to get up on stage and say in the mic for everyone to hear I'm yours and marrying you?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about. I simply wanted to spend more time with you." 

"You wanted to mark your territory, is what you wanted to do." He hugged her closer to his side. "And I fucking love it—flash your ring back a little more. I don't like how that woman's looking at me." 

Her head quickly turned toward him. 

"What woman?" 

"The one at the table.” He nodded over her. “Seven o'clock. Blonde. Fake tits. Won't stop eyefucking the back of my head." 

Cielito's head whipped in the direction he said, and her glare must've been deadly with how the other woman paled, his fiancée flipping her off with her ring finger, followed by the middle one. 

He laughed, pressing his face into her neck and kissing her skin, saying into it, "I love you so fucking much." 

Her hand went into the hair at the back of his head, and she pulled to make him look at her. "I love you, too." 

Those perfect lips of hers smashed against him, and he grabbed a handful of her ass, opening his mouth for her tongue to slide against his. 

It might be fucked up, but one thing that really got him going was when she got territorial and needed everyone in the vicinity to know they were together. He loved being wanted so much that she was broadcasting he was hers, and she was his, and she’d fight anyone who tried to make a pass at him. That was why he was all over her, too, so anyone with eyes would see she was off limits. 

It was her protectiveness of him, like he was of her, that also did it for him. Without even thinking, she’d put herself between him and another to defend him if she had to—which he’d never allow her to be in any actual danger. She could eviscerate his enemies with her words all she wanted; anything physical, if it came to that, would be left to him no matter how feisty she got, and she could get real feisty. 

God, he loved her. 

He was no damsel in distress or princess trapped in a tower—he could take care of himself, but he didn’t have to anymore because he lucked out and got a knight in shining armor for a wife, and he was going to worship the ground she walked upon every damn day for the rest of his life. 

"Are y'all just gonna suck face or order some fucking drinks?" Steve asked. He must've turned his attention to the bartender. "Sorry about them. They got engaged this morning, and I swear they're stuck together with glue or some shit." 

He broke the kiss, turning to glare at Steve. 

"Congrats!" the large man behind the bar said. Blue light from a neon sign was reflecting off his bald head, and he had an impressive full handlebar mustache that put what Javier had going on to shame. With how big the man’s biceps were, he could probably benchpress Steve and Javier at the same time. "Let me see the ring." 

Cielito immediately held out her hand, and Javier’s chest puffed out a little. 

"That's a beauty." He looked between them both. "What can I get you two? On the house, in celebration this beautiful woman actually said yes to a guy with a face like yours." 

Javier's eyes narrowed, and his jaw ticked, Steve laughing beside him.

The guy grinned. "I'm joking! Thought you were gonna kill me with how you looked at me. You're a real handsome man—a pretty boy, and you’ll make some cute babies together." 

That had him going soft. "Thanks, man," he said. 

"No problem. Now, what can I get you?"

They ordered their drinks, Javier sticking to his usual, a whiskey, the bartender surprising him with some spendier stuff than he normally got. Cielito, on the other hand, ordered a drink he'd never heard of with an interesting name that, after she told him everything that was in it, turned out to basically be a blue Long Island ice tea or something that told him he was in for an interesting night. 

At the table, the Murphys were on one side while they were on the other with her pressed against him and his arm over her shoulders. 

"So, what are y'all’s plans for Christmas?" Connie asked before taking a sip of her colorful drink. 

"I'm working," his future wife answered. "It's a bummer since it's our first Christmas, and Javi has it off. We'll do most of our celebrating on Christmas Eve with his dad, and then when I get home from work on Christmas, we'll open presents." 

Connie looked sympathetic. "I know what it's like having to work on holidays. Sick people don't stop being sick for a day. Hopefully, next year, y’all will have it off together." 

“I sure hope we do.” 

And he hoped they’d have a baby by then. 

The four of them chatted while they sipped their drinks. Connie was interested in hearing if they had any plans for their wedding yet or an idea for their honeymoon, which they told her the truth of how they were hoping to have a small ceremony with his dad officiating at the ranch, followed by a big party with their friends and family they were invited to, and that their honeymoon was going to be on an island—they hadn't talked about it yet, they both just knew that's where they'd wanna go and shared a look when Javier had said it. 

When he finished his whiskey, he had a nice buzz and decided to go get a beer since he had to drive later that evening. 

His friends were telling Cielito funny tales about being parents, which she was enjoying.  

"I'm gonna go get another drink," he whispered in her ear. "You want anything?" 

She looked at him, and he could tell she was just as buzzed. "Can you see if they have fries or mozzarella sticks? I want food." 

"Okay, mi amor (my love)." He kissed her forehead. 

He got up from the table and made his way through people standing and past tables, unable to help himself from looking back over his shoulder to see Cielito watching him as she spoke to Steve and Connie.

Javier wasn't paying attention and ran into the back of someone. 

"Shit." He looked forward. "Sorry." It was the woman his fiancée had flipped off earlier, and her face shifted from anger to delight when she saw it was him. 

She turned around to face him and put a hand on his arm that he immediately shrugged off as she said, "I knew you'd come find me—" She leaned in close, and he could smell the booze on her breath. "—why don't you let me take you out back and we can do things that stuck up bitch you're here with wouldn't think of." 

He was already on edge, but that had anger flaring up inside of him. He stepped back from her with his eyes glaring, and when he spoke, his tone was icy enough to freeze the Sahara. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about my wife like that. She’s better than you in every fucking way, and I wouldn’t even look at you if you were the last woman on earth, let alone touch you—that woman—” He pointed behind him. “—is literal perfection, and I’m the luckiest man on this fucking planet because she’s with me. So, get it through your head. I’m not interested and very happily taken.” 

She looked mad. "You could've just told me no, you asshole." 

"You disrespected my wife and, in turn, disrespected me and lost any chance of me politely turning you down. Now get the fuck out of my way, my wife's hungry, and you've wasted enough of the time I could've been spending with her." 

She scoffed and moved, muttering ‘Fucking prick’ under her breath.

He paid attention this time when he continued walking to the bar and only turned to look toward their table when he reached his destination—"Shit," was said under his breath as he immediately booked it the way he came at the sight of Steve blocking the woman he loved from leaving their side of the booth as the blonde he’d told to fuck off backed away from their table with her middle finger raised.  

Connie was making her way toward him, meeting him halfway. "Thank god," she said, continuing to walk with him. "Your fiancée is gonna beat that woman's ass." 

"What happened?" 

"Well, she didn't care for the blonde talking to you, but when it was clear you were telling her to fuck off, she was fine. Then..."

He was at Connie's back as they pushed through people. 

"Then what?" 

"Then you apparently pissed off that woman enough she came over to our table to tell your girl she could keep you since you had no taste, were probably bad in bed, and some demeaning shit about your masculinity—I've never seen Steve move as fast as he did to get between the two of them, 'cause Javi, the look on your fiancée's face said she was ready to spend the night in jail." 

"Fuck, did you see where the blonde went?" 

He’d lost her in the crowd, his head turning to try and spot her.

"If she knows what's best for her, she left, but you need to calm your lady down." 

They were at the table, and Steve was standing with his arms crossed, swaying from side to side with how she was trying to get around him. 

"I just want to talk to her," she said. 

"You wanna do more than talk to her," Steve replied. 

"She deserves to be more than talked to."

Javier patted Steve's shoulder twice, and the other man glanced over to see it was him. 

"Hey, look who's back," Steve said, stepping to the side so Javier could take his place. 

Her face was scrunched in anger, and he crouched to be at eye level with her. He pressed his hand to her cheek. 

"Cielito, baby, it's okay," he said soothingly. "She's gone. Stop thinking about her. She doesn’t matter." 

“Not after what she said about you,” she seethed. 

"Let's get some air, mi amor (my love)." He stroked her face. "How drunk are you?" 

His eyes moved to her drink, which wasn't close to empty. 

"Buzzed—I didn't want to get drunk." 

He nodded. "Okay, come on, baby," he said, taking her hand firmly into his and getting her out of the seat. He leaned into Steve. "Thanks, man—I'm gonna take her outside for a bit so she can cool down. You guys enjoy yourselves. We'll be back."

"Sounds good." 

She was behind him as they weaved through people to the hallway leading to a back door. The corridor was empty, the music getting quieter and quieter the further they walked away from it and toward the fire door at the end of the hall, a red glowing 'Exit' sign hanging above it. 

Right before they got to where they were headed, there was a little alcove with unisex single-stall bathrooms across from each other and a janitor's closet between them. They passed it and were coming upon the back door when it suddenly opened—"Fuck," Javier said, coming face to face with the blonde. He spun around, immediately grabbing onto Cielito's hips, trying to turn her, too. "Other way." 

He knew the moment she spotted the other woman because she tried to push past him. 

"Hey, bitch!” Cielito shouted. “Say that shit to my face again!" That was a bad idea, and he put his arms around her waist, keeping her in front of him no matter how much she struggled. "Let me kick her ass, Javi!" He was forcing her to move backward. 

"No, baby," he grunted. "I'm not letting you get arrested. She’s not worth it." 

"I told you," the woman loudly slurred, "your husband is a shitty fuck and a pussy—look at this, he has you fighting for him!" 

His head turned. "Are you fucking serious, lady?" he asked her. 

The sound his fiancée made would best be described as a roar, and he had no choice but to haul her away with his arms around her middle while she thrashed in his hold and screamed some very creative profanity at the blonde—his favorite was ‘You stupid, fuckitty, fuck, fuck, fucking thundercunt bitch!’

He didn't think he could get her all the way back down the hall, so he took her into the one empty bathroom with the door cracked open, getting it shut and locked behind them.

What was he supposed to do now? He needed to get her mind off the confrontation or, better yet, make her forget about the whole thing. 

He did the one thing he knew would distract her, crushing his mouth to hers, muffling her surprised sound. His large palm was cupping her cheek, his other holding her hip, as he guided her some steps to press her back against the sink on the wall opposite the door. When his tongue swiped along her bottom lip, asking for entry, she opened, and he eagerly delved inside to tangle his muscle with her own, tasting some notes from her drink—tequila, gin, blue curaçao, sour mix. 

Her fingers were on his chest, and where once it was to push out of his hold, now she had his shirt clutched in her fists, trying to pull him closer. The first moan he earned from her made him smile into their filthy kiss that was nothing more than a practiced dance of their tongues sliding along each other. 

Blood was rushing to his groin, feeling himself beginning to harden, and he wasn't sure if this would be enough to get her mind off of what had happened—they were alone, someplace semi-private, all he'd need to do is pull down those jean shorts, turn her around and slip his cock into the wet heat of her pussy and he knew he was a good enough fuck to make her forget that other woman even existed. 

When they needed to take a breath, he nipped at her bottom lip, his mouth making a path of kisses along the line of her jaw until he was at her ear, letting his hot, hard breaths fan against it, causing her to shiver. 

"Let me make you feel good," he rasped. His hand on her hip moved to palm at the front of her bottoms, where she was extra warm. "Let me make you forget, Cielito—I’ll fuck you nice and hard. I'll make those pretty eyes roll back, and the dick will be so good, I’ll have you drooling. Can I make it all better? Make you forget?" 

“Babe, no amount of good dick is gonna make me forget about what that fucking twatwaffle said—and it’s absolutely on sight if I see her stupid, jealous bottle blonde ass again.”

His nose nudged into her ear. “Is that a no or a challenge?”

“It’s a—“ She ground against his hand. “—I’ve always fantasized about you fucking me in a bar, so I’m down for a quickie, but it’s not gonna make me stop being angry.”

He smiled and kissed her cheek. “A challenge then.”

Her eyebrow rose as he looked her in the eyes. "You really think you're that good?" 

He smirked. "Look at who you're talking to. I know I'm that good, and I'll make you so fucking cock dumb you'll forget that spiteful woman even exists." His hands went to the front of her shorts, quickly popping the button and pulling down the zipper. "Now be a good girl for me and don't make a sound no matter how good it feels—I don't want us getting kicked out. Steve would be so fucking annoying about it." 

She palmed over his half-hard dick, and it made his mouth go slack, her eyes darkening. "He would," she said. "I'll try to be quiet." 

"You will be quiet, or I stop." 

Her eyes went a little wide. "Sexy Star Wars," she whispered. 

"What?" 

"It's like the sexy version of the line Yoda says in Empire, 'Do or do not, there is no try.' I either will or will not be quiet, there won’t be any trying—I make noise, and you'll withhold the dick." To end the sentence, she lightly squeezed his cock. 

He huffed out an amused breath. 

"I love you." Leaning in, he kissed her. When he pulled back, he said, "But I can't believe we're about to fuck and you're thinking about Star Wars." 

She looked at him madly, and he wondered what he said wrong. "I'm sorry, what you said reminded me of a line and that I don't happen to be the king of dirty talk, unlike some people." 

"King of dirty talk?" 

"You, Javier, and I'm just a fucking mood killer." 

He needed to get things back on track, and clearly, he accidentally upset her—he knew just what to do. 

"Stop it," he told her and took her face into his hands, smashing his lips to hers in a hard kiss.

It was one of those kisses where she was a little disoriented afterward and hungry for more—wanting his hands on her, to feel his cock inside her, more of his mouth on hers—it was a kiss that made her greedy and grabby, and she definitely got his pants undone to get the hard, hot shaft of his cock into her palm, languidly stroking him. 

He slid his hand into her panties, slipping two fingers through her slit to find her cunt wet and slick enough to take him. 

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured into her lips. His mouth moved to rasp in her ear. “I haven’t even touched this perfect pussy, and you’re soaked—it turns you on to know I’m gonna fuck you in here?” Her answer was a moan. “—It turns you on that if we’re not quiet enough, someone could hear how good I make you feel?” 

The pads of his digits were swirling around her perky little clit. 

“Yes,” the word was a gasp, and he smiled. 

“My dirty fucking girl—I bet you want people to hear us—you want everyone to know this pussy is mine—” He cupped it in his palm. “—and I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had.” 

She’d told him as much on many occasions. 

Her hand left his pants to make him look at her with a tug of his hair, her eyes dark and face serious. 

“I want that stupid bitch to hear you giving it to me so good she leaves the bar crying out of pure jealousy.” 

And she was still angry at the blonde. She was going to make him work for it, and he was ready for the challenge.

License plates from different states and countries, some old and beat up, others newer, lined the top half of the walls in colorful metal stripes, the lower portion painted black; a decent-sized mirror was over the wall-mounted white porcelain sink, the toilet beside it, and a hand air dryer hanging near them—most notably, Javier had room to work in since the space wasn’t cramped at all. 

Wasting no time, he shoved her shorts and underwear down, spinning her around to face the mirror and sink, and he took a couple of steps back, bringing her with him. 

He looked at them both in the mirror with his head beside hers, pressing his lips to her ear, and eyes locked on one another's. “I know you want her to hear,” he whispered, “but I’m gonna need you to be quiet.” He rubbed her bare hips. “Promise me that no matter how fucking good it feels, you’ll keep those pretty noises I love to a minimum.” 

She gulped. “I promise, even though I think we should just go for it and be that couple.” 

He smiled. “The couple that doesn’t care and has noisy sex in a bar bathroom? You get brave when you’re pissed off.” He kissed her jaw under her ear. “And no, we’re gonna be quiet.” 

Getting kicked out at minimum and arrested at worst didn’t sound like a good time to him. 

She pouted, and it made him chuckle. 

“This isn’t something you would’ve done before me,” he said as he shimmied his jeans down his thighs to free himself. He took his dick in hand, giving it a few strokes. “I’ve created a monster.” He needed to make sure he was nice and slick, so he spit on his fingers and used them to lube himself up. 

“A horny monster—stick it in.” She wiggled her behind. 

He kicked her feet apart. "A fucking impatient monster—bend forward, hands on your knees," he ordered, lightly pushing on her spine, and she did as he said, sticking her ass out. It only took him seconds to notch at her opening and push right in, her hot, tight walls hugging him all the way down to the hilt. 

The first, initial thrust was always his favorite when they both couldn’t help the soft sounds that escaped their throats and the heat of her cunt giving way and enveloping him, Javier fitting inside her so snugly, he thought his cock had to be just the right size for her—not, too big, not too small, simply perfect.

It gave credence to the fact he was made for her. 

He knew he had big hands, yet he loved how perfectly they held her smaller ones. Their lips fit together like two matching puzzle pieces snapping together. His arms were long enough to hold her close to him. 

They were two halves of a whole that managed to find each other on a planet with billions of people—he found his media naranja (soulmate), and right this second, he was going to fuck away all of the negative shit that had happened tonight, because he loved her more than life itself, and wanted her to enjoy the rest of her night. 

This was going to be quick and dirty, hard and rough. 

His hands were gripping her hips as he pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in, tugging her ass back when he thrusted forward to penetrate as deep as possible. Her back arched, and on the next stroke, a choked noise came from her, and he knew his dick was pressing in just right to hit that spot that made her pussy weep uncontrollably and her thighs tremble. 

He set a punishing pace that had his hips slamming into her from behind with a smack of skin against skin, and it was so wet where they were joined, he could hear his cock working in and out of her, soft moans spilling past her lips, while he grunted, sweat forming on his brow and down his spine.

If someone were to put their ear to the door, they'd know exactly what was going on—hell, there was a chance the rhythmic beat of his thrusts were echoing loud enough to be heard out in the hall. 

The thought that people knew what they were doing had pleasure slicing through him like a knife's edge, ramping up what was already building in his gut. 

"Touch yourself," he said through his teeth. "Play with your pussy." 

With how she was fluttering, he knew she was close. 

She didn’t acknowledge he said anything or did as he ordered, and it had pride swelling in his chest that he was fucking her so good, she was lost in the pleasure and probably couldn’t even think a coherent thought. 

The bathroom’s lighting wasn’t the brightest, but when he looked down, he could see his dick shining in her arousal as it disappeared into her sopping cunt, in and out, with a wet suck; her asscheeks were spread enough her puckered hole was in his line of sight, tempting him to slip in the tip of his thumb inside, but he knew that’d trip her up with how far gone she was, and he didn’t want to ruin her orgasm. 

He knew one thing he could do that’d get her attention and keep her going, though. 

There was a chance your legs were going to give out with how they were trembling; the tight walls of your pussy were hugging his cock that filled you perfectly, making you feel full, each thrust hitting that spot that had stars dancing behind your closed eyelids.

The way he was pounding into you made it to where you couldn't think, not with how pleasure was coiling in your belly and making your skin vibrate. 

A hand came down hard on the side of your ass, the sweet sting causing your cunt to clench, and you gasped out a moan, realizing he was trying to get your attention because he said something you missed. 

"What?" You asked roughly since you'd been doing everything in your power to hold back your noises, your nails digging into the skin of your knees. 

"Touch yourself," he gritted out, his pace not wavering. "Make yourself come." 

You slid a hand between your legs, going low enough to spread your fingers around where he was fucking into you, feeling how his cock was drenched in your juices and your pussy stretched around him. With your digits wet, you moved them to circle the swollen bud of your clit, and it had heat starting to tighten in your belly. 

Your mouth fell open at the combined sensations, all of it rocketing you toward your release, making it hard to keep quiet when it felt so fucking good—soft whimpers were leaving your mouth as you lost your mind. 

There was no way anyone outside the door didn't know what was going on in here, not with how the slap of his hips echoed in the small room and Javi grunted behind you—he probably didn't even realize how much noise he was making. 

His hands had a death grip on your waist as he pulled you back on his cock with each thrust, and it had him going so deep you were pretty sure if he went any deeper, he'd be in your stomach. Your eyes were rolled back, and you weren’t embarrassed to admit you were drooling a little. 

How did you end up bent over and getting fucked within an inch of your life in a bar bathroom?

This was something you’d wanted to happen for a long time, and even though Javi was generally adventurous and risky in terms of places he’d have sex, he had turned down all of the times you tried at the bar back home—the closest you got was him fingering you under the table while you sat beside each other in a booth, but that was it. 

The coil inside you was close to snapping with how tightly it was wound, and it didn’t take much to have you falling over the edge—there was the excitement of Javi railing your brains out in a semi-public location, the need to be quiet, your friends at the table oblivious to what you were doing, and the actual act itself; your fingers on your clit and his hard dick pistoning in and out of you that finally had you cresting. Your body tensed up tight as you came, and you must’ve made too much noise because Javi turned on the hand dryer with one hand and leaned over to cover your mouth with the other. 

Pleasure spread through your body and out to your limbs while air blew loudly. Javi pulled you up to lean back against his chest with your head on his shoulder, his lips kissing your neck while his mustache tickled you. 

"Good girl," he said against the shell of your ear. "Can I come?" 

His palm had moved off your face. "Yes." Your hand went behind you and into his sweaty, damp hair. "Use me—come inside me." 

What you didn’t expect was him pulling out of you—and you were only left to guess what he was doing for a second before he crouched behind you, roughly tugging down your jean shorts to your ankles, getting one of your shoed feet out of a leg. 

He groaned as he stood up, and you gasped in surprise when you found yourself getting pushed with your back against the wall and a man immediately in your space, pulling your leg up on his hip. Javi wasted no time to sheath himself back inside you, his mouth colliding with yours to muffle your moan; his fingers dug into your thigh, bracketing his waist, his free hand snaking its way up your shirt, pulling down your bra cup to massage your breast in his large palm. 

His rhythm was hard and fast, making your body jolt with every steady thrust, his breaths coming out labored, and your fingers in his hair. He was chasing his high, and you were happily going along for the ride. 

The dryer had stopped, and you pulled his head back to make him look at you, his eyes more black than brown, glazed over, and heavy-lidded, his lips slightly parted and glistening, sweat coating his brow, hair sticking wetly to his forehead. It was rude how he always looked so hot during sex—even when he was coming, especially when he was coming. 

“Come for me, Javi,” you said, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Fill me up, baby.”

“I will,” his voice was strained. “I said I was gonna keep you stuffed with my come today, and I am.” He was talking about your rendezvous at a hotel that morning when he promised to fuck you as many times as you’d let him to keep you full—this was number four. “I’m gonna fill you to the fucking brim, baby—fuck—” His eyes squeezed shut. “—we keep up like this, and you actually will be pregnant when we get married.” 

The thought thrilled you. You moved his head forward to your shoulder and got your lips close to his ear. You whispered, “You’d love that—me already being pregnant when you make me your wife. You want that, Javi?” you purred. “You gonna fuck a baby into me?” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his strokes speeding up. His hand squeezed your breast. “I want you pregnant,” he grunted. “I wanna get you pregnant. I wanna see you pregnant with the bigger tits and the belly. You’re gonna look so fucking sexy.” His pace was getting jerky. “God, I love you. I love you so fucking much. You’re perfect. You’re amazing. You’re gonna be my wife.” He was rambling, so you knew he was close. “You’re gonna have my children. You love me.”  He sounded wrecked, pushing his face into your neck. “You love me.” The words were muffled and followed by a ragged moan as he pushed in all the way to the root and came, feeling his cock jerk hard and the warm, wet pulse as he filled your inner depths. 

His hot breaths were panting against your skin, and like always, you pressed your fingers into his hair, and he slumped into you. 

“There’s no falling asleep, mister,” you said. 

“‘M not, jus need a sec,” he mumbled. 

“Uh-huh, one sec, and next thing I know, you’re snoring.” 

He sighed. “It happ’n’d one time.” 

“That’s a damn dirty lie, and you know it.”

His head came up to look at you with a frown. 

“Don’t I deserve one minute to get my head straight after giving you some amazing dick?” 

“Of course, you deserve a minute—you deserve five minutes, but babe, we’re kinda, sorta, not really in a situation where we can lollygag and luxuriate in the post-sex goodness. Like, I would love to cuddle with you right now. There’s literally nothing more I want to do. However, we are in a bar bathroom with your dick inside me, and our friends are probably wondering where the fuck we are.” 

This sigh was long, and he visibly deflated. 

“I’m getting really fucking tired of not being able to fuck like we normally do,” he grumbled. 

You cupped his cheeks. “You’re spoiled rotten—we’re on a trip. What were you expecting?” 

“That we’d be able to fool around at night, but Steve decided to be a fucking prick and ruined the guest bed.” 

“We have our floor mattress.” 

He was pouting. “Can’t make too much noise.” 

“But isn’t that fun?” 

“The first time, yes.” 

“Spoiled. You’re gonna have to tell her.” 

He looked confused. “What?” 

“You’re gonna have to break it to Connie that next time we visit, we’re getting a hotel room because, one, we can’t go too long without fucking, and two, you’re accustomed to sex a certain way that when you don’t get it how you like it, you become a big ‘ol grouch.”

“I can’t do that to her. It’d upset her.” 

“Then you’re gonna have to get used to making compromises. We better clean up and get going.” You started to move, but he stopped you. 

“Wait.” 

“Yes?” 

His eyes went a little bigger. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

“I’m gonna say some sappy bullshit.” 

You giggled. “Thank you for the warning—go for it.” 

He smiled. “This is what I was thinking about when you told me not to fall asleep.” He pressed a hand over his heart. “Te pertenezco como la luna le pertenece a las estrellas—uno no existe sin el otro (I belong to you like the moon belongs to the stars—one does not exist without the other).” 

Oh, nutting put him in his feelings. He did get incredibly romantic after coming. It was probably allowing himself to be so vulnerable. 

“—Cuando estoy perdido y llega la oscuridad, tú eres mi estrella brillante que permanece a mi lado y me guía a casa (When I’m lost and the darkness comes, you are my shining star that stays by my side and guides me home). Te pertenezco (I belong to you). No soy nada sin ti (I am nothing without you). Estaría perdido en la oscuridad sin ti (I’d be lost in the dark without you). Tienes todo mi amor y devoción (You have all of my love and devotion). Haré cualquier cosa por ti (I will do anything for you). Y cuando tengamos hijos, también haré cualquier cosa por ellos porque tú eres mi vida (And when we have children, I will also do anything for them because you are my life). Te amo, mi Cielito (I love you, my Cielito). Gracias por amarme (Thank you for loving me).” 

And with that, he leaned in and kissed you, putting in all of that love and devotion he had for you, making you feel it with every press of his lips. 

Afterward, you quickly righted your clothes and cleaned up, forcing Javi to stare at the door as you peed and him not caring one single bit if you looked while he went—you didn’t. 

Once you both looked presentable, he took your hand and led you out of the bathroom, where there was a small line of people waiting to use the restrooms, who either glared or leered at you both as you walked by, which you tried to ignore. 

Back at the table, Steve and Connie looked very cozy on their side of the booth, with his arm around her shoulders and her tucked into his side as they laughed about something. Javi let you scoot into your seat first. 

“Hey, you’re back!” Connie said, and she looked like she was feeling good. 

“We are!” you replied. 

“Are you feeling better?” she asked. 

Javi was sitting close enough to you that you were touching, and he wrapped his arms around your middle, resting his head on your shoulder, or he was acting like a giant cat who wanted your attention. Your arm went across your body to play with his hair. 

It took you a second to answer Connie’s question because you didn’t know what she meant—you felt fantastic. 

“Oh!” It finally came to you, the whole altercation with that woman, and frankly, you didn’t care about it anymore. “I’m feeling much better, thank you,” you answered. 

“That’s good.” 

“Con,” Steve started, “tell them what happened.” 

“What happened?” you asked. 

Connie was clearly excited to tell you both the gossip. “So,” she said, leaning closer toward the table, “a little bit after y’all left, the blonde apparently had a death wish or was drunk as a skunk and was all over another woman’s man on the dance floor, which ended in a fight the blonde did not win and got her kicked out.” 

“It’s what she deserved.” 

“That’s not all—well, about the blonde, that’s all, but I have more to tell y’all.” 

“Okay.” 

“The other thing that happened was I went to go use the bathroom, and there was a couple fucking in the other one.” Your eyes widened, and Javi went still. “They were so loud,” she continued, “and really going at it—I don’t think they realized the music doesn’t make it down that hall and those bathrooms echo. We could just hear—” She clapped her hands to the same beat Javi was railing, and you cringed each time, wanting to crawl in a hole and die. Thankfully, she finally stopped. “—and grunting. I couldn’t make out if they were saying anything.” 

Thank god. 

“Wow,” you chuckled nervously. “That’s so embarrassing. Who does that? Who thinks it’s a good idea to fuck in a bar bathroom? I know, I wouldn’t—I’m a privacy of a bedroom kinda girl.” 

Steve’s eyes narrowed, and you knew you fucked up. 

“Javier Peña,” the other man hissed. “Are you fucking serious?” 

The man accused sat up, pressing fingers to his forehead. “We ran into the blonde at the back door, and my amazing future wife was on a fucking warpath, so I had to do something to get her mind off it.” 

“And that something was getting your dick wet in a public bathroom?”

Javi’s hand fell, and he glared at Steve. “What would you have done if it was Connie? Would you have let her fight a woman for you or done something you knew would make her forget, even if it was risky?”

Steve seemed to be thinking it over. 

“There was no way of getting her home?”

“Steve, I practically had to carry her into that bathroom with how she was screaming and trying to go after the other woman.” Heat was creeping up your neck in embarrassment. “I didn’t have much choice.”

“If it was a last resort, then yeah, I would’ve done the same.”

“That’s so romantic,” Connie said, and her husband looked at her with a smile. 

“You really think that’s romantic?” he asked. “I’d do anything for you, baby. Even if it’d send me to jail.”

Javi’s head turned, and so did yours to meet his eyes, the look on his face screaming, ‘Can you believe this fucking guy?’ 

The other couple were whispering amongst themselves. 

Your fiancé leaned in. “He’s judgemental one minute, then his wife thinks it’s cute, and suddenly he’s Mr. I’d-Do-It-For-You.”

“Javi?” You rubbed a hand over his shirt-covered chest.

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s annoying as fuck, but I want you to think about the fact we’ve probably had more sex in the last two days than they’ve had the entire year.”

He looked horrified, his head snapping in their direction. 

“Steve, Con,” he said, getting their attention. “We’re best friends. Be honest with me, with work and the kids, how many times have you fucked in the last year?”

The couple looked at each other and seemed to be counting in their heads. 

“I can only think of five times where we actually got through it uninterrupted,” Connie said. “Add maybe an extra two incompletes.”

“Yeah,” Steve confirmed. “I’m counting five, too.”

Javi checked his watch, then moved forward to get his wallet out of his back pocket. He opened it, pulling out two bills. 

“Merry Christmas,” he said, passing over a couple of hundred dollar bills. “Go rent a hotel room for the night and check out late. We’re gonna watch the kids until you’re back tomorrow.”

“You’re sweet, Jav,” Connie replied, “but we can’t—that’s too much.”

“Like hell, it’s too much,” Steve said, picking up the money. “We have to remodel because of this asshole, and I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Let’s go, honey—we’ve just been offered an opportunity that’s not gonna come back around until he visits again.” The blonde man was already out of his seat and holding his hand out to his wife. 

“Thank you, Javi,” Connie told him as she scooted out with her purse. “Thank you, both. This is really nice of you.”

“Yeah, thanks, Jav,” Steve added, grabbing his wife’s hand and practically dragging her from the booth with quick goodbyes. 

Your future husband looked at you with worry. “We’re gonna fuck more than five times a year after we have kids, right?”

“Oh, yeah. See, the difference between us and them is we’re opportunistic and will do it just about anywhere. It might not be as frequent as we currently are, but we’ll still fuck regularly—I promise.” 

He held up his pinkie. “Pinkie promise,” he said seriously. 

You giggled, wrapping your pinkie around his larger one. “I cannot believe you want me to pinkie promise about our sex life.”

His forehead pressed to yours, and your eyes closed. 

“It’s a big enough deal that it warrants a pinkie promise. I love sex, not just because of how good it feels, but also the intimacy—my favorite part is afterward when I get to hold you in my arms and cool down.” A wistful sigh left him. “I haven’t gotten a lot of chances to do that while we’ve been here, and I, uh, miss it.” He took a deep breath. “What I’m saying is, I love spending that time with you naked, and honestly, we don’t even have to fuck. So, I just want you to pinkie promise me that after we have kids, we’ll put aside time for us to keep going on dates and having sex when we have the chance and cuddling naked.”

“I pinkie promise to that, but, babe?”

He pulled back to meet your gaze. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna have to get used to quickies and come to terms with the fact we’re gonna get interrupted.”

“It sounds like we’ll need a reliable babysitter, and it just so happens our children will have an abuelo living three minutes down the road who will happily watch them.”

“We better get a headstart on making up excuses for why we need to leave the kids with him for two to three hours.” 

“Eh—” He shrugged. “—Pop and mi mamá used to leave me with mis abuelos y tías (my grandparents and aunts) so they could have time alone—he’ll know exactly why he was watching our kids.” 

You smiled. “The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.” 

“Yeah, if things had gone differently, I probably would’ve had ten siblings.” 

“With your attitude toward Steve, who I consider your adopted brother, you’d be in hell with actual siblings. Well, your dad is getting the award for Father of the Year.” 

Javi grinned. “He gets that award every year.” 

“As he fucking should. Let’s get a plaque made to make it official. He’d get a kick out of it.” 

He had a thoughtful expression on his face, and it was like you could read his thoughts. 

You held his cheeks. “You’re gonna be an incredible father, Javi, and you’ll get a plaque, too—your dad will transition to Abuelo of the Year ‘cause, let's face it, he’s gonna be great at that, too.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“That you’ll be an incredible father? Oh, yeah. I’m positive. You’re gonna knock it out of the park! I’ve honestly already come to terms with the fact the tiny humans I will grow inside me and birth are going to love you more, and I’m not upset about it at all—you deserve it.” You stroked your fingers through his hair. “I promise you, Javi, you’re going to be an amazing dad, and our kids are going to be obsessed with you—I pinky promise you that.” You held up your little finger, and his eyes were misty as he looped yours with his. 

“I love you,” he said. 

“I love you, too.” 

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

[gravid-transluna]

Bread, Milk, and Eggs

words: 1390

content: rapid pregnancy and birth, lactation, birth denial, fpreg

Nadia grabbed a basket on the way into the supermarket. She wouldn’t need a cart. Her list only consisted of three simple things. The basket swung as she combed the aisles, leisurely.

Bread

She picked out a loaf, pausing to read the expiration date before dropping it in the basket.

As it plopped in, she immediately felt a strange sensation. It was almost like a tugging in her navel, a buttery innie. She pressed her lean, dark tummy, firm with athleticism. Not concerned. Just a little curious.

Then the tugging became a pressure, consistent with the bloated sensation she would experience on her period. Nadia frowned. She pressed down on her belly, and, to her surprise, it pressed back.

“The hell—?” She was really frowning now. She realized how she must look to passerby, a college-age girl in a crop top and jean shorts, staring at her stomach.

Probably just gas or something, she thought. She continued down the aisle. When she reached the end, she looked down again, this time gasping audibly. Her belly had a curve to it, bending a little past the waistline of her jean shorts now. Nadia pressed down again, hard. She stopped when she felt nausea well up inside her. Her belly was still mostly muscle, but had a slight softness to it, a give like a firm peach. As she watched, it swelled even more, pushing out slowly to stretch her shorts.

“Holy fuck,” Nadia muttered, suddenly feeling the flesh of her belly contained in the seams of her waistline like it had never been before. She felt extremely uncomfortable, and reached around it to undo the button, fingers fumbling. She gasped, breathing, and her belly expanded even more without the restriction.

Nadia could now spread her fingertips around its underside. She looked almost, she looked—

No. Nah. No fuckin’ way.

Nadia grabbed the bread from the basket and lifted it to her eyes. The expiration date had been nine months from now when she’d picked it out.

Now, it was four.

“I gotta be tripping,” Nadia mumbled.

She laced her fingers over her navel and held firm as the skin filled her hands and pushed against them. She refused to let it grow any more and ruin her trim tummy and athletic figure. Then a pain and pressure shot through her belly, as though something had rose, shoving, up into her sternum. She let go, and her belly rapidly dropped, the skin stretching tightly, itching around her belly, her taut belly muscles being pulled and loosened and smoothed into a round, curving shape. She watched in mounting horror, cupping her mouth as her innie rose and popped outward. Then, a sharp inner jab, distending its tight surface. Nadia gasped. Movements wriggled her belly viscerally. She clutched at her lively swell, unable to deny it any longer.

“Shit, I’m pregnant,” she said.

Dark stretch marks patterned the sheening brown skin. Nadia regretted her crop top, exposing her to the entire supermarket. She glanced around. She only needed a few more things, then she could get to a doctor. She began to speed-walk, realizing that her strut had been hindered to a waddle, heavy belly forcing her to walk with her back curved to support the gravid weight.

Without realizing it, Nadia rested her hand atop the high shelf of her belly as she walked, a natural maternal gesture.

Milk

She came to the dairy aisle and opened the door, suppressing a sharp breath as her belly rippled and twitched with a flurry of kicks. As soon as she placed a carton of milk in her basket, she was subjected to another set of sensations.

She recoiled.

“Noooo,” Nadia moaned, heedless to glances from passerby. “No, no, not again!”

Sharp points of pressure stabbed through her nipples, and she watched as they stiffened under her crop top, then began to thicken and elongate, inching outward. Her small breasts, she realized, were swelling as well. They sank, full, still not particularly large but swollen now, tender. High before, their undersides now rested on her belly, humiliatingly completely her very pregnant appearance. Nadia cupped them, then gasped; her fat nipples were sensitive, raw. The simple contact had leeched milk from the tips, forming twin wet spots on her tip. She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling them continue to dribble achingly.

My top, Nadia thought. My favorite fucking top.

She had to get out of here, now. Before anyone saw her, leaking milk in the dairy aisle. Before anything… worse could happen.

As if on cue, her belly shook and swayed with powerful, urgent kicks.

Eggs

One more item. Fortunately, it was on the same aisle, near the milk. Nadia scanned quickly, chose a carton at random, not even bothering to check the eggs for cracks as she usually did. Breast milk ran freely down her front now, her top soaked with two spreading wet patches. She threw the carton into her basket and heard a crack.

Nadia cursed. She opened the cartoon and saw that it only contained a single broken egg.

“What the—”

Then her belly surged, a sudden pressure rushing through her, downward. Her knees trembled, weak. She clasped the aisle fridge handle to remain upright as fluid flushed from her vagina, drenching her legs and puddling the floor. Immediately she felt something large, heavy, and round drop between her pelvis. Her belly hung lower. The bones of her hips craned with forceful pressure; they were still narrow and girlish, unable to reach the significant width of expecting mothers in time for her own birth.

Birth.

“No, I—” Nadia stuttered, clutching her belly. “I can’t be—nnnngh.”

An urge to bear down pounded in her head. Nadia fought it, sleek muscled body tensing with resistance. She tried to put her legs together, feeling like the baby would fall between them with her widened stance, and found that she couldn’t anymore. They were permanently spread, hips opened in preparation. She turned and began to waddle as fast as she could to the front of the store, hand pressed over the sodden crotch of her shorts. Running had become a ridiculous notion, nearly impossible. Her knees wavered, threatening collapse. She couldn’t bring her legs together as she pumped them forward, and her belly swung, gravid and obtrusive, as she moved.

Another contraction. Every muscle in her belly clamped down, transforming it into a tight, rigid ball, driving the breath from her.

Don’t push, she thought. Don’t push. Pushing makes it real. Don’t—

She dropped into a deep squat in the middle of the aisle. Gripping the belly between her thighs hard enough to indent the surface, she bore down with a long, uninterrupted groan. Internal muscles thrust her baby through her canal, opening her. Her hips creaked. Her voice cracked, shrill now as she pushed again. The head slid between them, almost dislocating them with its width. She forced her legs even wider instinctually, desperate to make room for the descending head.

“Holy shit, she’s in labor!”

“Someone call 9-1-1!”

The people around her had stopped, unsure. They watched her, some phone cameras now winking down at Nadia in her birthing squat.

Her eyes widened as the contraction abated with the baby’s head resting in her vagina, filling her entire canal with tremendous weight. She could feel herself bulging into her jean shorts. On quivering spread legs she raised herself and hobbled out of the aisle.

“Excuse me, ma’am! You have to pay first!” an employee demanded as she passed the checkout, basket swinging from her arm.

The store alarms rang, and then Nadia was gripped by another contraction.

She buckled, bowing into another squat and pushing long, shoving her baby further into her tented jean shorts. The crown burned and dilated her vagina into a hot, red teardrop, then a drawn circle. Amniotic fluid spilled, spurting into the fabric around the head. Then her progress was suddenly, excruciatingly halted by her shorts. She’d pushed half a head into them and the stretched fabric wouldn’t yield any more space. Nadia bore down, her clenching efforts fruitless now. Her pussy slipped, tense and bloodless around the head. She threw her head back and moaned with the screaming sirens.

It had been three simple things. The fourth? Well, the fourth she’d never expected to be so complicated.

#fpreg #clothing birth #birth denial #breast milk #rapid pregnancy #labor kink #birth kink #pregnant kink

[amalythea]

「 but does he really know me when the lights are on? 」

⤷ info: diluc & childe x gn!reader (separate) || angsty fic hehe || wc: 544 & 461 respectively

⤷ warnings: diluc n childe are a tad bit neglectful of their lovers bc theyre busy, mentions of childe's real name (does this even count as a warning), i tried to make this extra angsty as a treat for you guys <3

⤷ extra: i used the prompt i. “but does he really know me when the lights are on?” from @thexianzhoujade 's personal memoires (of the dearly beloved) event!! thank you so much to @mei-sm for proofreading!!

diluc.

As the owner of the renowned Dawn Winery, your lover's days were consumed by the meticulous tasks of wine-making and managing the estate. Diluc was a man of dedication, his every waking moment dedicated to upholding his family's legacy.

But amidst the clinking of glasses and the rustle of grapevines, there existed a longing within Diluc—a longing for companionship, for someone to share his burdens and his joys. It was in the quiet moments of the night, as he gazed out over the vineyards, that this longing weighed heaviest upon him.

Then, amidst the chaos of his busy life, you came into his world like a breath of fresh air. You who seemed to understand Diluc in a way no one else could. Your encounters were fleeting yet profound, each stolen moment leaving Diluc yearning for more.

Despite his limited time, Diluc cherished every second he spent with you. He memorized the curve of your smile, the sound of your laughter, the way your eyes sparkled in the moonlight. In his mind, he constructed an image of you—a flawless portrait of a person he believed he knew inside and out.

But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Diluc's time grew ever scarcer. His duties at the winery demanded more of him, leaving little room for anything else. Yet, in the rare moments you shared, Diluc clung to the illusion of intimacy he had built in his mind.

One evening, as you sat together beneath the stars, your voice broke the silence. "Diluc," you said softly, your gaze searching his face, "do you truly believe you know me?"

Caught off guard by your question, Diluc faltered. "Of course, I do," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I know you better than anyone."

But your eyes held a sadness he had not seen before. "But do you?" you murmured, your words hanging heavy in the air. "Do you know the dreams I keep hidden in the depths of my heart? Do you know the fears that haunt me in the darkness of night?"

Diluc felt a pang of guilt deep within him. Despite his love for you, he realized that his knowledge of you was only surface-deep. He knew your smile, your laughter, your outward demeanor—but the depths of your soul remained a mystery to him.

In that moment, the realization hit him like a sudden gust of wind. Despite his best intentions, despite his unwavering devotion, he had failed to truly know the one he loved. And as he looked into your eyes, he saw the truth reflected back at him—the heartbreaking realization that your connection was built on a foundation of illusion.

Tears welled in your eyes as you rose to your feet, your voice barely above a whisper. "I wish things were different, Diluc," you whispered, your words heavy with sorrow. "But I fear that we are destined to remain strangers, even as lovers."

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Diluc alone beneath the stars, his heart heavy with regret. For in that moment, he knew that despite his best efforts, he had let the one he loved slip through his fingers, never truly knowing you as he had believed.

childe.

In the heart of Liyue Harbor, beneath the grandeur of the illuminated archways and amidst the bustling streets, Childe found himself entangled in the mess of his own making. The weight of his duties pressed upon him like a leaden cloak, consuming his days and nights in a relentless pursuit of power and influence. Amidst the political machinations and secret dealings, there was but one respite for him – the presence of his lover.

Your relationship was an affair hidden behind veils of secrecy and deception. Childe reveled in the moments stolen away from the prying eyes of the world, where he could lose himself in the warmth of your embrace. Yet, even in your most intimate moments, there lingered an unspoken question, a whisper of doubt that haunted your thoughts.

Despite his professed affection, Childe remained a stranger in many ways, his mind consumed by the ceaseless demands of his position within the Fatui. He spoke in riddles, his words veiled in ambiguity, leaving you to decipher the depths of his intentions.

As the nights grew longer and the shadows darker, you found peace in the silence between you, a quiet refuge from the chaos of your intertwined lives. But beneath the facade of understanding, doubts festered, like seeds sown in barren soil, their roots entwined with the fragile threads of your bond.

One night, as the city slept beneath a blanket of stars, your doubts could no longer be silenced. With tears glistening in your eyes, you uttered the words that had long lingered unspoken between the two of you.

"Do you truly know me, Ajax?" you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath upon the wind. "Or do you see only the shadows of who I am, cast by the light of your own desires?"

For a moment, Childe was speechless, the weight of your words bearing down upon him like a crushing weight. In the silence that followed, he searched your eyes for answers, but found only the reflection of his own uncertainty staring back at him.

"I... I thought I knew you," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the gentle rustle of the night breeze. "But perhaps... perhaps I was mistaken."

With those words, the fragile bonds that held you together shattered like glass, leaving nothing but shards of regret in their wake. In the cold light of dawn, you turned away, leaving Childe to face the emptiness of his own solitude.

Alone amidst the ruins of your shattered love, Childe found himself haunted by the echoes of your parting words. In the depths of his heart, he knew that he had lost more than just a lover – he had lost a piece of himself, forever hidden in the shadows of what might have been.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

#⊹ ࣪ ˖ personal memoires ⟢ #「 birth of a supernova」 #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗ #astronetwrk #diluc x reader #childe x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc angst #childe angst #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #diluc x reader angst #childe x reader angst #genshin x reader angst #genshin impact x reader angst

[wifetomegatron]

an alchemy of ore & eu de parfum : how i imagine cybertronians react to human perfume (afab!reader) (nsfw!)

most of the lost light crew only knew about it in passing. rumor was that before the war, the wealthy would import organic plants from off-worlds to extract their oils: steam distillation, boiling, maceration. of course, it wasn't very popular when the planet's atmosphere lacked the proper gases. without volatile elements in the air like oxygen, the exotic scents hardly smelled like anything. it didn't stick against their armors the way it clings onto organic skin. so it became a short-lived experiment that barely dented the surface of the planet's long history of achievements. mechs, trying to replicate organic perfume. it sounded ridiculous.

until perceptor caught a whiff of it: phantom light, brushing against his olfactory sensors. he lifted his helm, finally compelled to tear his optics away from the datapad to look at the human liaison. he inhaled experimentally, failing to be discreet. embarrassed, you tell him it's the new bottle of body wash you've tried: a mixture of wild violets and pink hibiscus. do you like it?  he thinks of strange fragile flowers, drifting under the wind. perceptor nearly missed the question, slowly nodding as you leaned closer in worry. it took the mech a lot of self-restraint to not pull you flush against him when the new, alien fragrance hits him square in the chassis like a bullet.

minimus drags his human's wrist across his intake, peppering light kisses along the skin. it was where the sweet, smoky odor was strongest, luring him closer. with you sprawled across his lap: trembling, laughing at the ticklish sensation, minimus couldn't contain the small, helpless groan that escaped him. shamelessly tipping your chin down to press your lips against his. the fragrance of mandarin and jasmine, crowding the space between your bodies.  the scientist hovered above your shoulders, mouthguard grazing the junction where your neck meets your jaw. brainstorm tightened his grip against your wrists, pining it above your head. he wants to melt into you, to drown in the overwhelming scent of amber. tyrax, benzoin; he knows they're just a cluster of chemical reactions coming to life along the curve of your collarbones. bonds breaking and fracturing to release something tangy, saccharine. but you're telling him that bulgarian rose, sandalwood — foreign, outlandish names of floras he'd never heard about before was making you smell celestial ? he was the universe's biggest heathen, but primus, save him. you were wiggling underneath his frame, back flat against the pristine table. he says he wants to run a few experiments, noticing how your pupils respond by widening, skin prickling with excitement. 

he's trying to be gentle, servos encasing your hip to lower you down his spike. megatron watches as you take him, inch by inch. with your back pressed against his chest plate, he could feel the thrum of his spark against the line of your spine as it bows and curves in pleasure. as you spread your legs further to sink further, he rewards you with a kiss — brushing your hair aside to press his intake against the pulse point beneath your ear. and he tastes it, or rather, breathes it in. he didn't need to, but when your sweat mixes itself with the perfume you always wore: bergamot and peony, he inhales and loses himself even more.

the habsuite reeked of sex, and it crowded the air: humid and heavy, whirl's optic nearly offlined at how obscenely wet you were around his spike. already drunk on your pheromones. so when he lifted both your legs higher — up to his shoulders — to fit himself up to the hilt, whirl didn't expect to catch a whiff of your perfume around your ankles. you whined, a high-pitched, desperate sound, when he stopped thrusting to press his enstril against your achilles heel. that was enough for him to snap. he hoisted you up into a mating press, driving into you with a new kind of vigor. 'you did this on purpose', he emphasized by roughly grabbing your ass to push further into your already trembling cunt. causing you to moan into the dark. 'you knew we'd end up here. like this. filthy, little —'

sicilian mandarin and citrus musk. you made a mental note to yourself to wear the combination around your lover more often.

a/n : for @robot-horde because you're brilliant and left a comment on the tags of this post and it just inspired me to make more.

#transformers x reader #transformers x you #first aid #transformers idw #tf mtmte #mtmte #transformers mtmte #idw mtmte #mtmte x reader #mtmte imagines #lost light #idw transformers #transformers lost light #tf headcanons #tf imagines #tf idw #transformers headcanons #transformers hc #tf hc #lost light x reader #lost light au #megatron #whirl #minimus ambus #perceptor #brainstorm #transformers imagine

[lokisgoodgirl]

Delayed Gratification [Loki x Fem.Reader]

A link to my (new) Masterlist is HERE Summary: [Oneshot/companion to Don't be Shy] A timid Loki breaks his s*x drought, with your encouragement. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Sub!Loki. Language. Dirty Talk. (w/c 2.3k)

You pressed a thumb against the pad on your door. It beeped, making Loki flinch behind you.

“Gosh, you really are nervous.” you mumbled with a smile, hearing the rustle of Loki’s crisp shirt as he straightened.

Pouring two glasses of water, you set them the side-table next to the sofa. Loki had made himself comfortable, removing his waistcoat and sitting poised with his legs crossed.

“So how long is a long time, exactly?” you probed, sliding a hand up one muscular thigh as you settled beside him. Loki's eyes darted towards you, adjusting his hips.

“Since Asgard.” he murmured tentatively, voice catching as your fingers danced up his in-seam.

“Oh…that is a dry spell.” you cooed, an amused smile curling at your lips. How is it possible this perfect specimen hasn't been ridden in years, you thought; scepticism creeping in. It's not possible.

Loki hissed as your fingers brushed his hardening cock, feeling the trapped monster grow thick beneath your gentle touch. His knuckles whitened under the crushing grip on the armrest.

Or maybe it is, you pondered with a smile.

“If you don't mind me asking...why is that?” you said, gaze crawling over his twitching brow. "I find it hard to believe you don't have a lot of opportunity-"

“Hardly-” he gasped, ass clenching before he bit his lip. Even with this achingly light level of touch, it was almost too much for him to bear. That was plain to see.

“I just...have a h-hard time letting loo-se, you see.” he stammered, his grip making the armrest creak in protest.

You squeezed again, making Loki’s eyelids flutter shut.

He whimpered, a series of shallow pants wisping from his throat. “I can stop?” you whispered, trailing your free hand over your cleavage. His eyes shot open, afire with sudden fear. “-No.” he choked, looking longingly to the fingers grazing the curve of your breasts. “For the love of the Nine...don’t stop.”

A secret smile pressed against your cheeks as you stood and intertwined your fingers with his. “Come with me.” you said firmly, nerves sizzling as Loki let out a long exhale before unfurling himself to his full height. You walked slowly ahead of him to the bedroom, circling behind and pushing the shy god gently to the mattress.

He began to yank at his windsor knot, before pausing. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to be presumptuous.”

The words were accompanied by a penitent flutter of his lashes. You chuckled. “Loki, you’re sitting on my bed. If you had any idea how wet I am right now…” you groaned, straddling him and sliding your hands firmly over his shoulders.

Loki’s legs widened as the soaking gusset of your panties grazed the hard shaft pressed against his thigh. He swallowed thickly as you began to place messy sucks on his exposed neck, whipping the tie from his collar.

“S-slow...slower.” he panted, breaths quick. Surfacing from stiff cotton, you rose on your knees; tugging his hair back as you descended with a licentious kiss. You could feel his chest heaving beneath your own, the tell-tale thrust of his hips against your core sloppy and needy and desperate.

Loki broke for air, his eyes wild. Your lips curled in a coquettish smile. “Maybe we should start gently, hmm?” you said, seeing Loki nod. “I think that’s...wise.” he muttered, a thin sheen of moisture forming on his brow. Your knees shuffled backwards, lowering yourself to the carpet between his legs and pulling your dress over your head.

“Do you mind taking these off?” you asked gently, pulling at the fabric tight against his thigh. Loki’s gaze refocused from the lingerie cupping your curves, his mouth forming a soft O.

“Of- of...of course. Apologies.” he fumbled, before a shimmer of his magic dissolved the luxurious suit trousers from his body. And his underwear, too. “You don’t have to...do...that, you know.” he mumbled.

You didn’t need to look at him to know the pink tinge in his cheeks was back with renewed force.

Loki’s cock rose between his spread thighs. It was long, pale and utterly perfect. Just as you knew it would be. You curled your fingers lightly around the thick base, making Loki’s hips jolt. Your thumb didn’t reach around the circumference.

“Just breathe…” you murmured, hearing his frantic breaths slow at the command. Your finger caressed up the length, making tingles soar on the surface of his neglected velvet skin. “This should be worshipped, Loki.” you muttered absent-mindedly as you inspected it with awe, hearing him chuckle before you lifted your gaze seductively to meet his. “So let’s make a start on that, shall we?”

His palms rested on your duvet, fingers spread. You could see him slide them into a tight grip, neat fingernails scratching against the fabric as he inhaled sharply, bracing himself. You leant forward, extending your tongue so that only the lightest of licks trailed from the base of his shaft to the tip.

Loki’s moan was raw dynamite, a long ragged sigh that made your thighs squeeze together. He tasted like freshly washed linen, the scent of clean cotton lingering in your nostrils. Unspoilt. Virginal.

You parted your lips, tongue sliding in messy kisses against the meat of his cock. The base of your palm held his length steady, perfectly vertical as his hips rocked upwards.

“F-ffuck..det er f-for godt-” he moaned under his breath, sliding a hand against the back of your head before retracting. Seizing his moment of resistance, you lapped tortuously slowly over the leaking tip. Loki shuddered as he watched the glistening bead of pre-cum that had been trembling there disappear beneath you eager attentions.

“M-more...please.” he stammered, forearms quivering as he braced against the bed. You tilted your chin up to face him, nestled between his thick thighs. “Are you sure?” you said coyly. Loki nodded, shallow breaths making his chest strain against the buttons of his shirt. You pressed your lips together, arching a brow before you descended and swallowed the tip of his cock.

A strangled whine rumbled from the god as you sucked gently, the fingers curled around his base pulsing with each smooth lap of your tongue. You could feel Loki brace against the bed, his fingertips digging into the mattress as his thighs began to shake. And you were barely touching him.

“Det føles for godt…” he groaned, toes curling against the carpet. “F-fuck...im nær...im n-nær-” he growled through gasping breaths. “S-stop.”

You released him, a strand of saliva hanging in a teasing curve between his foreskin and your lips. Loki’s addled stare rolled blissfully along the spittal’s route, landing on your glistening mouth.

“Fuck.” he murmured reluctantly, shaking his head as his eyes darted to the side. “I should not have led you on. This is...not my usual- not my typical performance I-”

You pressed a finger to his lips. “I think it’s hot.” you purred, making his eyebrows slant with surprise. “Really hot.”

Rising to your feet, you tugged down your panties before sliding onto Loki’s lap once more. The thump of arousal between your legs was untenable, the messy slick of your sex crying for relief against his naked thighs. “Just go with it.” you keened in his ear, rolling your hips against the base of the cock sandwiched between you. His breath hitched, fingertips sinking into the curve of your waist. “We can make it a little game.”

“A game?” Loki chirped, interest piqued. “I like games.”

“I know you do.” you hummed encouragingly, sucking his earlobe between your teeth. Loki hissed, a growl building in his chest as you began to unbutton his shirt. “Is this what you thought of as you fucked yourself thinking of me?” you said, feeling his stomach clench beneath your searching hands.

He cleared his throat, back straightening.

“I must confess I was rather more...dominant.” he admitted sheepishly, avoiding your seductive stare. He observed as your fingers made quick work of the buttons, ebony hair falling sluttishly around his jaw. “Dominant?” you teased approvingly. “Why do I get the feeling you made me call you Daddy?”

“Oh, I insist on it.” he joked, before you stripped back the shirt from his shoulders.

The god’s jaw clenched as you pushed the cuffs from his wrists; coaxing him backwards. “Norns…” he gasped, muscular back hitting the mattress with a soft thump. You took a moment to savour the god stretched like an shy whore on your king bed, his soft eyes wide with nervous anticipation. You smiled, crawling slowly up his long body.

“Trust me, Loki…” you said softly, the lust in your voice simmering as the thick veins in his throat hardened. “We’ll ease you back in, don’t worry.”

He opened his mouth to speak, before his eyes fluttered shut. Loki’s back arched as you ground your bare pussy against his length. You slid easily back and forth, dragging through your slick folds. The soft mewls of grateful submission from his lips made your nipples harden.

“You should be fucked every day, Loki Laufeyson.” you slurred, feeling his cock twitch against your cunt. “Every. Fucking. Day.”

Loki huffed in frustration, bucking upwards. The scent of you. The promise of your wetness. It must be driving him crazy.

“Ride me. Please-fuck me, I can’t take it anymore.” he growled, tilting his chin against his chest as your cleavage hung tantalisingly in front of him. His nose slotted between your mounds, a shuddering sigh shaking his body as he lost himself.

"Patience, Laufeyson...” you giggled, hearing a muffled whine against your skin. “A little delayed gratification never hurt anyone. Much less a god...”

You reached between his legs, hovering above his hips as you lined him up. The wide tip of his cock nudged against your slit, his forehead creasing as he tried to restrain himself with a quaking sigh. Loki’s lips formed a stoic line, eyebrows knitting slowly together as you squeezed the thick head inside your cunt.

With every inch you sank, his lips parted further; the skin sticking as he exhaled a ragged, primal gasp of relief.

“I...I...uhh-hh-gods.” he rasped, fingertips sinking into the soft thighs spread against him. You stilled, the head of his cock buried to the hilt. You squeezed.

Loki jolted on the bed, hair fanning in wild tendrils as he clenched his jaw to the ceiling. “I had forgotten.” he moaned through gritted teeth, grunting as you began to roll your hips in miniscule waves. “I had f-forgotten...faen.”

Your clit tugged against his public mound as you rocked slowly to and fro, minimising your movements.

Loki whimpered, brows twitching as he watched you relax into bliss above him; his thick girth stretching your walls as you gyrated. “This feels so good, Loki…” you groaned, letting your head fall back as his legs tensed beneath. The god's feet slid up the bed behind you - knees parking bent at your sides. Tears had begun to form in his eyes.

“Norns.” he gasped quietly, resting his hands on your hips and guiding you carefully back and forth. Like you might break. The needy touch was the final spark, lighting the trail of gasoline to climax like a match.

Your swollen clit pulsed with every slow tug against his neat pubic hair, the solid mass of his cock making you whimper. “I’m going to cum, baby…” you mewled, making Loki’s fingers dig deeper. A solitary tear of desperation rolled down his cheekbone, disappearing to the curve.

He thrust upwards once. A broken cry of pleasure from his throat sent shivers down your spine. It sounded like pain. But it wasn't pain. Far from it.

Your palms pressed against his shoulders, limiting his movement. “Not yet.” you choked, increasing the pace of your rolling hips against his base.

“You’re so...fucking...tight.” Loki breathed, ragged pants filling the air as you rocked into him, orgasm blossoming like a wall of fire. His voice was thick, wet with pure lust. “You feel s-so-uhhh, so divi-divine I-” he stammered, choking as he felt your fingernails dig deep into the ropes of shoulder muscle.

“Now, Loki.” you whined, releasing your hands from his biceps and gripping the brass railings above his head. You slid up his cock, squeezing at the tip before sinking into the god’s sloppy thrust. His eyes were suddenly wild, torn between savouring every inch of your sex-drunk body and becoming lost in his own pleasure beneath the veil of his eyelids. An animal released from the cage.

He tugged your hips towards him, beginning to bounce you on his slippery cock. Nordic curses dripped from his lips like battle cries, a vein by his temple thick to bursting against the furious weight of his basest needs. Every slap of his skin against your fizzing clit sent jolts through your body, the power of raw animalism coursing from his sex to yours.

“Let it go-” you gasped, throwing your head back as you felt an explosion of pleasure surge in your belly. “Don’t be s-shy oh my god, - oh my, uhhh...f-fuck...scream for me, -L-Loki.”

Loki slammed your pussy a final time to the hilt, before a roar of utter devastation exploded from his throat.

Tendrils of damp hair cascaded over his brow as his back arched, errant strands across his lips blown by a feral moan of your name. You could feel the force of hot cum hit your cervix, leaking into every crevice of your stuffed slit as his messy thrusts slowed.

Loki’s eyes had squeezed shut, deep lines ironed into his forehead as he murmured panting praises you didn’t understand.

He lay there silently, breaths slowing. “Was that OK?” you whispered, flickers of sudden insecurity rearing in your mind. There was no answer. "Loki?" You leant forwards, clenching around his cock as you rested against his chest. Loki nodded, humming blissfully with his eyes still closed.

“Truly... I am lost for words.” he slurred, running a large palm down your spine and planting a light, congratulatory smack on your ass.

You felt a wave of pride rise in your belly. “There’s a first time for everything.” you teased, making Loki open one eye with difficulty. “How dare you.” he growled.

In a second, he had flipped you over; pinning you to the bed with his fingers curled around your wrists. “Not so shy anymore, then?” you giggled, feigning a feeble attempt to escape from his grasp.

“Thanks to you, it seems my drought is over-” he purred, spreading your legs with a nudge of his knees.

“And darling?” he smouldered, damp curls clinging to his cheekbones as his eyes darkened. “Daddy’s very thirsty.”

Det er for godt – it’s too good. Det føles for godt – it feels too good im nær – I’m close

Tags

@gigglingtigger @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @glitchquake @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @infinitystoner @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @psychospore @littlespaceyelf @kats72

#loki x reader #loki smut #lokismut #loki laufeyson #loki x reader smut #loki x you #loki x female reader smut #loki imagine #loki odinson #loki x yn smut #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson smut #loki fanfiction #loki odinson x reader #loki one shot #loki oneshot #loki marvel #loki laufeyson x reader #sub loki #sub!loki

[author-morgan]

Title: Rise by the Birdsong Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!Reader Rating: M Summary: In which you soothe Daemon's wounded ego and pride after he loses in a tournament. Warnings: Typically Westerosi shenanigans.

HE SUMMONS YOU to his chambers in the hours after the tourney and feast —the taste of defeat still bitter on his tongue. Hubris cost him the victory. He had the Merryweather boy cornered. It should have been easy, yet he was forced to yield the champion's title and purse. Daemon Targaryen drapes his arms over the side of the tub and thinks of who he would have named as the Queen of Love and Beauty had he won. Certainly not Rhea Royce —the old bronze bitch. He’s more apt to name one of the sheep before her. The thought fades when the doors creak open, his guards letting you pass into the prince’s chambers.

Steam fills the room, as does the scent of Myrish oils. Your skin prickles with heat for reasons that have nothing to do with the warmth of the air when your eyes settle on Daemon at the center of the room. You wondered where he’d gone so quickly after the feast. His eyes flash open as your footfalls echo on the stone floor until you stop beside the tub and kneel. “My prince,” you greet. He’s always liked how you say his title, sweet and taunting, nigh like a songbird. Glancing away from his face, your gaze follows the line of his arm and the planes of his chest. He’s all lean and lithe muscle, sculpted from years of training and battle —the most seasoned warrior in all of the Seven Kingdoms.

Daemon takes your hand, reclaiming your attention. His fingers curl around yours, then he shifts and leans toward you, head dipping down to press a soft kiss to your knuckles —a knightly and unexpected gesture. He lets your hand go and settles back in the tub, and the look of an arrogant prince reclaims his expression. “Take off your dress,” Daemon demands, flicking the surface of the water. Ever the dutiful lady, you rise and reach for the ties of your nightdress —shedding the pale linen, baring yourself to Prince Daemon Targaryen.

He's been soaking for nigh half-an-hour, and the water is still warm —fire cannot harm a dragon, he told you once whilst he held his hand above a candle, toying with the flame. You sink into the water and find the space he’s made next to him, head half-resting on his shoulder. Daemon drapes his arm around your shoulders, and wordlessly, you begin tracing mindless patterns on his chest. “You fought well today,” you tell him after a while, thinking of how handsome he looked in his dark steel suit emblazoned with the sigil of House Targaryen and decorated with rubies.  

“I lost,” he reminds you, no lack of bitterness in his voice. He’d find a way to best the Merryweather boy, somehow.  

You reach for his hand, and he lets you take it, curious brows raised. “Yet they all speak of how commendable your effort and skills are” —your fingers find the scars on his knuckles, the calloused pads of his fingertips. “Reputation is its own victory,” you tell him, placing a kiss to the center of his palm before he retracts his hand. 

Daemon looks down at you. “Trying to mend my broken heart?”

You trace a curving line over his breast and up his neck, caressing his smooth and sharp jaw. “It’s I who am heartbroken, Daemon,” you say, smiling. He cuts his eyes at you, something dangerous lurking in his stare. “You told me you’d gift me a crown of roses upon your victory, and here I am, crownless.”

His lips quirk upward. “Dare speak to your prince with such impertinence?” His touch against your cheek is gentle, but you can still hear the slightest hint of a laugh in his voice. It’s the look in his cool eyes that speak of danger, though —he’s always been as wild and unpredictable as his dragon. You hold your breath as you look at him, expecting his kiss when he careens forward in the water, and when he leans in to meet your mouth, you’re struck by how desperate it feels in comparison to all the other times.

You’re impatient for more —always more— feeling his smile growing as he kisses you again, and you’re happy to give the Rogue Prince whatever he wishes. He always brings out your worse impulses. Sighing against his mouth, his tongue brushes against yours. He tastes like the spices from dinner, warm and enticing, and there’s still a hint of sweet wine lingering on his lips. Not even a maiden could refuse Daemon Targaryen after a single kiss like this —you hadn’t been able to either, but now all that is in the past. His fingers run along your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and the little moan you make is music.

“Who else would keep you on your toes if not I?” You question, breathless. Daemon hums his agreement against your neck, lips trailing further down your pulse.

He pulls you close against him until you’re nearly in his lap —his cock twitches against your leg, but he brushes you off when you try to reach for him. He’d not summoned you tonight for a quick fuck. Daemon’s hands trace along your ribs to cup your breasts and feel your nipples stiffen in his palm, and his slight hum of approval makes your thighs squeeze together instinctively. Tonight, he’s more interested in having his hands on you instead —reparations for his failure to give you a rose crown.

“Open your legs,” he orders, a hot whisper at your ear, and you do so without a second thought. His hand slips between them, teasing briefly over your inner thighs before he’s touching you. Your voice is a breathy whimper as you feel him stroke slowly over the folds of your cunt and up to circle your clit. He doesn’t enter you yet, not until he can get his fill of watching you squirm and shudder from such simple attention. “What would Lord Mooton say if he could see precious his daughter like this?” Daemon relents to your soft pleas and slips two fingers into you. You shudder against him as he works in and out of you, breath catching. Your father is the last thing you want to think of with Daemon’s fingers buried in your cunt. “You like this?” He asks, well aware of how quickly he has you rutting into his hand for more stimulation.

“Yes, Daemon,” you insist, wrapping your fingers around the back of his neck to draw his lips down to yours. His thumb rolls across your clit, and your head falls back.

His kiss is less fierce this time, deep and slow until your lungs ache. You can sense his mood improving as he fucks you with his hand, relishing all the little noises you make for him. “You’re mine, little dove,” he breathes in your ear, and you can’t disagree when your cunt is already squeezing so tight around him. He brushes over your clit again, and you lean your head forward to his shoulder this time. “I won’t let you wed another.” You know he speaks true.

You whimper when he nibbles at your earlobe. Cautiously, you move to touch him and slowly trace down his stomach and past his navel, earning you the smallest laugh of amusement from him. Permission enough to touch him. You take his hard cock in your hand, and he lets out a pleased sigh as you begin to stroke him. Watching him is mesmerizing, his movements as graceful as ever even as he rocks his hips into your touch, though his own rhythm between your thighs stutters momentarily with distraction. “Yours,” you agree between long kisses. The Seven and the Old Gods be damned, you’d made your bed among the dragons and intended to lay in it.

Both of you stay like that for a while, enjoying the feel of your bodies as you work to get each other off. He’s better at it than you are —this Lord of Flea Bottom— and it doesn’t take long to have you panting hard with every brush of his fingers inside you. He can tell you’re close from the way you’re clenching around his fingers, his tongue muffling greedy moans.

“Let me see you,” he says, and you’re powerless to deny him when you lift your head from his shoulder. His thumb brushes over your clit harder, and the tension in your body snaps, your arms wrapping around his back and holding him to you in a desperate need to ground yourself as you come on his fingers. Daemon’s fingers keep moving inside you, teasing you through your orgasm until you’re a dazed mess for him. You give yourself several long moments to recover, breathing in the perfumed steam of the bath to slow your frantic heartbeat. He withdraws his hand from between your legs, and you can’t hide your disappointment at the newly empty feeling inside you.

Daemon rises from the water —his cock hard and straining against his belly— and offers his hand to help you out of the tub, leading you over to his bed. You lay back as he wishes, and he parts your thighs again, rubbing along the wetness he finds there and lifts his fingers to his lips to taste you. The noise Daemon makes is a promise of next time, but you’re given no time to dwell on the thought when he crawls over you and settles between your legs, the head of his cock just pressing into your cunt —unexpected, he usually takes you like a bitch in heat.

Your hips rut up towards his impatiently, and a moment later, he’s inside you. He hisses sharply but can’t stop the roll of his hips, pushing his cock deeper into you. It’s a newfound boldness you do not wish to relinquish. “Behave,” Daemon scolds, but there’s none of the usual annoyance or ire in his voice. His mouth eager on yours as he guides your arms up to pin your wrists above your head. “Stay still.” You do. Relaxing into the down blankets and pillows while he laves your neck and breasts with affection.

His thumb brushes over your nipple, and he hears how you stutter out his name, and it only spurs his need to have you like this. “What a good little dove you are.” Daemon smirks, and you have to look away, almost ashamed of how red your face turns at his praises, but you squirm beneath him as he strokes along a sensitive spot inside of you.

You feel his lips ghosting over your closed eyelids, and you peek one open to watch him. There’s the faintest flush across his face as he stares down at you with such raw hunger it feels like you’re going to burn up from the heat of your bodies —like Caraxes has bathed you both in flames. You want to touch him, to run your fingers through his silver hair and down the toned muscles of his shoulders and back. You flex them impatiently but keep your hands obediently where he’d placed them.

He pinches a nipple between his fingers, and you jolt, letting out a shaky moan that has his cock throbbing inside you, and it rips a harsh groan from his lips. You reach for him without thinking, dragging your nails across his scalp before he takes your wrists and presses them harder into the bed. You wriggle under him and only earn a quick nip to your earlobe. “Told you to behave,” he reminds you sternly, but his scolding only makes you clench around him tighter. Daemon curses and his next kiss is hot and demanding, and you part your lips for his tongue without a moment’s hesitation.

“Please, Daemon,” you whimper, and he knows what it is you want and gives a small nod of agreement. You reach for him again, going for his silver locks to bring him back down into another kiss. You hold tight to him when he tries to separate, keeping his chest flush against yours, whispering and whimpering his name like sacred prayers as he presses himself deeper into you —his pelvis grinding against your clit.

He thrusts into you harder while stroking your clit, and you unravel for him, tension running through you like dragonfire until you’re unable to do anything more than shudder beneath him. “Daemon,” you whimper, muscles twitching uselessly as he teases you through it. You’re too focused on your blood pounding in your ears to fully appreciate his reaction to you, his breaths ragged, and pupils blown wide with his own arousal at how you spasm around his aching cock. It’s a sight you’re not like to see again —you very well may never see your prince like this again.

You try to wrap yourself around his waist and pull him further into you —wanting to help him find his release— but instead, your legs are pressed firmly into the bed. “No,” he says through rough kisses, the last one nipping sharply at your bottom lip. He groans, feeling his cock twitch in anticipation of release. 

Daemon pulls out of your cunt and leaves you empty. You almost complain, but he shushes you by dragging your hand down to his cock —slick and throbbing from all your efforts— and you follow his lead without instruction. His fingers are warm around yours as he guides you. He looks tragically beautiful when he comes, his head tilted back and mouth slightly open in a sharp gasp at the shiver running through his body. His cock twitches in your grasp, coating your hand and stomach in his sticky seed —he won’t risk a bastard child.

He moves to lay beside you, more relaxed than he’s been in a fortnight. You roll onto your side and look him over. This is far from your first time entertaining the prince in his bed —even being of noble blood, you know how this works. All the Seven Kingdoms know you are his mistress, even true love perhaps, but he is already sworn to another, and you must act as though the whispers and rumors are lies. It always hurts when you must leave, but you’d been foolish enough to cast your heart to the son of the dragon, and now you must suffer the price. “Do you require anything else, my prince?” You query.

Daemon turns his head to look at you, flushed and glowing. “Mmm” —he reaches for you, fingers trailing along your cheek and back into your hair— “stay.” The request surprises you, but you’ll indulge him and your own heart. A comfortable silence lingers until Daemon shifts, gathering you up in his arms to lay you down on the bed properly and offers a rag to clean yourself with as he does the same. When he returns to your side, Daemon rests his head on your breast and lets you hold him, humming sweetly as the songbirds, to an age-old lullaby. We'll sleep when the morning comes, and we'll rise by the sound of the birdsongs. And the morning will come too soon.

[ taglist: @mrsragnarlodbrok @erzsebetrosztoczy @certifiedlittleshit ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#Daemon Targaryen #Daemon Targaryen x Reader #Daemon x Reader #Daemon Targaryen Fanfic #House of the Dragon #Matt Smith #my writing #setting for this fic is before HotD and the DotD begins #he came for me y'all and i cannot help it #between him and Criston Cole woo boy #if i wasnt sold on the casting i am now #soon to be everyones favorite bastards

[hezzabeth]

By the year 3856 animals are a myth. Insects however are incredibly common. Due to the colonization of the solar system there are also many mutant off breeds. The Phoeben Scorpion is native to the terraformed moon known as Phoebe. Over the centuries it has invaded our moons and satellites. The Phoeben Scorpion has a colorful candy like appearance.They are considered to be a delicious and popular snack food.

"Don't you want to watch the next log and find out how it ends?" Brigadeiro asked.

"It probably ends the way all fairytales do, with the Duke taking one look at Dityaa and falling madly in love! Just like everyone else," Revati said, pressing the side of her bangle, causing it to turn off.

"Not everyone falls in love with your sister at first sight, I didn't," Brigadeiro said, shooting Revati a sly, knowing look.

It was the same knowing look that he had given her on a bridge at sunrise, in a tent during winter, and once under fireworks. A warm, dark-eyed look that would have made a weaker person tremble at the knees.

"That's because you imprinted on me the second I saved your life, like Phoeben scorpions," Revati shot back.

"Phoeben scorpions?" Brigadeiro had to ask.

"You know, the scorpions on the Phoebe satellite, the ones that imprint on their mates and then end up starving to death," Revati said.

"Are those the fried ones they sell in coffee shops with the cupcakes?" Brigadeiro asked with a small grimace.

"Yep, the more sick with love they are, the sweeter they taste," Revati said, shutting her eyes and savoring the taste of the scorpions.

Brigadeiro held up his hand for a moment and quickly licked it.

"Well, look at that, I taste just like sugar," Brigadeiro winked, and Revati rolled her eyes.

"You really are ridiculous," she replied, and he took her hand, holding it up to his lips.

"And I bet you taste like dark chocolate... not quite as sweet as me," he said before his lips grazed her knuckles. Revati felt herself glance upwards into those familiar eyes, and Revati blushed.

……

Nine minutes past midnight. Brigadeiro's room was filled with pale blue moonlight. Revati was twenty-one years old.

She had, of course, fooled around on the road before. A few times in her tent, sometimes in the middle of a forest. On one memorable occasion, one thousand feet above Mars' surface with the aid of hover boots.

Never in a bed, however. Never with a person who actually fell asleep next to her afterwards. Brigadeiro was a decent sleep companion; he didn't snore and he stayed on his side of the bed. Revati had to admit his back curved down in a way that she rather liked. Still, it was nine past midnight. Revati got off the bed and walked towards the window. The garden's shadows reminded her of her father's inky blue hair. The tables and chairs outside had long ago been abandoned. Someone was darting across the lawn, trying their best to stay in the darkest shadows. The person was heading towards the kitchen house. In Revati's experience, people with nothing to hide didn't even notice shadows. Revati tiptoed to her backpack and grabbed her trusty pants. Sliding into them, she felt the way she always did, like a warrior heading out to meet her destiny.

Everything was quiet and still. The front door of the kitchen house was flung wide open, something that would never happen in Olde Landon.

Pecan was actually asleep on the path next to the door, cuddling a giant inflatable apple. Revati crept lightly inside, her feet barely touching the floor, her weight being carried in her hips. Something was making a faint shifting sound in the rose room.

Revati reached into her left pants pocket, pulling out the tiny container of mushroom tent spores. Carefully and ever so gently, she crept into the rose room. Someone was stooping over Dityaa, and as far as Revati was concerned, that was all she needed to know. Revati undid the top of the container and blew the spores towards the figure.

Within seconds, the fungus blossomed and twisted, wrapping itself around the figure who was now gasping in horror. The rose room suddenly filled with light, and the figure fell to the ground like a caterpillar, half stuck in a cocoon. It was Paulette.

#comic #nanowrimo2023 #nanowrimo #science fiction #life on mars #speculative worldbuilding #speculative fiction #saying farewell to armageddon #ya scifi #scifi #ya dystopia #ya fiction

[cambion-companion]

First of all, hi! Hope you're having a good day/afternoon/night!

Ok, so, since ficlets requests are open, this is something that has been on my mind for a few days now and it's like Tav/Reader doing horn care to Raphael's horns like polishing them or just appreciating this man's horns because i...i love them (don't know if this makes sense but yeah)

FAM! I have been WANTING to write something like this for so long now, thank you for giving me an excuse hehehe you know how much I love his horns!

Horn Balm a balm for horniness

Raphael x gn!reader

Having a cambion between your thighs was certainly an item never on your bucket list. However, you couldn't complain.

The water, soft and warm as liquid silk, surrounded the both of you. The heat from Raphael's cherry skin soaking nicely into the muscles of your legs as he sat below you, his back turned so you were unable to see his bemused expression.

"Just sit still." You pressed your calves either side of his shoulders and scooted close, thrilling at his proximity. "I had to chase down the merchant for this, especially after describing who it was for."

"Did you now?" Raphael relaxed marginally, leaning back again until you had to maneuver your upper body so as to not get brained by one of his horns. "I do not recall requesting such a delightful service. Horn balm is a far cry from a crown after all., little mouse."

"It's a start." You muttered and squeezed your legs a little vindictively, earning yourself a low chuckle from the cambion. "You could just say thanks." You dipped your fingers into the tin and spread the oily substance between them experimentally.

Raphael's hand rose, dripping water along your leg as he traced a finger lazily up your skin causing you to shiver. "I could, but that would be quite unlike me. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Hmm." You were too busy beginning to tentative work of spreading the balm along the rough edges of his horns. "Stop moving."

Raphael had taken a quick inhale through his nose, the frown evident in his voice now. "What potent smell is that?"

"You're one to speak of potent smells, mister musk."

"I am beyond your reproach, my dear." Raphael moved his head again, causing you to curse as a sharp edge of his horn nicked your thumb.

Hearing your little gasp of pain, Raphael took your wrist and pulled the injured hand over his shoulder to inspect. "A rose would have done greater damage." He kissed the drop of blood off your skin and released you, keeping his head held still this time. "Continue."

"I thought the smell wasn't agreeable." You moved your feet languidly in the warm bathwater, enjoying the teasing banter, returning to your work of massaging the oil into Raphael's horns.

"It isn't. However, your presence here is. For the moment."

That softened you. Your fingers traced every curve and ridge until the slick balm soaked in. His horns proved far more porous than you'd initially thought they'd be.

You had often admired the shape of the cambion's horns, thinking in many ways they resembled a crown. A slight dusting of red pigment covered them, like fine powder left too long upon the otherwise dark surface. Quite like the man himself, his horns were beautiful and alluring yet dangerous to handle as had already been demonstrated.

"Enjoying yourself?" Raphael cut into your silent thought, drawing your attention back to the present.

"It's tolerable." You lied, quite unwilling to tell him the truth of your enjoyment. Though the prickle up your spine intuited he already knew.

Raphael chuckled then reached up to remove your hands from his horns, imperiously signaling for you to be done. "I deem that to be quite enough for the present."

You disentangled yourself and slid into the bathing pool next to him, sighing as the water enveloped you. Raphael conjured a mirror and admired your handiwork for a moment. He raised a brow. "I owe you my thanks." He stretched his arms and wings along the side of the bath, sinking a little lower. "You're so eager to please me. I normally do not allow such gestures of...service." His head tilted a little as those familiar hellfire eyes scanned you. "However, you inspire indulgence in unprecedented ways."

#raphael #bg3 #fanfic #drabble #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #raphael baldur's gate 3 #fluff