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#rugged rusty
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How about a more human-looking friend? The Sanctuary doesn't just hold animals and mystical creatures; Rusty here lives amongst our friends! He used to have a flannel shirt but it has since been lost to time.
Toby is going to be posting a lot of their childhood friends this week! These friends don't all have names nor do we remember the exact circumstances behind their acquisition. But these are the friends Toby saved from their parent's house, the friends that made it through all the moves and mold.
(Rugged Rusty is a TY Teenie Beanie Boppers)
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summer-fire · 2 months
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Girl I want to be soooo mean about Instagram interior designers
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i-bite-out-of-love · 1 year
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Malevolent the podcast is like... lemme progress this a little bit, oh wait hold on, need to back track specifically to add *drama* and also to get rid of any meaningful progression that's taken place. Is this a good writing technique. I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
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tarjapearce · 3 months
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Heathens (Pt. 1)
Priest! Miguel O'Hara x Nun!Reader
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art by @maxro_art on IG (Her Deliverance AU is ❤️❤️🤌🏻)
WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. If you're sensitive regarding religion, please don't read this. Masturbation in holy places, explicit language, wet dreams, Female anatomy, oral ( F receiving) Gentle Dom Miguel, Corruption kink, overused tropes cause yeah, a tinge of yandere undertones if you squint, mutual lust, Not Proofread ~
Summary: Father O'Hara had a little lamb ~
A/N: Another for the Miguelverse ~ Reblogs and comments are much appreciated c:
Main Masterlist
From all the places you could've find solace from war, The house of God was the least of lieus in your list. Not that you had a choice.
Family long gone after unsuspected explosions decimated your town, followed by constant tragedies such as losing friends along the way either by enemy and merciless hands or sickness. In the end, it was only you. You had outlived them all despite your short age. And now, they lived crammed up in your memories.
Happy, smiling and very much alive. Sometimes you'd see familiar faces on stranger's bodies. Grief had slowly nested within your soul and when all hope seemed lost, the chapel had saved you from what surely would end up in your premature death.
The blackest of black matched the crispest white you had ever seen, they were all donned in their beatific robes, prayer beads dangling at every gentle step they did. And there it was, epiphany unfolding itself before your experienced in horror eyes. It was your call.
All the answers to your laments and aching heart were sent as them. Nuns of the Mistbourne Parish. A church located in the outskirts of a now rundown by conflict Nueva York. The church that now played a major role in taking in as much people within their sacred walls, before they could be dispatched to a more adequate place.
Without hesitation, you had joined. And now, six years later you still remained with them. Early twenties had settled right for you as a nun. Ever devoted, compassionate, and diligent.
As time went on, the main city was reconstructed, burying it's dark tragedy under freshly built towers, hiding the pain under the rugged carpet full of concrete and wire homes, like nothing ever happened. Like if war had never stepped upon it and gave it a much needed renewal at people's lives expenses.
But no matter how many changes time brought, life in Mistbourne's Parish remained the same. Untouched by the technological advances from the outer world. There was always something to do, as simple as it was. And so far, you've been satisfied with it.
The only alterations worth of mention was your holy family expanding.
A new couple additions to the staff. More sisters, an eighty percent of them were beyond fifty. You were the youngest, their child. After all some ended up raising you within the house.
And him. The new priest.
The tallest and bulkiest man you've ever seen. As much as staring was considered rude and borderline a sin, it was unavoidable to do so, when his rusty brown eyes fell upon you. Their color unique, like he was. Never in your life had you seen someone like him, or another man besides the butcher and the guard. He had definitely been a regular man before coming here.
The soft weary expression lines in his sharp countenance revealed his own fair of lived experiences.
He towered over you, crisp white dot on his black rimmed neck line, parading his status with modest pride, and golden praying beads dangling on his narrow hips, you held yours while asking forgiveness for keep staring.
"Father."
Father O'Hara. In his mid thirties, broken family also torn by war, wearing his vows in the shape of a ring on his right hand.
"Sister"
His voice deep yet gentle, like a lullaby. His steps took him away to his own residence. The rectory outside the church.
It made sense as to how some workers were renovating it in the past few weeks. The parish last priest had been sent off in sacred duties, only to realize later that he had killed a man. Cops and detectives surely made a show out of it.
Dark times, according to Sister Lianne, one of your mother figures. But now, Father O'Hara had taken his place, erasing all traces of the previous man with concise and pithy actions.
He took his role seriously. Said masses on sundays, visited the sick, baptized people; but his most popular feat was to hear the confessions. The most intimate secrets revealed to him by either your fellow sisters or people from the town that came to expiate their sins in hope to be forgiven.
You'd sometimes run into each other, bumping casually in the narrow wooden floored halls, you'd often apologize, only to reciprocate a polite smile on both ends. He'd sometimes help you out by carrying things a bit too heavy, or you'd help him out lighting up the altar for his speech.
Yet, his hands in one occasion took an accidental taste of your body dimensions underneath your beatific robes, while preventing you from falling down the stairs. He'd scold you for being careless and carrying things that obscured your sight.
After many sorries on your behalf, you returned to the cells and went straight to your own dorm, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
His hands felt burning upon remembering the dents of your form, the curve of your waist and certainly the warmth that irradiated from you, so so close from his.
Unexpectedly it had brought memories from his past. His old life where he'd have his lovely and temporary companion for the night impaled deliciously with himself before war and hell broke loose. Before he was forced by the subversives that raided his town to create a new fake identity in the spot as they heard him speak spanish or fight a war he hadn't started, much less would end. And so, his life as Father O'Hara begun.
Odd enough, the sudden and thoughtless choice had granted him peace after witnessing so many terrors his fellow human could be capable of. His need of help has always been stronger than anything and when he finished licencing some sacrifices were required.
Poverty vows weren't an issue since his previous life had been modest yet good enough to go by. Little difference between his current lifestyle.
The obedience vow took him a little longer to fully yield. But he accomplished it to a T, just to avoid more trouble. He faked it until he made it.
His chastity vow had been a quite the challenge to perfect, but no matter how much the temptations paraded before him in the many parishes he was assigned to, he didn't give in. His libido had been sapped out of his body, like a campfire after completing it's useful cycle.
Not because of his brand new sanctity invested by holier-than-thou elders, but rather a broken mind full of grievance and other negatives that always haunted him. The gunshots and bombings too fresh in his mind.
It had been years since he touched someone in a way that wasn't holy. Since he had provoked things in someone else that clearly would make him go under the laicization from the clergy without second guessings.
Until he held you the other day.
Both of your eyes too enraptured in eachother that had sent an igniting spark to his spine. Reviving all those inactive nerves he thought his existencial toll severed long ago. His eyes had gave a brief rake over your face.
Wide and round eyes staring back, both in awe and surprise straight into his soul. Nose flaring softly just like your mouth, whose bottom lip trembled at the little erratic breaths your lungs exhaled upon being in physical contact with a man for the first time in ever, while cheeks bloomed with a not so discreet flush. And your body heat.
Jesus all mighty.
It was dangerously tempting. For a brief moment his past self had taken over, but quickly vanished upon hearing steps. Earning you to fix your crucifix and cowl nervously and him to fist his hands to refrain himself to take another taste and fix his collar and cassock.
To his conclusion, the robes you wore did not match what was underneath. He noted much, but having you wear that loose habit only fuelled his now active and sinful imagination. An opposite from your habits' purpose.
Priest life was hard, and the Celibacy vows were his biggest damnation. Mind often plagued with 'I shouldn't have done this.' 'This is ridiculous' 'Fucking idiot' 'Why did I even lie about this?' But even so, priesthood was better than ending up dead or mutilated by mines somewhere in the battlefield, in the middle of a war he didn't started, much less would end.
Government later was forcibly recruiting all those men, be them widowed or married. It didn't matter. War wasn't for him. Neither Priesthood.
But he'd bear it. He'd bear it until he was put in another parish church full of older and witty ladies he'd definitely wouldn't lust after.
----
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."
The sweet voice behind the confessional punctured walls, perked up his ears. He had memorized a lot of things, your voice included.
"I... I haven't confessed in weeks. But it grows me concerned that... my mind is somewhere else."
Silence. You were met with silence as expected, it also encouraged you to keep talking.
"A man has flooded my thoughts and no matter how much I try to occupy myself, he's there. Leading me to temptation and sin."
A man?
His brow quirked as he slanted over the little wooden division between you, to hear better and take a peek on your face. The only men he could think of was the guard, the butcher and himself. The only men inhabiting the same area as you.
"How does this man tempts you?"
"He... He visits. In my dreams I mean and..."
A low 'forgive me, God' echoed in your stall. His throat dried and his hands rested on each side of his knees, gripping at the fabric of his pants.
"He does things I know I shouldn't partake in... But, it feels too real."
"You sound scared. Does it frightens you?"
"Very much so. But it is a strange sort of fear, Father."
"What kind of fear then?"
It took you a long pause to muster
"A fear of him stopping his visits in my mind."
He gulped.
Your hands took the crucifix and held it tighter, "For him to stop doing such sinful things to me, even in my dreams."
"Have you sinned in the carnal affairs?"
"N-No. I would never. I've never engaged in them, Father."
His groin twitched, as a hand raked over his scalp. A shaky breath that was forced to come out in silence. Only when he thought you couldn't be more innocent, there you were proving him wrong.
"Ever?"
"I promise to you with my life, I've never."
"I must know" He wetted his lips with his tongue, "What kind of things does this man does to you?"
"W-What?"
Your spine straightened up instantly, eyes wild, staring another hole into the already punctured division. Cinnamon color in his skin, the only brief glimpse you managed to see. But even so, his gentle yet cornering voice brought you down from your initial jump.
"I need to know, so I can dictate a penance."
The flush on your cheeks returned, burning bright upon remembering the all too lucid dream you've been having about your secret man. That, even though visited frequently, you still didn't know his face, just his body as it smothered yours wholy in a constant merciless and scorching rut.
All what you remembered was him feasting between your legs like a starved man. His hands maneuvering your soft mounds to then give a gentle squeeze.
"His hands are the ones that bring the sin, Father."
"Explain yourself"
His voice was sultry, buttery rich and smooth on the other side of the stall. A subtle order. To your dismay, that same demon had a similar voice tone. Alluring, speaking to you in a foreign language it had you mewling and asking for forgiveness every time you remembered, cause you had begged the faceless man for more.
"He touches and... t-tastes places I shouldn't allow no man to delve in." With a thick gulp you continued, "His tongue is... marvelous."
His eyes widened for a second as his hand hovered over his crotch
"Marvelous?"
"I feel the biggest sinner by admitting this. Please, do forgive me."
"Accountability is part of the process."
He tried to sound as professional as he could, but little did you know his mind was torturing his already crumbling resolve with such vivid details. Celibacy wasn't a problem, until now. Hearing such sinful words coming from such a unsuspecting thing like yourself, a virgin that is, made his old self to re-emerge.
Disguising himself as a sheep, while he fought through his holy learning years to tame his wolfish appetite.
There were plenty of ewes in the flock , but so far the only one that made his mouth water was you. A perfect little lamb. And now, this. We're you set to making him break his vows?
No. You weren't. He was reaching his limits to break celibacy and you were just having wet dreams about someone that definitely made him wonder about your past life. A past lover? No. Not even that. A possession? A demon? No. Definitely not.
He had heard things whenever on lunch duty. Mindless talk that revealed more to him from others and you than they intended to. You, a nun. Picked up from a ravaged village nearby and raised within  the nuns, meaning, you had zero idea of what pleasure meant.
He believed, but wasn't a complete blinded idiot to faith. Your body was asking for physical and forbidden relief. Just like his.
But again, the golden band around his right hand not only forbid but also was the perpetual reminder of what was a stake.
"I know, Father. But... this man has such power over me that has pushed me to sin. He... he has pushed me to take such vulgar matters in my own hands."
Maker's mercy
His cock twitched harder and he was unable hold back and gave a firm  squeeze while biting his lip to quiet himself at the long forgotten and heady pleasure that was drowning his body in an alarming rate.
As if done of being fed lies and a quick and sloppy handjob for ages. It was disgusting how easy was to sin, how well his body ached and reacted to such stimulus. How effortlessly his old habits had caught up to him.
He was the one that needed a penance now, cause he couldn't shake the image of you spread with your legs wide open, naked, sliding your fingers in between your weeping folds. You'd certainly have your mouth shut or lips bitten to avoid having anyone hear you.
He had closed his eyes while his jaw clenched, occasionally sweeping his tongue over his lips to keep them moist.
"Say it. Say your sin."
He commanded in a voice that had your cheeks flustered and your pearly nub a throb. His hand half squeezed half stroked over his clothed groin. Swollen and needy cock begging to be set free and properly taken care of.
"I..." A dry gulp and your hands went to your crotch, begging your nature to behave. Cheeks impossibly red.
"I've enjoyed touching myself after dreaming a man... f-fucks me, Father."
The word 'fuck' coming out your delicious looking yet pure lips, had his teeth gnawing at the insides of his cheek, self control harder to keep under the leash. It barked, howled even demanded for more explicit details.
Instead, he sighed quietly and cleared his throat. The sudden noise had you gripping the skirt of your habit in shame.
Miguel didn't say much besides the prayer of absolution and a couple of more prayers as your penance. The same right hand that was squeezing his cock was now being kissed by you, to confirm your forgiveness. Plump, warm and soft lips caressed his ring finger.
And once you were gone, his hand took control on its own, slid under his soutane to stroke himself. If you felt like a sinner, he was the devil himself.
The vice like grip in his own cock made him shudder, sensation foreign yet so welcoming after years without it. A little whine escaped past his gaping mouth, exhaling pecaminous breaths as he stroked like teenage boy that just discovered masturbation for the time ever. Sloppy, desperate and wet motions echoed in the now sullied stall.
He fisted his hand tighter, thick fingers coaxing a much needed release, hips rutting into his choking hand. Quiet whimpers and an array of curses flew out his mouth.
His flushed tip swayed and shook under his own rough ministrations while his jaw clenched, he clawed at the chair when hot and thick spurts of his cum dribbled down his hand and wrist before time; pooling in the hollow of his palm while earning a gutural growl that dissolved into a shaky whimper, as he curled against the wooden and punctured wall for a brief lapse of seconds to regain his composure.
"Fuck..." He had to lay against his chair to keep the light-headedness at bay, drowning in his own made pleasure, panting like he had run a marathon for hours.
He shouldn't have lied back ago. And  definitely shouldn't have become a priest. He was soiling their already tainted reputation. His old self was back to stay.
He cleaned up his hand under his robes to then leave to change. He was given a glimpse as you were picking up some harvest in the orchard while he was making his way back home.
---
Window's glasses echoed with the soft rain. The parish has been quiet during weekdays, but busy for you. As winter approaches the harvest must be picked, the grains sorted and the meats stored.
You saw Father O'Hara less and less, and when you did, they were mere glimpses. He was as busy in meetings with other priests, or preparing for the mass that was now given twice a week.
If you weren't in the garden or the laundry, you were in the choir.
Lingering yet brief gazes chased each other. He had heard some nuns speaking about him, some had wonderful things to say, saying that he had been one of the most efficient priests the church has had.
Others mentioned between hushed and bashful whispers about his physical condition and how they caught him go for runs at crack of dawn a couple of times.
And you, just wanted to go to confession again and ask for forgiveness. Not to spill the advantures you had in your dreams with a man that oddly resembled like Father O'Hara, but to unleash your heart's desires to wonder what was beyond the parish.
It was your life, all you've ever known so far. But one of those trips to the city during a beneful visit to another location, had left you amazed. How could a world so different like yours could be considered bad and straying?
But again, vows. Your vows bound you, and once broken, there was no turning back. But right now all that mattered was to get to the dorms. The rest was out in another visit to the city, you were to stay to finish your tasks in the kitchen.
Weather changed so abruptly that one moment you were taking the last basket of vegetables inside, to then run for the dorms to seek refuge. But they were far and the only thing in sight was Father's O'Hara rectory.
It was either getting a terrible fever from the cold and unforgiving rain or ask him to lend you an umbrella to mitigate the glacial numbness spreading through your body. Another reason you barely went out during these days, rains in the countryside were merciless.
Miguel was tending his own garden when the rain begun drenching. Even more when the thunders broke the peaceful white noise. He removed his soutane and shirt off leaving his inner vestments free, but the desperate knock on his door made his undressing ritual to stop.
While quirking an eyebrow, he approached the door and opened it. Eyes widened in surprise upon seeing you, soaked through your bones. lips blue and shivering from the cold.
"P-Please-"
"Jesus. Come in."
He ushered you in, then rushed to get a towel. A frown in his face deepened upon hearing your teeth clatter, clothes stuck to you like a second skin.
"C-Can I... borrow your... u-umbrella?"
Without much though he smoothened the towel against your face, drying it.
"An umbrella? Really?!"
A vehement shake of your head, while trying to get him off you.
"You're freezing cold, the dorms are too far for you to leave. Don't be stubborn."
"I... I don't h-have clothes."
You mumbled through rattling teeth while your eyes darted hazily over his naked torso. He sighed.
"Unbelievable. You're freezing to death and you're worried about clothes. Get them off, I'll put them to dry."
He grumbled while taking more logs into the fire to what would be his living room. If it wasn't for the glacial and biting freeze that refused to leave your body and the foggy thinking in your brain, your cheeks would be beyond red. Crimson even from such simple act.
A weak nod you gave. Your hands stopped bracing your shivering body to focus on removing the cowl and headdress. Releasing through shaky motions your soaked hair that wasted no time to stick on your face and neck.
The next was your crucifix, and praying beads, the tempo you removed them could make a slug to easily win the race, this alarmed him greatly. He had seen what hypothermia did, way before turning himself into this holy persona.
Without much thought, he peeled off your habit that weighed you down.
"Qué mierda más pesada" (Such a heavy shit)
He held you by one arm as he removed the outer layer off. Your eyes drooped and he gave you a little shake.
"Hey, hey, look at me."
Eyes concerned raking over and it dawned on you. Those eyes, the same beautiful and unique eyes were the same that visited in your dreams.
A difficult gulp rolled down your throat as Miguel kept undressing you while grunting. Wet clothes were a pain in his beatific ass. Shivering dicreased, but your lips remained blue, a new shade of purple drawing over them.
"I-It's so cold" You mumbled through laborious breaths.
"Course it's cold. You're soaked! What were you even doing?"
The way he scolded you felt like someone you've known for years was giving you a lecture. So casual, homey, normal. It was Miguel O'Hara speaking, not Father Miguel. The ever gentle and patient man you've been helping.
"Jesús bendito, con cuánta cosa te vistes." (Holy Jesus, so many layers.)
He murmured while pushing you to his chest as he removed the dress that covered your underwear. It felt like a heatless body had been thrown over him, but the warmth irradiating from him felt heavenly. Your form instinctively nuzzled your head on his chest. He had to stop to gulp at the sensations
Even though his mind slapped itself, His couldn't help but wander over your shivering and weak body.
"W-Wait"
A small dark patch hovered above the joint of your legs. Taut peaks followed by lovely areoles ever standing and shivering under the flimsy white fabric of a short nightgown that proved even harder to remove since it clung to you like a second skin, refusing to abandon your body.
He peeled you off of everything despite your protests, but was sufficiently prude to not look over your naked form. A minute too slow and it would be late. Like the young boy in his arms, that had died out of cold once the subversive groups arrived in the forsaken town, they had forced him and the rest to go through a frozen river. He made it, but the boy didn't.
His mind wasn't in the tip of his cock.
That will come later.
But his brain had only one single purpose right now. To keep you alive but for that he needed keep you warm.
Despite the recklessness of his actions, he pulled a freshly folded duvet around  while pulling you ontop of his chest and sat together near the fire. Hands moving to dry your hair as much as he could. Your skin was full of goosebumps, frosty to touch, that relished into any source of heat available. His torso, the duvet and the raging bonfire made your head spin.
It felt like his hands, rubbing some life back into your arms while he shielded your body, embracing your form with his torso and limbs. Like a paramedic on duty. Your cheek smooshed against his solid chest, it made him shudder with your own coldness but eventually the body heat treatment would be effective.
"Sorry" it was all you managed before your teeth shuddered again, and his fingers caressed your neck, placing a new wave of delicious heat on your skin.
"You'll be fine."
Your body was slowly but surely returning to it's temperature. Miguel remained there, basking you within his body, fingers gingerly caressing as much cold skin as he could under the duvet. Even his breath provided a little heat. Your erratic breaths collided against his skin, earning a discreet shudder from him.
You had drifted off to limbo, trying to sleep a bit, but unable to completely do so. Not when a man, the Parish Father nonetheless, was holding and nursing you back to an acceptable temperature with his own.
"Father O'Hara..."
Miguel's ears perked up upon you mentioning his name.
"It's Miguel."
He mumbled while drawing lazy circles on your lower back. The fire and the duvet had kept you toasty to curl even more towards him. Teeth no longer clattering.
"Thank you, Father."
"Stop."
His eyes rolled in annoyance, as his hands stopped caressing your skin to then rub his face.
"Stop calling me that."
"But that's your-"
"I don't like it."
He grumbled while looking down at you.
"Call me Miguel."
"I can't do that. Feels too disrespectful."
"I'm not Father O'Hara here, understood?"
You nodded
"Are you cold?"
"I am. Not as before but yes. Has it stopped raining?"
His own smell was making your mind a puddle, some of that fragrant incense remained etched on him.
"No. Just got worse."
You sighed while resting your head on his chest. Heartbeats a mellow lullaby.
"I'm sorry for all of this."
"You were cold and soaked." He pointed dully and bored.
The duvet was brought closer to your chest while staring at the flames. Fingers tracing a lazy and mindless pattern in his abdomen.
"I was picking up the last batch of harvest when rain poured on me."
Your toes curled in as a soft breeze flickered the fire and he tilted his head to watch you closer.
"Now I'll have to explain why there isn't enough corn."
"We'll go by. It's ok."
"Are my clothes ready yet?"
A snort that  would be translated into an 'Are you kidding me?', your brow furrowed.
"You'd be lucky if they get dry during the night."
Another defeated sigh. But a sudden thought however made your cheeks burn faintly.
"D-Did you see me naked?"
"No."
Oh.
There was a silent pause before you spoke again. Curiosity tempting.
"Have you seen other women naked?"
He huffed playfully while pushing your hair away from your lovely and sweet face.
"Yes. I was a regular man before all of this."
His fingers curled up in his hand, morphing into a lazy fist
"Do you miss it?"
"Would be a liar to say if I don't."
"You... You've had sex before?"
He chuckled while with an open palm, took a taste of your skin, deliberately roaming your lower back. You shuddered.
"I did. Plenty of times."
Your audible gasp made his eyes droop hazily in a smirking grimace.
"I was told it felt marvelous."
You looked up at him and he pulled your chin upwards, he really had to keep his restrain under a leash to not take you here and there, instead, he cupped your face and hovered his lips over yours
"Do you want me to teach you, Sister?"
He was the demon. The very same one that visited in your dreams and left you a soaked mess. A little too late you'd noticed that he wasn't wearing his vow ring. It was placed somewhere else you truly couldn't care less at the moment.
You only nodded.
"Use your words, dear"
"Please", you gulped, "Teach me."
It was in that moment that he sealed your lips with his. Your first kiss ever. Chaste and sweet at the beginning that slowly turned into this obscene display of his mouth assaulting yours with his tongue in between gentle licks and bites of his lips.
A shaky whine then a whimper escaped your throat upon feeling his hands skimming down your spine. He only let you go when you tapped out for air.
"How often am I on your mind, pequeña?"
Finally the demon in your dreams had turned into a reality. Eyes were closed, unable to look at yourself melting under his touch. Nipples perked against his chest.
Plump and hot lips caressed yours but they stopped. Hands pulled you upwards, Miguel turned you around so your back was now colliding with his chest.
"You're still cold."
Cheeks grew impossibly red while he slowly peeled off the duvet out of your body, leaving you bare before him. You gulped as he moved your hair to a side and slowly kissed up and down your neck.
His hands were unable to resist any more and cupped your mounds, like in your dream. Calloused palms, rough against soft breast.
"Qué maravilla. Is this how your dream goes?
Legs smothered together, a little strip of hair etched to your pubic mount. He hummed in appreciation to then part your legs above his. Cunt pulsing at the coolness of air brushing past it.
Both of your legs dangled ontop of his as you remained nested above. Your heart beat at the playful moves his middle and index finger pulled on your nipple as his free hand darted over the joint of your inner thighs. You could feel him trembling underneath, the restrain made his breath hitch.
Your own turned erratic once more as he slid three fingers in between your folds. A shy Ah escaped your lips while he used two of them to part the outer labia
"Look at that, little one. Is that what you touch when thinking of me?"
Drunk eyes darted between your legs and his skillful hand, the engorged and pearly clit peeked out as one of his fingers flickered slowly. Focusing the right amount of pressure in it that had your moans shaky. He paused to adjust his fingers as they caressed and rubbed as much flesh as they could.
Mouth etched to your ear. Deep and needy breaths fanned behind you
"So so pretty. Look at that"
He made a show of his fingers coating themselves in your slick. One of his digits hovered over your entrance, slowly it disappeared inside. A muffled groan echoed in the void space
A wet and shlicking sound came from his ministrations, head unable to move, too enraptured into watching him sliding in and out. Skin bloomed with a new wave of goosebumps as his tongue licked your neck and earlobe, rewarding you for taking one finger deliciously, that he licked up clean before going back to rub at your clit.
"Want to add another?"
A breathless and hissing yes.
You didn't know who was with you right now since Father O'Hara couldn't. Your brain still refused to believe they were the same man. One preached and talked mass every Sunday, the other had your head spinning while his fingers explored your insides with such gentleness it only increased your whimpers and need for something more and bigger within you.
"Does that feel good, Hm?"
A dumb nod while more escaped your mouth repeatedly
"More?"
"Please!"
How could he deny to such petition? Even most when you were gripping him so deliciously and pulsating with every stroke he delivered in, grazing at your sweetest spot.
"Like this?"
He increased the tempo and your breath hitched, hips moving to meet his fingers aiding them to reach deeper and deeper.
Breaths turned into short and shallow pants, blood rushed to your cheeks. One of his digits pushed past between your lips meeting your moist muscle that wasted no time into kissing it. All you could hear was yourself and your weeping pussy that demanded for more.
But they weren't enough. Brain was sent into an override when the climax washed over you. All the pent up need and lust drowned you. Strong pulsations dictated the contractions that trapped and milked Miguel's fingers. Mind split in two in a shattering and core shaking spasm.
Mouth gaped, eyes heady and drunk with blind hot pleasure, body convulsed while an array of mumbles and clumsy curses flew out of your mouth to finally end with a delicious quivering cry.
"It's okay, shh, it's okay, pequeña." He cooed you through it while kissing your neck. Heart pounding in your ears.
It took you a moment to breath properly. How could you have missed this? How could you remain so ignorant to this? Alienated from something you were often told it was dirty and condemning.
He had only touched in the right places and you were melting. But why stopping there? You knew he also wanted you, his hard on pressing over your lower back, begging to set free.
"M-More"
He shook his head with a proud smile
"Can't do that, preciosa"
A capricious whine came through your throat, "Why not?"
"Cause, as much as I'd love to take you until you recite the bible backwards to me, you know what could happen."
"You don't want me, then? Why stopping now?"
"Far from that. And we must be discreet. Wouldn't want you to be whipped by Sister Lianne."
He took your hand and kissed your wrist. While his other limb pulled you closer to him.
"I am the only one that shall leave marks on you, my dear. Is that clear?"
"Yes, but-" He took your chin in a gentle but firm grip.
"Is that clear?"
You nodded with a pout.
"Lay on the bed."
"What? "
"Lay on the bed, so I can taste you."
Miguel could fulfil that fantasy. With Bambi-like steps you pushed yourself up and walked over his bed. Plush surface welcomed your body under a creak.
"Spread them."
Toes curled up for a second before spreading them open. Clit already tingling with a foreign yet needy sensation.
He kneeled before you, like he did every day he worshipped the Lord. But this time it wasn't God, but you. Nose nuzzled over your inner thighs while taking a whiff of your scent. Tantalizing and so alluring for his own senses.
Slow and deliberate kisses were placed above your flesh, the strip of hair that decored your pussy, to finally sink in between soaked folds.
The mewl you gave only made him feast upon you. Hands grope the sheets by instinct as he spreaded you further.
His tongue lapped and curled at your hole, slurping it without refrain and inhibitions. Devouring it like it would be his last meal.
Your dream had felt too vivid, yes, but this was completely different. This was in a whole new different level. His corruption had tainted your soul and it was gladly welcomed into your arms.
Legs twitched and shook while your head was thrown back, chest heaved with shallow breaths, unable to breath properly as his tongue was set into fucking your drooling hole.
The way his tongue fucked, dribbled and guzzled your cunt had you mewling and moaning the filthiest things you didn't think possible you could get out.
Good was an understatement, heavenly was a measly word to compare what you felt like. It was maddening and he gave you no rest.
Have you ascended? No. He just wrapped your supple thighs around his head, preventing you from squirming too much, holding your hips in place as his sloshing and assailant mouth gave you no rest.
You hadn't recovered completely from the other orgasm when a new one had approached. Lurking around your senses.
His name was moaned, over and over and when your hands were done of clinging onto the sheets, you held onto his hair. Silky and smooth chocolate locks slid under your fingers.
Eyes peeked over you, and he had to pause for a moment to squeeze his cock. Aching and weeping for him to let him free and make you his. But that would come later.
That would come much later when he had more leisure time and when he'd get protection. As much as he wanted to wreck your snug cunt, he didn't want you to be whipped and shamed like another nun was when the higher ups found out she was pregnant by an outsider.
"Miguel"
His name on your lips rich and tasty, like him.
Your voice snapped him out of his trance to immediately go for your clit. Plump lips pursed and captured the engorged nub. While his hands pushed your legs up and folded them, giving a complete access to your pulsating pussy.
He slurped and souped while his tongue teased. Wet laps sent jolts through your spine each time he tasted you.
Too much. Too good and too soon, yet he didn't stop. He shook his head like a mad dog subduing it's prey and that move alone had you gushing over his mouth. He quickly gobbled it all down.
You whined, cried and blabbled, even tried to pull his head away but he delivered you a last stroke with his tongue to then lick his lips clean.
"Please"
You mumbled through blown breaths as he watched you with a lust blown glare.
What had he done out of you?
"Greed is a sin, my dear."
What had he created?
"But if you're good enough, the wait will be worth it."
His little lamb was so willing for him, aching to be tainted, corrupted even more. And his task was to banish such whims.
He'd given you a taste of what laid ahead. A promise of a much unholy reward if you followed this path with him. But your resolve had been made the first time you came.
He'd be your first and last. There wasn't any need for another to teach you what he was compliant to demonstrate.
You'd be his to fuck. His to tame and corrupt.
You'd be his.
---
Taglist:
@plumplumpurin
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stararch4ngelqueen · 4 months
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A Compromise
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Time Written - 12:44 p.m
Jason Todd/pregnantfem!reader
(Again, if you don’t like how rugged he looks, bite me)
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“Y’know, sometimes you stink when you come back,” you say, making him both aware of your presence behind him, attempting some form of amusement to break the ice.
His fingers halt on the buckles on his gun harness upon hearing your voice, his back facing the doorway from where he sat on the bed. He doesn’t turn around, not moving in response to what you say. You hadn’t spoken much to him since the night before, and this is what you say?
Of course he knows he stinks. After every patrol, he reeks of wet dirt, filthy water from putrid puddles lining the alleyways, and blood. Or something similar with a rusty, metallic tinge, and that’s not exactly a clean scent.
Jason halted his actions, not sure how to answer that. Sure, maybe he’s not all that hygienic when he’s out on a mission, but that’s a normal thing right? That’s what he comes home for, for nice hot showers and time with his girl.
He grumbles silently to himself, knowing you only make such comments to annoy him. Given the tension between you both was a still little rough, maybe you weren’t as angry as before, given how you started talking to him again.
“Do I? Only sometimes?” He sounds oh so surprised whilst peeking a glance over his shoulder, a sheepish grin playing across his face. One that he couldn’t hold back when he sees you there, all ready for bed while he was gearing up for ‘work.’
“More like all the time, right?” he adds, his tone dripping with a light hint of sarcasm as he pulled his gloves on.
“A good eighty percent,” You muster up another comment, your fingers fiddling with your shirt.
"Eighty, Doll?" He sighs heavily, his arm crossed over his chest in mock distress over this. How he was choosing to act this way slightly caught you by surprise, given you had limited view of what he was doing.
Of course he wouldn’t admit it yet, but he had missed the way you would tease him about variously stupid things—your attitude was what he really enjoyed the most about you.
“So you’re saying I don’t smell about two out of ten times?” he counters confidently, gazing up as if in deep thought. “Not a horrible percentage. Not great though, either.”
A faint tongue click erupted from the front door, causing a tickle in the corner of his lip.
"Why not just say I always stink, huh?" he asks, his tone slightly playful, a faint smile growing his face.
"I guess I could take a bath, but.." Jason trails off, exaggerating his shrugging shoulders. "You do know I'm a guy, right? Baths aren't my thing."
You then scoff, rolling your eyes after his little arrogant display. How does Jason manage to be so frustrating with his undivided attempt at cocky humor?
“Sure, whatever.” You mumble, lightly settling a hand on your protruding stomach.
Jason stood from his perch on the edge of the bed, fully taking in your slouched stance along the doorway. Fresh out of a shower, hair styled for sleep, wearing a purposefully oversized shirt to accommodate your expanding bump you mindlessly nestled along your palm.
He sighs, unable to help feeling a little more guilty by the second. His gaze lingered along your bump, slightly chewing on the inner corner of his cheek.
“Fine, Fine. When I get back I’ll go take a damn bath.” He groans as if it’s a massive chore thrown on his shoulders while reaching for his jacket. “But only because you asked.”
“Jason,” you gruff, watching him put on another sly grin before adjusting the rest of his uniform, tugging his jacket over his shoulders.
"And I still think baths aren't necessary. Showers? Sure, soaps are a necessity. But baths? Complete waste of time."
“That’s not what I’m—“ you start, but ultimately stop and sigh.
His unnecessary ranting just proved he was sidetracking off the topic that hung over both your heads. The reason you both yelled at each other the entire night before he vanished from your sight. The reason you were left in an empty house until his usual return around six in the morning, but even then silence was the main music that filled the space.
Safety; the whole topic had been about Jason’s safety.
He knows you’re concerned every day he heads out the door each night. He knows you want him to be safe, or as safe as he can possibly manage whilst carrying two guns and a plethora of hidden knives on his person.
He remembers being so frustrated, so damn angry, though he even wasn’t sure what had brought it on. You weren’t even hostile when you sat down with him to talk about it, never raised your voice once until he did it first.
He remembered how much he wanted to make you understand that he has to be out there. Very very few people in Gotham do what Jason does, but truly, no one does exactly what he does.
Straightening yourself, you glance off to the side, fighting back an irritating groan before sighing in defeat.
“Look Jay, I’m not gonna push it.” You look him in the eyes, taking your genuine, honest approach, just like you had done before all hell had broken loose. “Just understand, I just want you to be more careful, okay? That’s all I wanted.”
Doing what he does never guarantees he comes home unscathed. His sides still ached from deep bruises along his ribs, a gash along his back was still tightly shut with dissolvable stitches. The clean cut along his lower right cheek was still secured with butterfly bandaids.
You only suggested he stayed home to rest. To recover, to heal. You never called him weak, though he was weak minded to take your words the wrong way.
“No, I get it,” Jason mumbles, his brow furling as he approaches, heavy combat boots creaking against the floor. “You’re right. About all of it.”
He wasn’t ashamed to admit it, despite the conflict rattling in his brain. It’s not just them anymore. The two of you’ve come so far together, your biggest worry was the two of you not being on the same page.
Jason moves a hand towards your stomach, gently rubbing his palm around the most precious part of of your body.
All he just wants is for you to understand that he’s not the same Jason he was all those years ago, not the Jason you remember. Not the man who allowed his anger to slaughter crime lords and take a role into a drug ring.
He’s much better than that. He struggles, yes, but he tries.
“I just want you and the baby to be safe,” He states, watching your brows soften with a slow nod.
“I know you do.” You whisper with understandable certainty. Not once did that doubt ever cross your mind, and it never will.
He can’t help but smile, his forehead resting against yours. So close together that your noses touch.
Now, last night feels like an eternity ago. Jason didn’t storm out of the house with a bubbling bottle of unfit rage, you didn’t cling to your phone and have trouble sleeping over his whereabouts throughout the night.
“You worry about me, babe. I appreciate that more than you can know.” He murmurs, exhaling softly through his nose. “But this is … think about this being another way I can take care of you. Of us, alright?”
You blink, swallowing slowly before nodding in acceptance. Your eyes flutter, the bottom of your throat slightly burning, but you maintain your composure.
Jason was going to keep doing what he does; continue being Red Hood, continue keeping you safe. That’s just the way it was going to have to be, even after the baby becomes a babbling bundle in your arms.
“You could just stay here tonight at least. Hang out with us instead,” you casually insist, raising a hand to stroke his uninjured cheek. “We can order in pizza, find something on Netflix. Cuddle under a thousand sherpa blankets.”
Jason exhales, tilting his head back with closed eyes.
What he would give to drop it all and commit to such a tempting suggestion. Really, he would.
If what he did wasn’t do damn important, if they didn’t live in such a crooked city, taking up your offer would be a lot better than a chest of ten grand abandoned on the street.
“Another time, princess. I can always make it up to you.” He smiles back down at you, settling both hands on each side of your hips.
“How do I smell, by the way?” he questions. “Because if I smell so bad you aren’t going to kiss me.”
Your response was to smile and playfully shove his shoulder, only for his hands to hold you closer, fingers squeezing your plush body.
“That’s mean, Mister Todd.”
He laughs, slowly leading to a snicker. “Don’t deny it—I know you.”
His voice lowers towards the end of his sentence, leaning closer to kiss you. With an additional squeeze, Jason feels your arms lock around the back of his neck in a warm embrace.
Your soft bump lightly pressed against his lower waist, nudging against the buckle of his gear belt. In a few more months, their growing baby would be putting physical distance between them, resorting in him picturing more intimate methods he could hug you as closely as possible.
A emphasizing reminder of his priorities for fighting crime nearly almost every night.
“I’m thinking it’ll be a boy,” you whisper, watching his head lower to settle against your shoulder, his gaze trailing straight down in between your bodies.
“Think he’ll wanna take after me?” He asks, heavy lidded eyes flickering up towards yours in question.
“Well, boy or girl, I would hope they have your eyes,” you reply, enjoying the warmth and comfort of him against you. Just having him close made your heartbeat relax, having you feel nearly good about life. Just for a minute.
“In attitude? I would absolutely think so.”
Jason smiles, returning his attention back towards your bump. He tries to make that thought more comforting, but he’s nervous and tense just as you are at the end of the day.
He hopes they turn out as warm as you are. Warm, comforting, happy and safe. A safety Jason adores every single time he comes back to you, a comfort that made him regret leaving you alone the other night.
You’re his weakness, and he knows it.
“You can make it up by bringing back pizza.” You suggest, hearing him snort.
“Doll, What kind of pizza place is open at five?”
You purse your lips. Valid point.
“I guess Benny’s will work,” you mumble, hands trailing over his shoulders. “Or you’re not allowed back in the house.”
A short smirk invades Jason’s face. He had to come home with a maple sausage breakfast sandwich from a local diner, or face the wrath of locked doors and windows.
Luckily for him, Benny’s opens at five in the morning. Four on weekends.
Jason exaggerates another exhale through his nose, thankful he didn’t slip on his mask as he spares a kiss on your right temple. Whatever you want, even if it was the keys to the Batmobile or the rights to a planet, it’s yours, as long as he gets to come home to you.
“I gotcha, mama.”
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nerdypixel · 1 month
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Items mentioned
Prefacing this with the caviat that I will write some associations in brackets behind the items, as I just can't unsee it.
large false plant in a somewhat disconcerting ceramic pot modelled on a shouting human face (reminds me of the Spiral)
a large Bearskin rug with really sharp teeth (the Hunt maybe?)
a large chandelier of dark glass (the Dark?)
an oversized gramophone with a collection of records of what I believe to be religious plainsong (reminds me of Father Burroughs)
A crudely-carved rocking horse
a grandfather clock that leaked some sort of dark oil
A heavily vandalized set of the Encyclopedia Britannica
an extensive collection of abstract canvas artworks (Daria? Ink5oul or the Spiral)
two large, soiled Crinoline dresses (this could be the Stranger)
a Chaise Longue with cushions filled with some sort of coarse sand
a taxidermied vulture (we have seen taxidermi before)
a rusty antique printing press
a collection of old medical equipment that had seemingly been recently used (the Slaughter?)
some sort of leather kite
an oddly curved brass telescope
a wheelbarrow full of shifting fossils
an armload of swords (Slaughter?)
lengths of rope
A tin bathtub filled with moldy food (the Corruption)
a stack of old dental retainers
a brace of half-butchered pheasants (Flesh like)
jars of what appeared to be pickled hands (Flesh like)
This all feels like a mix between so many different things. We have a list for orientation now.
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somecleverreference · 1 month
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not me walking into Oxfam for some fun secondhand clothes and leaving with a screaming vase, a bearskin rug, a chandelier, a massive gramophone, a rocking horse, a leaky grandfather clock, a defaced encyclopedia, several abstract paintings, two soiled crinoline dresses, a chaise longue filled with sand, a taxidermied vulture, a rusty printing press, used medical equipment, some sort of leather kite, a curved brass telescope, a wheelbarrow full of shifting fossils, an armful of swords, a few lengths of rope, a bathtub full of moldy food, a stack of old dental retainers, a brace of half-butchered pheasants, a jar of pickled hands, a diving suit full of sawdust, a broken picnic hamper, a bloodstained china set, a jar of imperial coins, and a gun.
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muckleberryjam · 6 months
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Spooky season is upon us and so I rise from the dead to continue making over the Charms because I only did Gemma and Emilia then stopped for some reason...
Here's Minerva in her matriarchal glory. She's one part oracle, one part swamp witch, and one part tired of your bullshhhhh
minerva wears • hair down (@simstrouble) • braids (@qicc) • baby hairs (@savage-sims) • monocle (@pralinesims) • nails (ea werewolves)
that don't impress me much • corset (@regina-raven) • illyke) • skirt (hagsims/honeycuts) • hat (@rustys-cc) • collar (@evellsims) • socks (@sentate) • boots (@serenity-cc)
all the better to see you with • jacket (@its-adrienpastel) • necklace (@madlensims)
hunter gatherer • cardigan (@sentate) • skirt (@rustys-cc) • necklace (toksik) • pouch (@gorillax3-cc) • gloves (@wistfulpoltergeist) • boots (@astya96cc)
mystic meg • shirt (@serenity-cc) • undershirt (marigold) • shawl (@happylifesims) • skirt (@sentate) • socks (@trillyke) • boots (@darte77)
green-eyed girl • dress (marigold) • hat (@evellsims) • earrings (@clumsyalienn) • necklace (toksik)
cut a rug • jumper (marigold) • vest (@trillyke) • skirt (@oxalisim) • hat (@joliebean) • necklace (ea paranormal) • rings (@greenllamas) • boots (@serenity-cc)
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keikiri-kitten · 9 months
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UNDRESS ME ★ LEON KENNEDY
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leon x reader, re4 leon, fem!reader, d.o.s agent!reader, stressed reader, smut, cunnilingus
Leon will never tell you how much he enjoys undressing you. It’s something intimate and passionate where he can take his time with you. Things are easy for him now. The missions aren’t completely unbearable since he’s come home from Spain and he gets to come home to you at reasonable hours. You two even built a routine around it.
He loves finding you at the small coffee table in front of the window, letting the peach tone of the sunset cast against your body as you furiously type on that same rusty, job-given laptop. He can almost expect it when it gets home from work. He can also spot how enthralled you are in your own work that you don’t even notice his footsteps approaching you.
His feet are heavy as they shuffle toward you, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans. A deaf person could hear the beat of his shoes, but not you. The man fears his heart palpitations every time he gets closer to you. Suddenly he can spot them; small little buds planted in your ears. It’s a faint sound of something chaotic that he can hear you listening to but if it’s keeping you focused, there’s no harm in it.
There’s a grin that pulls at this lips as he feels you jump from the tender graze of his hand on your cheek to make you look at him. You yank the small white buds from your ears and lock them up in their proper case before sighing out, “sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.” It’s a fragile, defeated smile you give him that wrenches his heart.
“You never do.” Chuckling, icy eyes peer to your laptop and the man tilts his head in the same direction. “I think you should put that away. Any more time on that thing and it’s gonna blow the place up,” he taunted.
You always feel a bit unaccomplished when Leon suggests for you to put yourself first. There’s so much more you felt you could be doing, though leave it to Leon to help you pull away from work. As your hands reach out to save any open documents and shut the screen on the blocky, out of touch laptop, you could spot a rather wide, meaty hand reach out to you.
“Come on. We can leave the work for tomorrow. You did enough today. I sure as hell know I did.” With a laugh, he guided you off of the chair before he leans down to rest a gentle kiss to your temple.
What a poor thing you are. You didn’t even think to take off your shoes. They scuff along the floor as he pulls you gently to your shared bedroom. The man in front of you smirks, shaking his head. “I’m not cleaning up any marks your shoes leave on the floor.”
It was a comment that makes you smirk, “so you’re only good for taking the clothes off,” you affirm. The bedroom is as cozy as you both left it. The bed was undone but the slept in look relaxes you.
“I am only good for taking the clothes off.” He assures, pausing his steps to take pull your body in front of him to get you to stand at the foot of your bed. “Sit down,” he instructs with a genuine smile.
Your shoes are the first to go. He kneels in front of you, one knee propped up and the other shoved into the carpet to keep him steady. He puts each shoe down carefully and standing them up besides one another. You swear you could stare at him for hours. There’s this focused look in his eyes as he works on undressing you, gazing at your legs. His eyes flicker all over your lower half as he works, slightly jumping when you speak up. “Didn’t do enough service for the president today I see,” you tease. If he has enough energy to undress you, what has he been doing all day?
The pair of blue eyes that were locked to your skin soon met yours. Stressed, tired eyes narrowed in amusement as he placed a hand on the knee closest to his chest. “He actually made use of the other traumatized agents. There was nothing left to do.” Shrugging, his hair drapes over his face so effortlessly and the slight stubble on his jaw compliments the rugged look he carries. He’s beautiful. “What about you? You’re taking work home again. I thought we talked about taking it easy.” He knew your job wouldn’t necessarily be smooth sailing and that you would get used to it, but he also thought you were a bit too young to embark on a task so heavy. It was good you’re both working on the same side but it hurt him to know how difficult it was for you.
Leon’s eyes admire you from your face back down to your legs, running the tips of his fingers along your ankles and up your calves as he awaits an answer. He’s only a little satisfied since your skin is covered in thin stocking fabric. Gentle touches continue to reach for your upper thigh, sliding under your skirt to find the band. “It’s more than just going on missions via camera and microphone with federal agents. There’s intelligence things. I write reports, update on every single thing and some of those things can’t be finished in a typical forty hour work week. How good is overtime when you can barely adjust during a normal shift?”
You’re burnt out. The both of you could tell. Leon tries to think of words of wisdom but considering he didn’t even leave his job after the worst in Spain, he’ll sound like a hypocrite. You don’t take notice, though while giving him your drained response, your stockings and panties meet the floor. “Is this a job you wanna stick with?” It takes finding your panties and stockings on the floor to understand that Leon has a swift and sneaky hand. You can’t even respond to his question as you try to process his haste with getting you undressed, though you quickly spot the smirk on his lips.
It’s a strong pair of hands that wrap behind your knees to pull your bottom closer to the edge of the bed. The friction between the sheets and your skirt expose your lower half fully. “Don’t answer that…” Leave it to Leon to be the best and worst distraction. He was no empath, but he could say he understood how frustrating a job like yours must be. Placing a gentle tap on his shoulders, he silently instructs you to place your thighs on them.
As you attempt to do so, he snakes his hands from underneath your legs and around your upper thighs. His touch is tender and careful as you feel it tease up your skin. You can’t help but to gasp when your back hits the bed from a harsh, playful pull at your thighs pull your hips further off the edge. There’s a swift breath he takes before your legs are hoisted onto his shoulder. If this was his idea of a comforting mind break, maybe you can consider quitting therapy.
“I’m starting to believe you only want to undress me so you can put me on your face.” As your eyes gaze up at the ceiling, Leon wastes no time opening you up with the tip of his nose. His tongue licks a slow and gentle stripe within the folds of your heat. As his tongue laps upward, he latches onto your clit, working his tongue and kisses on it.
You can feel his soft lips against you, and his shoulders lifting your legs while he adjusts his posture. “How’d you guess,” he quizzes in a sneering tone. Leon understands his touch is all too gentle with you; playful and is intended to soothe you.
“Leon,” you whisper out, grabbing his attention. Even while catering to you he’s still being a little shit.
“Shh, I’m being a good boyfriend.”
He’s supposed to be undressing you, but you could take this as well.
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midnight-moth · 4 months
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Dew and Phantom sitting in the common room.
Mountain, Cirrus and Swiss walk in the door, having been out running errands.
Phantom sprints to over to them like a greyhound and grabs Mountain by the collar to sniff his jacket.
Proceeds to rub his face all over Swiss’s sweater and then sniff at Cirrus’s hair.
Dew rolls his eyes. “You can just ask them where they’ve been. You’re not a bloodhound.”
Mountain: “As if you didn’t do the exact same thing when you were first summoned.”
Dew: “shut up” *nose twitching like a bunny*
Phantom: sprawled out on the area rug, tail thumping, while Mountain rubs his belly.
Dew: totally not pouting, curls into potato bug position and swats Swiss’s hand when he reaches for his stomach. Folds like a lawn chair within seconds and purrs like a rusty chainsaw.
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straymusings · 2 years
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One Time Thing | (1)
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what does your bestfriend of two years do when he finds out you’ve never been eaten out before? he offers to do it himself, of course.
PAIRING jisung x fem!reader
RATING 18+
GENRE non-idol!au, bf2l, smut, angst, fluff
WC 3.5k
WARNINGS/MISC mentions of alcohol and vomiting, messy oral(f. receiving), spitting, fingering, dirty talk, multiple orgasms (please don’t be afraid to let me know if i missed anything!)
A/N hihi i’m back! it’s been awhile since i’ve written anything so i’m a bit rusty, please be patient with me! the your eyes m/v awakened something inside of me so here we are, friends. i might turn this into a little series if people end up liking it.
“Agh, lady! Can you scoot over?”
Jisung wrestled your side to gently shove you over to the vacant, far side of the couch. By now, you had a habit of resting your legs over his lap whenever the two of you would lounge around in your living room. It was second nature to you, and most times, he didn’t seem to care, mindlessly twiddling loose threads of your chosen bottoms between his fingers. Other times.. well.
“Sit on the floor then,” You snorted, “My couch, my rules. Don’t act like you hate it, anyway. My legs are hot.”
Jisung rolled his eyes at the grin you tossed in his direction before flicking them back to the television screen. The two of you were lazily draped over the couch, sharing a flimsy blanket you often slept with while a movie the two of you randomly picked from a list off of Google played.
It was ritual for the two of you to have Friday movie nights at yours since that one night two years ago, when you attended your first college party at Changbin’s. You had already been in a friend group with Jisung, so you were already well acquainted, but nothing deepened your bond further than a team effort in sending Felix home after he spewed a day’s worth of food all over Changbin’s expensive rug(That taught him a thorough lesson not to drink from the huge bowls filled with suspicious red contents at parties again.. bless his curious soul). The two of you lugged him into the back of your car and brought him up to his shared apartment with Chan, who’d been waiting worriedly at the front steps. After the successful drop off, the two of you sat in your car for awhile, laughing in disbelief at the route the night had taken, before mutually agreeing to head to your place and watch a few movies. The night was still young, after all — the two of you just weren’t keen on getting back to the bustling party, so you did what introverts do; holed up with some movie reruns and popcorn.
From then on, it was history.
Marvel movies, DC movies, horror movies, you name it — the two of you had seen all notable movies of the past decade. So you decided to dabble into older films. 
You had immediately began to regret your decision however, during Basic Instinct. The starting scene should have foreshadowed the rest of the movie, but alas. 
“Uh..” You chuckled, incredulous, watching the two leads languidly strip themselves bare. A quick glance told you that Jisung was just as uncomfortable as you, attempting to keep his expression blank. The atmosphere was stifling. When did it get so stuffy in the room? “It’s like a porno or something.”
“Yeah.. Sharon Stone was hot, though.”
You nodded in agreement.
Time ticked by, but the movie seemed to move in slow motion. Such as most did whenever there were explicit erotic scenes playing. 
Despite feeling zero attraction towards the male lead(He looked old enough to be your father), the way he hoisted the girl’s leg over his shoulder had you attempting to inconspicuously press your thighs together, in search of relief. The movie was definitely turning you on, you’d admit to that much. You’d never had a guy’s head between your legs, and couldn’t help but wonder to yourself what it felt to experience an orgasm from being eaten out. It’s not like your dating pool was very promising in that regard, though.
“Wanna stop it here?” He suggested, glancing over at you. He had seen the way you squirmed. He had seen the way your lips parted, too. Chose not to address it, though.
“Yeah, lets. I swear it feels like we’re gonna see a whole bare dick in a few seconds.”
“Why do you have to say it like that?” Jisung snickered, nudging at your arm, reaching over you to grab for the remote. A mistake, considering the way he seemed to tower over your sitting frame, faces merely inches apart. His eyes were as wide as yours when eye contact was finally made, a quiet gasp slipping before he pulled back and returned to the television’s home screen. 
“Sorry,” He mumbled, to which you smiled.
“It’s okay, virgin, I was just surprised. I’m not gonna get all hot and bothered over you being in my face just because of some sex scene in an ancient movie.”
Jisung furrowed his brows. “I didn’t even — whatever. Anyway, I’m not a virgin. I don’t know why you always assume I am.”
“Really? You aren’t?” Your voice was dripping in sarcasm, relieved by the playful air that replaced the suffocating atmosphere from before. “I dunno. Considering all that hentai on your phone..” 
“It’s not hentai!" There was a hint of a pout to his lips that had you completely endeared. This was why you loved teasing him so much. "My wallpaper is 'Your Name, my favorite anime movie. I swear you’d like it if you actually sat down to watch it with me.” His arms folded over his chest defensively. You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled in your own. 
“Uh-huh, right.”
He scoffed, deciding against fueling the fire further. You loved riling him up and teasing him over the simplest things, but that was just your dynamic, and he treasured it. He wouldn’t replace this carefully nurtured friendship between the two of you with anything in the world.
Jisung aimed the controller at the tv once more, clicking through the channels on auto-pilot, zoning out while a thought intruded his brain. It couldn’t be, could it?
He whispered it so quietly, you wouldn’t have heard it had you not strained your ears. “You aren’t one either.. right?”
“What?!” Your face flushed with heat. Han Jisung, the guy who chugs all of your soda cans in one sitting, the guy who sends you Soulsborne memes at ridiculous hours in the morning, the guy who still puts together Gundam models, the guy who cries during Endgame no matter how many times the two of you rewatch it, is asking if you’re a virgin? “Of course I’m not!”
“Right, right, figures. I was just making sure. Would be pretty ironic.” Jisung shrugged, reading the description under a title that intrigued him. A few beats passed, the only sound in the room being that of the blasting AC. And your racing heart — which you hoped was only audible in your own ears.
“I.. just haven’t had a guy do anything down there.. up close. that’s all.”
He’d been visibly stunned, turning his head to verify whether he had actually heard you say that. The way your eyes averted, fixated on your own fingers that were drumming on your thighs confirmed it. It was a habit he’d began to take note of whenever you were nervous.
Internally, you chastised yourself for blurting that out, a grimace coloring your face, expecting a jab. It was deserved, after all — you don’t give him much to work with on most days, him usually being the butt of the jokes(In a loving way). This was a golden opportunity for him.
However, instead of pouncing at the rare chance to exact revenge for all the times you’d poked fun at him recently, and ultimately break your streak, he was alarmingly quiet. You had half a mind to ask what all the silence was about, before he spoke again. “You mean like.. nobody’s ever eaten you out before?”
Hanging your head, you glue your eyes to your phone, feigning nonchalance. “Y-Yeah.”
You could see him nod from your peripheral view, stare firmly set onto the tv screen. You were mortified. Why did you tell him, anyway? It’s not like he specifically asked. He asked if you were a virgin, which you aren’t, with or without having experienced oral. There was no reason for you to admit to never having had a tongue up your lady bits before. As close as you were, that topic never extended past harmless virgin jokes between the two of you. 
Realistically, there was nothing to feel embarrassed about. If anything, it was the fault of your past partners — too concerned with their own pleasure that they had completely disregarded yours. It mostly only ever consisted of heated makeout sessions, a bit of fingering until you were deemed wet enough to take them, then a few thrusts to the guy's completion. You'd only really ever came thanks to your own fingers during sex — a harsh reality. The concept of genuinely experiencing pleasure thanks to a man? Especially with their mouth, tongue? You'd deemed it something that could only happen in works of fiction.
You were spiraling in your head, paying zero attention to the tweets you were scrolling past. Your mind was flying in every which direction, and you couldn’t help but wonder why him knowing was such a big deal. He was probably sparing you the humiliation of laughing, maybe he pitied you. Or maybe he just didn’t care. He was one of them, after all — a man. He probably didn’t see anything wrong with a woman never having experienced oral in all her years of having sex. Maybe he— “What if I did?”
In your startle, you nearly dropped your phone. Your mouth was gaping, no use of hiding it, and his wide eyes stared right back at yours. “Come again?”
“Like..” He set the controller aside, blinking his gaze elsewhere in thought for a moment before meeting your unmoving stare once more. “What if I ate you out? Would you want that?”
“Jisung.. I’m not desperate enough to have my bestfriend do it."
“I’m not saying you are. I’m just...offering to do it.” He shrugged. “A one time thing, no big deal. I mean, since you’ve never done it before, you know? Like—” “Okay.” “—I could just — huh?”
Shocked that you had agreed so quickly, Jisung froze, only to be thawed out from his state by the way you set aside your phone and shifted closer. “I said ‘okay’, I wanna do that. What better person to try it with, I guess? It’s just you after all.”
He internally winced. 100 psionic damage. “Yeah, just me.” Jisung dumbly echoed. “Are you sure, though..? You don’t need to agree to this if you’re uncomfortable.”
“I wouldn’t agree to it if I were, promise.” You smiled. “I’m not gonna pass it up if you’re offering. Means you at least have some sort of experience, right? Please don’t tell me you suggested it without having any experience.”
“I’ve done it a bunch of times before so I’m definitely experienced. I won’t tell you whether I’m good or not at it though, I guess you’ll have to see for yourself.” Queue the hottest smirk you’ve ever seen grace your bestfriend's lips.
For whatever reason, you clenched. You felt that tell-tale heartbeat down there and knew then, yeah, I can do this. Especially if he keeps acting like that. 
Giggling a little breathlessly, you unconsciously caught your lower lip between your teeth. Jisung’s gaze flickered downwards to catch the motion before meeting your eyes again. “How should we do this, Mr. Pussy Whisperer?”
Rolling his eyes, Jisung instructed you to lay onto your back, to which you obediently did as told. “First of all, don’t call me anything but my name unless I say otherwise.”
Color you intrigued. “Unless you say otherwise?”
“Yeah,” He nodded, bending your legs at the knees, helping you out of your shorts. You could feel the heavy rise and fall of your chest, anticipation building at his touch on your rapidly warming skin. He was teasing you, massaging at your ankles and up your calves. “Spread your legs for me.”
Finding yourself eager to comply, you did as told, watching something flicker across his expression, his eyes hardening with something you couldn’t identify. 
Feeling his warm palms map out the expanse of your legs, traveling upwards towards the peaks of your thighs — you trembled.
You wanted this. You wanted to feel pleasure at the mercy of someone’s tongue and mouth. You wanted to experience sex beyond what you were used to, beyond expecting to only give, give, give and never receive, and with the way he was riling you up without a single kiss — Jisung had potential.
Tearing you from your thoughts and bringing you back to the present, Jisung scoots up between your legs and leans over, caging you into his arms. His minty breath entices you. He lowers his head, and you close your eyes in anticipation, but the kiss never comes. Instead, he presses open mouthed kisses up your neck that knock the air out of your chest, tracing the skin of your jaw with his lower lip, reveling in your quiet gasps and nibbling just below your earlobe before whispering into it.
"I'm gonna start, okay?" You nodded, feeling an ache develop between your legs due to the raspy quality his voice had taken. You'd only ever heard him sound like that while groggy from sleep, not when there was an impending makeout session he was going to have with your cunt.
Jisung surprised you by reaching to assess you first, running his digits over the wet patch in your panties you were embarrassed to admit was quite visible. Maybe the idea of having him touch you was exciting you a lot more than you'd thought it would prior.
"Oh shit, you're soaking through these," He mindlessly commented, propping himself up onto an elbow while you gripped at his hoodie and buried your face into it. "Did talking about it turn you on?"
"Shut up, Ji. Just start already."
He snickered, rolling the pads of his index and middle over your clothed bundle of nerves. Your hips elevated for a moment, breath hitching. "That feels really good."
"I know." Jisung said, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "I'm gonna make you feel even better though, okay? I'm taking these off."
After feeling your meek nod against his chest, he pulls away, lowering himself between your legs while maintaining lidded eye contact. You practically throbbed when he bent your knees further up and slid his palms up the back of each, gripping onto them so to help push them towards your chest. He could see everything from this new angle.
"Hold these up for me," He instructed. You hugged the backs of your knees to your chest, gazing down at him with heavy breaths. He began to pepper your ankles, calves, and the back of your thighs with kisses, slowly making his way inward. Each press of his lips against the crook between your thighs and where you needed him most had you clenching over nothing. Your patience was dwindling now, but it still felt so good.
You only barely managed to bite back a whimper when he finally pressed his lips to the ruined fabric of your panties, mouthing at where he knew your clit to be, tracing between your folds, dipping his tongue into the mess you'd created. You were digging crescents into the skin of your knees, chest heaving. "J-Jisung, I thought you were gonna take them off."
"I am. Patience, baby."
A fresh wave of arousal gushed at the name, impossibly wetting your underwear further. With the way he was licking stripes up from your clothed entrance to your clit, you were beginning to lose it, unconsciously gyrating your hips against his face. Jisung didn't seem to mind, letting you act on your impulses, running his fingers into the sticky mess of your panties while circling your clit with his tongue. It was too much yet not enough, all at once. You could feel your panties clinging against the mess you'd made of your cunt. "Please, Ji.. I can't," You mewled.
Nodding, he raised himself up a bit to grip at the waistband of your panties and tug up. The string of arousal connecting them to you paired with the sight of your puffy, sopping lips had Jisung swallowing harshly. "God, you look fucking hot like this."
"Stop teasing, please.. I need you."
"You need me?" He chuckled at your words, lowering himself once more after discarding your panties. "Where do you need me? Show me."
Knitting your brows, you glanced over at him, probing his eyes in search of his typical mirth. When all you could find was dark, sinful desire, you shivered, nodding, easing your legs apart. He watched with rapt attention as you slid your hand down your body with purpose, gingerly spreading your lower lips, presenting to him your twitching, aching core. "Here."
With a low grunt, he dove in, palms splayed onto your inner thighs to hold them apart. A good call, considering you had immediately tried to clamp your legs shut upon the first fat stripe he licked up through your folds. "Oh my god," You huffed, gripping at his hair with your free hand, lolling your head back in disbelief before picking it back up to watch him again. It was unlike anything you'd ever felt before. "Holy fuck. Jisung."
"Yeah? Feels good?" He grinned up at you briefly, lips wet with your slick, before holding out his tongue to flick inquisitively at your clit. You squeaked. "Don't be afraid to pull my hair if you need to, baby."
Noting this, you grasped at his hair, tongue peeking out relieve your lips of their dryness as you watched him lick tirelessly at your juices.
Then he suckled on your sensitive nub, and you writhed, breathing out puffs of air while he spread your lips to spit directly onto you, watching the gob of spit dribble between your lips before lapping at you like a man starved. You were canting your hips now, whimpering, running your fingers through his hair while he sucked, kissed, traced every inch of you, his tongue lowering to nudge at your entrance while he hoisted both legs over his shoulders and kept your hips pinned to the couch with an arm.
"Could eat this pussy out all night," He mumbled into your cunt, bringing a hand under to assist. Two fingers smeared your juices all over you before he licked it back up and slid both digits inside of you with ease. His tongue circled tight around your clit, lips closing around it to suction.
"Fuck!" You screamed, arching your back, practically elevating off of the couch, but he kept you firmly anchored with his arm. Jisung spared you not a single second to adjust to his fingers, immediately scissoring you open, the filthy sound of wet squelching and slurping filling your ears — a filthy symphony. You hiccup, panting, feeling molten heat begin to gather at the pit of your belly. You didn't have any prior experience to compare it to, but he was being messy, quick and precise — and you loved it. "Oh my god. I'm gonna cum."
Instead of slowing down to edge you and prolong any of it as he typically would while doing this, he showed mercy given it's your first time being eaten out, beginning to fuck his fingers up into you, a vigorous come-hither motion up against your fluttering walls, right against the elusive sweet spot inside of you that only you had ever been able to locate before. The sounds you were making didn't sound familiar to your own ears anymore.
His mouth, tongue, and digits never let up, helping you through the high that tore through you, that had you shaking under his ministrations, guiding you through the waves of it until it became too much. Oversensitivity waned, and you gently shoved at his head with a whine, to which he merely gave you a lopsided smile.
"Smell so good, taste even better, fuck. Your pussy is a dream. Give me one more." He grunted between clenched teeth, watching his fingers spread you, juices coating his fingers and palm when he thrusted his them back inside, working diligently to pry another orgasm from you. You were too fucked out to hear him speak, another impending orgasm closing in on you, a scream tearing through your chest when he dove back in and swirled his tongue around your nub, causing the band to snap.
This one was more intense than the last. Your vision went white. A jolt of electricity coursed through every nerve ending in your body. All you could focus on was that delicious, tormenting friction his fingers were granting you, and the feel of his hot tongue swiveling around your clit with practiced ease.
Your cheeks flushed hot again at the sight of his lips and chin glistening with your release when he pulled back after one last kiss on your mound. "How was that for a first time?"
Attempting to steady the pace of your heart again, an arm rested over your forehead, you managed to speak between pants. "It was...alright," You lied. You nearly blacked out from pleasure, but you couldn't admit to that.
"Such a liar. I literally saw your eyes roll back. Guess you can't go around calling me a virgin anymore," He chuckled, licking your arousal from his fingers. The sight had you your spent core twitching again. “Let me go get a towel to clean us up. Don’t move.”
Watching him walk off, you weren’t oblivious to the tent in front of his pants he’d been trying to hide by tugging the hem of his hoodie down.
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pastelpaperplanes · 4 months
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Ratchet's thoughts on Deadlock's scars?
“Trim your damn TALONS.” is what he’s got to say about a few of them lmao
Ratchet has a thing for scars, he really does, he’s a fan of the rugged look. It’s kind of paradoxical though, because as a medic when he see a truly nasty one, in his mind he tells himself that if he were to be there to treat it, it wouldn't have healed as bad. Maybe he could've been there to knock some sense into it’s wearer to better look out for themself.
He wishes he could have been there for so many of Deadlock’s, and there are so. many.
There’s been quite a few wounds he's treated for Deadlock, a few on his chest, a few here and there on his legs (escaping to Neutral Land is a tough job) but the ones he’ll never be satisfied with their healing are the ones on his wrists. If only he had been there sooner for Deadlock, if only he was able to get him out of that dark, cold, rusty cell sooner–then the scars from the shackles wouldn't be as deep and wrecked as they are.
Deadlock doesn’t pay much mind to any of them though, he's not sentimental or embarrassed–they’re proof that he's here, he's alive, and he's not dying until he’s damn good and ready. Plus Ratty seems to like them enough.
Deadlock pretends to be asleep when he feels Ratchet study and trace them in the night.
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boyfridged · 4 months
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in which bruce time travels and does not hold baby jay. (853)
But the sudden weep tugs at Bruce’s heart so violently that he has to stop himself from burgling in through the window. He is close to doing it, even, the acute awareness that the infant is Jason– That this is his boy there, needy and lonely, overshadowing any logical thought.
Then there’s another sound, a low groan, and the room lightens up with the dim glow of the bedside lamp. Bruce takes a step back; perhaps to hide in the darkness of the corner, or maybe out of sheer surprise, confronted with a forgotten presence. 
Willis Todd’s face is uncanny in its familiarity– In its similarity to that of his– In his similarity to adult Jason’s. The only difference must be the serene darkness of his eyes, otherwise every feature so eerily mirroring that of Bruce’s son. There’s the sharp profile and yet the unexpected softness of the cheekbones, the fine arch of eyebrows, the smooth curl of hair. There’s that weariness that looks shocking when displayed on a face that young; because he is young, decades stretching between him and Bruce, dually literal.
Willis rubs his face and stumbles out of the bed, murmuring something that is incomprehensible because of the idiosyncrasy of his speech, or maybe in a language different altogether. He moves to the crib in a quick motion, stomping over a plushy and a pile of clothes abandoned on the floor, something he can clearly do even with his eyes half open, and picks up the baby– Bruce ignores the odd feeling curdling in his stomach, these ugly knots, focusing on the baby, the baby with huge grey eyes and a little face reddened with distress, despite the mellowness of the cry.
“You need to grow yourself some stronger lungs, huh, Jaybaby?” Willis Todd whispers. “How will daddy hear you when you’re so quiet?” His voice is still rough with sleep, and familiar too, even though Bruce Wayne has never met this man before in his life.
As if replying to the complaint, the infant wails loudly. It’s a short, piercing cry that is almost immediately remedied with gentle rocking.
“Oh, now that’s what I’m talking about. A great start to your opera career too.” Willis chuckles and pokes the tiny button nose.  Another whimper and he’s walking out of the bedroom, urging Bruce to move to the other side of the balcony, to peek into the window of the living room. If it can be called that, since it seems to also fulfill the purpose of a kitchen, storage and laundry rooms all at once. There’s a rusty bike next to the door, leaning onto the textured wall, and three different colourful rugs on the wooden floor. The sofa is mostly neatly covered with a floral blanket, but there are scratches visible at the sides, and there is the perpetrator, an orange cat curled on top of it. It stirs awake and jumps to follow the man into the kitchenette area, fawning at his legs as he moves the cheese grater and a stack of the other dishes aside to find a bottle. 
It is a mess, but it is no worse than a mess Bruce would expect from any single dad. No dirt in the corners, just clutter and one too many empty cups on the counter. Willis starts moving them to the sink while the bottle is heating, the baby still safely tucked, but now held only with one arm. His mouth is moving, but Bruce cannot make out any words.
It is when the man moves back to the bedroom, where the window remains open, that he realises why his attempts at lip reading came to nothing. The constant, soothing chatter is Vietnamese. The monologue does not stop even though Jason seems pacified enough, latching on the milk with eyes half-open. 
“Enough?” Willis asks, switching to English, when the tiny fingers push the bottle away. “Mhm, not that hungry after all?” He sets it away and moves to the crib. But the moment Jason is settled on the soft blankets, he cries out fiercely. It does not take Willis even a split second to pick him up again, the sobbing stopping instantly. 
“So this is what it is about, huh,” he whispers, seemingly giving up on any other arrangement and simply collapsing on the armchair, the bed forsaken. “‘S a good note though. Just don’t forget your dad when you’re rich and famous,” he adds, before reverting to hushed Vietnamese. 
The foreign words heave uncomfortably at Bruce’s mind, reminding him that he should not be there. And as if in agreement, the comms spark to life, the static in his ears quickly replaced with quiet: “Batman, do you copy?” 
For a moment, he does not reply.
Inside, the infant sighs, unexpectedly loudly, eyes still intent on the father. 
“Tough life, huh, Jaybaby?” Willis says and mimics the sigh, overexaggerated. He smiles tiredly and rubs the round cheeks affectionately. And the baby laughs. The baby laughs and the sound is as loud and unrestrained as the cry before. It's unmistakable.
On the balcony, a cape flutters. 
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randomtable · 8 months
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(Inconvenient) Sentient Object Generator
1d12 Objects
Rusty old sword
Large orb (at least 10” diameter, we’re talking 15lbs minimum.)
Flimsy walking stick
Literal brain-in-a-jar
Dented helmet
Cannon, or other large weapon meant to be on a vessel
Rug
A left boot (the right boot is nowhere to be found.)
Multi-volume encyclopedia
Anvil
Globe
A single crossbow bolt.
1d6 Sources of Sentience (and Wants)
Mad-science/alchemical experiment gone wrong; trapped own consciousness in this object. Wants to return to their lab so they can have you attempt to reverse the procedure.
Cursed into this form by a witch or other entity as punishment for wrongdoings. Wants to find the entity and reverse the curse
Born this way, comes from a lineage of sentient objects. Wants to be owned/wielded by a powerful person.
Mad-science/alchemical experiment gone wrong; was a henchman transformed into this object by their master. Wants revenge.
Magically transformed themself into this form as a way of achieving immortality. Wants a new, young, living body to inhabit.
Was once an inanimate object brought to life by a mage. Has now outlived that mage and wants to find a way to resurrect them.
1d6 Powers - how does the object communicate its wants and exert its will?
Compulsion/possession: the object can force a person who is touching it to perform an action. What can a person do to prevent themself from being compelled?
Telepathy: the object can send telepathic messages in a short range. Are the messages targeted, or does everyone around it hear them?
Limited mobility: the object can move on its own, though not quickly. How does it move? (Does it roll, waddle, float?)
Charm/influence: the object can make a person believe that its wills are the best course of action. What types of people are most susceptible to its wiles?
Speech: the object can speak out loud in one or more languages. Does it know when to keep its mouth shut?
Telekinesis: the object can move inanimate objects, but not itself. What are its limits? (Size? Range? Material? Form?)
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wonwoosthetic · 1 year
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Hello, can you do something for Javier Pena? Like with a fellow DEA agent and partner, and he's soft for them (not that soft cause that'll not be him anymore, but he helps them more and follows them on missions a lot). and like he and murphy talks about how much his "ways" had changed after meeting and getting together with her, and yesh like fluff fluff and fluff makeout cause I loved that in that one joel fic
Rugged and Soft
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warnings – mentions of drugs and police stuff, but this is so freaking fluffy, mentions of sexy times towards the end but nothing explicit
word count – 11.3k (istg this always happens)
a/n: aaaaaaaaahhhh thank you soooo much for requesting this!!! I LOVED writing this so much😫😫 istg I’m in love with him and I hope I did the character justice ˙ᵕ˙ you’re absolutely right, too soft wouldn’t be him anymore but I still think he'd just adore his partner so much, so they'd get to see a different side of him, so I hope you liked what I came up with🫶🏼
requests – open ˙ᵕ˙
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Javier and Steve were enjoying their last drops of alcohol and final cigarettes for the night on the balcony while you were helping Connie in the kitchen. While the two men were engulfed in a serious conversation about the possible next steps in their plan, Javi's eyes were daring to get fixed on your silhouette any second.
The sudden crying coming from the baby girl the Murphys had recently taken in caught your attention.
"Ah, crap," Connie looked down at her hands covered in water and dish soap, "Could you-" She knew, she didn't even have to ask you twice, you loved that little girl. 
Without hesitating, you nodded, whispering a quick, "Yeah yeah, sure," and rushed out of the room to enter the bedroom where the crib for the baby was. Javier's gaze followed you as you exited, only coming back seconds later with the crying girl in your arms. He watched you gently bouncing up and down, trying to calm her down, petting her head with your delicate fingers as you swiftly moved around the room. 
He could've sworn there was a sudden weird sensation happening in his heart- no, his stomach- no, his brain? God knows where. Something was happening in his body, and he couldn't help it. It almost made him panic not knowing what the fuck was going on with him, but it was quickly interrupted by a slap to his chest by his colleague.
"Eyy," Steve chuckled, "I know that look."
"What?" The Latino scrunched his eyebrows.
The blonde man nodded towards the living room on the other side of the window, where you were now sitting down, the little girl on your lap as you tried to make her laugh.
"You're getting soft, Javi."
Peña scoffed, taking a drag from his cigarette, "You don't even know what the fuck you're talking about, Gringo." But that only made Steve laugh more.
"I know damn well what the fuck I'm talking about." Taking a sip from his beer bottle gave the two men a second of thick silence. "You know, she changed you."
"Maybe," Javier, in his typical way, spoke quietly, using that deep and rusty tone you had fallen in love with - he may have tried to brush off his co-worker's comment, but both men knew there was much more to it.
Because what Steve had said was true. Everyone knew that. At least everyone in the apartment at that time. 
At work, Javier Peña may still be that cold-blooded asshole, who may not have as many 'informants' as a few years ago but still continued using his charm as often as he needed to. He had changed, just no one there knew why. 
But here, in the comfort of the Murphys' place, he was just Javi. A rough man with edges that got softened down, thanks to you. A man who once was a famous womanizer and bachelor in Bogota, now turned devoted boyfriend and partner who kissed the floor you walked on.
That smug grin never left Murphy's face that was starting to annoy Peña. "Don't say maybe. You know, I'm right."
Javier put out the tobacco stick in the little bowl provided, "And even if you are, she probably just changed the worst parts of me that needed changing in the first place."
He received a nod in response. "Wouldn't fight you on that." With one last gulp, Steve finished his beer. "She definitely changed you for the better. I'm just hoping you're not getting too soft now." Making Javier scoff.
As soon as his eyes met yours through the window, he immediately was brought back to all the small moments that had turned him into the man that he was now. Because yes, Steve was right. You definitely did change him for the better.
-
Javier heard you before he saw you. He always did. Those familiar steps of the same shoes you had been wearing to work for the past few years had branded themselves into his brain.
You were making your way to the shared office space of you, Murphy, and Peña when your eyes fell on Javi's back that was turned to the entrance. The full head of brown thick locks you'd recognize from a mile away. 
His attention was fully on the board you had hung up on the wall, pictures of Escobar and his men plastered all around and red string tying in together every single piece of information you had. 
"Good morning," you waltzed up behind him, not expecting him to turn around as he seemed to be somewhere else with his head. That explained your surprise when he mumbled a quiet,
"Mornin'," back to you.
You stopped right next to him, your eyes travelling around the board. "What are you looking at?" You wondered before you caught a mug on his desk from the corner of your eye. With a smile, you walked up to it, picking it into your grip to take a sip - at this point, the three of you had started to make this a casualty.
As soon as the, what you expected to be, hot delicious beverage hit your tongue, you were quick to spit it back into the mug, a groan of disgust echoing through the room.
"Oh my God, what the fuck!" The back of your hand came up to wipe your mouth clean.
Javi turned his head to glance at you and as soon as he saw you holding the mug, he moved forwards to snatch it out of your hands.
"Why the fuck are you drinking that?" He snapped at you, putting it back on the desk.
You still looked at him in shock, "Why are you drinking that?!" A quick look at the clock made you scoff, "Javi, it's 9am."
But he just shrugged, his arms crossing in front of his chest again as he went back to look at the board. "Long night." 
Long night or not, you had never been a fan of Javier's very unhealthy drinking habits. You remembered even seeing him with a whiskey glass on the day you started working for the DEA in Bogota.
With a shake of your head, you moved to his desk, throwing yourself onto his chair before your hands were opening each drawer and cupboard.
Your hasty movements caught Peña's interest. "What are you doing?"
He didn't get an answer from you at first as you waited until you found what you were looking for. You were tired of his drinking at work. Outside of it, he could do whatever he wanted - he was an adult for God's sake. But here, in the DEA's office, at work, you didn't need to have his drunk ass as a co-worker. 
"Blue, what are you looking for?" He got closer to you, the nickname he and Muphy had given you in your first week dropping from his lips easily.
With a relieved sigh, you stood up again, holding up the bottle of whiskey with a proud smile, "Say goodbye to this."
"Hey-" he tried to lean forward, hoping to get a hold of the bottle, but you were quicker than him, moving past him, already on your way out the door of the office.
"What on earth do you think you're doing?" He called after you.
You turned around with a smile, "Pouring this down the drain. You're welcome!"
With a sigh, he lowered his head, shaking it and pinching the bridge of his nose. 
At the same moment, Steve passed you, entering the small room with a frown, "What's she doing?" Directing his question towards Peña as he pointed at your disappearing figure.
"Giving me a fucking headache," Javier commented. His eyes found the mug on his desk again, another groan tumbling from his lips. Now he had to rely on that one cup for the rest of the day.
-
A soft chuckle almost escaped his lips at the memory. 
"She threw my fucking alcohol away." Javier took a sip of his beer. "Only a few months after coming to the office."
Steve grinned, "Thank God. You'd be taking your morning shit with a shot of coffee and five of whiskey if she hadn't done that."
The following day, he remembered as clearly as he possibly could - how could he forget: the day that he felt the world shift. All because of one little word.
-
You basically skipped into the office, three cups of coffee from the shop around the corner of your apartment in your hands. Steve and he were already sitting at their designated desks, watching you and your million-dollar smile as you waltzed into the room.
"Good morning, my dear friends," you beamed at the men, settling everything onto your place, putting down your bag and taking off the jean jacket you had put on.
Steve smiled at you, slightly confused, "What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Not that it was a rarity to see you with a grin decorating your face, but it happened more than any of you would like to admit that any man in that building would ruin your mood early in the morning before you could even make your way into your shared office.
"They're finally open again!" You called out, placing a coffee cup each onto their desks. Javier smiled up at you radiating the positive energy around the room, something he had had to get used to once you started working with them.
"Who?" Murphy continued the conversation.
"The coffee shop! By my apartment. Remember? They were renovating the place, but they're finally done, and I'm getting my daily cup of coffee again."
"You mean liquid sugar?" Javi commented, earning himself a glare from you, almost making him smile. He got up from his seat, the coffee in his hands when he took a sip, interested in what the hell you may have put into his.
"Ugh," he immediately groaned at the taste.
"What?" Your big eyes locked onto his. He couldn't tell you what he really thought of it. He wasn't going to break your heart after you had just almost jumped around the room as you told them about the shop re-opening.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Dry."
The sound of your soft chuckle rang through his ear. Had it always sounded so angelic?
"You mean the way you're supposed to drink coffee, honey?" You patted his cheek before turning around to leave the room, on your way to get some files you had been looking for, not knowing you were leaving Javier frozen in place. That was a new nickname. He was used to 'Javi', 'jackass', 'senior' or 'idiot', but 'honey'? That was new.
With confusion written across his face, he huffed out a chunk of air he apparently had been holding, while Steve's eyes were trained on him, an amused smirk playing on his lips.
"What the fuck just happened?" The Latino wondered out loud, not noticing that he was still standing up, still not moving, only entertaining Steve even more.
"What? You've never been called honey before?" He enjoyed teasing the man. It didn't matter in what context. Teasing Javier Peña was always fun, especially when you were involved.
Javi shrugged and shook his head, snapping back into reality. "Not by her."
And that made all the difference.
-
"I'm just saying." Murphy's voice made the other man realise they were still on the balcony and not in the past, even though he would've enjoyed dwelling in the memories a little more. "I see the way you look at her, and we don't need a soft boy in the DEA."
Javier scoffed, throwing his beer down his throat. "Says you, you blonde-haired, blue-eyed bitch."
"But I'm not getting soft."
"And neither am I!" He argued back, making Steve snicker. He knew Javier wasn't actually getting THAT soft, but it was fun riling him up.
The two men let a few moments of silence pass, listening to the mumbles of your and Connie's conversation inside the apartment and hearing the cars drive on the dimly lit streets.
"How long do you think you'll be able to hide it?" Oh, what a good question that was. Of course, Javi knew what his colleague was talking about because he had been wondering the exact same thing. Multiple evenings and nights were spent raking through his thoughts. Was what you were doing even a good idea? How long was this going to last? Was it worth it? 
He didn't even want to admit to some of the questions that had popped into his head as he felt like he shouldn't even be questioning this relationship. But since the two of you shared a workplace, it only seemed right. Right?... 
Two agents were in no way supposed to be romantically involved with each other. For one, it would most definitely be going against HR regulations, and two, you'd be putting yourself and your partner in so much more danger than you or they were already in from practising this job. But it was worth it. God, was it worth it.
Javier had been happier than ever before. Calmer than before - at least when you were around him. But as beautiful and wonderful as this little bubble was that the two of you had been sharing for a good year now, there were a lot of complications you hadn't had to face yet.
The Latino leaned back against the railing of the balcony, putting down the bottle of beer on the little table next to him before lighting up his next, and hopefully last, cigarette.
"Fuck... if I knew. Probably forever."
Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Oh please, you know you won't be able to do that."
With the amount of scrunching of his eyebrows that Javi had been doing all his life, it wouldn't be surprising to see early wrinkles at his yet relatively young age. "The fuck you mean by that?"
"The amount of times you almost got caught? By literally just about anyone in the office beside me? Maybe I'm talking about that." As amusing as it was to Steve, he also understood the seriousness behind the topic. He just wanted the two of you to be safe, and alert of the people around you, because it started happening more and more that either one of you would forget how suspiciously protective you could get of each other - more specifically how protective Javier could get.
"We haven't gotten caught in the past and won't get caught in the future." He simply answered, tapping the ash off the cigarette.
The blonde man crossed his arms in front of his chest, "Maybe. But maybe they'll start looking more into some of your antics," but quickly raised them in defence as soon as he caught the glare on Javi's face. "Just trying to keep you two safe."
"Oh yeah? What antics?"
Steve shrugged parodically, "Oh, I don't know, what about two weeks ago?"
-
The three of you were sitting in Noonan's office, right across from her, all in slightly more formal clothing than you'd usually wear.
You had announced to your partners that you had a lead on one of Escobar's men and wanted to discuss your possible ideas with the female ambassador. Let's just say the talk had turned into a slightly more heated discussion than you had planned. 
"M'am, I understand your concern-"
"Well, I really don't think you do, Miss. Have I not made myself clear before?"
You nodded, continuing the conversation standing up, copying her, while the two men were sitting on each side of you, quietly listening to the two of you. "You have, Ambassador, but this is a real possible lead I have here."
"How do you know that? How do you know you can trust the information you receive?" No one was supposed to know about what you were doing to get your info. You weren't about to rat the other people out. Not to the ambassador, not to anyone.
"I have trustful sources-" A scoff coming from the older woman made you stop. "I-I just need your okay to continue-"
"And you won't get it."
"M'am-"
"Do you want a repetition of what happened in Mexico?!" The sudden raise of the woman made you shut your mouth. But not only that. Her words lingered around the room. A heavy statement. She knew she hit a weak point with that.
You lowered your head and crossed your arms as a defence mechanism while the men exchanged questioning looks.
'What happened?' Javier mouthed to Steve, but only got a headshake in return, so he directed the question to the ambassador.
"Ehm," he cleared his throat. "What... happened in Mexico? If you don't mind me asking, M'am."
The older woman leaned forward, her palms on the table and let her tongue swipe across her teeth.
She scoffed, "They don't know?" Clearly asking you.
After taking a deep breath, you shook your head, "They don't have to know."
The woman raised her voice slightly again, "They're not your co-workers, agent, they're your partners. They should, in fact, know about your lousy decisions in the past!"
"They weren't lousy!" Arguing with her felt like fighting with a parent, but currently, you were only getting scolded and barely listened to. Before she could interrupt you, you continued, now copying her tone, "My decisions were very well thought through! The problem was these stupid CIA agents that didn't know what they were doing, and it wasn't my fault that the Guadalajara were thousand steps ahead of us!"
"And what's gonna be different this time? How do you not know that Escobar isn't already ahead of you right now?"
"Because I have my informants-"
"You're starting to sound like Peña, careful," she warned you with a huff.
You took her change in attitude to take a deep breath, "You can't compare this to Mexico. What happened was completely differ-"
"Can somebody explain what the fuck happened back in Mexico?!" Steve interrupted your argument, losing his last amount of patience for which Javier was very thankful because he was just as curious and just as impatient.
Your eyes fell on the ambassador, but her hand was motioning towards you, not even batting an eye, not even interlocking glances with you. When you didn't respond, she looked at you, seeing your pleading expression, but she shook her head.
"It's not my story to tell."
You gulped. She was right. It was your story. But for another time. "I'll explain it later, this is more important right now."
"No, it's not because I'm not putting you anywhere close to one of Escobar's men."
A heavy chunk of breath fell from your lips as you looked around the room in frustration, ignoring Javier's glare and Steve's awaiting eyes.
"Then send Carrillo with me. You trust him. He can come with me," you proposed, about what the older woman seemed to think about for a second, but that was quickly interrupted by Javi's voice.
"I can go with her."
All three heads shot towards him.
"What?" You mumbled, the ambassador copying your confusion.
"What? No! Peña, don't get me wrong, but I would trust Carrillo more than you with her." As soon as those words left her mouth, you closed your eyes. She shouldn't have said that.
"Excuse me?!" Javier shot up from his seat in rage. The other man quickly followed him, ready to hold him back if anything was about to happen. "She's my partner! Not fucking Carrillo's!" You didn't ignore the possible two meanings behind the word 'partner'. There had always been a slight jealous side to your boyfriend, and unfortunately, you had found out that sometimes he had a slightly harder time containing it.
"Javi-" you tried, but he ignored you.
"I've been working with her for years, and you'd rather send someone from the Search Bloc with her?!"
The woman pointed a strict finger at him, "I suggest you watch your tone, agent." She warned him. "Carrillo has gone on undercover missions before. Successfully. So yes, I would much rather send him than you. Especially now after you just put on a show like that. What's gotten into you?" No one answered that question.
Javi huffed out in annoyance before turning to you, "You trust him more than me?"
That took you back. "W-...What does that have to do with anything?"
"Why did you suggest Carrillo instead of me?!" Now it was his time to raise his voice, earning him an eyebrow raise from the ambassador.
"Javi! It doesn't matter-"
"It fucking matters to me!"
"Guys-" Steve, who was standing behind you, tried to calm you down by placing his hands on your upper arms, but you brushed him off, continuing the fight with your partner.
"He has done things like this before, he'd be able to protect me if needed-"
"I'd be able to protect you if needed! Are you seriously questioning this now?!"
You opened your mouth again, but the loud voice of the older woman immediately shut you down and made you turn towards her.
"Both of you, stop it! Right now!" She took a deep breath. "What on earth is going on with you two?" Everyone stood quietly in front of her. She pointed at you, "Listen. I don't know what is going on in that brain of yours, nor do I understand your ways of picking these men apart psychologically. I understand and respect your devotion, but I won't be risking your life a second time." You opened your mouth, but she quickly motioned for you to be quiet. How fucking old did she think you were? But then again, you could only imagine that you looked like teenagers to her in this scene. "Now." She wiggled her finger between you and Javier. "You two. Clear up whatever the heck is going on between you two. I need you both with a clear head, not with... God, I don't even know. And you." Her eyes went to Steve, "Keep an eye on them. Seems like they're going through puberty again..." The ambassador mumbled the last part, only adding to her already disappointing, yet strict tone.
But you were not about to go down that quickly. "M'am-" you tried, but she had the upper hand once again.
"Out. I have a meeting in five." 
You were gently pushed back by Steve while Javi walked beside you quietly.
The last call out from Noonan stopped you. "And if I find out that you met up with Escobar's man behind my back, I will not hesitate to send you back to the US, just so we're clear." Loud and clear. You didn't respond, but just kept on walking, a clear tension following the three of you out of the room. There was a lot to discuss.
-
Javi shook his head at the memory, putting out his cigarette, "Don't fucking remind me of that." He hated the way he reacted. He hated the fact that it happened in front of Noonan. But most importantly, he hated that you had kept something so significant from him.
After you had gotten back into the office, the interrogation began. You had to spill everything that had happened back in Mexico - back before you joined the DEA in Colombia. And let's just say neither Javi nor Steve was happy after listening to your story of being held hostage by the Guadalajara only days before they killed Kiki as their first target was planned to be you.
He wanted to forget everything you had told them, but he couldn't. As if your job wasn't already dangerous enough as it is, you were actually willing to go the extra mile, risking letting the same thing happen for a second time?! Just thinking about it made his blood boil.
"But I have to remind you of that," Steve stated with a sigh. "Because Noonan asked me about the 'tension' between you two. And why you were so against Carrillo all of a sudden." 
"Fuck me..." Javi cursed under his breath, throwing his head back with a groan.
The blonde man scrunched his face in disgust, "Nah, thanks, I'll leave that to Blue." Getting a chuckle from the Latino, which made both of the men snicker together.
"It's not gonna be easy, you know?" Javier suddenly spoke, alerting Steve of his worries. He understood - of course, he did. But he had mentioned this to both of you from day one. He even remembered talking to Javi about that before you two were officially together.
He nodded in understanding, "I know. Just... try to keep it undercover. As best as possible. More like you did towards the beginning because you're starting to get more daring with the shit you're doing in the office. I wouldn't be surprised to find you fucking in one of the file rooms one day."
"Yeah yeah," the Latino brushed his friend off, his memory bringing him back to the older times. 'Like you did towards the beginning', but Javier had never been able to hold himself back completely.
-
Up the elevator, Javier walked into the hallway, on his way to the meeting you had planned with Colonel Wysession. The three of you were getting closer and closer to catching that bastard, you were sure, and now with some help, it just might be even quicker. Peña couldn't say he was looking forward to necessarily working closer with the Marine Corps, only ever trusting the division he was serving in, but he accepted what had to be done.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of familiar grunts. Too familiar grunts. Glancing to his right, he found the door to one of the file rooms slightly ajar. His hand reached out to push it further open, immediately coming to sight with a back he only know too well.
The corners of his lips curled up in amusement as he leaned against the frame, arms crossed, watching you trying to make yourself taller by standing on your tippy toes to reach for one of the boxes on the higher shelves. The entertaining scene didn't last for long though when you suddenly managed to somehow move it with your fingertips, making it tilt towards you. 
Javier reacted fast. His smile dropped, and with one big step forward, he was right behind you, his arms up as he caught the heavy box with his hands while yours flew up to cover your head with a gasp escaping your throat - for one, because of the weight almost landing on you, but for two because of the person coming into the room, catching you off guard.
"Jesus, careful, cariño." You recognised the rumble of a voice belonging to your... boyfriend? No, probably still too early to call it that. Fuck buddy? Nah, it was way more than that. Anyways, that's a discussion for another time.
"Sorry," you answered him, dodging your head and moving away from Javi, so he could lower the box and bring it to one of the tables by the wall. "Thanks," you patted his shoulder before removing the lid to find the multiple files you had been looking for.
"What do you need these for?" Your partner snatched one out for himself, opening it to take a quick look.
"Wysession asked me to get them. I don't know what exactly he thinks they could help with, but oh well," you explained, brushing off the dust that got caught on your clothes.
Javier scoffed with an eye-roll, "'Course he did."
You looked through some of the pieces of paper in silence before you felt a pair of eyes not leaving your form, making you look up. Your gaze interlocked with Javi's, but he just grinned at you.
You chuckled, "What?"
He shrugged, "Nothing. I just haven't seen you today yet."
You couldn't help the smile appearing on your lips, "Well," you closed the file you were holding, "You've seen me now."
With a smirk decorating his already unique features, he slid over to be closer to you, his fingers tracing one of the strands of your hair framing your face. "I have," he leaned forward just a tad bit more, his thumb holding your chin. You could feel his lips ghosting over yours for a second before he properly kissed you, making you smile into the kiss. For a moment everything was perfect. As soon as he leaned back again, freeing you from his touch, a pout appeared on your face, making him chuckle and glide his finger over your bottom lip. "You look beautiful today, Hermosa." Before you could say anything, he placed another soft, yet meaningful peck onto your lips, breaking it off again after only a few seconds.
"You're lucky there are no cameras in here," you commented, reading to pack everything together to leave the small room. Javier looked around, analysing the corners a tiny bit more.
"Maybe there are." Which got him a slap on his chest with the file you were still holding, making him chuckle and you shake your head. He turned around to the box, "Let's get these to Wysession." You couldn't even take his place as he swiftly picked up the box that would definitely be too heavy for you, along with the other one that was already on the table - you had managed to place one there as it had been kept at chest height, but you had still been out of breath after getting it out.
"Javi, s- I can carry them." Maybe it was true, maybe not, but you didn't want him to do the dirty work that had been assigned to you.
He walked past you, stopping and nudging his head to make you walk out of the room first. "I'm sure you can. But you shouldn't have to."
On your way to the meeting room, you had started talking quietly about what you could be doing that night, as your plans until then had only been to join Javi at his place, which was more than enough for him, but you were always up to do something more.
As soon as you entered the room though, the smiles on both of your faces fell once the Colonel opened his mouth.
"Peña," he started. "I don't remember asking you to get the files." 
Steve eyed the two of you suspiciously, wondering what exactly the two of you had been up to, praying it was only about getting what Wysession wanted. You took a seat beside him, sending him a quick grin to say 'Hi'.
Javier stayed by your side, the chair right next to you already behind him to sit down after snapping back at the older man. "Yeah, well you know, I just thought I'd be a nice co-worker and don't let a lady carry all of this shit."
Wysession smacked his lips, "And I think that if a woman's strong enough to be a DEA Agent, she should also be strong enough to carry a box of files."
Both of your partners noticed the deep breath you had taken, trying to hold yourself back, knowing that arguing with that man in power was only going to get you into trouble. Javi placed his comforting palm on your thigh under the table, giving it a soft squeeze, letting you know he got you.
"And if a man's confident enough to order a woman to do such thing, he should also be confident enough to do it himself. Don't you think?" He sent the Colonel a quick wink before the subject was changed in the room, and all focus was on the task at hand. Well, maybe all but yours because your mind was still holding onto the words Javi had let echo through the room.
As a small 'thank you', your hand found his that was still on your leg, your fingers wrapping around his rough ones. He got you.
-
"But it's good," Steve commented all of a sudden. Javi crossed his arms when a surprisingly cold wind passed by.
Yet another frown made its way onto his face. "What is?"
"That you got her," the blonde nodded towards the living room, where you had changed your seat to sit on the larger couch, you back now towards the two men. "I was sceptical at first, I'm not gonna lie-"
"I know you were," Javier remembered the talk Steve had with you and him just all too well. During dinner, whereas Connie had to sit next to him, beaming as she tried to control her big smile, just happy for you two and ready to engulf you in the biggest hug possible, squeezing you until you were begging her to stop - you had that kind of relationship - Steve was trying to stay as professional as possible, knowing how serious the situation would get if it got out that you were dating. He was just trying to help.
"But," the American defended himself, "I'm still glad you didn't listen to me when I first told you not to get too close to her. She's doing the world a favour." The confusion on Javi's face made him continue, "She's changing the one and only Javier Peña." He slapped his shoulder with a smirk as he passed his colleague, earning him a scoff in return.
The Latino had enough fresh air, and dwelling on the memories made him want to get back next to you as quickly as possible, so he joined his colleague on the way back inside. 
Connie was nowhere to be seen, probably in the bedroom, but you were still occupied with the baby on your lap, that seemed to be very close to falling asleep thanks to your fingers gently tracing the outline of her face. You were always so careful - not only with babies. Javier remembered the first time he ever saw you handling a gun. He wanted to shoot every person that gave you the okay to go out in the field with a hold as you had. The Latino had to teach you how to properly keep the gun in your hand, tightly enough to not let any idiot just smack it out of your grasp.
Even the way you would hold your pens at work, filling out whatever paperwork you had to do, was almost too gentle for Javi's liking. The first time he had met you, he wondered how somebody with a voice, so soft and sweet, could work in a surrounding like theirs. But you also had a hard side to yourself. It didn't show very often, but when it did... Lord help anyone that was around you.
Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Javi's body directed towards you and as soon as you looked up, your eyes locked. You sent him a welcoming smile, making him grin as he walked up to you, gazing down at the little girl in your lap. You had put your feet up, the soles resting on the cushion you were sitting on, to let the Murphys' surrogate daughter rest against your upper thighs.
He reached down to brush a hand over the top of your head, getting a soft moan from you as you tilted your head back to look up at him.
"Do you wanna finish my beer?" You whispered, careful not to disturb the sleeping baby.
Javi's eyes found the almost empty bottle on the coffee table.
"You don't want it anymore?" He wondered since that had been your only drink of the entire night, and you were usually able to drink more. You shook your head in answer, "'m too tired."
It was common for you to watch your drinking very carefully, always looking out for not drinking too much, but as Javier reached down to pick up the beer bottle, he remembered the one time you didn't. The only time until now when he had to step in. When he felt needed.
-
It hadn't been an easy day at the office - the exact opposite in fact. For Javier and Steve, the day was just too long, but for you, it had been exhausting. Physically and emotionally. Some CIA agents were visiting the embassy and thought it was very funny and entertaining for a woman like you to be a DEA agent, and they weren't holding back on commenting on it.
You had holden yourself back as well as you possibly could, but every person had a snapping point. And once you had reached yours, it earned you a warning from Noonan and getting excused from work early. Not knowing what to do with the extra time, and on the verge of letting tears of frustration go, you found yourself in a bar just five minutes away from your workplace. Alcohol was always an easy way to numb everything.
You had lost count after what you thought to be your fourth drink, but who fucking cared. I had a horrible day at work, I deserved this, you told yourself.
Your partners obviously noticed how on edge you had been throughout the entire day, and the glances and whispered comments from the other men weren't helping. They were planning on checking on you, but Steve had received a call from Connie, urging him to come home, leaving Javier to take care of his girlfriend. Once he arrived at your place and knocked on the door, an uncomfortable feeling spread in his stomach as you didn't open the door. He tried again and again, but after four minutes, he realised, you weren't even home. The agent tried to call you, only to get greeted by your voice message, making him sigh and shake his head. He thought and thought, trying to find a possible place you could be. With his car, he drove around the area, looking into parks and such, not really believing to find you there, but you never know. Most stores were already closed, so you couldn't be there either. The last possibility would be a bar - definitely not the first place he'd expect you to be, but not an impossibility. He stopped at every bar, taking quick glances inside and asking around before he finally arrived at the one closest to the embassy - he couldn't even explain the weight leaving his shoulders once he saw you hunched over the bar counter. If he didn't know better, he'd think you were asleep.
Strutting across the floor until he came to a halt to your right, taking a seat on one of the barstools, he could hear the slight mumbles and hums coming from you. Since you you had your head down, resting on your arm on the top of the counter, you hadn't realised who had shown up, only when you suddenly felt the warmth of a palm on the back of your head, you dared to look up.
"Javi?" You squinted, trying to find out whether your eyes were playing a trick on you or if the man was actually sitting next to you.
He smirked at your dishevelled hair, trying to brush it cleaner with his fingers, "Hey," he spoke quietly and thanks to only a few people in that bar sitting far away from you, you were able to hear him clearly. "What are you doing here, Hermosa?"
You straightened your back slightly. "I think I'm supposed to be asking you that," the words lulled out of you, showing him just how drunk you actually were.
"How much have you had to drink?"
Uncontrollably, you started turning on the barstool, moving from side to side by pushing against the counter. You shrugged, "Two... or three..."
"Drinks? Or shots?"
"Maybe four," you continued to sing, "Or... six? Idontknow..." the last part just stumbled from your lips.
Javier shook his head with a sigh, "Jesus... alright," he got up from his seat, his right hand reaching for the drink in front of you. "You don't need that anymore."
You immediately noticed his movement and tried to stop him, "Heyyy," you whined out. "I wanted to drink that."
"No you didn't, come on," he tried to get you off the stool, but you were barely helping him, much rather just gazing at him with a pout.
"B-... But you drink too when you're frustrated," you commented.
He got you to stand up on your feet, his right arm wrapping around your waist to steady you. "Yeah," he nodded, "But you don't wanna be like me."
"And what if I do?" Your fingers started tracing his chest, covered by that white short-sleeved button-up you have come to love so much.
"Trust me. You don't."
Somehow, he managed to get you into the passenger seat of his car, securing you with the seatbelt you tended to forget to put on sometimes, before rushing to the driver's side and getting the car to start. He knew he wouldn't want you to stay at home alone tonight, so he was already planning his overnight stay at your place: getting you out of the car again, out of your clothes, maybe, if you weren't too tired, under the shower real quick, knowing how much you hated going to bed unshowered, and then into some pyjamas and under the covers to let you sleep off whatever alcohol was left in your body - which was currently still too much, he could tell.
You had closed your eyes but weren't sleeping, listening to the engine of Javier's car when something came to your mind. You abruptly shot your eyes open, "My car!"
He nodded, "I'll go get it tomorrow, don't worry." His comforting hand found its usual way to your upper thigh, resting there until you put your hand on top of his.
A few moments of silence passed before a deep sigh fell from your lips, clearly laced with frustration. Stopping at a red light, Javi turned his head to look at your side profile, almost catching himself smiling as he took in the soft glow of red elevating your features. God... what were you doing to him. His thumb started rubbing gently up and down your thigh.
"I hate men," you suddenly blurred out.
He couldn't help but to chuckle, taking your hand with his to change gear and continue the journey home. "I know, amor, I know."
"Not you, though," you quickly added, resting your head back, but turning it to look at him, "Not you."
"I know," he smiled, taking a quick glance at you and patting your leg. 
"And Steve," you continued, only making him shake his head with a smirk, "I could never hate Steve. Or you. But everyone else... no. I hate them," you continued to lull out every word, not sobering up in the slightest with every added statement. "I hate Escobar. You know, how much I hate Escobar?"
"I can imagine, sweetheart," he commented, earning him a moan of disgust from you. "What?" Javi looked at you in concern as you shook your head.
"Don't call me sweetheart. It makes me sound like an old married woman."
He chuckled, "In Texas, it's very common to call people that are close to you that."
"Still," you fought back, starting to play with his fingers in your lap, "Use your Spanish words you always call me."
"You like the Spanish names more?" To which you nodded, not even trying to hide the big grin on your lips. "Alright, muñeca."
"Muñeca?" You smiled, "What does that mean?"
"You're half Latina, you should know that," he teased, pulling into the driveway of your apartment complex.
You opened your mouth, "Oh yeah... I should know that..." Dazed in your thoughts, you didn't notice the snicker from Javier as he exited the car to get you from your side.
-
A chuckle almost tumbled from his lips at the memory, thinking back to how hard it was to get you to change into more comfortable clothing and into bed because as soon as he had put you onto the mattress, a sudden rush of energy rushed through your body. What a night...
"You wanna go home?" He wondered, lowering himself slowly onto the sofa down next to you, careful to not disturb the baby that was daringly close to falling asleep.
A yawn was his answer, but a nod from you also followed. "Yeah," you patted his thigh gently. "I'm just gonna take Olivia to Connie."
"Olivia?" Javier asked you, his eyes following your fingers that were still drawing along the sides of the baby's face.
You nodded, "Connie said she's been thinking of naming her that. I think it fits. A beautiful name for a beautiful little girl." The sudden soft smile that appeared on the baby's face made you copy the expression, beaming at your lap. "Oh my god," you gasped, making the man next to you chuckle. "Do you think she understood me?"
"I doubt that, muñeca." His arm had found its way to lie comfortably behind you, his thumb rubbing your shoulder.
You shrugged, "Who knows, maybe they do understand us, but just can't communicate." As soon as the infant opened her eyes, you smiled brightly at her. "Right, sweet girl? You know how beautiful you are." Tapping her nose to make her grin.
At the exact same moment, a sudden flash blinded you and your boyfriend, and the baby apparently too as her cries rang through your ears. Looking up, you caught Steve standing in front of you, a polaroid camera in his hands, smirking proudly at you and your partner.
"Steve!" You called out, shaking your head along as you tried to soothe her again, "Well done, dad."
"Fucking idiot," Javier cursed out as you got up to bounce the baby up and down, hoping to calm her down.
"Javi!" You hissed at him, shielding the small ear closer to him. "Not in front of the kid!"
"Cariño, she can't understand us."
"You don't know that." Were your last words before you left the room to join the other woman in the bedroom, handing her her surrogate daughter back. That left Javier and Steve yet alone again.
"Great job," the Latino sarcastically complimented the other agent, who was grinning at his hands.
"So worth it though."
"What? Making your kid cry?" Javi scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, until Steve lifted up the polaroid picture he had taken, showing it to his partner. It was perfect. Javier and you sitting comfortably on the couch, looking down at your lap where you had held the little girl. Both smiling. Both happy. He didn't notice you leaning into the arm he had draped over you, but it was clear to see in the picture.
Peña cleared his throat as he stood up, brushing his hands over his jeans. "Keep it." But Steve shook his head.
"Nah man, that's for you two."
Javier pushed back his outstretched hand, "It's fine."
Before the blonde man could start an argument, you came back into the living room, your eyes immediately on the two. It didn't take you long to see what Steve was holding.
"Oh my god!" You smiled with bright eyes, jogging over to your partner, and snatching the picture into your own hands. "It's so cute. Look!" You showed it to your boyfriend even though you knew he had already seen it. He shook his head, but Murphy was quicker than him.
"Keep it," he told you. "One of the only pictures I've ever seen where Javi actually looks decent."
"Hey!" You hit his upper arm with the polaroid before looking down at it again with a grin that was so wide, Javier could've sworn it almost reached your ears. "But thanks," with a shy smile and a nod, you thanked your co-worker, who copied your actions. "I just said goodbye to Connie by the way," you directed your statement to the man next to you.
"You're going already?" The blonde American wondered, walking back into the kitchen to place the Polaroid camera on the countertop.
You nodded, "Looking after your kid tires you out. But you wouldn't know that." With the sarcastic smile you sent him, you disappeared into the hallway. The two men followed you quietly.
Javier took your jacket off the hook first, waiting for you to turn your back to him so he could help you slide in. Steve leaned against the frame of the walkthrough, eyeing the couple smugly.
"Well, at least I now know who not to call when we need someone to look after her," he teased you, knowing it would offend you since you had a reputation for being good with kids.
"How dare you," you gasped, pointing a finger at him, which made him laugh out loud. Javi shook his head and placed his hands on your shoulders to turn you towards the door, ready for the night to finally come to an end. He pushed you forward until you had no choice but to push down the door handle and open the front door of their apartment.
You turned around, "See ya tomorrow!" Calling out to your other partner.
Javier did the same, adding a, "Say good night to Connie and Olivia for me." Getting a confused look at the mention of a 'Olivia' in return.
-
You spent the car ride to your boyfriend's place comfortably reminiscing about the evening, asking him about what Steve and he had talked about on the balcony, but only receiving 'nothing important, just small talk back. He had asked you about your conversations with Connie in return, wondering what you had discussed. What he didn't expect was to hear all of the gossip from your co-worker's wife's work, having to remember names he had never heard of before, which suddenly seemed very important. But he enjoyed it. He could've listened to you for many more hours but had tired yourself out from talking, immediately shutting quiet as soon as you had arrived.
Javier didn't waste a second before he took off his clothing, immediately heading for the bathroom to take a shower and call it a night. You followed him, brushing your teeth while he was washing his body, and switching positions as soon as he was done. He put on a pair of thin pyjama pants you got him, that he usually only put on out of courtesy since you both knew they'd come off during the night eventually - either because of you or simply because that man gets too hot for his own good while sleeping. You had thrown on your pyjama set, consisting of satin shorts along with a matching strappy top and went back to the bedroom, where your boyfriend was already waiting, having thrown himself onto the mattress, his feet still on the ground by the side of the bed.
"Is someone tired?" You teased him, walking up to him to lean down and brush some of his hair away from his forehead.
He huffed out a big chunk of air. "Sometimes Steve talks even more than you."
"Hey, you've never complained about me talking."
"No, but about Steve's." His eyes fluttered open at the sound of your giggles, filling his stomach and heart. Your fingers continued playing with his hair when a thought popped into your head.
"Where's your wallet?" Letting your eyes travel across the room to see if you could catch sight of the leather object.
"Why?" His hand found yours, holding onto it as he pushed himself up to sit with his other one. Javi gently dragged you in closer to stand in between his legs that he had parted to make room for you. Instead of answering him, you just showed him your open palm, sending him a quick smile along with it.
He nudged his head towards his nightstand, where the purse had been placed on. You reached out to grab it. His gaze was fixed on you and your hands as you opened it, placing the object you had been holding into one of the compartments.
"Here!" You showed him your masterpiece. You had put the picture Steve took of you two into the see-through slit in his wallet, and you seemed to be very proud of it. Javier couldn't help the chuckle coming from him. He got the purse back into his grasp.
"Gracias, corazón."
"You're welcome," you smiled back at him, intertwining your fingers with each other behind his neck as he threw the wallet back to where it had been before his hands rested on one of their favourite spots - your hips. Brushing them up and down your sides, he gazed up at you, who was already looking down at him.
"Have you been frowning a lot lately?" Your sudden question took him by surprise, making him unknowingly scrunch his eyebrows.
"What do you mean?"
"Like now!" You giggled, running your right thumb between his brows to decrease the tension. "Don't do that. You'll get wrinkles."
Javier lips slightly curled at your concern. "I think those come with age, mi amor. But you wouldn't know that." Adding the little comment you teased Steve with, hiding it in a compliment and making you grin.
"Come one," he motioned for you to get on the bed while he lifted the covers, so you both could get comfortable underneath them. You scootched in closer, so your faces were only a few inches apart.
"Aren't you tired?" You wondered, feeling his arm wrap tighter around you to pull you in even tighter and place a sweet kiss on your lips. You let your fingers brush through the locks at the back of his head, getting him to close his eyes and sigh. The tension was leaving his entire body just with those simple touches of yours. The magic hold you had on him made you grin. You loved having this effect on him. You knew you had it. It was in intimate moments like this that Javier would let himself completely relax underneath you. And that happened multiple times. Whether it was thanks to your voice, your touch, or simply your being. You relaxed him. 
The two of you shared a few moments in silence, in which you had moved closer to him, he now on his back, your cheek resting against his shoulder, his hand brushing up and down your sides and back while your fingers were resting on his chest. But there was one question playing on the tip of your tongue that you just couldn't hold back anymore.
"What do you think of Olivia?" His movements on your body stopped for a second, almost making you gulp, but he played his surprise off and continued rubbing your back.
"I think... she's... a baby?" Making it sound like a question. A snicker fell from your lips, and you teasingly nudged his hips with yours.
"Nooo, that's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean, hermosa?"
You sat up straighter, pushing yourself off his shoulder to look at him, his hand still on your back.
"Just," you shrugged, "In general. What do you think... of her... as a baby, I guess." 
Javier noticed the slight shyness in your eyes when you let your gaze wander around, not really interlocking with his. He smirked at the realisation,
"Are you asking me how I feel about kids? Like having kids?"
You quickly looked at him, "No. No, I wouldn't do that. I know you." His confused look made you continue. "I know who you are." Suddenly, your voice became much quieter than before.
"And who am I?" He copied your tone, turning this conversation much more sensual than you had planned for it to be. You didn't miss his hand travelling lower down your body, brushing over the curve of your ass, down to your leg to throw one over his.
"Javier Peña," you simply answered him.
He nodded, "That's my name."
The unamused facial expression of yours would've made him laugh if he didn't find the situation more serious than he would've liked to admit. Something about this felt important. Very important.
"You know what I mean," you tilted your head, avoiding his gaze by tracing his collarbones with your finger, your eyes following it.
"I'm afraid I don't, mi amor." The nickname still made you tingle. From the moment he first used it up until that moment - the feeling continued to be the same. You felt loved. You felt wanted. You felt needed.
You let out a soft sigh, looking down before back up again. "I don't know... you're just... Javier Peña. The cold-blooded DEA agent-"
"Is that all you think of me?"
"No," you quickly added, "Of course not. That's just who you are to other people. To me, you're... I don't know... nice?"
"Nice?" He chuckled, making you do the same as you hid your face in his neck. You could already tell this question was a mistake, but you continued, distancing yourself from him, placing your palm on his chest
"What do you want me to say? You're so sweet and bubbly?" You both laughed in synch, his arms wrapping just a little tighter around you. "You're not, Javi! You're rough but soft around-"
"I swear to God if someone calls me soft one more time-"
"Who called you soft?"
"Fucking Steve." You laughed out loud at his confession. Your hands cradled his face, placing a few pecks on his cheek until you reached his lips.
"Aww, my sweetie is getting soft." This earned you a pinch to your thigh, making you jolt up and chuckle even more.
"That's what you get for saying shit like that," he commented with a subtle smile, catching your lips with a kiss, almost making you moan by the force of it.
You patted the side of his face gently. "No, no, don't worry. That just wouldn't be you anymore. I'd hate that."
The man smirked, "So you admit that you like it rough?"
"Javi!" You smacked his chest, but he caught your hand and pulled you in for another kiss.
"Just admit it, cariño," he mumbled against your lips.
"Never, Peña," you giggled.
He stole a couple more kisses before releasing you. "Alright, then back to your question." His hands rested on the side of your legs while your finger traced invisible lines on his chest.
"Nooo, please. Let's just forget I ever asked."
"You want me to forget you asking me if I want kids?"
You gasped, "That was not my question!" But he just continued to look at you. A few seconds passed, and no one said anything. Until you broke the silence, finding it slowly become unbearable where you left off. "But-"
"There we go," he proudly smirked. You shook your head with a smile.
"If I was hypothetically asking. Your hypothetical answer would be...?"
"Why are you worrying so much about that all of a sudden? Hypothetically speaking." He seemed genuinely interested in hearing your answer to his question.
You shrugged and thought for a while before dropping your hand down, finding his fingers to play with now. "You didn't even think twice about it when you found Olivia. It seemed so obvious to you that Steve would take her." Ah, there it was.
Javier took a deep breath. "Yeah... I guess so." His eyes focused on your intertwined fingers for a split second before looking up again. "For one, because he and Connie have been married for quite a while, so, you know, it seemed fitting. And second, because... well... I'm not exactly a-"
"Family person." You answered for him with a nod.
"Right," he sighed, looking up at the ceiling, not at you, almost in shame. You could hear another heavy breath escaping his lips. "But you are." And his eyes were back on you again. Regret and fear. Maybe even uncertainty. That's what they showed. You were sure of it.
"I guess," you shrugged.
"You're great with kids. Of course, you are," he assured you. By now you knew that if there was one person that knew you better than anyone else, it would be Javi. The multiple nights you spent venting your problems onto him - past, present and future possible problems. Even before you shared a bed. That's how you bonded. Shared fears from the past. Regrets you didn't want to go through again. He knew you like the back of his hand. You weren't yet sure if you could say the same thing about him.
"Yeah..." you placed his hands in front of you, looking down. Hands that have killed. But also hands that have brought you love and pleasure. And oh, the many more things those hands could do. "But you're not."
Javier didn't nod or shake his head. He just kept his gaze on you. He didn't know what to say or how to react. Was it too early to have this conversation? The two of you were close to sharing your second anniversary together, so he guessed the time had to come at some point... right? He had admitted his love for you a long time ago, he could admit this too.
"What do you want?"
His question made you look up, "Hm?" You wondered, slightly confused by what he had meant.
"In the future. What do you want? And be honest," he squeezed your hands assuringly.
You gulped. "I think that changed when I came to Colombia, you know?"
"Then before that. Before you knew about all this shit here. What was the future you dreamed of?"
You let the question linger in the air for a second before you opened your mouth with a smile. "I really wanted to be a mom. I always thought I'd become a young mom, to be honest. But then I found my way into law enforcement and I knew I couldn't have both... But I think I'd still want that. I really loved my mom growing up. She did a great job raising me and my siblings, so I definitely know I'd have someone to look up to in that sense." He continued listening to you attentively, his hands moving along your skin gently. "I want a house. A white house preferably. With a big garden. Maybe even a farm or something. Animals. Especially cats. Maybe a dog... I don't know... I'd decide on that when the time comes. But... yeah... kinda do want kids." Javi didn't miss the change of tense when you spoke about wanting to become a mother.
"Alright," he nodded, placing his hand on your cheek to pull you in for a kiss. You moved your lips along with his, fitting perfectly like usual. You separated yourself from him, your hand back on his chest.
"That's all you have to say?" You chuckled a bit at his response.
Javier's hand came to your neck, his fingers tracing your skin. "Yeah." He nodded, definitely not understanding what you had meant.
"So, I'll just say whatever, and you go along with it?" You smiled at your partner, slightly amused by his opinion on the subject, yet not fully believing it.
He shrugged, "If you want a family with a house and pets, who am I to deny you of that?"
"But that's not how it works. That's not how a relationship works."
"And how does a relationship work, mi amor?" He wondered, pushing himself up to put you underneath his body, holding himself up with his arms on either side of you.
"You're supposed to say what you think of something, and then I say what I think of it, and we'll try to find a middle ground and settle on that," you explained, knowing you had his full attention.
"And what would the middle ground on this be? No kids, kids, only one. There is no middle ground here." You didn't really think about that. He was right. But who would be the person to give in now? Even if you hadn't decided that yet, Javier had already made his decision a while ago. "If you want that. I'm gonna make sure that you'll get it."
You shook your head, your fingers finding the brown locks by his neck. "But that's not you."
"Says who?"
"You-"
"I never said that," he argued. "I never said I didn't want a future like Steve's." His statement surprised you. And he couldn't lie, it was hard for him to admit. Javier wasn't used to showing this side of himself. But if anyone got to see him like that, it was you. "It's definitely not made for me, that's for sure. And I don't really think that it's very smart to have small kids running around in a country like this while you're hunting down drug lords and whatnot every day. But just because I didn't think that life was for me, doesn't mean that can't change."
His words let the shiver move from your head down to your toes, filling your stomach with butterflies and your heart with desire. You never expected to hear words even similar to these from Javier. To be fair, there hadn't been many times where you thought of having a potential future with kids with your boyfriend - it always seemed so clear to you that as soon as you gave yourself to him, you had to let that dream go for good. But here you were, underneath the man you had come to love, gazing into his big brown eyes while he poured out his entire heart to you. You knew he meant every word. Every single one. And maybe it was still a little too soon to truly think about this subject intensively (or maybe not), but God, you'd be lying if you said your want and need for him didn't grow even bigger than you could've ever imagined.
You nodded up to him, biting down on your lips to hide the smile that would've been way too bright for this moment. "Okay." You whispered, pulling him down to you to let him know that maybe you had now just given him a simple and short answer, but Lord, you meant it.
Javier grinned at you, "Okay."
You weren't going to get to work on it right away. But maybe one day. Maybe one day this conversation would repeat itself and right afterwards you'd find yourself moaning his name out into the world as he made sure that you got what you had always dreamed of.
That wasn't the Javier Peña everyone else knew, but it was the Javi that you knew and loved. Just the right amount of rugged and soft to make sure you knew you were loved in every way possible, but also protected and safe. 
He smirked down as he noticed your need to pull him closer. Once again, your lips met, making you melt right into the sheets underneath you and moan into his lips when you felt his hand riding up your torso underneath your silk shirt.
"Now, what was that about you not liking rough?"
"Javi," you scolded him with a chuckle as you felt a rush of heat rush up to your cheeks, but definitely also through your body. His hot breath tickled your neck as you started working his lips against your skin, making you sigh heavily.
"I think I'm gonna have to prove you wrong on that, muñeca," he whispered against your ear, making a grin when you pulled him back to face you, not even giving me a second to think before smashing your lips against his.
Javi didn't mention the sensation that filled his body back at the Muphy's place when his eyes found you with that little girl. He'd let you know about that once the time was right.
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pedro taglist: @leslieelainetrask
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statement-continues · 1 month
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Here is our list of every artifact in the statement and what entity we believe they align with. We are more confident about some than othersss ... PLEASE share your opinions
ceramic pot modeled on a shouting human face- stranger
large bear skin rug with sharp teeth- stranger
large chandelier of dark glass- dark
oversized gramophone with a collection of records of religious plainsong- dark
crudely carved rocking horse- spiral
grandfather clock leaking dark oil- end
heavily vandalized set of the encyclopedia Britannica- weeeeeb?
extensive collection of abstract canvas artworks- spiral
two large soiled crinoline dresses- buried
chaise lounge with cushions filled with course sand- desolation?
taxidermy vulture- stranger
rusty antique printing press- eye
a collection of old medical equipment that seems recently used- slaughter
leather kite- flesh
oddly curved brass telescope- eye
wheelbarrow full of shifting fossils- buried
armload of swords- slaughter (woooow the slaughter being as subtle as a knife lol)
lengths of rope- vast??? (I'm so sorry, we tried our best)
tin bathtub full of moldly food- corruption
stack of old dental retainers- corruption
brace (a pair) of half butchered pheasants- hunt
jars of pickled hands- flesh
ancient diving suit filled with sawdust- buried
a broken picnic hamper- lonely
a jar of imperial copper coins- slaughter
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