#string ray plush

[chloelouis]

Plush Collection

#Plush #Plushies #Fish #Chick #Axolotl #Worm #worm on a string #Box #manta ray #Lemon #dinosaur #orca #orca whale #Minnow

[1800titz]

The vacay piece I teased ages ago. One night stand :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: p-in-v, oral, brief size kink (if you squint), praise kink, this one’s p vanilla.

WC: 2.5K

It starts like this:

A bohemian beach with a high riding tide, where ripples surge and flood the shore. Sand tears from its home, coasting the verge in the breeze like a fog under the overcast, and when the clouds split open, the rays hug her skin. 

She’s sprawled over a chaise lounge in a little red thing that’s all skimp and no cover besides the intimates. When she rolls onto her side and tips to her tummy, he eyes the flash of skin behind dark tint. His arms brace over the porcelain border of the pool that overlooks the beach up ahead — he’s watchful from a distance. Someone swims up to the bar behind him. Chlorine laps at his back, teeming over the grout between the tiles as he wraps his lips over a straw and nurses something cobalt and strong.

By the time he culls a second one, she’s up, all glistening skin in the sunshine, hips swaying as her toes make doughy prints in the sand. She trails to the sea, and the ocean eats her until she’s just a little silhouette in front of his sunglasses with water-slicked hair and lines that cinch and swell in all the right places. 

He sees her like that, outlying his bubble, in brief pieces like the flashes of skin. Fragments in the horizon, like the border of a stranger’s leg in the background of a photograph. He sees her in slivers where eyes interlock from across the room and linger. This bohemian summer is painted in teal, and it’s waves swathing the coast, warm skin coated in cocoa butter. 

It ends on a night where the teal metamorphose indigo, and then nearly denim, with orange on cords, glinting like miniaturized, splintered orbs of the sun have been caught to glare forever on strings in the night. Harry sees her through that indigo, this stranger’s bare leg waltzing in the depths of his touristy snapshot, mingling in the dancing horde. He trails closer, shouldering through the throng and squeezing through in polite gaps, and she twists like it’s fate — just enough to smuggle a glimpse in her peripherals. 

Eventually, Harry leans in to murmur, “What are you drinking?”

The plush of his mouth ghosts over the cartilage there, and his cadence smooths over like honey, low and deep over the pounding bass of the music. Waned tobacco and spice; a warm, pleasant musk in the flurry of scents. 

She doesn’t immediately respond, observant like she’s weighing whether the invitation is worth entertaining. It only takes a second. Then, there’s a hand over his pec, like she’s already made friends with the filth of his intentions. His red-lycra-skimp mystique rolls up on her toes. 

Harry twists his head just enough for her to respond, “It’s a Blue Lagoon.” 

Saccharine — rich and lux and smooth, something that has her skin glowy and sweeps up her throat, tucks behind her ear, enough so that the scent billows off with the motion of her hair as she flips it over her shoulder. 

Harry casts his gaze to the drink. A red straw is tucked into the ice, and the only remnants of the beverage mingle at the bottom. The ice shimmers in faded teal, much like water sloshing over the flat tides. Her fingers cradle over the cup, and that’s where soft, thin lines of gold coil. Despite the broad array, there’s no wedding band. 

“Can I grab you another?” 

That’s when she does the thing; this patently flirtatious, brazenly get-under-my-crocheted-midi-skirt sort of thing, lashes coy in their sweep and eyes innocuous as the tips of her manicured fingers pinch at the straw and siphon it to her mouth. There’s an elegant presentation to the polish — neat, short lines with a nude base and a white tip. 

The remnants of the beverage vanish until all that’s left is crushed ice painted with blue curaçao. Harry watches the straw. He watches her lips, the way they unlatch and the way the pink tip of her tongue offers a glimpse before it hides away behind her front teeth. 

When she pulls the drink away, she tips her head — an inclination for his ear again — and when he ducks his chin for her answer, she tells him, “Can you make it worth my time?” 

A tongue swipes — his — like it’s already hungry and yearning. Dimples form beside the curling edges of a mouth after the pink muscle retreats. Home in its hungry cavern; limitlessly craving. He doesn’t bother going for her ear again, instead opting to fix eyes that have wandered, all week, onto her face. Definitive, close. Mesh of saccharine and spice. 

“I’ll make it worth your time,” Harry assures. 

His eyes are virid, even in the indigo, under all the miniature suns as the lanterns throw them back into a roll of blue — it climbs over the crowd and seeps with the music. They’re virid and intent. They’re virid, and there’s something lewd that dances in the mottled talc. 

She watches him. A set of eyes flits to his mouth and stays, brief like a fragment. She nudges the cup — the fragment splinters and fades — extending it against his chest until he raises his hand and his ring clad digits curl over it slowly, wet with condensation. 

“Blue Lagoon,” sweet mystique reminds him, a little curl to her mouth. 

Harry heads to the bar. He orders a Blue Lagoon and refreshes his tequila. Double. He winds through the half-clad crowd, prodding and slipping through sweat-slicked bodies until he finds her again. 

He makes it worth her while when they’re dancing, when her arms are slung over his shoulders and the tips of her fingers graze at the little curls at his nape, like an intimacy beyond a summer fling, or maybe like a restless hunger — its touches only test the waters with dips of toes under lapping ripples. He makes it worth her while when his hand cups the meat of her hip, and she tips her head up for their mouths to meet, when their dancing slows and the kiss turns feverish, cushiony mouths teasing at the seams until they split. 

He makes it worth her time when they make the stroll back to his room, heels clicking over tile and bouncing off from lofty wall to lofty wall, a good bit of distance between them strictly for the sake of avoiding shagging in the middle of a hallway. He makes it worth her while when he braces his wrist band to the lock over the door, when she’s leant against the wall with her irises lingering on him and her lashes batting coyly. She’s well-behaved, hands tucked behind her back like a combat to handsy temptation. 

It’s a different story behind the door. 

He makes it worth her while when her fingers toy at her crocheted halter, index perusing at the fabric below cleavage and brushing over chalky yarn. He makes it worth her time when he steps into her space all slow-like, face tipped down and the pink below his cupid’s bow worked into a soft curve, lengthy, deft digits working over the buttons of his shirt. An untamed tendril teases over one of his brows. Her hands meander from fondling at her own tits, at rogue pieces of yarn in the stitches, to straying up his ink-etched forearms. That’s when he lets her take over the work, when his arms snake over the vale of her waist. When his colossal hands cup lower, when he nudges forward and their mouths brush again. He licks into her mouth and rolls into the gap between her teeth.

Filthy kisses are shrouded behind closed doors, even in the easy ambience of a resort. Furlough on the greedy pursuit of pleasure, on some secluded island with crystalline waters, plus tequila — that’s practically a petri dish for hook up culture. But filthy kisses are saved for the bedroom, and there it’s taste buds doused in citrus limon and gray goose, a tip of a tongue swiping along a row of teeth, basking in the ridges. 

“What do you like, little minx?” Harry murmurs. He climbs the column of her throat with the ruddy border of a hungry cavern, and her pulse murmurs back under his mouth. “Hm?” 

The blunt tip of his forefinger traces her collarbone, follows a line of cleavage, toys at the cinch in her top; unravels her. It splits down the center, and the straps follow limply down her shoulders. Harry pinches a nipple and scrapes his teeth over her neck, humming again. 

Behind closed doors, his red-lycra-mystique (bare, her tits are bare now, in the backdrop of his picture) gets denuded to flesh when she shimmies the dress down her hips. He helps her and then tears his own shirt over his head. It’s hasty, like disrobing takes too much time from a place where time moves slower, riding the water in leisure. Harry still doesn’t know her name, and she slips to her knees, batting her lashes, and takes his buckle apart like unslotting puts the last of the puzzle pieces together. 

When her tongue rides under the ridge of his tip, delving and dragging over the prominent vein jutting on the underside of his shaft, he cranes his neck back and makes a sound like she’s torn into his chest with the tips of her french-polished manicure. He punctuates every pornographic, wet sound with dialogue.

“Christ, you’re a dream.” 

“Fuck, you’re pretty with cock in your mouth.” 

“Yeah, that’s it, just like that, sweetheart.” 

“—Y/N,” red-lycra-mystique supplies, gaze bouncing from the twist of her wrists at his base to his face, and then sweeps his bubbling head over her bottom lip and swallows him down halfway. 

“Y/N,” Harry mirrors, tone bathed in the same sweetness she radiates at his feet. 

And then she trails the very tips of her blunt nails up his sac, and the shiver that rolls up his spine short-circuits every feasible attempt of formulating something in english. Just… gone. Something splinters. 

Harry doesn’t cum all over her tongue, despite the pretty mental image he’d cherish of Y/N on her knees with ribbons of silky white coating the insides of her mouth. He thinks about the way he’d dip the pad of his thumb against her tongue, the way he’d stir and scrub it in. He thinks about her lips latching and her cheeks hollowing. 

He’s got immense willpower, particularly when she takes him all the way down until her nose nearly brushes the neatly-trimmed tuft of hair the tributary of his happy trail pools into. Because then, she pulls off, chin sloppy with saliva, mouth wide, and stares up at him with this wickedly indelicate curl to the corners of her mouth as she gasps in breaths. Like she wants him to. 

Instead, they make it to the bed. He splits her thighs with his palms and spits where she’s puffy and warm, leaky with longing, toying at the seam of her hole with his digits. Smooths the wetness with his thumb when he tucks two fingers in and laves his tongue at the crease between her inner thigh and her cunt. He bumps her clit with the tip and rolls, and her spine arches like the highest point of her torso peaks at the clouds of nirvana. 

“You’re a good girl,” Harry tells her, and his voice is so soft, like he’s reassuring an animal that’s backed itself into a corner, “Want you to drench my face.” 

And she does, because when he holds a placid, unwavering hand out and talks her so sweetly, lips suckling in a vacuumed ‘o’ between her thighs, what can she do besides roll her hips against his mouth in little, desperate juts, face creased before bliss spumes through every major artery.

When Harry sits back, his chin is sticky, glinting in the buttery cast of the lanterns drilled into the ceiling. He kisses her again until her jaw is stained with her own slick, and despite the entire basis of a one night stand, his tongue meddles into her mouth with the same passion of a man carving a piece of her open. A cozy lacuna just for him in the depths of her chest, something that’ll linger and yearn. A hungry chasm that’ll grumble when her cunt pulses — when he’s not there to fill it. She’ll think of him; a stranger’s leg flitting like a passing speck in the background of her photograph. 

Y/N’s cunt hugs him like it can’t get enough. 

Eventually. 

Because at first, it’s: too big, won’t fit, pleated brows when he’d split her spongy walls apart on the latex-coated tip, stretching to tuck in and hovering to imbibe in miniature ticks of her expression. A twitch in her lashes, a shift in the line of her mouth, a little swallow bobbing down the column of her throat. 

“You’re a good girl,” he’d crooned, smoothing a thumb over a rib and then her clit, just to see her squirm more over his cock. 

Eventually, she clambers over his lap, planting her palms back over inky, firm muscle. It’s leverage as she bounces to fill that starving cavity — the one he’d drilled with his tongue, like the shape of him can fill every square inch of space before they never see each other again. Hungry, hungry, hungry. 

“Come on, baby, come on,” Harry coaxes, a low groan mottled with breathy pants, “—Shit.” 

Momentarily, he pauses the guiding grasp he’s got over her hips to drag the pad of his thumb over his tongue lewdly, smearing spit over the digit and swiping circles over her clit, instead. In response, the rolling pace Y/N has set stutters, knees jolting, and her mussed hair spills off her shoulder as she cranes her neck back. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Yes, yes, yes—“

His eyes flit from her cunt to the ethereal line of her neck, the borders of her shoulders, the shape of her tits bouncing. 

Ultimately, of course, his gaze winds back down to ogle where they connect, because that’s the view — that’s where she swallows his cock, thighs splayed and trembling, gliding from the tip until about midway before rising and repeating the cycle. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. He draws his thumb lower, lets it meddle where they merge, where her hole flutters and rolls over him, gleaning the sticky arousal that coats his shaft and bringing the pad of it back to her clit. His eyes linger. Flicker up. Return to watch her ride and nearly roll back into his head. 

He’s carved the void, and later, when she tips forward and her nails scrape over his pecs, feral, she whittles her own. Later, the space between his thighs aches and heats. Something pulses on the underside of his balls. It yearns for blue curaçao, pellucid, crashing waters, and a skimpy red bikini. 

#harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles one shots #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader

[lovedazai]

INVISIBLE STRING

about even when you’re pressed against his chest as he waltzes you around his room, dazai can’t get enough of you.

ft. dazai + f!reader, suggestive ending

dazai’s arm hangs off his futon, sleeves rolled up far enough that the spot where his bandages end is exposed and rubs against his spongy tatami floors. it was a little early to be drinking, but he never paid any mind; the sake bottle you had both shared was long since emptied.

he feels warm. maybe from the alcohol slowly thrumming through his bloodstream, maybe from the summer heat, only fueled by the evening sunlight basking his room in gold, but definitely from you, curled against his chest, at the perfect angle for him to see your content little smile. he matches it when you peek up at him, the sun’s parting rays haloing your pretty face.

he smooths down your flyaways with his palm, tracing down your face until he reaches the soft outline of your lips, pressing down onto their plush. you press the smallest of kisses to his fingertip, and he barely conceals the tremor it causes.

“you’re so pretty,” you mumble, lips brushing against his thumb.

“how could you say that when i have the prettiest sight right here?” he cups your cheeks before you can get too far, fingers brushing your jaw as he kisses wherever he can reach: down the slope of your nose, your rounded cheeks, across your chin. he feels more than hears your breathy giggle when you pull away to slip your arms into the little space between his body and the top of his quilt to hold him completely.

he squeezes your waist, pulling you with him when he sits up. you’re wrapped up in one of his shirts, and the soft cotton cuff of your sleeve skims his face as you tuck his bangs away, cradling him like he was something delicate.

“are you feeling okay, ‘samu?”

your unwavering care for him never failed to make his heart swell. even if his blood-soaked past had been cleansed, no amount of good deeds would have been enough for him to deserve you.

“come here,” you tilt your head as he grabs both of your hands, lifting you to your feet. “i want to dance with you.”

he pulls you to the center of his tiny dorm, kissing the corner of your lips, parted in surprise.

“you know how to dance?”

he answers you with a wink, fingertips trailing down your spine until he’s pulling you to his chest by his hand on your lower back. you’re close enough for your noses to brush, and he can’t help but steal a kiss. he steps forward, then back, turning you carefully.

“i don’t know what i’m doing,” you pout, looking down at your feet. he brings your gaze back to his with a finger under your chin. 

“don’t worry,” he whispers the words against your forehead, lips lingering as his hand falls to the soft curve of your shoulder, then the little bend of your arm, all the way down until he meets your fingertips, peeking out from your oversized sleeves. he intertwines your hands, raising them with a squeeze. “just follow me.”

he waltzes you in small circles. he’s careful to dodge your pair of fuzzy socks thrown on the floor, the sharp edge of a phone charger tossed aside, the discarded bottle of sake you stole sips from. with all these pieces of you scattered across his dorm, it almost felt like a home. your smile is so contagious and sweet, he barely even minds when you step on his toes.

the long fabric of your shirt flares when he twirls you. your giggles fade into a yelp, fingers clinging onto his arm when he dips you down, and he could feel his heart throb against his ribs at the sight of you: your hair, fanned out beneath you, your big smile, failing to contain the sound of your laugh, and your dilated pupils looking up at him, trusting him not to let you fall. your grip doesn’t lessen when he pulls you up, even as he soothingly sways you back and forth. he holds you close, only pulling away to spin you, addicted to the way you beam at him when he does.

he’s ready to pout and whine when you let go, but all he can do is blink at you with big, wide eyes when you squeeze his hand, looking at him expectantly.

“it’s your turn, ‘samu,” you stand on your tiptoes, arm raised into the air, waiting for him to spin.

when you twirl him, the alcohol in his stomach churns, and he almost hopes he’ll be sick, just so he gets the chance for you to take care of him.

the warm glow of the sun slowly fades into the dim light of the moon as his twirls wane into soft sways. your laugh dies down into a peaceful smile, and the only noise remaining is the muffled nighttime traffic and his soft hums. in his tipsy haze, he feels as if the world has faded away to nothing but these four walls, and all that exists is you and him. your hands find their way behind his neck, tracing where his bandages overlap one another across his nape. he hopes his pounding heart isn’t too loud in your ear, with your face pressed against his chest.

“are you getting sleepy?” he cups the back of your head, urging you to look up at him.

“only a little,” he knows you’re lying; he’s spent enough nights with you to tell you’re exhausted. your words slur together at the ends, your pretty eyes are halfway open, and you’re clinging to him oh so gently, the same way you do when you’re asleep, not wanting him to drift away. “i just want to stay here a little longer. please?”

“you’re so precious,” he doesn’t know how to tell you there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than here, in the security of his dorm room, with his most important person safely tucked in his arms. he hopes you can tell anyway, and that a kiss is enough until he can find it in himself to verbalize his feelings. “you know i’d do anything for you, my darling.”

he nuzzles the side of your face, his lips grazing your temple. your head fits perfectly in the space between his jaw and his shoulder, and he fills with bliss when he catches whiffs of his own scent on you. he’s delighted at how you’re practically melting into his body as he keeps humming, drawing little circles and hearts through your shirt from where his hands rest on your back.

“i lied,” you whisper, and he lifts his head from yours, squeezing you in the form of a question. “i actually want to stay here forever.”

he never imagined he’d be capable of loving someone this much. he’s overwhelmed by it, and his mouth is on yours again before he realizes it, holding your face, exhaling hard through his nose when your lips slide into place against his own.

“me too,” his grin is genuine and rare, a secret between the two of you. his hands fall to your hips, sneaking beneath your shirt. he spreads his fingers, drinking in every inch of your bare skin he can possibly fit in his hands.

he drags his tongue along your lips, curling up in delight as you part them for him. he can still taste the sake when he licks into your mouth and traces your teeth. it’s something he’s done countless times before, but he still savors you, deliberately, as if it was the first. he whimpers, goosebumps raising beneath his second cotton skin when your hands bury themselves in his hair, cradling his head and scratching softly against his scalp. he kisses you until he can’t breathe, but he thinks it would be a nice way to go, being suffocated by you. his chest heaves when he pulls away, panting against you as his forehead rests on your own.

his hands wander to the edge of your ribcage as you guide him back to your mouth. you’re the one leading him this time, walking him back until his feet hit the soft edge of his futon, and he pulls you down with him.

he sneaks his leg between your own, smoothing his hand down your spine to hold you impossibly closer when you arch into him, and the way you moan against his mouth is stronger than any alcohol he’s ever drank. your shirt falls somewhere by your socks, button hitting against the empty, glass sake bottle when he tosses it somewhere behind him.

he’s certain you’ll both be exhausted when he’s through with you. for once, he couldn’t wait to wake up tomorrow, as long as it was your soft grip and pretty face he was waking up to.

p.s.! ₊˚. ive been thinking ab this nonstop ever since i watched last weeks ep :( i poured sm love into this fic, so tysm for reading <3 !!

BSD MASTERLIST

#dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai fluff #dazai imagines #dazai x y/n #dazai x you #bsd fluff #bsd imagines #bsd x you #bsd scenarios #💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Comfort in His Arms✨

A/N: This is really just a little Drabble about being comforted in Joel’s arms and being deeply loved by him. It’s so soft, and I really needed this lately, and I hope it will bring comfort to all my lovely friends on here 🥹

Summary: A little Drabble about enjoying the sunrise while you’re being comforted and held by Joel. Soft, gentle, warm. He’s your forever.

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Word Count: 767

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Your eyes peel open, marble sun bursts fading through the sheer curtains. Shades of gold and orange painting the tan walls as wafts of fresh brewed coffee and clean soap surround you. You rock gently in the wooden rocking chair, the one you always found so comforting in this house. Except you’re not alone, not even in your own house. No. You’re with Joel. In his arms, in his house, in his chair. Your favorite place is all three of those wrapped up into one. Anything that’s his is.

Still. It’s so still outside, quiet as you slowly rock back and forth in the wooden rocking chair. His chair. Art he made with his own strong hands. He was always so crafty, so talented, so good at everything he made. But that wasn’t all he was good at. He was also good at comforting you, enveloping you in his entire broad being as he made every day a comfort day for you.

It’s like you’re in your own little bubble. The outside world completely nonexistent when you’re in his house, in his arms, in his lap, in his chair. It’s your own little heaven, a forever paradise where you want to continue to stay for the rest of your days.

Warm. He’s so warm, as warm as the sun’s blazing rays. Fiery, intense, blinding, just like his passion for you is.

Safe. Dispelling all forms of worry, stress, or fears. He’s a safe haven, a towering fortress that blankets you in his strong arms. Safe. That’s where you feel it most. In his arms.

Soft. He’s so soft as his calloused fingers trail down your sun kissed arms, his fingers running slowly through your thick hair like silk on the tip of your skin.

Gentle. The way he kisses you gently on the forehead, trailing his salt and pepper scruff carefully over your jawline as you breathe him in. Coffee and mahogany dancing over your senses as you breathe him deep. And then it’s only him in your system, always just him. Dwindling down to connect with every fiber of your being, tugging on your heart strings as it beats only for him.

It’s only him. It’s always just been him. Joel, Joel, Joel. Your infinite sunlight that continues to surround you and bathe you in glistening warmth. And all you see is him, those deep brown eyes that sink through you like raindrops pounding on the lake, pulling you under as you drown in him again and again and again. Infinite. He is infinite, forever.

You slowly rock in the chair, your body wrapped around his as he holds you close in his lap, his calloused fingers running slowly through your hair, down your arms, trailing over your silky lips. He’s everywhere, a complete blanket of warmth, your comfort, exactly what you need now.

“There’s my girl,” he whispers as he kisses the top of your head and pulls you tighter against his broad chest. “Such a sweet girl, darlin’. You’re so beautiful,” he slurs, sleep coating over his deep drawl as you breathe him in deep and slow.

You hug your arms around him, hooking your fingers into his soft blue flannel as his large hand rubs slow circles down your back. “Ain’t nobody gonna harm you, angel. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby girl.”

His words carry around the room, a promise he’ll never let anything hurt you again. This is the place you can release all your worries, your stress, your problems. It’s in this room, in his chair, in his lap, in Joel’s home. And you’re finally safe. Finally able to breathe as long as you're in his arms. This is where you belong. With him.

He sinks his lips against yours. Soft, plush lips that coat you in love. You fall into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as your fingers tangle through his tousled curls. He cups the back of your head, lips parting so he can slot his tongue between your teeth, dancing his tongue against yours as they seem to meld and form into one. And then it’s fire. Simmering, hot warmth that burns through your soul, leaving you completely breathless in the moment. It’s love, it’s always been love. And you stay like that for the entire morning as the sun slowly rises in the violet sky.

Joel is your home, your peace, your happiness, everything you have to live for. It’s Joel. And you finally feel that you’re home because you are.

Joel is home. Your safe, happily ever after. Joel.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller pedro pascal #protective joel #soft joel miller #soft!joel miller #comfort #fluff #so much fluff #pedro pascal #pedrostories #joel x you #the last of us joel #no outbreak!joel miller #comfort fic

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 28

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

With his dick.

In the bar bathroom. 

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

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 21.5k+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The kissing stopped, and his nose nudged yours. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm gonna do some laps." 

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

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

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

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

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

He kissed your cheek again. "Okay."

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

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

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

"It looks fun." 

She was close to you now. 

"You wanna try it?" 

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

"I'd rather watch you."

"Okay!"

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

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

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

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

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

His merriment had you scowling. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He leaned in to kiss you sweetly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled. "I'd like that." 

"I'd like that, too." 

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

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

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

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

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

"Having fun, babe?" you asked. 

"Yeah." 

"Do you want your sunglasses?"

"I don't wanna move." 

"I can go grab them." 

"I don't want you to move." 

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

"I'll stay right here." 

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

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

"I could go for some watermelon. Javi?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighed again in defeat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi hungry, I’m Cielito.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a great weekend.

She loved it. 

A lot. 

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

This trip was different. 

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

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

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

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

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

This was torture. 

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyebrows pulled together, and his palms slowed. 

"Why wouldn't you wanna know?" 

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

Hearing her say it had sparks dancing down his spine. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, but I have a question." 

"Yeah?" 

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

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

"That definitely sounds like your kind of place." 

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

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

"Because he needs to get laid?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kiss me.” 

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

She was frowning when he pulled back. 

“Javier, kiss me.” 

“Steve will yell at us.” 

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

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

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

She was his everything and forever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, here you were watching. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And if you weren't married?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It looked painful.

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

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

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

He was too tired to be happy he won. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Barely." 

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

He kissed her hair. 

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

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

"You're not mad at me?" 

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

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

"How was I showing off?" 

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

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

"Uh-huh. Sure, Javi."

"Knew I had a chance of beating him." 

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

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

"Jesus."

His eyelids were heavy, his words slurring a little. 

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

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

He smiled. 

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

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

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

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

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

He breathed out a sigh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you, too." 

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

—★—

He didn't know how long he slept. 

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

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

His wif-fiancée was still snuggled in his arms.

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

"Home." 

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

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

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

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

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

Moose was his floppy-eared, stuffed dog. 

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

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

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

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

"Thank you, tío!"

"You're welcome." 

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

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

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

"That's fucking dark." 

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

"Too much?" 

After what he was thinking about before he passed out? 

"Today? Yes." 

She frowned. "Are you okay?" 

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

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

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

"Okay. Guess it's time to get up." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His hand cupped your cheek as he softly smiled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you," your voice was small. 

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

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

"Strawberries." 

Your eyebrows creased. "What?" 

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

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

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

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

"No... You're not..." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your arms crossed over your chest, hmphing. 

"Well, I don't like it." 

His head tilted to look at you. 

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

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

He scooted over. 

The front door opened, and Steve came out. 

"What are y'all doing out here?" 

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

Steve moved to stand next to you. 

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

Javi flipped him off. 

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

"We're happy to help," you replied. 

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

"Yeah?" 

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

"She'd have your balls."

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

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

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

"No."

That wasn't the full context of the question.

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

He completely stopped moving and was silent for some seconds. 

"Javi?" you said. "Are you okay?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A special day for them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are you pouting?" Cielito asked. 

"I'm not pouting." 

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

"No..."

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

"But not the right shade." 

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

He deflated as he sighed. 

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

His face scrunched up. 

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

"Oh." 

He glanced over at her. 

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

She was looking at her lap. 

"The place we're going is fine."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's different." She slumped. 

"How is it different...?" 

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

"What are you talking about?" 

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

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

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

"Um, Jennifer Aniston." 

"I have no fucking clue who that is." 

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

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

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

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

He took a deep breath and let it out. 

"Cielito?" His head turned toward her.

"Yes?" She met his gaze.

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

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

"Really?" 

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

That made him feel really good about himself.

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

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

"Good." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't know what you're talking about. I simply wanted to spend more time with you." 

"You wanted to mark your territory, is what you wanted to do." He hugged her closer to his side. "And I fucking love it—flash your ring back a little more. I don't like how that woman's looking at me." 

Her head quickly turned toward him. 

"What woman?" 

"The one at the table.” He nodded over her. “Seven o'clock. Blonde. Fake tits. Won't stop eyefucking the back of my head." 

Cielito's head whipped in the direction he said, and her glare must've been deadly with how the other woman paled, his fiancée flipping her off with her ring finger, followed by the middle one. 

He laughed, pressing his face into her neck and kissing her skin, saying into it, "I love you so fucking much." 

Her hand went into the hair at the back of his head, and she pulled to make him look at her. "I love you, too." 

Those perfect lips of hers smashed against him, and he grabbed a handful of her ass, opening his mouth for her tongue to slide against his. 

It might be fucked up, but one thing that really got him going was when she got territorial and needed everyone in the vicinity to know they were together. He loved being wanted so much that she was broadcasting he was hers, and she was his, and she’d fight anyone who tried to make a pass at him. That was why he was all over her, too, so anyone with eyes would see she was off limits. 

It was her protectiveness of him, like he was of her, that also did it for him. Without even thinking, she’d put herself between him and another to defend him if she had to—which he’d never allow her to be in any actual danger. She could eviscerate his enemies with her words all she wanted; anything physical, if it came to that, would be left to him no matter how feisty she got, and she could get real feisty. 

God, he loved her. 

He was no damsel in distress or princess trapped in a tower—he could take care of himself, but he didn’t have to anymore because he lucked out and got a knight in shining armor for a wife, and he was going to worship the ground she walked upon every damn day for the rest of his life. 

"Are y'all just gonna suck face or order some fucking drinks?" Steve asked. He must've turned his attention to the bartender. "Sorry about them. They got engaged this morning, and I swear they're stuck together with glue or some shit." 

He broke the kiss, turning to glare at Steve. 

"Congrats!" the large man behind the bar said. Blue light from a neon sign was reflecting off his bald head, and he had an impressive full handlebar mustache that put what Javier had going on to shame. With how big the man’s biceps were, he could probably benchpress Steve and Javier at the same time. "Let me see the ring." 

Cielito immediately held out her hand, and Javier’s chest puffed out a little. 

"That's a beauty." He looked between them both. "What can I get you two? On the house, in celebration this beautiful woman actually said yes to a guy with a face like yours." 

Javier's eyes narrowed, and his jaw ticked, Steve laughing beside him.

The guy grinned. "I'm joking! Thought you were gonna kill me with how you looked at me. You're a real handsome man—a pretty boy, and you’ll make some cute babies together." 

That had him going soft. "Thanks, man," he said. 

"No problem. Now, what can I get you?"

They ordered their drinks, Javier sticking to his usual, a whiskey, the bartender surprising him with some spendier stuff than he normally got. Cielito, on the other hand, ordered a drink he'd never heard of with an interesting name that, after she told him everything that was in it, turned out to basically be a blue Long Island ice tea or something that told him he was in for an interesting night. 

At the table, the Murphys were on one side while they were on the other with her pressed against him and his arm over her shoulders. 

"So, what are y'all’s plans for Christmas?" Connie asked before taking a sip of her colorful drink. 

"I'm working," his future wife answered. "It's a bummer since it's our first Christmas, and Javi has it off. We'll do most of our celebrating on Christmas Eve with his dad, and then when I get home from work on Christmas, we'll open presents." 

Connie looked sympathetic. "I know what it's like having to work on holidays. Sick people don't stop being sick for a day. Hopefully, next year, y’all will have it off together." 

“I sure hope we do.” 

And he hoped they’d have a baby by then. 

The four of them chatted while they sipped their drinks. Connie was interested in hearing if they had any plans for their wedding yet or an idea for their honeymoon, which they told her the truth of how they were hoping to have a small ceremony with his dad officiating at the ranch, followed by a big party with their friends and family they were invited to, and that their honeymoon was going to be on an island—they hadn't talked about it yet, they both just knew that's where they'd wanna go and shared a look when Javier had said it. 

When he finished his whiskey, he had a nice buzz and decided to go get a beer since he had to drive later that evening. 

His friends were telling Cielito funny tales about being parents, which she was enjoying.  

"I'm gonna go get another drink," he whispered in her ear. "You want anything?" 

She looked at him, and he could tell she was just as buzzed. "Can you see if they have fries or mozzarella sticks? I want food." 

"Okay, mi amor (my love)." He kissed her forehead. 

He got up from the table and made his way through people standing and past tables, unable to help himself from looking back over his shoulder to see Cielito watching him as she spoke to Steve and Connie.

Javier wasn't paying attention and ran into the back of someone. 

"Shit." He looked forward. "Sorry." It was the woman his fiancée had flipped off earlier, and her face shifted from anger to delight when she saw it was him. 

She turned around to face him and put a hand on his arm that he immediately shrugged off as she said, "I knew you'd come find me—" She leaned in close, and he could smell the booze on her breath. "—why don't you let me take you out back and we can do things that stuck up bitch you're here with wouldn't think of." 

He was already on edge, but that had anger flaring up inside of him. He stepped back from her with his eyes glaring, and when he spoke, his tone was icy enough to freeze the Sahara. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about my wife like that. She’s better than you in every fucking way, and I wouldn’t even look at you if you were the last woman on earth, let alone touch you—that woman—” He pointed behind him. “—is literal perfection, and I’m the luckiest man on this fucking planet because she’s with me. So, get it through your head. I’m not interested and very happily taken.” 

She looked mad. "You could've just told me no, you asshole." 

"You disrespected my wife and, in turn, disrespected me and lost any chance of me politely turning you down. Now get the fuck out of my way, my wife's hungry, and you've wasted enough of the time I could've been spending with her." 

She scoffed and moved, muttering ‘Fucking prick’ under her breath.

He paid attention this time when he continued walking to the bar and only turned to look toward their table when he reached his destination—"Shit," was said under his breath as he immediately booked it the way he came at the sight of Steve blocking the woman he loved from leaving their side of the booth as the blonde he’d told to fuck off backed away from their table with her middle finger raised.  

Connie was making her way toward him, meeting him halfway. "Thank god," she said, continuing to walk with him. "Your fiancée is gonna beat that woman's ass." 

"What happened?" 

"Well, she didn't care for the blonde talking to you, but when it was clear you were telling her to fuck off, she was fine. Then..."

He was at Connie's back as they pushed through people. 

"Then what?" 

"Then you apparently pissed off that woman enough she came over to our table to tell your girl she could keep you since you had no taste, were probably bad in bed, and some demeaning shit about your masculinity—I've never seen Steve move as fast as he did to get between the two of them, 'cause Javi, the look on your fiancée's face said she was ready to spend the night in jail." 

"Fuck, did you see where the blonde went?" 

He’d lost her in the crowd, his head turning to try and spot her.

"If she knows what's best for her, she left, but you need to calm your lady down." 

They were at the table, and Steve was standing with his arms crossed, swaying from side to side with how she was trying to get around him. 

"I just want to talk to her," she said. 

"You wanna do more than talk to her," Steve replied. 

"She deserves to be more than talked to."

Javier patted Steve's shoulder twice, and the other man glanced over to see it was him. 

"Hey, look who's back," Steve said, stepping to the side so Javier could take his place. 

Her face was scrunched in anger, and he crouched to be at eye level with her. He pressed his hand to her cheek. 

"Cielito, baby, it's okay," he said soothingly. "She's gone. Stop thinking about her. She doesn’t matter." 

“Not after what she said about you,” she seethed. 

"Let's get some air, mi amor (my love)." He stroked her face. "How drunk are you?" 

His eyes moved to her drink, which wasn't close to empty. 

"Buzzed—I didn't want to get drunk." 

He nodded. "Okay, come on, baby," he said, taking her hand firmly into his and getting her out of the seat. He leaned into Steve. "Thanks, man—I'm gonna take her outside for a bit so she can cool down. You guys enjoy yourselves. We'll be back."

"Sounds good." 

She was behind him as they weaved through people to the hallway leading to a back door. The corridor was empty, the music getting quieter and quieter the further they walked away from it and toward the fire door at the end of the hall, a red glowing 'Exit' sign hanging above it. 

Right before they got to where they were headed, there was a little alcove with unisex single-stall bathrooms across from each other and a janitor's closet between them. They passed it and were coming upon the back door when it suddenly opened—"Fuck," Javier said, coming face to face with the blonde. He spun around, immediately grabbing onto Cielito's hips, trying to turn her, too. "Other way." 

He knew the moment she spotted the other woman because she tried to push past him. 

"Hey, bitch!” Cielito shouted. “Say that shit to my face again!" That was a bad idea, and he put his arms around her waist, keeping her in front of him no matter how much she struggled. "Let me kick her ass, Javi!" He was forcing her to move backward. 

"No, baby," he grunted. "I'm not letting you get arrested. She’s not worth it." 

"I told you," the woman loudly slurred, "your husband is a shitty fuck and a pussy—look at this, he has you fighting for him!" 

His head turned. "Are you fucking serious, lady?" he asked her. 

The sound his fiancée made would best be described as a roar, and he had no choice but to haul her away with his arms around her middle while she thrashed in his hold and screamed some very creative profanity at the blonde—his favorite was ‘You stupid, fuckitty, fuck, fuck, fucking thundercunt bitch!’

He didn't think he could get her all the way back down the hall, so he took her into the one empty bathroom with the door cracked open, getting it shut and locked behind them.

What was he supposed to do now? He needed to get her mind off the confrontation or, better yet, make her forget about the whole thing. 

He did the one thing he knew would distract her, crushing his mouth to hers, muffling her surprised sound. His large palm was cupping her cheek, his other holding her hip, as he guided her some steps to press her back against the sink on the wall opposite the door. When his tongue swiped along her bottom lip, asking for entry, she opened, and he eagerly delved inside to tangle his muscle with her own, tasting some notes from her drink—tequila, gin, blue curaçao, sour mix. 

Her fingers were on his chest, and where once it was to push out of his hold, now she had his shirt clutched in her fists, trying to pull him closer. The first moan he earned from her made him smile into their filthy kiss that was nothing more than a practiced dance of their tongues sliding along each other. 

Blood was rushing to his groin, feeling himself beginning to harden, and he wasn't sure if this would be enough to get her mind off of what had happened—they were alone, someplace semi-private, all he'd need to do is pull down those jean shorts, turn her around and slip his cock into the wet heat of her pussy and he knew he was a good enough fuck to make her forget that other woman even existed. 

When they needed to take a breath, he nipped at her bottom lip, his mouth making a path of kisses along the line of her jaw until he was at her ear, letting his hot, hard breaths fan against it, causing her to shiver. 

"Let me make you feel good," he rasped. His hand on her hip moved to palm at the front of her bottoms, where she was extra warm. "Let me make you forget, Cielito—I’ll fuck you nice and hard. I'll make those pretty eyes roll back, and the dick will be so good, I’ll have you drooling. Can I make it all better? Make you forget?" 

“Babe, no amount of good dick is gonna make me forget about what that fucking twatwaffle said—and it’s absolutely on sight if I see her stupid, jealous bottle blonde ass again.”

His nose nudged into her ear. “Is that a no or a challenge?”

“It’s a—“ She ground against his hand. “—I’ve always fantasized about you fucking me in a bar, so I’m down for a quickie, but it’s not gonna make me stop being angry.”

He smiled and kissed her cheek. “A challenge then.”

Her eyebrow rose as he looked her in the eyes. "You really think you're that good?" 

He smirked. "Look at who you're talking to. I know I'm that good, and I'll make you so fucking cock dumb you'll forget that spiteful woman even exists." His hands went to the front of her shorts, quickly popping the button and pulling down the zipper. "Now be a good girl for me and don't make a sound no matter how good it feels—I don't want us getting kicked out. Steve would be so fucking annoying about it." 

She palmed over his half-hard dick, and it made his mouth go slack, her eyes darkening. "He would," she said. "I'll try to be quiet." 

"You will be quiet, or I stop." 

Her eyes went a little wide. "Sexy Star Wars," she whispered. 

"What?" 

"It's like the sexy version of the line Yoda says in Empire, 'Do or do not, there is no try.' I either will or will not be quiet, there won’t be any trying—I make noise, and you'll withhold the dick." To end the sentence, she lightly squeezed his cock. 

He huffed out an amused breath. 

"I love you." Leaning in, he kissed her. When he pulled back, he said, "But I can't believe we're about to fuck and you're thinking about Star Wars." 

She looked at him madly, and he wondered what he said wrong. "I'm sorry, what you said reminded me of a line and that I don't happen to be the king of dirty talk, unlike some people." 

"King of dirty talk?" 

"You, Javier, and I'm just a fucking mood killer." 

He needed to get things back on track, and clearly, he accidentally upset her—he knew just what to do. 

"Stop it," he told her and took her face into his hands, smashing his lips to hers in a hard kiss.

It was one of those kisses where she was a little disoriented afterward and hungry for more—wanting his hands on her, to feel his cock inside her, more of his mouth on hers—it was a kiss that made her greedy and grabby, and she definitely got his pants undone to get the hard, hot shaft of his cock into her palm, languidly stroking him. 

He slid his hand into her panties, slipping two fingers through her slit to find her cunt wet and slick enough to take him. 

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured into her lips. His mouth moved to rasp in her ear. “I haven’t even touched this perfect pussy, and you’re soaked—it turns you on to know I’m gonna fuck you in here?” Her answer was a moan. “—It turns you on that if we’re not quiet enough, someone could hear how good I make you feel?” 

The pads of his digits were swirling around her perky little clit. 

“Yes,” the word was a gasp, and he smiled. 

“My dirty fucking girl—I bet you want people to hear us—you want everyone to know this pussy is mine—” He cupped it in his palm. “—and I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had.” 

She’d told him as much on many occasions. 

Her hand left his pants to make him look at her with a tug of his hair, her eyes dark and face serious. 

“I want that stupid bitch to hear you giving it to me so good she leaves the bar crying out of pure jealousy.” 

And she was still angry at the blonde. She was going to make him work for it, and he was ready for the challenge.

License plates from different states and countries, some old and beat up, others newer, lined the top half of the walls in colorful metal stripes, the lower portion painted black; a decent-sized mirror was over the wall-mounted white porcelain sink, the toilet beside it, and a hand air dryer hanging near them—most notably, Javier had room to work in since the space wasn’t cramped at all. 

Wasting no time, he shoved her shorts and underwear down, spinning her around to face the mirror and sink, and he took a couple of steps back, bringing her with him. 

He looked at them both in the mirror with his head beside hers, pressing his lips to her ear, and eyes locked on one another's. “I know you want her to hear,” he whispered, “but I’m gonna need you to be quiet.” He rubbed her bare hips. “Promise me that no matter how fucking good it feels, you’ll keep those pretty noises I love to a minimum.” 

She gulped. “I promise, even though I think we should just go for it and be that couple.” 

He smiled. “The couple that doesn’t care and has noisy sex in a bar bathroom? You get brave when you’re pissed off.” He kissed her jaw under her ear. “And no, we’re gonna be quiet.” 

Getting kicked out at minimum and arrested at worst didn’t sound like a good time to him. 

She pouted, and it made him chuckle. 

“This isn’t something you would’ve done before me,” he said as he shimmied his jeans down his thighs to free himself. He took his dick in hand, giving it a few strokes. “I’ve created a monster.” He needed to make sure he was nice and slick, so he spit on his fingers and used them to lube himself up. 

“A horny monster—stick it in.” She wiggled her behind. 

He kicked her feet apart. "A fucking impatient monster—bend forward, hands on your knees," he ordered, lightly pushing on her spine, and she did as he said, sticking her ass out. It only took him seconds to notch at her opening and push right in, her hot, tight walls hugging him all the way down to the hilt. 

The first, initial thrust was always his favorite when they both couldn’t help the soft sounds that escaped their throats and the heat of her cunt giving way and enveloping him, Javier fitting inside her so snugly, he thought his cock had to be just the right size for her—not, too big, not too small, simply perfect.

It gave credence to the fact he was made for her. 

He knew he had big hands, yet he loved how perfectly they held her smaller ones. Their lips fit together like two matching puzzle pieces snapping together. His arms were long enough to hold her close to him. 

They were two halves of a whole that managed to find each other on a planet with billions of people—he found his media naranja (soulmate), and right this second, he was going to fuck away all of the negative shit that had happened tonight, because he loved her more than life itself, and wanted her to enjoy the rest of her night. 

This was going to be quick and dirty, hard and rough. 

His hands were gripping her hips as he pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in, tugging her ass back when he thrusted forward to penetrate as deep as possible. Her back arched, and on the next stroke, a choked noise came from her, and he knew his dick was pressing in just right to hit that spot that made her pussy weep uncontrollably and her thighs tremble. 

He set a punishing pace that had his hips slamming into her from behind with a smack of skin against skin, and it was so wet where they were joined, he could hear his cock working in and out of her, soft moans spilling past her lips, while he grunted, sweat forming on his brow and down his spine.

If someone were to put their ear to the door, they'd know exactly what was going on—hell, there was a chance the rhythmic beat of his thrusts were echoing loud enough to be heard out in the hall. 

The thought that people knew what they were doing had pleasure slicing through him like a knife's edge, ramping up what was already building in his gut. 

"Touch yourself," he said through his teeth. "Play with your pussy." 

With how she was fluttering, he knew she was close. 

She didn’t acknowledge he said anything or did as he ordered, and it had pride swelling in his chest that he was fucking her so good, she was lost in the pleasure and probably couldn’t even think a coherent thought. 

The bathroom’s lighting wasn’t the brightest, but when he looked down, he could see his dick shining in her arousal as it disappeared into her sopping cunt, in and out, with a wet suck; her asscheeks were spread enough her puckered hole was in his line of sight, tempting him to slip in the tip of his thumb inside, but he knew that’d trip her up with how far gone she was, and he didn’t want to ruin her orgasm. 

He knew one thing he could do that’d get her attention and keep her going, though. 

There was a chance your legs were going to give out with how they were trembling; the tight walls of your pussy were hugging his cock that filled you perfectly, making you feel full, each thrust hitting that spot that had stars dancing behind your closed eyelids.

The way he was pounding into you made it to where you couldn't think, not with how pleasure was coiling in your belly and making your skin vibrate. 

A hand came down hard on the side of your ass, the sweet sting causing your cunt to clench, and you gasped out a moan, realizing he was trying to get your attention because he said something you missed. 

"What?" You asked roughly since you'd been doing everything in your power to hold back your noises, your nails digging into the skin of your knees. 

"Touch yourself," he gritted out, his pace not wavering. "Make yourself come." 

You slid a hand between your legs, going low enough to spread your fingers around where he was fucking into you, feeling how his cock was drenched in your juices and your pussy stretched around him. With your digits wet, you moved them to circle the swollen bud of your clit, and it had heat starting to tighten in your belly. 

Your mouth fell open at the combined sensations, all of it rocketing you toward your release, making it hard to keep quiet when it felt so fucking good—soft whimpers were leaving your mouth as you lost your mind. 

There was no way anyone outside the door didn't know what was going on in here, not with how the slap of his hips echoed in the small room and Javi grunted behind you—he probably didn't even realize how much noise he was making. 

His hands had a death grip on your waist as he pulled you back on his cock with each thrust, and it had him going so deep you were pretty sure if he went any deeper, he'd be in your stomach. Your eyes were rolled back, and you weren’t embarrassed to admit you were drooling a little. 

How did you end up bent over and getting fucked within an inch of your life in a bar bathroom?

This was something you’d wanted to happen for a long time, and even though Javi was generally adventurous and risky in terms of places he’d have sex, he had turned down all of the times you tried at the bar back home—the closest you got was him fingering you under the table while you sat beside each other in a booth, but that was it. 

The coil inside you was close to snapping with how tightly it was wound, and it didn’t take much to have you falling over the edge—there was the excitement of Javi railing your brains out in a semi-public location, the need to be quiet, your friends at the table oblivious to what you were doing, and the actual act itself; your fingers on your clit and his hard dick pistoning in and out of you that finally had you cresting. Your body tensed up tight as you came, and you must’ve made too much noise because Javi turned on the hand dryer with one hand and leaned over to cover your mouth with the other. 

Pleasure spread through your body and out to your limbs while air blew loudly. Javi pulled you up to lean back against his chest with your head on his shoulder, his lips kissing your neck while his mustache tickled you. 

"Good girl," he said against the shell of your ear. "Can I come?" 

His palm had moved off your face. "Yes." Your hand went behind you and into his sweaty, damp hair. "Use me—come inside me." 

What you didn’t expect was him pulling out of you—and you were only left to guess what he was doing for a second before he crouched behind you, roughly tugging down your jean shorts to your ankles, getting one of your shoed feet out of a leg. 

He groaned as he stood up, and you gasped in surprise when you found yourself getting pushed with your back against the wall and a man immediately in your space, pulling your leg up on his hip. Javi wasted no time to sheath himself back inside you, his mouth colliding with yours to muffle your moan; his fingers dug into your thigh, bracketing his waist, his free hand snaking its way up your shirt, pulling down your bra cup to massage your breast in his large palm. 

His rhythm was hard and fast, making your body jolt with every steady thrust, his breaths coming out labored, and your fingers in his hair. He was chasing his high, and you were happily going along for the ride. 

The dryer had stopped, and you pulled his head back to make him look at you, his eyes more black than brown, glazed over, and heavy-lidded, his lips slightly parted and glistening, sweat coating his brow, hair sticking wetly to his forehead. It was rude how he always looked so hot during sex—even when he was coming, especially when he was coming. 

“Come for me, Javi,” you said, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Fill me up, baby.”

“I will,” his voice was strained. “I said I was gonna keep you stuffed with my come today, and I am.” He was talking about your rendezvous at a hotel that morning when he promised to fuck you as many times as you’d let him to keep you full—this was number four. “I’m gonna fill you to the fucking brim, baby—fuck—” His eyes squeezed shut. “—we keep up like this, and you actually will be pregnant when we get married.” 

The thought thrilled you. You moved his head forward to your shoulder and got your lips close to his ear. You whispered, “You’d love that—me already being pregnant when you make me your wife. You want that, Javi?” you purred. “You gonna fuck a baby into me?” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his strokes speeding up. His hand squeezed your breast. “I want you pregnant,” he grunted. “I wanna get you pregnant. I wanna see you pregnant with the bigger tits and the belly. You’re gonna look so fucking sexy.” His pace was getting jerky. “God, I love you. I love you so fucking much. You’re perfect. You’re amazing. You’re gonna be my wife.” He was rambling, so you knew he was close. “You’re gonna have my children. You love me.”  He sounded wrecked, pushing his face into your neck. “You love me.” The words were muffled and followed by a ragged moan as he pushed in all the way to the root and came, feeling his cock jerk hard and the warm, wet pulse as he filled your inner depths. 

His hot breaths were panting against your skin, and like always, you pressed your fingers into his hair, and he slumped into you. 

“There’s no falling asleep, mister,” you said. 

“‘M not, jus need a sec,” he mumbled. 

“Uh-huh, one sec, and next thing I know, you’re snoring.” 

He sighed. “It happ’n’d one time.” 

“That’s a damn dirty lie, and you know it.”

His head came up to look at you with a frown. 

“Don’t I deserve one minute to get my head straight after giving you some amazing dick?” 

“Of course, you deserve a minute—you deserve five minutes, but babe, we’re kinda, sorta, not really in a situation where we can lollygag and luxuriate in the post-sex goodness. Like, I would love to cuddle with you right now. There’s literally nothing more I want to do. However, we are in a bar bathroom with your dick inside me, and our friends are probably wondering where the fuck we are.” 

This sigh was long, and he visibly deflated. 

“I’m getting really fucking tired of not being able to fuck like we normally do,” he grumbled. 

You cupped his cheeks. “You’re spoiled rotten—we’re on a trip. What were you expecting?” 

“That we’d be able to fool around at night, but Steve decided to be a fucking prick and ruined the guest bed.” 

“We have our floor mattress.” 

He was pouting. “Can’t make too much noise.” 

“But isn’t that fun?” 

“The first time, yes.” 

“Spoiled. You’re gonna have to tell her.” 

He looked confused. “What?” 

“You’re gonna have to break it to Connie that next time we visit, we’re getting a hotel room because, one, we can’t go too long without fucking, and two, you’re accustomed to sex a certain way that when you don’t get it how you like it, you become a big ‘ol grouch.”

“I can’t do that to her. It’d upset her.” 

“Then you’re gonna have to get used to making compromises. We better clean up and get going.” You started to move, but he stopped you. 

“Wait.” 

“Yes?” 

His eyes went a little bigger. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

“I’m gonna say some sappy bullshit.” 

You giggled. “Thank you for the warning—go for it.” 

He smiled. “This is what I was thinking about when you told me not to fall asleep.” He pressed a hand over his heart. “Te pertenezco como la luna le pertenece a las estrellas—uno no existe sin el otro (I belong to you like the moon belongs to the stars—one does not exist without the other).” 

Oh, nutting put him in his feelings. He did get incredibly romantic after coming. It was probably allowing himself to be so vulnerable. 

“—Cuando estoy perdido y llega la oscuridad, tú eres mi estrella brillante que permanece a mi lado y me guía a casa (When I’m lost and the darkness comes, you are my shining star that stays by my side and guides me home). Te pertenezco (I belong to you). No soy nada sin ti (I am nothing without you). Estaría perdido en la oscuridad sin ti (I’d be lost in the dark without you). Tienes todo mi amor y devoción (You have all of my love and devotion). Haré cualquier cosa por ti (I will do anything for you). Y cuando tengamos hijos, también haré cualquier cosa por ellos porque tú eres mi vida (And when we have children, I will also do anything for them because you are my life). Te amo, mi Cielito (I love you, my Cielito). Gracias por amarme (Thank you for loving me).” 

And with that, he leaned in and kissed you, putting in all of that love and devotion he had for you, making you feel it with every press of his lips. 

Afterward, you quickly righted your clothes and cleaned up, forcing Javi to stare at the door as you peed and him not caring one single bit if you looked while he went—you didn’t. 

Once you both looked presentable, he took your hand and led you out of the bathroom, where there was a small line of people waiting to use the restrooms, who either glared or leered at you both as you walked by, which you tried to ignore. 

Back at the table, Steve and Connie looked very cozy on their side of the booth, with his arm around her shoulders and her tucked into his side as they laughed about something. Javi let you scoot into your seat first. 

“Hey, you’re back!” Connie said, and she looked like she was feeling good. 

“We are!” you replied. 

“Are you feeling better?” she asked. 

Javi was sitting close enough to you that you were touching, and he wrapped his arms around your middle, resting his head on your shoulder, or he was acting like a giant cat who wanted your attention. Your arm went across your body to play with his hair. 

It took you a second to answer Connie’s question because you didn’t know what she meant—you felt fantastic. 

“Oh!” It finally came to you, the whole altercation with that woman, and frankly, you didn’t care about it anymore. “I’m feeling much better, thank you,” you answered. 

“That’s good.” 

“Con,” Steve started, “tell them what happened.” 

“What happened?” you asked. 

Connie was clearly excited to tell you both the gossip. “So,” she said, leaning closer toward the table, “a little bit after y’all left, the blonde apparently had a death wish or was drunk as a skunk and was all over another woman’s man on the dance floor, which ended in a fight the blonde did not win and got her kicked out.” 

“It’s what she deserved.” 

“That’s not all—well, about the blonde, that’s all, but I have more to tell y’all.” 

“Okay.” 

“The other thing that happened was I went to go use the bathroom, and there was a couple fucking in the other one.” Your eyes widened, and Javi went still. “They were so loud,” she continued, “and really going at it—I don’t think they realized the music doesn’t make it down that hall and those bathrooms echo. We could just hear—” She clapped her hands to the same beat Javi was railing, and you cringed each time, wanting to crawl in a hole and die. Thankfully, she finally stopped. “—and grunting. I couldn’t make out if they were saying anything.” 

Thank god. 

“Wow,” you chuckled nervously. “That’s so embarrassing. Who does that? Who thinks it’s a good idea to fuck in a bar bathroom? I know, I wouldn’t—I’m a privacy of a bedroom kinda girl.” 

Steve’s eyes narrowed, and you knew you fucked up. 

“Javier Peña,” the other man hissed. “Are you fucking serious?” 

The man accused sat up, pressing fingers to his forehead. “We ran into the blonde at the back door, and my amazing future wife was on a fucking warpath, so I had to do something to get her mind off it.” 

“And that something was getting your dick wet in a public bathroom?”

Javi’s hand fell, and he glared at Steve. “What would you have done if it was Connie? Would you have let her fight a woman for you or done something you knew would make her forget, even if it was risky?”

Steve seemed to be thinking it over. 

“There was no way of getting her home?”

“Steve, I practically had to carry her into that bathroom with how she was screaming and trying to go after the other woman.” Heat was creeping up your neck in embarrassment. “I didn’t have much choice.”

“If it was a last resort, then yeah, I would’ve done the same.”

“That’s so romantic,” Connie said, and her husband looked at her with a smile. 

“You really think that’s romantic?” he asked. “I’d do anything for you, baby. Even if it’d send me to jail.”

Javi’s head turned, and so did yours to meet his eyes, the look on his face screaming, ‘Can you believe this fucking guy?’ 

The other couple were whispering amongst themselves. 

Your fiancé leaned in. “He’s judgemental one minute, then his wife thinks it’s cute, and suddenly he’s Mr. I’d-Do-It-For-You.”

“Javi?” You rubbed a hand over his shirt-covered chest.

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s annoying as fuck, but I want you to think about the fact we’ve probably had more sex in the last two days than they’ve had the entire year.”

He looked horrified, his head snapping in their direction. 

“Steve, Con,” he said, getting their attention. “We’re best friends. Be honest with me, with work and the kids, how many times have you fucked in the last year?”

The couple looked at each other and seemed to be counting in their heads. 

“I can only think of five times where we actually got through it uninterrupted,” Connie said. “Add maybe an extra two incompletes.”

“Yeah,” Steve confirmed. “I’m counting five, too.”

Javi checked his watch, then moved forward to get his wallet out of his back pocket. He opened it, pulling out two bills. 

“Merry Christmas,” he said, passing over a couple of hundred dollar bills. “Go rent a hotel room for the night and check out late. We’re gonna watch the kids until you’re back tomorrow.”

“You’re sweet, Jav,” Connie replied, “but we can’t—that’s too much.”

“Like hell, it’s too much,” Steve said, picking up the money. “We have to remodel because of this asshole, and I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Let’s go, honey—we’ve just been offered an opportunity that’s not gonna come back around until he visits again.” The blonde man was already out of his seat and holding his hand out to his wife. 

“Thank you, Javi,” Connie told him as she scooted out with her purse. “Thank you, both. This is really nice of you.”

“Yeah, thanks, Jav,” Steve added, grabbing his wife’s hand and practically dragging her from the booth with quick goodbyes. 

Your future husband looked at you with worry. “We’re gonna fuck more than five times a year after we have kids, right?”

“Oh, yeah. See, the difference between us and them is we’re opportunistic and will do it just about anywhere. It might not be as frequent as we currently are, but we’ll still fuck regularly—I promise.” 

He held up his pinkie. “Pinkie promise,” he said seriously. 

You giggled, wrapping your pinkie around his larger one. “I cannot believe you want me to pinkie promise about our sex life.”

His forehead pressed to yours, and your eyes closed. 

“It’s a big enough deal that it warrants a pinkie promise. I love sex, not just because of how good it feels, but also the intimacy—my favorite part is afterward when I get to hold you in my arms and cool down.” A wistful sigh left him. “I haven’t gotten a lot of chances to do that while we’ve been here, and I, uh, miss it.” He took a deep breath. “What I’m saying is, I love spending that time with you naked, and honestly, we don’t even have to fuck. So, I just want you to pinkie promise me that after we have kids, we’ll put aside time for us to keep going on dates and having sex when we have the chance and cuddling naked.”

“I pinkie promise to that, but, babe?”

He pulled back to meet your gaze. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna have to get used to quickies and come to terms with the fact we’re gonna get interrupted.”

“It sounds like we’ll need a reliable babysitter, and it just so happens our children will have an abuelo living three minutes down the road who will happily watch them.”

“We better get a headstart on making up excuses for why we need to leave the kids with him for two to three hours.” 

“Eh—” He shrugged. “—Pop and mi mamá used to leave me with mis abuelos y tías (my grandparents and aunts) so they could have time alone—he’ll know exactly why he was watching our kids.” 

You smiled. “The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.” 

“Yeah, if things had gone differently, I probably would’ve had ten siblings.” 

“With your attitude toward Steve, who I consider your adopted brother, you’d be in hell with actual siblings. Well, your dad is getting the award for Father of the Year.” 

Javi grinned. “He gets that award every year.” 

“As he fucking should. Let’s get a plaque made to make it official. He’d get a kick out of it.” 

He had a thoughtful expression on his face, and it was like you could read his thoughts. 

You held his cheeks. “You’re gonna be an incredible father, Javi, and you’ll get a plaque, too—your dad will transition to Abuelo of the Year ‘cause, let's face it, he’s gonna be great at that, too.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“That you’ll be an incredible father? Oh, yeah. I’m positive. You’re gonna knock it out of the park! I’ve honestly already come to terms with the fact the tiny humans I will grow inside me and birth are going to love you more, and I’m not upset about it at all—you deserve it.” You stroked your fingers through his hair. “I promise you, Javi, you’re going to be an amazing dad, and our kids are going to be obsessed with you—I pinky promise you that.” You held up your little finger, and his eyes were misty as he looped yours with his. 

“I love you,” he said. 

“I love you, too.” 

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#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier Peña/reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

[mncxbe]

What looking in their eyes feels like♡

𝒇𝒕 𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓, 𝑷𝒐𝒆, 𝑵𝒊𝒌𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖

°☆○

𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓

like looking at a reflection of all your sins and finding absolution

Your boyfriend has always been a people watcher and you knew that. Wherever you went, his cold gaze scanned the setting; analysing, weighing possibilities, reading people like open books. He understood human nature better than anyone; with just one look he could determine the true nature of one's heart, one fleeting look was all it took for him to know everything.

And yet here you were, legs loosely draped over the armrests of your blue velvet couch as you flipped through the pages of your book. On the other side of the room Fyodor idly plays the cello; bow sliding swiftly across the strings, coaxing mellow octaves. This was a song reserved for you only, the melody of his soul.

When you rose your head from the yellowing pages you met his violet eyes, petals of hydrageas piercing your soul like shards of glass. But there's something comforting and warm about this feeling, a knowing that he sees you for who you are and doesn't judge. No, he never judged you, he always loved you~ and if you looked close enough you could even see that adoration pooling into his eyes like honey in honeycomb.

𝑷𝒐𝒆

like the soft glow of the moon cast over a wisteria tree on a foggy night

You tossed around among the crumpled sheets, relishing the warmth of the morning sun on your skin; like a lover's embrace.

"Good morning sweetheart" mumbled your boyfriend in that sleepy morning voice you so adored. A mellow smile made its way to your lips as you turned to face him, shifting your body closer.

"Good morning to you too. How did you sleep?" you asked merrily and he nodded, sighing gently.

"As usual. But it's good to wake up next to you."

Reaching a hand to brush away his disheveled bangs you met his gaze- those pretty eyes of his, glazed in adoration- and your heart skipped a beat.

For a moment you watched as the soft rays of sunshine shifted the hues of his irises: silvery grey, foggy blue-violet, flakes of liliac; like a Garden of Eden bathed in moonglow.

"You're so beautiful you know" you whispered as you moved closer to press a chaste kiss on his forehead, causing the man to blush.

"I uh- thank you dear. You are too, my treasure"

Sweet. It was sweet how his face turned a rosy shade and his eyes sparkled. No matter how long it passed since you got together you were still not used to how expressive they were; conjuring up all the love he held for you.

They say there's no deeper love than that of a poet and looking into his soulful eyes you can't help but agree.

𝑵𝒊𝒌𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒊

like watching the waves roll onto the shoes of the Mediterranean Sea~ blue and green

"Y/N" whined your partner from across the bathroom "Hurry up dove I wanna see how I look"

While still searching through the plush makeup bag, you turned your head to face a pouting Nikolai; perched on the edge of the marble bathtub- arms crossed over his chest.

"Just a second love I'm trying to find the liner" you reassured him before procuring a black stick from the bag.

Walking back to your boyfriend you nesteled yourself between his thick thighs and seized his chin, slightly tilting his head backwards.

"Now hold still. If I mess this up I'll have to do the whole look again"

A faint giggle rolled past his lips as he took in your concentrated expression; brows slighty furrowed and lips pursed as you drew sharp wings at the corners of his eyes. It was routine already, you doing his makeup on Halloween.

Once you were done you took a step back to admire your work, nodding contently. The black eyeshadow contrasted with his silvery hair, making his eyes pop; the emerald green of one and icy blue of the other were like the surface of the sea on a hot summer day: always warm and kind as he gazed at you yet still showing a shadow of a wild sparkle.

"So? How do I look" asked your boyfriend, interrupting your train of thought.

"You look like an emo snowflake" you replied nonchalantly, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose; but before you got a chance to do it Nikolai rose to his feet and slid his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

A mellow smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, hot breath fanning over your lips.

"Perfect dove. That's all I wanted" he chuckled, gently pressing his lips against yours.

𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖 (for the anon that requested Tecchou content♡ I got a bit emotional with it)

like crisp yellowing autumn leaves filtering the afternoon or morning sun

Friday morning. Mid October. You watched the little white marshmellows slowly melting into the cup of hot chocolate. Outside, golden leafed trees lined the sides of the boulevard where you studio apartment complex was, the home you shared with your boyfriend.

As you rose the cup to your lips to take a sip, the faint sound of footsteps echoed behind you. A strong pair of arms wrapped loosely around your waist.

"What are doing angel?" asked your partner in a mellow voice.

You couldn't help but smile when you felt him resting his chin on your shoulder, warm lips peppering a string of chaste kisses on your neck. You reached a hand to ruffle his hair, soft locks sliding through your fingers like cashmere.

"Good babe. By the way I made you breakfast" you smiled, pointing at a plate on the counter where a simmering omelette lay folded. Your partner languidly moved his gaze to the plate and nodded before spinning you around and pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Thank you dear. You truly are an angel"

His sweet words and beaming smile had you weak in the knees. There was nothing you loved more than seeing Tecchou happy, because despite his gentle personality he always wore a stoic expression, as if he viewed the world from a faraway place. But not now, not when he was with you in the comfort of your shared apartment.

His gentle, amber eyes glimmered with adoration like pearls. They somehow reminded you of the yellowing leaves hanging from branches outside your condo, bathing in the morning sun and you felt your chest swelling with love.

You wanted to tell him how much you adored him, how happy and whole you felt beside him; as if he were the missing piece of the puzzle that was your soul, how he changed you in ways you never imagined were possible, how he mended all the parts of you that have been broken by others and that you knew he was the one for you- now and for all eternity.

But the langour brought on by your slumber was still there, fogging your brain and you pushed those thoughts somewhere in the back of your mind, saved them for another time. So you resolved to simply handing him your cup of hot chocolate with a smile.

"Go and eat your breakfast, love. It'll get cold"

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd poe #poe bsd #poe x reader #bsd nikolai gogol #nikolai x reader #bsd nikolai #nikolai gogol #tecchou x reader #bsd tecchou #bsd tetchou #tetchou suehiro #bungou stray dogs tecchou #fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor bsd #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor fluff #tetchou x reader

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

RELIGION- S.G ROGERS

Pairing: Normad! Steve Rogers x Innocent/ Virgin! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Steve’s prayers have finally been answered after all these years, as he finds you waiting for him in the church he calls home. Captivated by him and his charm, you get swept up in his arms, to soon find out Steve isn't the saint he painted himself out to be. 

Warnings: SMUT, HEAVY daddy kink, HEAVY innocence/ corruption kink, breeding kink, petnames, degradation kink, heavy praise kink, dumbification kink, finger sucking, teasing, masturbation mentioned,almost like training in a way?, cumplay and gagging implied, blowjob implied, smoking, steve is kinda soft!dark here

Notes: “ cause you’re my religion, you’re how im livin... when all my friends say i should take some space...well i cant envision that for a minute- when im down on my knees you’re how i pray” - religion, lana del rey

the chapel: a playlist

Steve had not expected to see an angel at the end of the isle, when he stepped through the gleaming oak doors. 

He had been to this church many times in his life, its worn wooden pews and golden crosses familiar to him like the back of his own hand. He had sat in those very pews that lay in rows, no other person around to bother him as he would stare up at the marble statue by the organ, or with his head between his hands as he stared at the rustic floor that so many others had walked before him. 

But he had never seen an angel, contained in these walls. 

Steve wasn't an overly religious man. But he had needed something- anything to believe in with the insanity that had managed to slither its way into his life, a snake with venom so poisonous he had found his way here again.

 It appears he had found something new, something else to believe in, he thought, watching your little frame stand at the end of the deep plush carpet that had guided his way towards you. 

The sunlight that filtered in through the stained glass windows shimmered around you like a halo, lighting up your features like the diamonds. It was mesmerizing, the way it shinned down upon you, focusing on you like a spotlight. 

Moving with you, as you tilted your head back, soaking in the dimmed rays that made their way through the images plastered on the glass. 

You looked up at the lanterns that hung upon chains from the high arched ceilings, the wooden beams their support as they flickered. 

“It’s beautiful, isn't it?” you hummed softly, feeling a presence near you, his aura dark and mysterious. 

Enchanting. 

Steve had found his way next to you, arm close enough to touch, warm body heat rolling off him in waves to wrap around your skin, soothing the goosebumps that had broken out across your arms. 

Steve was fixated on you- truly. 

Your voice had sounded like the sweet strings of a harp, being strummed in perfect harmony. He had wanted more. 

“It is.” he spoke softly, voice husky as he stared down at you. 

He didn't know you were talking about the marble statue that adorned the dais, arms reaching up towards heaven, as if that would save him from the tears that spilled across his pained face. 

Steve was talking about you. 

You turned, little white dress brushing against his thigh as you smiled. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you, your eyes twinkling like stars in the night, smile showing your little dimples in the hazy light. You were better than he had ever imagined, a sweet, innocent soul. 

One he wanted to corrupt. 

“ He looks in pain, in a way. Or sad. But it’s beautiful, when people cry.” you sighed, looking up at Steve in wonder. As if he was the angel who had flown in, had come and saved the day. 

“We’re all in pain, are we not? But many of us shape that pain into beauty.” he nodded, hand reaching up to wrap a finger around a stray curl that had draped across your cheekbone. 

You leaned into his gentle touch, though his hands were calloused. His hands were beautiful, as you could tell they had been in pain. They had carried weights they shouldn't have had to carry. You felt safe with Steve, despite his dark demeanour. 

He was soft with you. Gentle. 

“What’s your name?” he whispered, as if he was unsure if he should be asking. “Y/N.” you smiled, glancing back over to the altars, peering at the candles that continued to burn, wax dripping and spilling onto the tables. “I’m Steve.” 

A pretty name, for a pretty man… you thought. 

You had to focus on something, anything else but those blue orbs that threatened to swallow you whole. Or you’d drown. And you weren't so sure you’d want to be saved. 

“I’ve never seen you around before, angel.” 

Angel.

The name alone was enough to send shivers down your spine, despite the mugginess of the dry summer heat. “ The door was closed. I opened it. Now I’m here.” 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now I’m here. 

Those words rang through his head like the bell in the tower, striking at six. Twelve. Nine. Then six again. 

Somehow, through the endless amounts of prayers he had whispered to the universe, to the gods and goddesses, you had appeared. He had begged for salvation. 

You, it seemed, were just that. 

Steve saw you each time he slid through those old rustic wooden doors, standing in front of that very statue, by the burning candles and crosses. 

Almost as if you were waiting for him. 

It was never on a Sunday, but a Wednesday, an empty chapel day. The day of expression, and communication. Steve often would slide up behind you, as he did the very first meeting, intertwining your hand with his with a gentle squeeze. 

Some days he would tug you along, sliding into a pew with you to hold you closer, or he’d take you through the back way- to the overgrown gardens. Other days, it was the two of you staring at the stained glass, or the statues, in silence. 

You liked both days. You liked any days you could be with Steve. 

“You know I’m not even religious?” you had told him one day, stretching your legs in front of you from your seat on the wooden bench, flexing your feet. He had just raised his eyebrow. “Why were you here then angel?” Steve had asked as you toyed with his shirt. 

“I was following a little white cat, but he left before I could pick him up. He led me here. Then you showed up, so I stayed.” 

Steve had liked that answer. He had liked it a whole lot. 

Wednesday meetings had turned into Wednesday and Friday meetings. Then Saturday. Then Sunday. 

Those meetings had changed from the church’s grounds to little cafes and parks, old Hollywood cinemas and roller rinks. Those “meetings” had turned into dates. 

And one of the dates turned into Steve sweeping you up in his arms under the pale moonlight, pouring his very heart and soul into a kiss that left you dizzy. 

Now the two of you were here. 

Here, on his bed, the golden sunlight streaming down on Steve in rays, like they did in the chapel- showcasing the strands of rich honey in his beard. You were sleeping soundly on his chest, rising and falling with his breathing as he propped up against the headboard, petting your hair lovingly. 

Even in sleep, you clutched to him tightly, as if you were scared he’d leave you.

 Steve learned very early that your love language was touch. Innocent touches. 

Everything about you was innocent. 

You were attached to him at the hip, always holding him in some manner, or tending to him, whether that was playing with his hair or kissing his neck, leaving little smears of your lipgloss on his skin. 

Nothing more than that though. 

You had told him early on in the relationship you were a virgin, and you had wanted to take things slow, as you weren't used to getting attention- only giving it. Steve was completely fine with this of course, knowing your soul was much too innocent, too pure to be handled by anyone else. 

Steve wanted nothing more than to take care of you, to love and cherish you. But sometimes, his thoughts would turn south. He hated himself for it, he truly did. But how could he think clearly, with you looking like that? 

So beautiful, so innocent and carefree.

 Sliding his hand down, he slowly brushed your back, resting his hand gently on your ass, squeezing tenderly.

 “Mmm…” you stirred in your sleep, readjusting yourself as he chuckled. “Little steps for a little girl hmm?” he cooed, patting your flesh softly as his hand made its way back to your back, rubbing circles as he listened to your calm breathing, your body still deep in its slumber. 

He wanted to corrupt you. 

He wanted his darkness, his desires and needs to fill you to the brim, until you were spilling over with want and neediness. 

Little steps Steve. Little steps. 

“Don’t worry angel, we’ll get you all trained for me soon.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   It had started off on the couch, on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. You listened to the sound of the rain pattering down the windows blending with the vinyl that spun on the vintage player. 

Perched upon Steve's lap, you watched him intently, drumming your figures against his lean biceps, your nails giving him a soothing scratch. You looked so little, so fragile as he seated you on top of him, and he adored it. 

He was hesitant to do what he was about to do, but all logical thoughts left his brain as you peered up at him, doe eyes wide. 

“Can you open your mouth for me please angel?” he asked gently. You tilted your head, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

Open your mouth? Why would he want you to open your mouth? 

He wasn't helping you brush your teeth, and he wasn't spooning ice cream between your plump lips. 

Despite this, you obeyed, mouth opening slightly. You listened to Steve, you knew that he knew what was best for you. He had reminded you time and time again, and you were thankful for it. Steve could sense your hesitation, watching you part your lips only slightly. 

“Good girl!” he smiled, seeing your cheeks flush, your thighs shifting as you squirmed in delight at the praise. 

He knew about it since the very first meeting, sensing your body language whenever he would compliment you, or praise you for your actions. 

God, he couldn't wait to tap into that even more. 

“Wider.. atta girl.” he cooed, slipping his two fingers past your parted lips, making your eyes widen in surprise. “Just trust me baby okay? You’re doing such a good, good job. Just suck on em, justttt like that.” he murmured, watching as you slowly relaxed your jaw, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked on his fingers like a pacifier. 

Your eyelids felt heavy as you sucked, swirling your tongue around his digits. It was relaxing, you realised. You didn't know why exactly he was making you do this, but you couldn't complain about how it was making you feel. 

“What a big girl eh? Doin it all by herself.” he smiled as you moved your hands to wrap around his wrist. He slid his fingers out with a soft pop!, watching the string of your saliva stick to his fingers from your lips. 

“Good girl angel. My beautiful angel.” he said, kissing your neck as you giggled, praising you until you were a squirming mess. 

Rewarding you. 

It became a daily routine, those little moments of serenity. Positive reinforcement- is what it was called, he discovered. Gifting you little rewards, things you liked whenever you did what he asked, so you’d do it more, and more.

 It worked, and it worked well. 

Pretty soon, you’d trot up to Steve at the same time everyday, perching up on his lap to take his fingers. He’d slowly push them deeper and deeper, so you’d be ready for him, on your knees. 

But not to pray. Never to pray. 

Steve tried it with other things, like calling him daddy. What you were supposed to be calling him. 

It had slipped out when the two of you were having a heated makeout session, his hand tangled in your hair as teeth and tongues clashed. “Stev-”

 “It’s Daddy to you angel. Only Daddy, mkay?” You had nodded slowly, bringing your hand up to touch your swollen lips. “Daddy?” He had just smiled. “Yes angel, daddy. Makes me so happy, when you call me that.” He slid his hands up your skirt, knuckles brushing your inner thighs, making you purr like a kitten.

 So far, his tactics had been working like a charm. You had been obeying him, trailing him around the house just for the small chance you’d be able to play with his large, veiny hands, or be able to wrap your arms around his torso and squeeze him like a teddy bear. 

You had even begun to call him daddy without even realising it, the name slipping out of your mouth as smooth as silk. Little did you know hard you made him each time, your little actions causing him to grind against you subtly. 

It was torture. The sin that littered his thoughts whenever you neared, whenever the sweet, sickly smell of your arousal clung to his skin, making it heat and burn. 

Steve needed release. He needed it now. 

You were already in a vulnerable state of mind at the time, the hour growing late, your body tired and limp. He watched you from his armchair in the corner of the bedroom, exhaling the cigarette smoke from between his lips, watching it vacate through the opened window as the curtains swayed gently in the cool night breeze. 

You watched him intently, legs clenching together at the sight of him manspreading, head lolled back against the soft velvet. “Can I have a drag?” you asked sweetly, shuffling up on your knees, the bed dipping slightly under your weight. 

“Little girls like you don't get cigs angel. They’re not good for you.” he chuckled, watching you pout. “But you get them!” you huffed. He tapped his smoke on the edge of the ash tray, letting the stray ash fall as he shifted up from his seat. 

He made his way across the room in two strides, sliding the cigarette between your parted lips. You inhaled deeply, smoke feeling your lungs, choking you. You coughed and spat as you exhaled, the smog burning your throat. 

“See? It’s yucky.” he smirked, putting out the but. “Why’d you let me then?” you asked, wincing at the stale taste. 

“Cause you gotta learn angel. When I tell you no, it means no. For good reason at that.” he laughed, flicking your nose with a smile. 

“Hmph.” you huffed, forgetting about the bitter taste as he lightly pushed you down upon the silk sheets, making your hair sprawl out around you. “You’re so beautiful angel.” he whispered, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing your bottom lip, tugging it down occasionally. 

“Yeah daddy?” you blushed, feeling your core heat at the praise, your body going taut under his touch as you shifted your thighs together for friction.

 It didn't go unnoticed by Steve. He smirked. 

“Yeah, angel. Such a beautiful, beautiful girl for me. My girl.” he emphasised, breath getting caught in his throat as you slipped his thumb in your mouth, sucking on it softly as you peered up at him innocently. 

“Wanna be your good girl.” you smiled, licking the saliva off his thumb as your hands came up to brush the hair that curled at the back of his neck, the strands soft as silk between your fingers. “You wanna be my good girl? Then can you answer something for me? Truthfully? You know daddy doesn't like lies.” 

You nodded, eyes wide. 

“Do you get those tingles around me angel? The ones you told me about earlier, the ones that make you feel all warm n fuzzy?” he cooed, biting his lip as you nodded, squirming under him. “Can you show daddy where?” 

You grabbed his hand, guiding it down to your quivering cunt, sliding it under the slip of your nightgown. “R’here daddy.” you whined, moaning as he tapped his two fingers against your clit.

 “Oh angel, you’re awfully wet. Is this all for me?” he tsked, grinning as you bucked your hips up into his touch, tugging his hair tighter. “S’all for you daddy…” 

“You gonna let daddy make it all better? S’not good for little girls like you to be gettin this all worked up.” he pouted, mock sympathy dripping from his words like acid. 

“Want you to fix it daddy, make me all better. Please?” you whispered, lapping up each drop of the stinging liquid that dripped from his tongue like a woman starved.

 “How could I say no to a pretty face like that?” he smiled, stroking your cheek, his hands tracing over the plains and valleys of your body, watching your breasts perk up, nipples pebbling from under the sheer white lace of your dress.

 “Mmm daddy whatta doin?” you asked timidly, curious to what the man above you was doing, his hands resting on your thighs. “Gonna make it all better angel. Now be a good girl and present to daddy, attaaa girl.” he cooed as you allowed him to spread your legs apart and flip your nightgown up, revealing your soaked panties to him. 

“Just a dumb lil baby arent you? I gotta do everything for you?” You shook your head, watching as he began to slide the flimsy fabric down, down, down past your thighs to the tips of your toes.

 “S’fine, you know I like takin care of you angel eyes. But tonight, I’m gonna take these-” He dangled the thong from his fingers, setting it down on the bedside table beside him. “And I’m goin stroke my cock with em, and you’re goin watch angel. Then, after daddys got his cream all over em, I’m gonna shove it between those pretty little lips of yours, okay?” 

You nodded, purely dumbfounded. This side of Steve, you had never seen before. Not that you were complaining- of course. You were just… new to this. 

Very new.

 “Yes daddy.”

 “Good girl angel. You’re never gonna leave this house unless you got my cum in your panties, gotta stuff you full of me allll the time.” he grinned, pupils blown as he took in your beautiful body, all splayed out for him. 

Like an angel. 

You whimpered as he took his fingers, running the digits across your slit, watching you clench around air as he teased you. “This is mine now, okay angel? My fuckhole. It’s daddys property now.” 

You moaned at his words alone, your head lolling against the sheets as he slid off his shirt, the dim glow of the candles making his chiselled abs gleam faintly. The sight had you sucking in air through your teeth, his muscles flexing as he bent your legs causing you to spiral.

 “Are we gonna do what we always do? With your fingers?” you begged, hiccuping as he patted your puffy folds tenderly with the palm of his hand. “Something so much better baby. You’re gonna love it so much, it’ll make the tingles feel all better. Daddys here now, takin care of you just like he should.”

 You watched as he unbuckled his belt, the jangle of it making you jump as he shrugged off his jeans and boxers, exposing his hard, aching cock to you. 

“ It's so big daddy!” you whispered, watching as he smirked in delight. “S’not gonna fit in there…” you trailed off, gasping as he rubbed his cock against your soaked folds, moaning as he tapped your clit firmly, his precum mixing with your juices. 

“Oh we’ll make it fit angel. How else is daddy supposed to take care of you hmm?” You whimpered, watching as he neared your entrance.

 “Daddy m’scared.” you confessed, gripping his bicep tightly, crescent moons forming across his soft, smooth skin as he ever so slowly pushed the tip in. 

“Shhh, shh that's a good girl. I know you’re scared angel but daddys here now, that's it honey.” he praised, slowly easing in, stretching you as you cried out. “You gotta relax for me angel, or else it won't feel good to you. And we don't want that do we? Daddy's little fucktoy needs to feel good.” he cooed, encouraging you to take deep, shaky breaths as you allowed him to fill you up, your walls hugging him like a glove.

 “Daddy s’big-” you cried, tears falling from your doe eyes, sliding down your flushed cheeks as he seating himself fully in you. 

“This is how it's gonna be from now on angel, I gotta keep you filled all the time. You gotta keep daddy nice and warm.” he teased, leaning down to brush a soft, tender kiss on your cheeks, lapping up the salty tears that lay there. 

“You’re doing so well for me baby. I’m so proud of you.” he whispered, tenderly kissing along your jaw as he slid out slowly, making you gasp. “Proud of me-e?” you asked, moaning as he thrusted slowly back into you, his hips picking up an easy rhythm as you threw your head back in pleasure. 

“So proud angel. Hey, hey eyes on me okay? I’m right here, I’m with you angel. We’re gonna go to heaven together, you and I.” 

“S’good daddy. Feels so good-d.” you hiccuped, the pain turning to pleasure as your legs trembled, muscles turning limp as he rocked into you, hissing at the way you’d clench around him tightly. 

“Told you I’d make you feel good angel eyes. D-daddy always knows.” his breath caught as your nails raked down his arms, tugging him even closer as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “Wanna fill you full, stuff you full of my cum. You want that angel?” 

“Yes oh gods!” you screamed, heavenly fire caressing and licking down your spine as your core churned, the feelings of pure pleasure overwhelming your senses.

 “Cum for me angel. Cum for daddy.” he whispered, voice husky in your ear, echoing off the walls as you wailed his name in bliss. 

You shattered under him, the pieces of you snapping off with each thrust, glistening on the sheets like broken glass. It was heaven, the way he made you feel. Your orgasm escaped you with a gentle tug, your vision turning starry as Steve’s hips shuttered. 

“Fuck angel… look attcha, milkin me dry.” he cooed, watching your juices squirt on his cock, coating him. “Daddy need you-” you moaned, screaming as his grip harshened, a final thrust before he came with a grunt of your name, followed by endless praises. 

“Oh angel, my sweet angel…” he whispered, watching your body shake and squirm under him, your breath coming in short little gasps from the stimulation your body just endured. 

He was so proud of you. So proud of his little girl for taking him all, for pleasing him. 

“We’re gonna get you on your knees soon honey okay? Just like mass.”

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[noisyquokka]

Losing Game

PAIRING - Felix x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS - If your teasing is infuriating, Felix's is something akin to Wonderland - trapping your mind in a haze of desire, spiraling you into madness with just a few caresses and kisses. He won't allow you to push too far without pushing back with everything he has, and everything just means pulling your strings until you've admitted defeat. You're playing a losing game with a man who knows such things a little too well.

WORDCOUNT - 4.2k

WARNINGS - Fluff, Suggestive (Borderline NSFW so 18+), Established Relationship, LOTS of Teasing, Felix is the biggest tease this side of the galaxy, but so are we

A/N - Y'all don't look at me, this was meant to be a tooth-rotting fluff piece but Boyfriend!Felix is too much fun to write I swear I blacked out typing the majority of this, idk where I went wrong-💀 Anyway... Happy Felix day!!🎉

Felix is adamant that the scent of one of his favoured candles is what coaxed him out of his slumber, though the 9:00 AM sunlight may be the real culprit. It bleeds through the sheer curtains of the shared bedroom, softened by the cascading polyester. Brown eyes glare back in a mess of displeasure, thin lips curving into a frown at the audacity of twilight breaking into day only hours prior. He stretches against the sheets, limbs popping in protest of their owner's insistence. Felix glares a moment longer, the muscles in his face twitching as the luminary beams back. A great sigh is released and eyelids flutter closed, rolling onto his opposite side to keep the blasted sun at bay.

Long legs kick outward, connecting with a mountain of soft plush at the foot of the bed. Dark brows furrow. That's not meant to be there...

Before Felix can tilt his head downward, the canopy of flat sheets above catches sleep-riddled eyes. He rolls onto his back, gazing at the woven sheets with a furrowed brow. They fall off to one side of the bed frame, a makeshift wall made up of carefully crafted horizontal and vertical threads, the entrance to the bedroom just a shadow beyond. The entirety of the mattress is encased by blankets, dimly lit by the warm glow of fairy lights hanging from it's ceiling. Stiff arms push against the mattress, the few rays of sunlight that's allowed in warming the bare skin of his wrist.

A blanket fort; erected over the course of the early morning by determined hands. A sanctuary.

Brown optics shift to the foot of the bed where that plush mountain sits beneath bare feet. The collection of pillows aren't just from the bed, Felix notes, but from every other room in the apartment. They most definitely weren't there when he crawled into bed with you late last night, he knows that much. The man can't help the sly grin that pulls his lips, shaking his head as he presses an open palm against one eye. An attempt to rub the sleep away.

The bedroom door opens with a creak, quiet footsteps padding over hard-wood floors. There's the sound of dishes clanking and utensils screeching against plates, a mumbled curse that leaves hushed lips. Felix has to hold in his chuckle, following the human-shaped shadow behind the sheets with groggy eyes. He smirks once you emerge on his side of the bed.

"Morning, Sleepy Head."

You're balancing two plates on one forearm, two bottles of water in your other hand. You managed without much issue, handing Felix a bottle and setting the other on the nightstand along with the plates. He eyes the grub on the plate; a simple breakfast for two. He takes a swig from the bottle, his attention naturally falling back to you. Especially when you hop onto his side of the bed, mischievous grin on your lips.

You shift your weight from your bum to your knees, crawling up the bed until your hands splay on either side of your boyfriend's hips, fingers pressing into the mattress. Felix's eyes narrow at your actions, a wry grin settling on his face as the proximity between you two dwindles.

"Happy Birthday." You murmur, so low as the purring of a feline near their person. It earns you a wider grin, Felix's gaze traveling downward as he takes you in. He hums.

"Thank you, Babe." Sleep holds his vocal chords in it's clutch, that deep rasp like music to your ears. Those eyes linger on your lips, waiting for you to lean in just a bit further.

"Is that all?" He asks, his voice taking on that teasing tone. A smirk crosses your face in response, leaning in until your nose is nuzzling his.

"Maybe... maybe not..."

You're so close that your lips ghost over his with every word. This is familiar; the teasing. The man tilts his head back against the headboard, impatient to your featherlight caresses and your body heat seeping into him. The chuckle you release only aids that.

You know what he's waiting for. He's waiting for you to initiate things.

A slight tilt of your head brings you closer to the bareness of his neck and you press your face into him, breathing him in. It's less to tease him and more to satisfy your own need to be close, but when he tilts his head toward your ear, you can't help but leave a kiss behind. Felix bites his lip, lashes fluttering.

"I wonder... what else you have in mind." He whispers. You only continue to press kisses along his throat - soft and tender, grinning against tanned skin at the subtle bob of his Adam's Apple - lingering there for a moment longer. Brown eyes close as you pepper more up the side of his neck, his chest rising and falling with the uptick of his pulse. You pause with one last kiss behind his left ear, nuzzling the shell of it with your nose.

"Your breakfast is getting cold."

God, you're infuriating...

Brown eyes lock on yours when you pull away and Felix huffs a laughter of disbelief, watching as you lean over and reach for the plates on the nightstand. You hand him one of the two, fingers brushing over one another at the exchange.

"You do know it's my birthday, right?" He questions, arching a brow. Your eyes dance with unbridled mischief as you bring the utensil to your mouth.

"Mhm, and you, my Pretty Boy, are staying under the shelter of this blanket fort with me all day."

"Mm, I didn't agree to that."

"You tossed and turned through the entire process of it's construction, not to mention I almost stepped on you." You point the prongs of your fork at him in warning. "You're staying in here even if I have to tie you down."

"Oh? Is that what you had in mind?"

You hand connects with a sturdy chest, mumbling a shut it as you swallow your food. Felix just chuckles, finally digging into his own helping. A moment passes of quiet solitude, forks scratching and tapping against stoneware. His gaze flits to you every few minutes as he takes in the work you'd done.

"This is pretty impressive, I've gotta admit." He says, poking at what little remains on his plate. "What made you land on 'blanket fort date' as my birthday gift?"

You shrug, setting your own empty dish to the side.

"I don't know. Just thought you needed this before tour starts. I know that as much as you love what you do, it can be stressful." You shift your weight on the bed, settling in beside your Lover. "That, and I wanted you to myself before our relationship is diminished to text bubbles and video calls for eight months."

You don't even care that you're both grown-ass adults getting cozy under a blanket fort like you're still in grade-school. To other people, maybe this is considered childish. To Felix? He didn't care as long as you were here with him. The two of you were children at heart anyways, and with a hectic schedule coming up, he was more than content to just lay here and do everything and nothing with you.

Brown eyes meet yours instinctually, a tilt of the head and thin lips.

"I know the distance sucks. Eight months will be here and gone before we can blink, though." Felix murmurs. He places both plates on the bedside table just as you rest your head against his shoulder, your eyes drifting shut with a long sigh.

"I know, it's just... it's difficult. I just want you to have a memory to think of me while you're away."

You mumble into his skin, nuzzling your face into his arm. Felix reaches for your hand, slotting your fingers with his before bringing them up to press a lingering kiss to your knuckles. He feels you smile against his skin, pulling away to glance up at him.

"Plus, you're adorable when you're flustered."

"Flustered? Me? When?"

I have cold, hard evidence, Mister! Don't even try to deny it."

A scoff leaves your boyfriend's lips, eyebrows arching incredulously.

"And where is this cold, hard evidence?"

"Right here," You tap an index finger to your temple, a smirk taking over your face. "video surveillance of Lee Felix anticipating a Birthday kiss from his Lover, loses his mind when teased. Not Clickbait!"

"Not clickb- get over here, you!"

You squeal when Felix reaches for you, your eyes bright with amusement. He snatches at your wrist, just missing your when you smack his hand away and shuffle towards the foot of the bed as a means of escape. You know this game well, and you know how he plays. Before you can throw anymore shade, a hand catches the crook of your knee and pulls you back towards the headboard.

"Felix!" You shriek, falling back into the plush cloud of pillows and sheets. You're still attempting an escape when he comes to hover over you. Anticipation dances within your eyes.

"I'm gonna have to see this supposed evidence, you know, for research purposes." He says, a teasing lilt in his tone. His hand finds the bare skin of your thigh, welcoming goosebumps in it's wake. You hum, a lighthearted chuckle leaving upturned lips.

"Research purposes, huh?" You reach a hand up to sweep those unruly strands from his face, fingers scratching softly at the back of his scalp. Felix smirks, humming an affirmative that almost sounds like a purr. He leans in, voice low as he stares you down in mock seriousness.

"Of course! They're gonna need a thesis statement!"

"Who?" You scoff, arching a brow.

"Judge and jury, obviously."

The sound of laughter erupts from your lips, your free hand pressing against his chest.

"Obviously." You muse, fingers trailing through golden tresses. "The jury of public opinion... I'm sure you've got some good things to say about me, hm?"

His eyes twinkle with something familiar; that soft admiration that he holds for you. The smile on his face broadens.

"You know I do." Felix's voice is low, teasing, and playful. His gaze heats your skin the longer he stares, deepening pools that pull you in. He dips down, lips brushing yours in a moment of sweet hesitation.

Or, perhaps... he's just teasing like you did.

Your words come out in a whisper through parted lips, grinning at your circumstances.

"Go on, then."

You barely have time to finish your sentence before Felix presses his lips to yours in a heated kiss. One hand finds it's way to the crook of your jaw and your neckline, tilting your head with a delicate touch. Your pulse races even as he takes his time, the heat from his body intoxicating to your senses. You can feel the tension grow with every movement that's made, the soft caresses and slow kisses a reminder that this game of cat and mouse continues.

And right now, the Birthday Boy is winning.

The hand on your jaw falls back to your thigh, slipping higher that before. Your mind blanks, wandering hands gripping onto the fabric of his T-shirt. Just as you're about to throw the ball back in his court, Felix shifts back, allowing both of you to catch your breath.

"Judge, jury... and executioner?" Your voice is hushed, the words a breath against slightly swollen lips. That earns you a chuckle, his fingers slipping under your shirt as your arms trail up to protruding collarbones. They splay over your skin, over curves and muscles that tense with every gentle caress.

"If looks could kill, I'd be a dead man, Love."

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as your head sinks back against the pillows, your arms snaking around his neck. Felix allows you to pull him down with little argument, no hesitation to lock lips this time. Your fingers curl through soft locks, nails running down the nape of his neck in just the right way that ushers forth a shudder from the man above you. He nips at your bottom lip in retaliation, smirking at the sigh you release.

All thoughts of anything aside from each other slip away as one of your hands slide down the expanse of his chest, fingers twitching with a newfound need. There is nothing else. No one else but the two of you, tangled up in one another. Hearts race as the minutes stretch on. Needy hands pull you closer, squeezing whatever bare flesh is available to them. You break away from him, lips parting in heavy pants and desperation. Felix doesn't stop though, capturing your lips in another long kiss.

Any sly moves you'd thought up to get the upper hand are completely and utterly trampled once he deepens the kiss, hips pressing into your own. You accommodate him, sliding a leg up, hooking around his thigh to pull him closer. If that were even possible. Sleep shorts rustle against skin, hiking higher and higher with every shift.

If your teasing is infuriating, Felix's is something akin to Wonderland - trapping your mind in a haze of desire, spiraling you into madness with just a few caresses and kisses. He won't allow you to push too far without pushing back with everything he has, and everything just means pulling your strings until you've admitted defeat. You're playing a losing game with a man who knows such things a little too well.

Felix's lips leave yours, his teeth nipping at the corner of your mouth and chin before trailing lower to the skin of your jaw and neck. If this keeps up, you don't see an end in sight.

"Lix," You breathe, biting back a moan at his teeth grazing against your pulse point. Your fist clinging on his shirt presses against his chest and Felix lets up, muscles flexing under your touch. Brown eyes find yours, pupils blown in a haze of passion and lust.

"What, what's wrong?" His heart is beating out of his chest as he sucks in air through parted lips. Dark brows furrow, his head tilting at your insistence to stop.

"Nothing," You release his shirt, patting the wrinkles from the fabric. You shake your head. "I just... I left your cake out on the counter."

You already know the response you're about to get, a Cheshire smile taking over as he leans in again.

"I was just getting to that, wasn't I...?"

Wandering hands slide high enough to grab at your bum and you chuckle. Your fingers flex, gripping around lean forearms. Your calf is still hooked around one of his thighs and your eyes burn with some sort of trickery.

Gaining that upper hand.

You're quick about it, pulling your leg back with just enough strength to swap places with him on the bed. Felix just stares up at you, unfazed by your actions. In fact, you're sure he expected it. The fairy lights warm his face, sparkling in the glaze of his dark gaze.

"Cheeky," You mutter, giving him one last kiss before you climb off of his lap and out of bed. "I'll be back. Don't leave this room or there'll be consequences."

"Alright, alright." He says, and you catch the smirk on his face. His brows raise in anticipation when your eyes lock, your threat lingering in the air. An empty threat. The dirty dishes clatter together as you collect them and take your leave, your footsteps fading down the hall. The mattress dips as he shifts, pulling himself up against the headboard. Felix can't help the broad smile that follows, a contented sigh leaving his lungs.

—

"You're bringing that in here?!"

"Babe, just blow out the candle."

You settle on the edge of the bed. Two plates in both hands. Two slices of birthday cake, one with a single candle sitting pretty atop the icing. The flame dances in a make up of hydrogen and carbon, flickering when you shift it closer to him. Felix eyes the plates, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he straightens up with a groan. The flame is blown out in one short, heavy breath, the smell of sulfur assaulting your nose.

You hand him both plates, sliding into bed with ease. You situate yourself so you're facing your boyfriend, moving a few pillows behind you to get more comfortable. By the time you focus your attention back on the Birthday Boy, himself, he's already pulled the candle from his slice, digging into the sweet treat.

"Uh, Felix?"

"Hmm?"

He's so shameless in his indulging, mouth full. Icing smudges the corner of his mouth as he hums in approval. You eye the plate sitting on the other side of him - the slice of cake you'd cut for yourself - with a small smile on your lips, holding a palm out in waiting. Brown eyes follow that gaze, pushing the slice of sweetness out of your sight with a sly grin.

"You know, just because it's your birthday doesn't mean I have to play nice all day..." You mutter, eyes narrowing.

All that gets you is a snort of amusement.

"Mm, see, that's where you're wrong, Love." He says, leaning back against the headboard. The fork pierces through his slice a third time, ready and waiting on silver prongs for when he's finished this argument. "You see, it's my birthday. And since it's my birthday, you have this reputation to uphold of being the world's Angel. Especially on my birthday."

The smirk on his face only grows.

"Keep saying birthday and the word will become redundant." You sound annoyed but you're unable to bite back your own smirk while you hold his gaze.

"Have I mentioned it's my bir-" He grunts, chuckling as he soothes the shoulder where your fist connects, "Alright, alright! Gee, didn't know my Baby had a nasty right hook."

"You think that's good, you haven't felt my left." You glare half-heartedly, holding out your hand again. Fingers twitch impatiently. And Felix just stares back, that smirk stuck on quirked lips. After a minute of just this - staring at one another, trying your hardest to not get caught up in staring longingly at your boyfriend - you huff, jutting your bottom lip out in a pout. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Felix rolls his eyes, setting both plates on the nightstand before he reaches forward to pull you into his lap.

"Forget the cake, alright? You spent all morning making this-" He gestures to the blankets and flat sheets that hang above the bed, hiding the two of you away, "-even though you didn't. Need. To. Let me make it up to you."

"You could make it up to me by letting me have my slice of cake that's dying to be eaten." You chirp, reaching for your plate with a hint of a smile. But as over-the-top as Felix is, he catches your hand mid-air, lacing his fingers with yours. You groan in response, letting your face fall into the soft cotton that envelopes his chest and torso. His chest moves with the lighthearted chuckle it produces and you swear your brain short-circuits.

"Here I am trying to be a loving and appreciative boyfriend, yet all you care about is food!" He chastises, listening for that scoff that he could always draw from you after such remarks are made. And right on time, you do it, letting your free hand fall against his chest.

"No, no." You drawl, tilting your head up to look at him, lips twitching in a feigned grin. "You're right! I spent all morning playing chicken with your unconscious ass and still managed to make this bomb-ass blanket fort. I think all that work I did deserves the slice of cake sitting right. Over. There."

Your matter-of-fact tone is lost on the man, his gaze clearly set on your lips. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, attempting to hide the full-on grin that's determined to take over your face.

"Mm, I dunno..." He says, reaching for his plate once more. The fork is still loaded with fluffy cake and icing when he picks it up, eyeing it with knitted brows. It's held up just out of your reach. Oh, so close. Sunlight dances in dark irises, tiny shards of citrine catching the rays like stained glass as he shifts his focus back to you.

"I think you'll have to work a bit harder for it."

He can't even say it without his eyes falling to your lips. It's painfully obvious where this is going, and yet - once again - you're taking the bait.

"And what's your offer, Mr. Lee?" You question, shifting one leg so you're straddling his thighs. He takes you in with hungry eyes, mouth twitching in a slight grin. Fingers trace their way down his chest in lazy patterns.

"One kiss. One slice of cake." The plate in his grip keeps a slight distance between you, but at this point, you're not afraid to get a little more even from all the teasing earlier.

"You let me have my slice of cake, I'll give you all the smooches you want, Babe."

Your legs shift around him as you lean over the plate, your gaze level with his. Back to this - noses brushing and stalled eye contact and a desire for those fucking lips on yours. You can't make a play now. You've just moved your game piece. You would lose.

It's his turn now.

"That doesn't sound like a fair trade..." He mumbles, and you feel him lean in just a smidge more. Right where you want him.

"Life's not fair, Babe."

Felix's ears twitch at the sound to his left. A fork, screeching lowly over the surface of the plate as you lean back with your delicious prize. Oh, you haven't just grabbed the bait. You've outsmarted the hunter with all the finesse in the world. Left the trap empty and tripped. You smile triumphantly as you watch the muscles in Felix's jaw work.

You. Are. Infuriating.

"Even on my birthday? You are cruel." Felix's free hand comes to rest on one of your thighs that still straddle his own, browns locked steady on yours that roll in mocking exhaustion.

"Takes cruel to know cruel, hm?" You tilt your head at him, stabbing the utensil into the store-bought confectionary. Decadent goodness envelopes your taste buds and you feel the dopamine release of temporary pleasure flow through you. His eyes haven't left yours, deep brown narrowed on the fork that slowly makes its way back and forth from the plate to your lips. Your lips that were so close just a few minutes ago… He's watching you like a dog, waiting for its owner to drop the smallest morsel that it can snatch. It was comical, if you were honest.

"Shouldn't the Birthday Boy be indulging in the rest of his cake?" You ask, brows raised as your fork sinks into the layers of cake. "Or, is that slice for the taking as well? This is just so delicious."

You shouldn't be grinning so wide. Shouldn't be enjoying this as much as you are. But you are. You're relishing the expression on your boyfriend's face as he barely shakes his head, narrowed optics zeroed in, tongue darting out to wet a twitching bottom lip.

You've properly ruffled his feathers. He doesn't know whether to be proud of your victory or jealous of it.

However, he hasn't admitted defeat yet.

The cogs in Felix's mind are working overtime behind dark eyes, you can tell. An internal debate rages. His hand still rests on your thigh, thumb brushing back and forth in soft, slow motions. You're too busy making a show of indulging to notice Felix shove his plate away to the night stand.

"You have a strange idea of cruel, Love."

His comment makes you pause, the fork halfway to your mouth. Felix leans back, his back pressed up against the headboard. He places both hands on your thighs, the muscles tensing under his steady hold. A wave of goosebumps ripple across your skin.

"As much as I enjoy watching you torment me, I think I need to even the playing field." He mumbles. Eyes flicker over your face, studying you. Your reactions.

 The way your breath catches in the back of your throat. The little noise that accompanies it that you're unable to hold back. He tilts his head as he continues, his fingers trailing lightly up the back of your legs. Up… and up… and up.

Oh, Fuck it.

You yelp as your perspective tilts, eyes wide as your back sinks into the mass of pillows and blankets that had been behind you. Felix chuckles above you, a show of pearly whites.

You know why he's laughing.

Blue and white icing smears your neck and part of your jaw, the rest of the cake a mess of color over your chest. And the plate? Well, you're lucky you had chosen the paper ones this time because it wouldn't have survived the fall to the floor.

"Felix!" The look on your face is just priceless, really.

"The sheets-"

"Can be washed!" He cuts you off, glancing down at the mess.

"When I said it takes cruel to know cruel, that wasn't an invitation to challenge me on that."

The shock of being toppled backwards in bed is still working through your mind, nevermind the added mess. But by God, are you narrowing your eyes at the man hovering over you.

"Oh, you have no idea how cruel I could get, Babe." He says, voice lowering as he leans down. His breath cascades over the icing on your neck, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the skin there. The squeak you let out is quiet, but oh boy, Felix hears it.

Your persistence is admirable, he'll give you that.

"You're right." He hums to himself, licking away at the blue and white stuck at the corner of his mouth. "Delicious."

One look into those deep browns and you know.

Retaliation?

Inevitable.

Psst!! If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my work 💕 I appreciate you!

#stray kids #skz #lee felix #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #lee felix x you #stray kids felix #lee felix imagines #skz x you #skz smut #stray kids smut #gn reader #x gender neutral reader #quokkawritings🌻

[honeykaes]

—𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭

✦ pairing: kazuha  x reader

✦ w/c: 1.4k

✦ warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact

✦ disclaimer: afab!reader with no set pronouns, fingering, foodplay, nipple play, kitchen sex, kazuha smears chocolate and whipped cream on reader, mention of breasts, kazuha calls reader dove, unedited

✦ synopsis: hearing a loud noise in the kitchen, kazuha wakes up to see you failing to bake him a chocolate cake for valentine’s day.

The quiet roar of the heater blew in the small bedroom as dusk began pouring out from the curtains and flooding into the room. As a ray of soft yellow hit Kazuha’s pale face, he hummed, letting a soft sigh escape his lips. He adjusted his body, reaching out a hand out towards your familiar warmth to be greeted with cold sheets instead. He slowly fluttered his long snowy lashes, opening his eyes to see your form wasn’t there—just emptiness and thrown-away sheets. 

As Kazuha furrowed his eyebrows and a soft pout decorated his lips, his eyes widened hearing a crash in the kitchen. He quickly sprung up, hurling the blankets and sheets away from him and dashing toward the source of the noise—the kitchen. 

There you were by the stove, looking eyes widened and lips parted. The kitchen around you looked as if a monsoon railed through it as flour sugar and chocolate seemed to stain many parts of the counter. On the ground, laid a batter now split across. Kazuha let out a sigh, briefly closing his eyes, it seemed that was the source of the loud noise.

“Dove, what are you doing in the kitchen? It’s a mess…you’re a mess,” Kazuha hummed, chuckling a bit as he walked closer to you. His hand wiped a bit of flour that managed to smudge against your cheek as your eyes darted away avoiding his soft autumn-tinted ones.

“...I wanted to try to make you a chocolate cake for Valentine’s Day but I ended up accidentally knocking the batter on the ground…I’m sorry for waking you up and ruining the gift,” you sighed, cheeks hot in embarrassment. Kazuha chuckled again, amused by your reaction before his thumb pressed against your bottom lip. As your lips parted, about to ask him what he was doing, he swiped along it revealing a bit of chocolate on the digit before pressing it against his mouth and sucking it clean.

Your eyes gazed down at his mischievous look, wiping your face to make sure no other ingredients stuck on you without your knowledge.

“T-Thanks Kazuha…” you stammered out. “You seem to always catch me at my most embarrassing moments.” Kazuha shook his head, leaning close to your face.

“This isn’t an embarrassing moment, we all have these kinds of days. Besides, who said I wasn’t going to enjoy what you have,” he replied. You gasped feeling his hands tightly pressed against your waist, lifting you up so you sat on the counter.

“Kazuha…” you called out, wondering what he was doing. He simply flashed you a smile before it morphed into something more seductive. 

“It’s Valentine’s Day, right? So, let me enjoy this chocolate you’ve been using for the cake,” Kazuha murmured. He connected his lips with your own as his cold hands crept underneath your nightshirt, slowly lifting it up and leaving your chest bare. 

As he leaned away—a string of saliva now connecting your glossy lips with his own—your lips quivered in anticipation, watching Kazuha retrieve some chocolate sauce you left out for your cake. He opened the cap with a quick snap before letting the chocolatey thick substance ooze out and beginning to coat your stomach with it. 

Satisfied with the amount he smeared on it, he snapped the cap back on and placed it where he found it. His hands squeezed on your plush thighs before he darted his tongue out, towards the cold and sticky chocolate staining your body. He flattened his tongue before swiping it up, letting the familiar taste hit his senses with a soft moan.

“Look how good you taste, dove. I just can’t seem to help myself,” he moaned out. His hands soon left your thighs and squeezed on the mounds of your chest as he continuously lapped up the chocolate on it. As he finally finished, he leaned up pressing another soft and seductive kiss on your trembling lips—tasting chocolate that was still on his tongue.

As he leaned away, a smirk plastered on his face, he leaned over and grabbed a canister of whipped cream from the counter, before capturing your lips once more. As one hand focused on shaking the canister, his other dipped down beneath your shorts and cupped your sex. A moan escaped your lips feeling the flat of his thumb press against your clit, rubbing small and deliberate circles as they began to dampen from your arousal. 

“My sweet dove, this might be a little cold. Bare with me, beautiful,” he whispered. As he threw the cap away and pointed the nozzle toward your chest, you yelped feeling the cold cream come in contact with your skin—pebbling your nipples. Satisfied with the whipped cream beginning to glide down the mounds of your breast, Kazuha put the canister down and quickly popped a nipple into his mouth.

He hums out, as his finger pressed harder against your sensitive nub. His tongue swirled against the bud of your breast as he sucked the cream away from it and licked you clean. You gasped feeling his digits beginning prodding at your entrance, spoon dipping themselves into your velvety insides. 

“Kazuha,” you cried out, feeling him continue to pump his fingers inside of you. His lips never left your chest, still lapping up the remaining whipped cream on them as he went to address its twin. His tongue felt so hot against your skin as he sucked the rest of the cream off. You shifted your hips, desperate for him to get deeper inside of you as his chuckle reverberated through your upper half. You clung closer to him, nails shooting against his bicep.

“Close. M’close!” you cried out. Kazuha merely shushed you, pumping his now curled fingers even faster inside of you—hitting that spongy part inside of you. You arched your back, mumbling his name over and over again.

“That’s right, just like that, dove. Just like that,” he whispered, laying his head on your chest. You cried out his name loudly as you finally reached your high, rocking your body back and forth as he slowly thrusts his fingers, nursing you through it. As you let out a tired sigh, leaning your head against the cabinet for support.

“Hope you aren’t too tired yet, dove,” he hummed. As he finally left his attention on your breast, he slid his hand out from inside of you, grabbing onto the waistband of your shorts, shimming them down until they fell down onto the cold tiled floor. He soon pulled his briefs down, cock slapping against his lower stomach—pulsating and twitching in excitement. He pumped his member a few times, lining himself up with your entrance, slitting his flushed tip against your slit. 

His head nudged against your overly clit as you sucked a breath in before he finally slide back down and began to slowly sink his cock inside of you. As he soon bottomed out, he grabbed your leg lifting it up against his shoulder so he could get even deeper. 

“You always take me so well, dove,” he groaned before he finally began moving. His pace was slow but deliberate, watching your body move to the pace of his thrusts. As you arched your back again, giving him another beautiful view of your breasts—he offered them a chaste kiss, before quickening his thrusts. 

He’s relentless as his cock stretches you out, moving his hand back up to fondle your clit once more. He grunts once more, feeling your walls beginning to cave in and tighten against him, making his movements more difficult. You cry out his name once again, reaching your second climax of the morning, as his thrusts begin to get sloppy.

“F-Fuck…I’m gonna cum if you keep clinging onto that tightly,” he whispered. He shut his eyes tight, soon following suit as ropes of his hot cum shot inside of you. He bucked his hips, a whimper escaping his lips before slowly exiting his softening cock out of your warmth. 

His eyes intensely watched a small river of cum begin to drip out of your folds and onto the dirtied tile floor below. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to be like this in the morning Kazuha,” you whined as he chuckled. Kazuha grabbed onto your thigh once more, giving him a better view of his cum seeping out of you, before bringing his lips against your clit for a small kiss. He leaned back up with a small smirk, grabbing the dirty bowl still on the ground and placing it near the sink.

“That was all the Valentine’s Day gift needed. You already spoil me plenty enough.”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #kazuha x reader #kazuha smut #kazuha imagines #kazuha scenarios

[nnajiro]

sano manjiro x reader

warnings? love~ insecure lovers

“wanna rot in your room like we always do?”

you nod softly, gazing your eyes over the things infront of you sadly

your room was lit beautifully by the sunset coming thru your window, soft visible curtains swaying the rays along the walls as the wind moves them to its pace

he sat down on your bed, next to you

“do you think i am pretty?”

you whispered, even regretting speaking the moment you did

you couldnt help but fixate your gaze on the floor, staring into the unknown as your view blurred to the buzzing of your ears

soon soft plush lips pressed soflty on your legs, as you came back to your senses you saw your boyfriend kneeled infront of you now laying his hard skin on your soft legs

before kissing one more time the other side of your leg he stared into your eyes as you two locked them

“do i look like i dont think so?”

he whispered back, as if you two spoke in your own tune of the radio, in your own safe reality

no one has ever come this close, no one, only the sunlight has caressed your skin this way

you took a deep breath in and released it as you moved out of your seat on the bed, you moved swiftly next to him on the floor, kneeling infront of him

you hummed as you stared deeply in his eyes, taking one of his palms and laying your lips softly on the pads of his fingers, the ones that made you feel strings of electricity as they moved on your legs

you both stopped, as if everything paused as you two locked eyes

you breathed in the comfortable air around you two and layed your head on his shoulder, your nose touching his neck

“‘m sorry i havent been showing it as much as you needed”

you smiled at his neck, you took the chance and kissed his neck

you came back , close to each other’s faces

“sorry for asking for too much”

you said slowly, staring into his eyes

“you can never ask for too much”

he responded, placing a hand on your chin and softly bringing you closer to his lips

“i love you”

he whispered, mere inches in between you

“i love you more”

your lips have touched, forming a nice kiss that both of you needed

“impossible, i love you to infinity”

he chuckled as he broke the kiss

you giggled in his embrace as an response

both of you cuddled to sleep after this~

#mikey imagines #mikey x reader #sano manjirou #tokrev mikey #tokyo manji revengers #tokyo revengers mikey #tokyo revengers x reader #toman #toman mikey #tokyo revengers sano manjiro #manjiro fluff #mikey x y/n #sano mikey manjiro #mikey x you #sano manjiro x reader

[nvmadic]

GUILT AND SHAME - 03

link to last part: [x] synopsis: after a messy dispute revolving around your toxic boyfriend, schlatt takes matters into his own hands and puts your safety over his. some feelings are unearthed that need dealing with. words: 5,728 warnings: mild language

Like the gentle rays of dawn piercing through the darkness, a sense of normalcy began to weave its way back into the fabric of your life. The heavy clouds of despair and torment that once shrouded your mind had gradually dissipated, making way for a glimmer of hope and a renewed sense of purpose. In the weeks that followed, you dedicated yourself to the sacred art of self-care, tending to the neglected corners of your soul with tenderness and compassion. 

Each day, as the sun rose on the horizon, you found yourself embracing the beauty of simple moments and cherishing the connections that enriched your existence. The weight of past sorrows began to lift, replaced by an effervescent optimism that breathed new life into your spirit. In the warmth of laughter shared with loved ones, the comfort of conversations held with friends, and even in the stolen moments treasured with Schlatt amidst his demanding schedule over the past couple of weeks, you discovered a resounding joy that anchored you in the present.

Ted's living room transformed into a cosy haven as laughter and excitement filled the air. Soft ambient lighting from stringed fairy lights cast a warm glow. Plush cushions and blankets were scattered across the spacious couches, providing a comfortable and relaxed seating arrangement. The coffee table at the centre bore the remnants of the evening's indulgence. An assortment of snacks, once neatly arranged, now lay in delightful disarray, their packaging discarded and crumbs scattered across the surface.

It was game night, a bimonthly event that Ted graciously hosted and you would always look forward to attending. However, as you reflect on the past, you recall that being present on these nights was not always a given. It hinged on the whims of your now ex-boyfriend, who would occasionally grant permission for you to participate.

Laughter and the lively banter of competition filled the room, creating a vibrant soundtrack to the evening's gathering. Seated comfortably among friends, you observed the digital mayhem unfolding on the screen. The characters in Quiplash's Trivia Murder Party met their untimely death one by one, eliciting a symphony of both victorious cheers and exasperated groans. Amidst the chaos and banter, you bided your time, eagerly awaiting your chance at redemption during the final round. Though your character had met an early demise to a whimsical and ridiculously niche question, you relished in the role of the quiet spectator.

"Guys, I promise I hit the wrong button, I totally knew the answer to that," Ted chirped, his voice laced with mock frustration, as he admitted defeat. Slumping back into the couch, he watched with a mixture of amusement and resignation as his character transformed into a ghost on the screen.

"You fuckin' idiot, you owe me 100 bucks," Schlatt retorted playfully, his voice infused with a mischievous tone. A slightly manic chuckle escaped his lips as he took a sip from the remnants of his drink, his eyes fixed on the screen where his character remained untouched. You strained to catch Ted's witty comeback, his words barely audible as he mumbled in disbelief, shaking his head with a mix of amusement and frustration. The raucous laughter and ongoing game banter created a boisterous backdrop, making it difficult to discern individual voices.

Seated a few seats away from you, Schlatt played his role in the game with enthusiasm, but his attention frequently shifted to steal affectionate glances in your direction. His eyes sought yours, silently checking in on you throughout the night, his gaze filled with a tender mix of care and adoration. Each time your eyes met, a knowing smile would grace his lips, wordlessly assuring you of his presence and his desire to make sure you were enjoying yourself. The subtle exchange of glances served as a quiet language of affection, a private connection amongst the joyful chaos of the game night. 

Whether they had witnessed the events firsthand or heard the accounts through word of mouth, news of Schlatt's act of defence at the party was a repetitive whispered discussion among friends and acquaintances. To everyone's understanding, Schlatt's intervention was seen as an act of harmless friendship. They empathized with his instinct to protect you, firmly believing that they, too, would have done the same in his position. As a result of this, there was no suspicion.

Amidst the uproar of laughter and animated game-playing, you and Schlatt revelled in the secrecy of your budding connection. Hidden from the prying eyes of your friends, every stolen moment became a thrill, an exciting secret shared between just the two of you. A gentle graze of hands under the guise of passing snacks, leaning in closely to hear him over the loud conversations — these clandestine gestures carried a charge of excitement, intensifying the connection you shared.

The final round burst onto the screen, captivating everyone's attention as the avatars lined up on the left side, a sea of ghosts outnumbering the few remaining living characters. Schlatt, Shae, and Charlie were granted a head start, their expertise or uncanny luck propelling them forward in the game.  The game commenced with startling quickness, pacing through rounds as the darkness chased your characters, teasing them with a final demise.

"How the fuck do you know that cirrostratus is a cloud? You're cheating, you asshole!" Schlatt exclaimed, a mixture of jest and genuine bewilderment in his voice, as you were the only one who correctly answered the question. You couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction, the excitement and mild panic evident in his tone as he leaned forward, fully engaged in the game. Laughter and jovial banter filled the room as the final round of the game unfolded. The questions became increasingly tricky, leaving everyone second-guessing their answers to the multiple-choice questions and engaging in animated discussions to decipher the correct responses.

Caught in the corner of your eye, you witnessed Ted leaning in close to Shae, their heads almost touching as he whispered something in her ear. The sudden realization struck you, and without a second thought, you blurted out, "Ted and Shae are cheating!" The room fell into a momentary silence as all eyes turned towards the two culprits, their faces displaying a mix of surprise and guilt.

Amidst the rapid-fire pace of the questions and the ominous sound effects of characters being devoured by the darkness, the tension in the room escalated rapidly. The once jovial atmosphere transformed into a frenzy of shouting, lighthearted insults, and playful accusations. The room seemed to reverberate with the chaotic symphony of voices as everyone scrambled to defend themselves or point fingers at others. The overwhelming mix of laughter, frustration, and excitement created intense and electric energy, filling the air with an electrifying buzz.

Amidst the whirlwind of accusations and laughter, your gaze fixated on Ted, who seemed to be experiencing a fit of uncontrollable mirth. His eyes squinted with a mixture of amusement and disbelief, reflecting the absurdity of the situation. He clutched his stomach as if trying to contain the explosion of laughter within him, while his body swayed back and forth in the chair. Ted's gasps for air blended with the chorus of chaotic voices, punctuating the room with his boisterous laughter. It was evident that he struggled to comprehend Charlie's audacious attempt to Google the questions and provide answers within the limited time frame.

Giggles escaped from Charlie's lips, his eyes gleaming with mischief and self-awareness. He seemed to find immense joy in the absurdity of his situation as if relishing in the comical futility of trying to beat the game through an impromptu Google search. He would frantically type a few letters into the search bar, fully aware of the futility of his actions before the timer mercilessly expired.

"Fuck!" Schlatt's exclamation filled the air, laced with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. His eyes widened with a tinge of frustration as he helplessly witnessed his digital avatar succumb to the encroaching darkness, vanishing into the abyss. With a lighthearted yet exasperated gesture, he tossed his phone onto the nearby coffee table, a playful act of defeat.

With an exasperated yet endearing sigh, Schlatt's hand migrated to his face, cupping his chin in a gesture of frustration mixed with contemplation. His fingertips delicately traced along his stubble-covered jawline, the subtle pressure of his touch revealing the weight of his annoyance. But as his gaze found yours, a transformation took place. The frustration in his expression gave way to a glimmer of amusement, mingling with the undercurrent of affection that had been simmering between you. A playful smile tugged at the corners of his lips as if he couldn't help but find the situation somewhat amusing. And in that instant, you couldn't help but mirror his smile, the shared joy and connection bridging the gap between you.

The intensity of the moment seemed to suspend time. The raucous laughter and competitive banter gradually faded into the background, replaced by a hushed silence that enveloped the space. But as the final round came to an end and the game declared Shae as the victor, the room erupted once more in a mixture of applause and playful groans. The spell was broken, and reality reasserted itself with a jolt. You tore your gaze away from Schlatt's, momentarily disoriented by the sudden shift in focus. The cheers and sighs of defeat reverberated in the air, a symphony of emotions that filled the room. Shae, with a triumphant grin, basked in the adulation of her victory, while the others playfully lamented their defeat.

The night carried on, the group embarking on a few more rounds of thrilling competition. Amidst the laughter and friendly banter, Ted found himself at the centre of attention, batting away playful allegations of cheating with an exasperated grin. His attempts to secure an advantage whenever Shae wasn't entwined in his arms became a running joke, fueling the teasing and lighthearted taunting from the others.

Charlie, with his mischievous and carefree demeanour, couldn't resist stirring the pot every now and then. He delighted in provoking Ted with false accusations, adding an extra layer of amusement to the already charged atmosphere. Like a mischievous instigator, Charlie revelled in the chaos he sowed, knowing that it would only serve to heighten the excitement and keep the game night lively. And at the heart of it all was Schlatt, a charismatic presence that effortlessly commanded attention. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Schlatt relished the opportunity to add fuel to the fire of Charlie's remarks. His sharp tongue and quick wit were unleashed, delivering witty insults that targeted not only Ted but also anyone he suspected of foul play

A playful yet endearing smile adorned Schlatt's smug face whenever he would throw a playful insult your way, his soft brown eyes gazing at you with a contradictory blend of warmth and mischief. You couldn't deny the longing that simmered within you throughout the night, silently yearning to find solace beneath Schlatt's protective embrace, to feel the gentle strength of his arm wrapped around you, and to be held in the tender grip of his affection. Yet, despite the undeniable pull between you, the timing and circumstances kept you both suspended in a dance of anticipation and restraint.

As the night gracefully approached its end, the exuberance that had animated the room gradually faded, replaced by a prevailing weariness that settled upon each person present. The infectious laughter that had resonated through the space was now muted, giving way to soft murmurs and the occasional yawn. Aware of the challenge posed by finding suitable accommodations in the unfamiliar locale, Ted kindly extended an invitation for everyone to find refuge in his home.

As the group dispersed, seeking rest and respite in different corners of the house, the once bustling room gradually grew quieter. The distant sound of water flowing and the gentle rhythm of toothbrush bristles against enamel permeated the air, a soothing melody that signalled the winding down of the evening. Amidst the hushed symphony of bedtime preparations, your gaze instinctively shifted towards Schlatt, seemingly a part of the furniture itself, his body sinking into the cushions as weariness settled upon him. His eyes, slightly swollen with the weight of sleepiness, reflected the strain of the long day and the unspoken desire for a peaceful slumber. With a slow and deliberate movement, Schlatt rolled his head in your direction, his eyes heavy with sleep. Through their drooping lids, he gazed at you, his gaze filled with a mixture of tenderness and drowsiness. The dim lighting cast a soft glow upon his features, highlighting the rugged contours of his face.

Amidst  the preparations for sleep, Ted, with a warm smile, bid everyone a good  night. He quietly ascended the stairs, his steps light and deliberate,  accompanied by the soft murmur of conversation as he and Shae retreated  to their own private sanctuary on the upper floor. Their laughter, now  softened, floated down from the higher realm, a gentle reminder of their  presence and the intimacy they shared.

With a weary stride, Charlie made his way back into the lounge, his fatigue evident in every step. Sensing that it was now time to prepare for sleep, you took it as a subtle cue to follow suit. Casting a fleeting glance towards the bathroom, from which Charlie had just emerged, you rose from your seat and made your way towards the doorway. The bathroom door stood ajar, inviting you in with its faint glow of soft light. Stepping inside, you were greeted by the lingering scent of fresh soap and the remnants of Charlie's presence. The room exuded a sense of quiet intimacy, its tiled walls reflecting the warm illumination of the small overhead light. 

As you diligently brushed your teeth, your gaze caught a flicker of movement in the bathroom doorway. Glancing at the mirror, you observed Schlatt's silhouette as he entered the room, his tall and commanding figure instantly commanding attention. The mirror acted as a portal, offering you a glimpse into his world as his broad reflection seemed to fill the entire frame. Schlatt moved with languid grace, his steps deliberate and unhurried. Clutching a toiletry bag in his hand, he exuded an air of quiet confidence, his presence filling the space around him. The bathroom seemed to shrink in comparison to his stature as if acknowledging his ability to effortlessly command any room he entered.

Awe washed over you as you watched Schlatt's reflection in the mirror. The soft illumination cast delicate shadows that danced across his features, emphasizing the graceful contours and gentle lines of his face. His eyes, still tinged with sleepiness, radiated a warm glimmer as they connected with yours in the mirror's reflection. In a wordless understanding, he stood behind you with just enough breathing room between you both, calmly reaching for his toothbrush and mirroring your actions. As you continued to brush your teeth, your gazes repeatedly caught and held, a mix of nervousness and anticipation flickering between you before each of you shyly looked away.

Amidst the not-so-subtle glances and the occasional, inconspicuous touches, an undeniable desire for a private moment had steadily built between you. The weight of unspoken words and unexplored emotions hung in the air, creating a palpable tension that seemed to beckon for a moment of solitude and intimacy. In that tender moment, Schlatt's free hand reached out towards you in a timid yet alluring gesture. His fingertips brushed against the side of your waist, leaving a trail of gentle warmth in their wake. His eyes, filled with a mix of longing and anticipation, remained locked with yours through the mirror, conveying a silent invitation for you to reciprocate the touch. Responding to Schlatt's subtle invitation, you mirrored his gesture with a tender yet purposeful motion. Your hand gracefully moved, guided by an invisible force, until it found its rightful place, nestled against his.

As your hands intertwined, you couldn't help but be reminded of the exquisite softness of Schlatt's touch. His palms, larger and stronger than yours, enveloped your hand with a comforting warmth. The contrast between his fingers and yours was evident, his touch gentle and deliberate as if he feared tarnishing the delicate canvas of your skin. In his exploration, his fingertips danced across your flesh, leaving a trail of electrifying sensations in their wake. You luxuriated in the tender caress of his touch for a blissful minute or two, relishing the intimate connection that thrived in those stolen moments. The rhythmic sound of brushing teeth persisted in the background, serving as a backdrop to the unspoken emotions that hung in the air.

With synchronized movements, you and Schlatt instinctively put away your toothbrushes. You could feel Schlatt's presence behind you, his towering figure casting a comforting shadow over your form. With a gentle squeeze of your hand, you both reluctantly released each other's grasp, the connection fading but leaving an electric pulse in its wake.

With a slight hesitation, you turned to face him. The strain of sleep was evident in the subtle furrows of his brow and the repeated slow blinks as if trying to clear his vision and fully awaken. His gaze, however, held a captivating intensity as it wandered over his own reflection, his eyes searching for imperfections that only he seemed to see. But then, like a magnet drawn to its polar opposite, his attention returned to you.

The room was immersed in serene stillness, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. A mixture of nerves and excitement churned in the pit of your stomach, causing a gentle swirl of emotions. Your gaze fixated on Schlatt's eyes, capturing every intricate detail that had previously eluded your attention. As you stared deeply into the depths of his irises, you were captivated by the newfound realization of tiny flecks of yellow and green that danced within the sea of his eyes. Upon further inspection, you were taken aback by the discovery of something you had never noticed before the remarkable length of Schlatt's eyelashes. They gracefully framed his eyes, casting delicate shadows as they fluttered with each blink.

With a bold yet tender touch, Schlatt's hand found its place on your waist, gently pulling you closer to him. The gap of air that had lingered between you dissipated as your bodies came into intimate contact. His lips, warm and eager, met yours in a passionate kiss, melding together in a breathtaking union of desire. As your lips moved in a synchronized dance, a faint tickle grazed your skin, and the sensation of his facial hair brushed against your upper lip. In the midst of this, your senses became heightened, every touch and every sensation magnified. You could feel the gentle pressure of his hand on your waist, anchoring you closer to him, as if he never wanted to let go. The taste of his lips, a perfect blend of warmth and mintiness, left an indelible mark on your senses. Your heart raced, its rhythm matching the intensity of the moment, as you surrendered to the magnetic pull drawing you deeper into him.

The air between you two hummed with a potent mix of desire and uncertainty. Schlatt's fingertips twitched, hovering in the space between your bodies, caught between the longing to explore further and the need to respect your boundaries. It was a tender dance of restraint and eagerness. As you reluctantly pulled away, the need for a shared breath became undeniable, your chests rose and fell in synchrony. In the midst of the comfortable silence, a faint shuffle of approaching steps broke the stillness. Both of you instinctively sensed the need to separate, to create the illusion of normalcy as if nothing had transpired between you.

You exchanged a quick, knowing glance, silently communicating your mutual understanding. With practised ease, you moved apart, adjusting your postures and composing yourselves. As the approaching figure came into view, your expressions regained their composure, masks of nonchalance slipping into place. You continued as if the charged encounter had never taken place, seamlessly blending into the facade of casual conversation and everyday gestures.

"I forgot my bag," Charlie tiredly announced, his footsteps sounding sluggish as he shuffled past the two of you. His eyes, heavy with weariness, glanced briefly in your direction before he continued on his way. And just as quickly as he entered, he left.

You and Schlatt exchanged a brief, amused glance, a shared understanding passing between you. With a mutual unspoken agreement, you both made your way back to the lounge, finding separate spots to settle down in. The comfort of the couch embraced Schlatt's tall frame as he sank into its familiar cushions, while you nestled into the other couch. The room was bathed in a soft glow, casting gentle shadows that danced along the walls, creating an intimate atmosphere. With a quiet and almost slurred voice, Charlie bid you both goodnight as he settled into his makeshift bed on the floor. Charlie's exhaustion was evident in his demeanour, his words trailing off as if he were battling a severe sleep deficit. In response, you and Schlatt offered him an asynchronous reply, murmuring a soft "good night" before settling in your respective spots to sleep. The weariness of the night's activities began to take hold, and the room embraced silence as a peaceful slumber beckoned to all who occupied it.

The transition from wakefulness to slumber was seamless, the weariness gradually overtaking your body without you even realizing how heavy your eyelids had become. As you closed your eyes, your mind became a swirling vortex of thoughts, memories, and fleeting images. Among them, the presence of your ex-boyfriend occasionally made an unwelcome appearance, his face haunting the depths of your subconscious. The remnants of past experiences, both good and bad, seemed to intertwine with the present, creating a complex tapestry of emotions that accompanied you into the realm of dreams. Yet, despite these intermittent intrusions, sleep began to claim you, pulling you further away from the conscious world and into the enigmatic realm of slumber.

Within the realm of dreams, the boundaries of reality blurred and time lost its hold. You found yourself drifting through fragmented scenes and surreal landscapes as if traversing the vast expanse of your own subconscious. Memories and emotions intertwined, creating a vivid amalgamation of experiences that played out like a montage of fleeting moments. Amidst the chaos, the image of your ex-boyfriend persisted, his presence both a reminder of past love and a lingering ghost of unresolved feelings.

You jolted awake. Pulled from the depths of sleep, your eyes snapped open to the encompassing darkness. The silence enveloped you, broken only by the faint and muffled sounds of distant snores. As your eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, they wandered across the room, taking in the sight of everyone peacefully asleep. Charlie, facing the wall, radiated an aura of tranquillity, his body barely stirring as he breathed in a rhythmic pattern. The serenity that emanated from him was palpable, creating a serene atmosphere within the room. To your left, Schlatt lay sprawled on the couch beside you, his form relaxed and at ease. His arm folded, cradling his head like a makeshift pillow, adding a casual air to his slumber. With closed eyes and a content expression, he emitted a gentle snore, so soft that it blended seamlessly with the quiet stillness of the room. His lips, ever so slightly parted, allowed the softest of breaths to escape. Despite his relaxed appearance, there was a hint of lingering frustration etched on Schlatt's features, even in the depths of his slumber. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, creating a subtle tension that contrasted with the tranquillity of his rest. It was as if his resting face couldn't fully escape the remnants of the emotions that often accompanied him during wakefulness.

Lying in the embrace of silence, your mind raced with a torrent of qualms, each one vying for your attention. As the quiet night enveloped you, a subtle unease gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, leaving you to question whether your subconscious was trying to convey a message. It pained you to entertain such thoughts, to doubt the choices you had made, but a small part of you couldn't help but wonder if you had made the right decision. Amidst the stillness, a twinge of doubt crept into your thoughts. You couldn't deny the fondness you felt for Schlatt, but a small voice within you questioned if it was merely a temporary infatuation, fueled by his protective nature. It was true that you hadn't seen him in this light before, not until after ending your relationship with your now ex-boyfriend. The realization troubled you, as you feared that you might unintentionally lead him on, only to have the fleeting euphoria fade away. The fear of leading him on and the guilt of acting too hastily weighed heavily upon you.

Despite the uncertainties swirling in your mind, you held onto the knowledge that Schlatt possessed an understanding nature. You were confident that if you decided to take a step back and cool things off, he would respect your choice. But deep down, you didn't want to push him away completely. There was a part of you that genuinely enjoyed his company, his presence bringing a sense of comfort and joy that you hadn't had the pleasure of feeling for a while. Yet, you were aware that you could inevitably string him along, knowing the potential pain it could cause both of you in the long run.

Regardless of the intricacies and uncertainties that lay ahead, one thing remained clear: honesty was paramount between you and Schlatt. The bond you shared deserved the foundation of truth, even if it meant facing uncomfortable conversations and challenging moments. As the weight of your thoughts grew heavier, lulling you into a state of exhaustion, you surrendered to the gentle embrace of slumber. The worries and uncertainties that had plagued your mind slowly faded into the background, replaced by the tranquillity of dreams. The rhythmic cadence of your breathing accompanied the silence of the night, carrying you away into a realm untouched by conscious thought.

Hours stealthily slipped away, carried by the ebb and flow of your breath, as your consciousness embarked on its nocturnal journey. Thoughts danced amidst the vast horizon of your mind, intertwining with fantasies, memories, and desires. And as the rays of sunlight painted the horizon and brazenly shone through the window, a gentle stirring pulled you back to wakefulness.

As your eyes gradually blinked open, the world came into focus, revealing a scene brimming with hushed conversations and the delicate rustling of people moving about. The ambiance of the morning amplified the otherwise muted sounds, enveloping the space with a serene stillness. Your gaze lazily wandered across the room, taking in the transformation that had occurred while you slumbered. The spots that were once filled with lively company mere hours ago now appeared vacant and meticulously organized, as if all traces of leisure and relaxation had been erased.

Gradually awakening from your slumber, the soft murmurs of conversation began to seep into your consciousness. The hushed tones indicated a deliberate effort to maintain a peaceful ambiance, as if those around you were cautious not to disrupt your rest. 

As your senses sharpened, you became aware of the gentle clinking of silverware against ceramic, a symphony of muted percussion accompanying the subdued conversations. The rhythmic sound indicated that breakfast was in full swing, and it seemed that everyone else was awake.

With a cautious movement, you sat yourself up, your eyes scanning the kitchen where a subtle sense of activity lingered. The hushed shuffling of your own movement seemed to have caught the attention of those present. Everyone offered their quiet and sincere "good mornings," before a commanding voice spoke.

"I never thought you were going to wake up," Schlatt deadpanned, his voice cutting through the morning silence. He brought a piece of toast to his mouth, the audible crunch resonating in the air as he took a bite. 

With a brief eye-roll laced with a hint of amusement, though overshadowed by your grogginess, you stretched your legs and rose from your seat. Making your way to the bathroom, you sought to freshen up and shake off the remnants of sleep that clung to your senses. As the warm water cascaded over your body, soothing and revitalizing your senses, your mind couldn't help but wander back to the thoughts from last night that you had hoped to keep at bay. Despite your efforts to push them aside, they persistently resurfaced, mingling with the steam and echoing in the corners of your mind.

Eventually stepping out into the brisk air, you dried yourself off and got dressed, going about the nuances off brushing your teeth, drying your hair and freshening up your appearance for the day. 

Returning to the lounge, you anticipated finding the space empty, with everyone having dispersed to attend to their own morning activities. However, to your surprise, the familiar faces of your friends were still gathered in the kitchen. They sat in a comfortable huddle, engrossed in easy conversation, their laughter filling the air. 

With a groggy demeanor, you made your way toward the lively commotion in the kitchen. Schlatt's eyes met yours, and a warm, affectionate smile graced his lips. However, his observant gaze seemed to catch onto the turmoil hiding beneath the surface of your expression. Schlatt's expression turned contemplative, a hint of surprise playing on his features as he observed you. Without a word, he pulled out a seat beside him, a silent invitation to join him in the midst of the gathered company. As you settled into the seat, Ted approached with a cup of steaming coffee, offering it to you with a warm smile as he asked if how you slept.

Sinking into the chair replying to Ted's sincere questions, you became acutely aware of Schlatt's gaze fixed upon you. The weight of his scrutiny bore into the side of your head. 

"Not a morning person?" Charlie asked innocently with a sincere smile, and a light hearted chuckle as he finished the remains of his breakfast. He was quick to discern your waning enthusiasm for the day.

With a simple shake of your head, you mustered a weary smile and raised the coffee mug to your lips. The warmth enveloped your senses and the rich aroma filled the air. In the midst of the continual chatter among your friends, you found yourself sinking into a quiet space of introspection. As you nibbled on the breakfast provided by Ted, the voices around you seemed to blend into a distant hum, their words passing through your ears without fully registering in your mind.

Having relished every interaction with Schlatt the previous night and noticing the subtle glimmer of excitement in his eyes when he saw your tired state this morning, a wave of guilt washed over you. You couldn't shake off the feeling that it would be unfair to burden him with the inner turmoil that plagued your thoughts. The tender moments shared, the affectionate gestures exchanged—they held a certain promise and hope that you were hesitant to disrupt.

"I'm taking Charlie to the airport, I'll be back in a bit," Ted declared, the jingle of keys punctuating his words. As you exchanged farewells, their departure left a void, and the echo of the closing door intensified the stillness that settled between you and Schlatt. The atmosphere grew dense with an unspoken tension, engulfing the room in a palpable silence that seemed to stretch endlessly.

"Everything okay?" Schlatt's voice carried a tenderness, laced with genuine concern, as he broke the silence. He sensed that your detached state and absent-mindedness went beyond your disdain for mornings. Words clamored for release, desperate to spill forth from your lips, but despite your best efforts, silence clung to your tongue. You mustered a nonchalant shrug, your shoulders lifting in a half-hearted attempt to dismiss the weight of your thoughts. Avoiding his compelling gaze, you shifted your focus to a point on the table, feigning indifference.

He sat patiently, his eyes fixed on you, understanding the struggle that consumed your thoughts. The weight of your uncertainty hung heavy in the air as you gathered the courage to articulate your qualms. With a hesitant pause, your voice emerged, its timbre lacking conviction and volume, as you admitted, "I'm just... unsure."

You braced yourself for the unknown, unsure of how he would react or what emotions would surface on his face. As your eyes met his, you searched for any sign of his true feelings, but his expression remained inscrutable, betraying no hints of his inner thoughts.

"There's just a lot going through my head at the moment. I feel confused. I," you paused, offering a meagre shrug, "I don't want to feel like I'm leading you on if things change."

Schlatt's eyes focused on you intently as he took in every single word, pause and articulation you breathed, before slowly nodding in understanding. 

"Did you want to," Schlatt paused, his eyes softened, "cool off for a bit?"

"No." Adamantly speaking, one thing you were sure of in a flurry on confusion. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page. I don't want either one of us getting our hopes up, or trying too hard to make things work." 

"We'll just take it as it comes. You sit in the drivers seat," his voice tinged with understanding, "and tell me to get out the fuckin' car once you've had enough of me." Schlatt's lips curved into a gentle smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, radiating a sense of playfulness. His words carrying a lightheartedness that helped alleviate some of the tension in the air. 

A brief moment of silence consumed the room once more before he used his arm to gently pull you into his side, placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head. He spoke with a gentleness you didn't believe was possible with a man of his stature and assertive demeanour, "We'll figure it out together don't worry."

link to rest of my work [x]

#chuckle sandwich #chucklesandwich #jschlatt #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #schlatt x you #schlatt x reader #schlatt #female reader #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #guilt and shame

[shrubberylogistic]

The Window and the Wall

You’re not built for moving. The packing. The unloading. You drop the last box with an exhausted sigh, collapsing on to the couch. Your skinny arms tremble with overuse, strings on weary shoulders, tugged to your bedroom. Seconds later you’re a squealing, giggling mess, leg cocked, panties twisted in his fingers, pushed up against the wall.

That wall. He hangs pictures of you there. Ones from before you met. Dates at the cafe, the restaurant, the buffet. Gelato at the beach. Turkey legs at the fair. Pictures of you now - rounder in the face, softer in the middle, squeezed in the slip of his arm. You raise an eyebrow, eyes running left to right, row to row.

He’s leaving room for more.

Much more.

He plays a game on the rare days you stand, thighs brushing, walking you towards the wall. It used to be your nose that touched the surface first. Now it’s your belly and breasts, cushioned and plush, stretching out your vest top. Then he walks you back, hands on your meaty hips, dipping you in the comfort of the covers to be succoured and stuffed, swelled until the only thing that touches next morning is the cusp of your heaving, sweltering gut, bloated with spaghetti and shakes. Unleashed. Uncontrollable.

Condensation settles on the window above, wide and high, the handle out of your reach. You stretch up, rubbing with a dry cloth in slow, gravid circles when he’s not around to watch you struggle, biting your lip at the feel of hanging, jiggling flesh, sleeves slack over arms that ache with every wobble. Breakfast in bed? It’s steamed up again. Brought Doordash upstairs? It’s steamed up again. He’s home from work? It’s steamed up again within seconds. Go figure.

At night, the pane frames your reflection - a pig, a puddle on the covers, your partner snoozing in your dough while you’re awake, wild-eyed, straining, feeling yourself unfurl with width, sucking in air. He strokes your folds, straddles your bulk and pulls the window open in the morning, for you to hear the laughter of children playing on the sidewalk, the distant hum of traffic, the pitter-patter of people jogging to places you’ll never see on your shrinking feet, pushing themselves to limits you reach on the waddle to the shower, huffing and puffing. The wall. Some hit it in a marathon. You hit it without a hand to hoist your ass from the couch.

The sun's rays cast a glow on towering stacks of empty food containers, scrunched candy wrappers, discarded dreams and swallowed pride, all heaped up on your cluttered floor, sloughing off a bed that groans under the weight of your existence. You spend days dissolving, naked, tracing the peeling paint on the wall, raindrops running on the window as you inhale your food, guzzle your drinks, fumble your phone with fat, greasy fingers. The pictures linger - two dozen shots of your hefty face, silent witnesses to your decline. Spongy, stirring, you slap the wall the moment the tightness snatches your chest, gritting your teeth, tongue dry in salty, dripping bacon lard, wheezing through your constricted nose.

Three digits. Three digits in your mind as you clamour for words to exhale. He’s there. Your heart clenches. His shadow’s on the wall. You can’t even choke out a groan. He watches you sink down the headboard, chins piling up on your chest. The ceiling starts to dull, your adrenaline dissipating in gassy, sweaty gasps. Too fat to flail. Too heavy for him to help you.

The sirens rake the ceiling red and blue. He’s holding your hand when the sledgehammer crashes through the glass. He’s squeezing your fingers when the saw ignites, slicing through the brickwork like butter. He’s covering your eyes when the dust disperses, blinding sunlight seeping through the hole in your house, cameras flashing, firefighters labouring to cut the gap wide enough for you to fit through.

You breathe through the clear blue mask, draped in shiny blankets, gurney rattling, eyes scanning a wreck. The end of your exile - but you’re still trapped. Swaddled under slabs of yourself, you’re stuck tighter than any walls can hold. A spectator to the rest of your life. You hear the ambulance backing up, beads of sweat forming on your brow. You hear him whisper this is exactly what you were meant to be.

Back to the wall. One window of opportunity.

One curtain, slowly drawing to a close.

#weightgain #weight gain fiction #wg fic #fatgirlstory #wg story #girlweightgain #wg #wg kink #wg fiction #death feedism #death feedist #getting fatter #wg text #wg fantasy #wg sequence #fat feedee #weight gain kink #weight gain writing #womanweightgain #girlgetsfat #bbwweightgain #bbwobese #ssbbwfat #ssbbw feedee #death feedee #feedist text #wg prose #girl weight gain #weight gain story #shrubberylogistic

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Through the fire and brimstone

Fandom: Berserk

Tags: Guts x reader, hurt/comfort, sprinkle of soft smut, dash of romance

Note: As I was writing SFW alphabet for Guts an idea came up to me while filling in one letter. It got so long that it deserved its own fic. I'm honestly surprised by the quality. This is the last thing I'll write for Berserk because I have dozens of other writing projects, as well as life outside of Tumblr. Consider this Aldryth's swan song to Guts.

By the way, I listened to this while writing this, if anyone's into that.

The last rays of the sun fell over Midland as the Black Swordsman settles for another sleepless night. With a handful of loyal companions in tow, including their healer. Said medic was rather displeased with the swordsman, for the man had thrown himself carelessly towards death yet again. Proof of that was countless new wounds marring his body. When he could walk no more, the group settled at the place he collapsed for the night.

One of the apostles was dead. You watched Guts skillet them with your own eyes. He stood over their corpse as he breathed raggedly, trying to modulate the aftereffects of his berserker armor. You knew he was badly injured, even with the armor in the way of your sight. You didn’t need it, your years of experience taught you many secrets of the human body, healthy or injured. However, you didn’t press for answers, knowing that the swordsman would only push you away. It truly got on your nerves sometimes and made you wonder why you traveled with him if he’s gonna push you away all the time. Especially since it was he who insisted you’ll join them in the first place.

Only when he could not stand on his feet anymore, you were allowed to work on him in relative peace. Propped up against a tree hidden from others a few feet away, half-conscious, half-awake, Guts resembled an autopsy examination rather than a person. Under your skilled hands, gashes closed, tendons joined back together and cells regenerated at rapid speed. Truth be told, your abilities could not be as successful were you not dabbled in magicks.

As you tend to him in silence, you noticed that his hands, laying limply over his thighs, were shaking. You looked up to search his face, desperately trying to mask the fear that settled over your heart. When he noticed you staring Guts croaked “I…I can’t stop them.” At that point, the knot in your stomach was tighter than a clenched fist. You knew his usual reaction to acts of sympathy…and yet. You took his trembling hands in yours and firmly hold them in place, as you pressed your forehead to his and gently prompted him to follow your breaths. Once he stopped shaking, you leaned away only for Guts to cage you in his arms, squeezing you painfully. You choked on your breath, trying to let enough air into your lungs but not to startle him into letting you go. You didn’t know what to do, whether to hug him back and whisper some words of encouragement or simply remain in his arms without moving. Understanding Guts was…difficult. He didn’t react to intimacy and kinship the way other people did, and the last thing you wanted was to startle him. He was like a cornered animal at times. Still, you need to do something. You squeezed him back with all your strength, letting a few more strings of healing magick seep into his skin if nothing more than to just comfort him. As you propped your chin on his shoulder, you whispered reverently in his ear.

“I’ll follow you through fire and brimstone. Whatever it is, we’re gonna get through this together.”

And you would. Together, you’ll stop this madness, no matter what it takes. You followed Guts for this reason, that and a secret part of you wanted to stay close to him, even if it would just so he lives another day.

There was a beat of silence after you said that. The next thing you know is a feeling of impossibly soft plush lips pressing desperately against yours. The hands that were tightly wrapped around you roamed your body, clutching feverishly as if to assure themselves all of your body parts stayed in place. For a moment you were so startled by the kiss, the warmth, and the softness. You allowed yourself thoughtlessly to go limp in his embrace and delve into the kiss. Tongue tentatively peeking out to touch his. Guts groaned helplessly as he pressed you on the moss-covered forest floor. Your hands ran over the expanse of corded muscle until they settled on his stomach, where you felt something warm and sticky against your fingertips.

His wounds have opened.

The moment it dawns on you, you tear your mouth away from his and try to push him away. Guts, displeased by the interruption, only lifts himself on his arms, unwilling to go any further. With guilt laced voice, you urge him to stop, else he gets more injured. He looks down at the reddening bandages and lets out a silent curse as you heal them once more.

He moved his face towards you once more, aiming for a kiss. You stopped him with a finger on his lips. “No strenuous exercise, or you’ll get even more hurt. I you know I-Ah...” Guts stopped your chiding with a light nip on your fingertip. Peering at you with dark glint in his eyes.

“I want you.” He whispered with a deep timbre in his voice, tugging at the neckline of your top and bending to kiss your neck. “Here. Now. I need you.”

I love you.

The thought moved through his mind, and Guts fought the instinct to drive it away. He didn’t say it alound, but he didn’t chase it down and squashed it, either.

“Guts, I…” Despite your nagging tone, you let your head roll to the side, giving him more room to nibble at your earlobe.

He was pushed away from your warmth once more. “I’m responsible for this party’s health Guts, I threaten your health for romp in the woods.”

Heet his head fall back against the tree bark.

“So…” Your fingers ran over his bandaged chest until they reached his breastbone and your eyes met his, “…we’ll have to be very careful.”

He can be gentle, he can be very gentle. Just let him hold you, hide inside your body for a while. Guts reached for you.

You held that hand against his solar and pushed him, gently but firmly, back against the bed of moss. “I'm the one who's going to be careful.”

“You dinna have to.” Guts protested as you crawled over him and settled on his lap, with your thighs caging him.

You pinned him down with your arms, “I'm going to do everything. And you must lie there and take it.”

There was nothing in the world that came less naturally to Guts than reclining on a cloud-soft moss bed and allowing someone else to do everything. Much less someone he'd come to treasure and protect.

But part of him liked the idea.

Liked it very, very much.

#berserk x reader #berserk anime #berserk manga #guts berserk #berserk #guts x reader #farewell kentaro miura

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Imagine a Reader who makes... plushies!

They hand-make them, have original patterns, and have a variety of fabrics and materials, ranging from puff balls to felt to velvetine to fluffy to smooth, whatever you can imagine! They even have some faux furs and faux feathers for the hyper-realistic models, in various natural shades. Any color or shade or hue, they have it in stock and ready to cut. Threads, they have over twenty colors. When it comes to eyes, do they have them! Buttons, realistic eyes with irises, little black rounds, iron-on and sew-on patches too!

When it comes to designs and creations, Reader is never out of ideas. They have several styles of bears, cats, dogs, wolves, bunnies, deer, sheep, llamas... Other creatures such as snakes, lizards, geckos, chameleons, and turtles... Frogs and salamanders and newts and tadpoles and axolotls... All sorts of fish and sea life, sharks and rays and salmon and starfish and octopi and jellyfish, plus qhales and orcas and seals, too... Even dinosaurs and dragons and unicorns and chimeras... And a special project, little plush versions of the X-Men and Brotherhood...

And Reader's powers even center on their hobby, their art! The ability to bring their creations to life and puppeteer them, even other people and creatures. With only a flick of their hand, their life/will fills them, and so does complete and utter loyalty. Reader could be a hero or a villain, but enjoys making whomever they consider a friend a little companion or pet, something to keep them company so they don't feel alone...

(Fun facts:

• Reader likes to wear sweaters

• Reader sleeps in a pile of plushies

• Reader can have little strings appear when they've brought something to life and/or controlling something/someone

• They can use sewing needles as weapons

• They have a bubbly, happy personality, but they had a dark/traumatizing childhood

• Some of their favorite foods are maple sausage, fried eggs, and sweet tea and lemonade

• They give their friends hugs, lots of them

(They are also gender-neutral, or the gender of the Reader, okay? Like all of my other posts)

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere marvel x reader #🪡Puppeteer!Reader

[ceruleancattail]

Shatter, prison of glass.

シャッター・グラス・プリズン

Introducing Ramshackle’s prefect, Cinder Fernway.

Art by the amazing @siphoklansan !!!!

Another lost soul, drawn to Ramshackle dorm. It does lead one to wonder. . .

Just what about that rundown shack is attractive to these poor wanderers?

All he knew was how cold it was.

Darkness engulfed him, shrouding his entire body in shadows. A veil of mourning. Raising a tentative hand, his fingers brush against a wall of sorts. Cushioned, fingertips sinking into the plush. A simple push had the wall shifting ever so slightly.

A shove had the wall ripped off, clattering onto the ground with a deafening crash. Light streamed in, stinging like a thousand needles. Squinting, he raised a hand to block the blinding rays. A sleeve, elaborate gold patterns sewn into the fabric. They rustle, twinkling playfully on the dark cloth. A thousand stars, condensed into his clothes.

A quick glance down revealed a robe, held in place with a silk belt, with a golden buckle in front. It seemed to glow in the light, beaming with pride.

That’s definitely new.

A chamber, lit up with ghostly purple fires, flickering like a thousand tongues. Wagging at him, mocking his very being. Mirrors framed in gold frames of curls and twirls. They hover off the ground, showing him every single angle of his face.

A pair of haunting pale eyes, a ghostly blue of a misty sky. Hair once dyed an ebony black, golden roots peeking out from his scalp. A scar ran through his lips, twitching with every breath.

A souvenir from a particularly crushing defeat. His feet hooked onto the last hurdle, sending both the metal bar and his body tumbling onto the ground. The ground scalped his skin, and carved a particularly nasty gash on his lips.

It wiggled when he laughed.

Fun.

Unfortunately, he didn’t quite feel like smiling now.

“Where… where the hell am I?”

Name: Cinder Fernway

Age: 18

Pronouns: he/him

Dominant hand: Right

About him:

Cinder’s a determined person. Eager to get home, he’ll throw himself into research headfirst. Perhaps it’s a lingering desire from his days as an athlete, but Cinder strives to be first. First in class, first to get a certain topic… He’s slowly trying to rid himself of this habit, so do be patient with him, won’t you?

Cinder tries his best to look nice. He really does. His face is just eternally stuck in that scowl. He’s not mad, he promises.

Although the rare moments someone drags a smile out of him are to die for. Cinder has this wide, cheerful grin that just melts. His lips gently slide into a small smile, warm as the evening sun.

Favourite food: Chili Crab

Backstory: A Star Track runner, Cinder can’t remember a time he wasn’t running. Feet beating against the ground, a flurry of movement. He learnt to dance with the speed, harnessing it as his own. Running for hours on a end, in love with the wind in his hair, the sheer adrenaline flowing through his veins.

He’s never felt more alive.

However, in the pursuit of speed, some things must be sarcrificed. When a candle burns as brightly as he does, its wick crumbles into ashes. Cinder’s body was no exception.

In one particular race, he tore his anterior cruciate ligament. Strings coming undone, final curtains crashing down on his stage. The ball has come to a stop, the Magic’s gone. He’s in rags, legs trapped within a glass prison. Try to run? It’ll shatter entirely, glass splinters digging deep into his shins, cutting into his skin.

Damaging his legs beyond repair.

It hurts. Fate determined to end Cinder’s story. Just when he about to get started.

Please… don’t roll the credits just yet.

He swears that this story will continue on, long after the clock strikes 12

#the mage’s hat 🎩 #twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Cinder #Cinder Fernway #ramshackle prefect #so here’s my boyyyyy

[angelkakewritings]

SUN ON THE CUL-DE-SAC

DILF!Phillip Graves x Female Reader

ONE SHOT || MDNI

PRONOUNS USED: She/Her/Hers

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the canon character of Phillip Graves or any of the canon characters or canon lore of the games.

CW: DILF!AU, slight age gap! ( reader is set to be in her early to mid twenties and Phillip would be his canonical age) mutual pining, exhibitionism, kissing, cursing, praising, mentions of alcohol (nobody included in the story drinks!) male receiving oral, face fucking.

Author's Note: Based upon the existing headcanons about DILF!Phillip Graves contributed by the fandom, the concept is not something out of my original writings! I do not condone the actions or behaviors of Phillip, this was made just for fun! Enjoy!

Cul-de-sac.

The word hits the tip of the tongue three times only for its definition to plainly be "bottom of the sack."

A phrase that the young woman thought perfectly embodied what it was like to exist in the small town. A blur of endless birthday parties, summer picnics, and mediocre thanksgiving dinners with the same old neighbors who spent their time gossiping on who or what they saw in passing at the grocery store.

Perhaps, she had nobody else to blame for her unhappiness but herself. Nobody was forcing her to stay and why wouldn't she? The house was reasonably priced, the area was safe, work was a car ride away.

Safety, security and stability.

The American dream was right outside her doorstep.

And when the summer crept in, it was now moved right next door.

On the third day of the heat wave that plagued the neighborhood, the idea of staying inside and being overstimulated by the buzzing sound of the air conditioner and the heaviness of her clothes against her  body brought dread to the young woman.

The sound of sprinklers being timely turned on with the droplets of water hitting the soft green grass inspired her to stroll to the back porch with a cold water bottle in hand accompanied by a small stack of books in the other.

She opened the screen door, revealing the bursts of greenery and white iron lawn furniture that decorated the backyard. The summer heat pooled around her, the rays of sunlight that kissed her exposed navel made their way to the peaks of her breasts that were being held together by the dainty terry cloth string of her canary yellow bikini.

In the middle of the wildflower and clotheslines riddled backyard she sunbathed away, lounged on-top of the plush chaise chair and lost in her own little world of fictional romances and written angsts.

Chapter three of her drugstore romance novel was interrupted by the sound of a low whistle, the deep decibels caused her to prop up her sunglasses.

Leaning against the wooden face, standing at 5'10, was her neighbor Phillip Graves. He was almost unrecognizable without the droves of lonely and desperate housewives that coddled him in bites of their homemade apple pies and lingering french tip touches.

Phillip was a very handsome man, the kind of handsome that made people treat him differently. The dads of the cul-de-sac always gave Phillip top priority when it came to fourth of july barbeques, the mothers making sure to send over casseroles and inviting him over as soon as their husbands went to work, the children looked up to commander Graves as a true American hero.

His ego never got to the best of him however, despite all the attention he attracted. His attention always fell upon the young woman that lived next door, his scarred hands lingered on the small of her back when they greeted one another at gatherings, throwing winks and gazes at her when everybody else fell into their mindless chatter.

She never minded the extra attention. In fact, she played into it as much as she humanely could. She had grown into the nasty habit of leaving her curtains wide open towards his blue shuttered home, inviting his gaze in to witness her walking around her house wearing her shortest skirts with no underwear, bending and flexing over to expose her puffy cunt tucked between her supple thighs.

He wanted her as much as she did him.

There she laid, glossy with tanning oil, kissable lips lustrous with droplets of water and tied together with a pale yellow ribbon

A lewd illustration out of one of his fantasies.

"Enjoying the summer heat too?" She foxily asked, putting her book to the side while looking onto Phillip's lust hooded eyes.

He chuckled, "Sure. I'm just admiring your rose bushes." He boyishly commented. "I was just cleaning up a bit before the barbeque tonight. You're still welcome to come by the way." His baby blue orbs followed her form as she dainty walked over towards him, the two now standing mere inches away from each other.

"I'll pass, thank you. I don't think I'd stand a chance against the queen bees of the P.T.A" She giggled, the corners of her mouth curling in mischief. 

Phillip bit his lip at seeing how ecstatic she had turned around him, he wished nothing more than to revel in her essence.

"I'm pretty sure it would be the other way around sweetheart."

The nickname caused her heart to skip a beat, it was the type of material she would use to moan his name against the bathroom walls while touching herself to the idea of him.

The pregnant pause between them was filled with the sharp shrill of a cicada singing high up above the two.

A pair of manicured fingers gently laid upon his wrist, "You mind if I come over for a beer? I'm assuming it's already being chilled in the cooler." She purred.

His large hand took her fingers, "Of course."

'How could he say no?' he thought.

In a matter of minutes, a kaleidoscope of sweet cherry chapstick and the bitter notes of mint swatched on the palettes of their tongues.

"You're an angel." He breathed out in between kisses, humming in red hot delight at her hand palming the bulk between his legs.

"I can show you how much of an angel I could be." She hushed out, looking at his calloused fingers plucking away the string of her top.

"On your knees."

The words fell on her ears as a soft demand, a gentle plea to the siren in front of him to crawl at his will. The sunburnt skin of her knees stinged against the cool tiles of the kitchen floor as she nestled in front of his massive form, her rose petal soft face now juxtaposing the erection that was vulgarly throbbing beneath his pants.

Hypnotized, Phillip watched in unwavering movement at how she pulled and tugged away at the layers of his leather belt and cotton to reveal the long and pink nature of his cock that curved upwards, angry and weeping with beads of pre-cum. The rosy pair of lips haloed around his bloated tip, sloppily placing warm and wet kisses. His hand ran through her lustrous hair, pleasure and agony running up and down his back to the rooks of his shoulder blades.

Each bob of her head brought him further and further into the wet crevasse of her mouth, every movement earning a low groan and high whine.

"Atta girl." He praised out at his tip hitting the back of her throat, his hips began to buck against her pretty face. She looked through wet and willing eyes as he chased his high, visions of pinks and swollen reds blanketed her cheeks and the full of her pout.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

The explicit chants, whimpers and swishing of her saliva coating the entirety of his length brought her pussy to a weep, feeling how her slick coated her exterior and down to the cup of her ass.

The destructive rhythm of his hips came to an abrupt halt as the veins that ran on every inch of his dick protruded and ached, spurts of hot white cum filled the opening of her mouth as he twitched and rocked out his climax.

His large hands clamping down on her chest, bracing himself with the pleasure that burned his aura.

Phillip pulled away, dusted in exhaustion and sweat.

A deep grumble of victory expelled from his chest while looking down at his girl, cherry red with tears at the corner of her eyes and swathed with brine white

He cupped her cheeks, placing the kiss of a bee on her destroyed lips.

She pressed herself into his, running her finger across the scar deeply embedded in his cheek, pensive in what the summer now held.

#phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #commander phillip graves #call of duty mw2 #mw2 fanfic #fanfic #mw2 smut #oneshot #just for fun #phillip graves smut #my writing