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wheresarizona · 10 months

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Learning to Live Part 20

summary: Javier has a shitty first day at his new job—thankfully, you thought ahead and planned some surprises that will turn it all around.

rating: E (18+! No y/n, age gap (around 10 years), Soft Javier Peña, alternating pov, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, (massive) breeding kink, sneaking around (secretly fucking in a house full of people), dirty talk, spanking, praise kink, domestic fluff, family fluff, family bonding, PTSD (panic attack), food as a metaphor for love, emotional hurt/comfort, hanging out with Chucho and fam, Javier in love, Javier saying very romantic things in Spanish, Javier holding a baby, baby fever)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

a/n: Hello there! This is a very important chapter that I literally hammered out in less than two weeks (I don’t know how I did it). We meet some new characters, and there’s a lot of Chucho content. It’s also very plot heavy. Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing. You're the best!

word count: 22k (this is who I am)

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

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The Webb County Sheriff’s Office was located in the heart of downtown Laredo, a hulking two-story building with a tan stucco exterior and grey metal lettering on the front declaring, ‘Sheriff’s Office.’ Their jurisdiction spanned over three thousand miles and was the largest in southern Texas—whereas the Laredo Police Department only handled the town itself.

Javier had opinions about the local police.

None of them were good, seeing as the department’s Chief for the last twenty-something years has been Lorraine’s other uncle.

If it seemed like her family was everywhere, that was because they fucking were.

Her father’s side, the Smiths, have lived in the area going back generations and were the wealthiest family in Laredo, all thanks to the large transportation company her great-grandfather started back in the early 1900s. Their family made a name for themselves and were known for their philanthropy and pursuits to better the town—at least, that was true before her father took over the company from her grandfather and used all of the good his predecessors had done as a means to run for Mayor, making what turned out to be empty promises after he was elected.

He wasn’t the worst Mayor in Laredo’s history, but he wasn’t the best, either.

The philanthropic endeavors decreased when the business was handed over to her dad, who was more concerned with filling the family’s pockets, yet they still remained the town’s biggest benefactor and were held in somewhat high regard. The Smiths were well known, and two out of his three brothers had notable careers in town: one was the Chief of police, another had been a judge down at the courthouse before he was nominated by President George H. W. Bush to work on the federal level, and then, of course, there was Javier’s former barber.

Lorraine also had siblings and a hell of a lot of cousins who still lived in Laredo, so her family was fucking everywhere, much to his annoyance. He did his best to avoid them at all costs, especially if Cielito was with him. Javier was pretty sure there would be a physical altercation if she saw his ex, which made him smile, but it also meant he had to be on high alert when they were out and about. He was proud of how good he’d gotten at distracting her to keep them from crossing paths, usually feigning interest in a nearby store or restaurant. There was also the time they hadn’t even left his truck yet, and he’d spotted Lorraine down the street, so he kissed his girlfriend and made out with her for a solid five minutes to make sure the coast was clear—that one was his favorite.

Thankfully, none of the Smiths worked for the Sheriff.

There were five minutes to spare when he arrived at the office downtown, spending the first hour with the only Human Resources employee, Juana, a lovely older woman, half his size who kept calling him ‘Guapo (Handsome)’ and trying to wheedle his mom’s tamale recipe out of him. He’d filled out all of the necessary paperwork, frowning when he had to mark ‘Single’ on many of the forms. He got his picture taken and badge made, Juana commenting it was ‘Guapísimo (Very handsome),’ and he couldn’t wait to show Cielito to see her reaction, wearing it around his neck on a black lanyard. Then the older woman gave him a tour of the building, the only places of interest to him being the supply room, conference room, records room, evidence room, and where the nearest pot of coffee was located to his new office, which was their final stop.

Most of the people who worked here, he either knew or knew of, and they were all very aware of who he was if the looks and whispers he ignored were anything to go by.

His office wasn’t anything special and didn’t compare in the slightest to what he’d had in Colombia. It was small, with room enough for a cherry wood L-shaped desk against one wall, his desk chair putting the door in his line of sight, two chairs in front of it, and two bookcases behind it on either side of the window that had a breathtaking view of the parking lot. A computer was atop the reddish-brown hardwood, the bulky thing situated against the wall. A typewriter, which was more his speed, was on the other side near the edge, and a landline office phone between them in the corner. Aside from those three things, everything else was bare and empty—his plan was to raid the supply room, which could more accurately be described as a closet, for all the shit he needed.

He was standing just inside the door and finally alone, shuffling the stuff in his hands to free one up to grab the door handle and pull it forward to look at the other side, smiling when he saw there was a lock. Making his way around the desk, he set the things in his hand down on top of it, pulling out the chair and taking a seat.

The first item did not belong to him, and he’d never be caught dead with it, which was a fucking lie since it was sitting on his desk—The Empire Strikes Back Metal Lunch box was blue with art of Han, Leia, Chewie, and C-3PO in the Millennium Falcon cockpit, and did belong to his girlfriend, who’d packed his lunch the night before. She realized they hadn’t gotten him a lunch bag of his own, so she handed him this fucking thing at the door, giving him a kiss and a smack to the ass, telling him to have a good day.

He moved it off the desk and down behind it on the floor where it wouldn’t be seen.

The other two items were small black-bordered picture frames, setting the first one up: a picture of him and Cielito in his dad’s backyard, her standing in front of him with his arms wrapped around her chest, her hands holding them to her, his head beside hers as they smiled at the camera, the happiness clear on their faces. He put the second one next to it that had a Polaroid he’d taken while they made dinner one night in their kitchen of her grinning brightly at the camera and looking unbelievably adorable in his Fleetwood Mac shirt.

They made him smile, his mind going back to that morning and how fucking good it was. He sighed softly, touching the knot around his throat. He loved having her watch and help him get ready, then seeing how much it turned her on when he was dressed, wishing every morning was like that—the woman he loved choosing his outfit and keeping him company. They usually got dressed together, sometimes even asking each other opinions on what to wear, but it had never been like today. He wanted to look good for her, he wanted to wear what she wanted, he wanted to do something so simple to make her happy.

Then there were the things she did to him that had his slacks suddenly feeling a bit tight.

Javier felt like such a dick for arguing with her. He doesn’t know what came over him except that he didn’t think it was fair that only he was getting off—which was dumb because they both had times when they just wanted to pleasure the other without getting anything in return.

Fuck, her mouth, her tits. He looked at the Polaroid and her breasts under his shirt. She was so fucking beautiful between his knees, fucking him with them and letting him come all over her chest. Coming inside her was his favorite, but seeing her painted in his spend was a close second… Unless he could finish in her ass. His brain shortcircuited for a second, imagining how fucking tight she’d be while he filled her, and if she orgasmed at the same time, she’d tense up and squeeze his dic—

There was a low whistle from the door, a familiar deep voice saying, “Te tiene loco esa muchacha, se te sale la baba (That girl’s got you going crazy, you’re drooling).”

Javier frowned, his cheeks heating, clearing his throat as he looked at the older man standing in the doorway. He didn’t get up from his chair since his cock was at half-mast, confirming he was, in fact, crazy about her.

The newcomer had a similar build to his dad, the short cropped hair on his head and around his mouth grey with age, wearing the Webb County Sheriff Department uniform of a khaki short sleeve button up and army green pants with a yellow stripe down the sides, the golden Sheriff star badge pinned to his chest, glittering in the lights.

Unrelated to him, Sheriff Arturo López was about his age when he was elected into office back in the 70s. He was the county’s longest-serving Sheriff, and for good reason: he was an honorable man. Javier was very aware of this because he’s known him his whole life; Arturo was a good friend of his father’s.

“You’re as annoying as Pop,” he grumbled, straightening in his seat. “He’s told you about her?”

The other man’s face lit up, walking into the room to stand behind one of the chairs in front of the desk, resting both hands on the back.

“Talks about her and you—” His finger was directed at Javier. “—all the damn time. When I went out to the ranch last week, he showed me all of the pictures he took last month on his birthday with that fancy new camera you got him.”

He and Cielito had celebrated with his dad by barbecuing at the ranch. Daphne and Velma were in attendance; the two calves he’d practically raised, whom they affectionately called their bovine children, were given apples as treats, happily lying in the sun or chewing on the grass with their humans nearby. Chucho loved Cielito’s cooking almost as much as Javier did and had requested a peach pie for his birthday, which she, of course, made for him, much to his delight—he wouldn’t shut up about how much he loved it, and that was completely understandable, it was a really fucking good pie; so good, in fact, that Javier had stolen an extra piece before they’d left for the night. The picture of them on his desk was from that day, Cielito looking beautiful in a lavender-colored dress that he’d managed to match his button-up to—his eyes went back to it, thinking they looked so good together.

Perfect.

“¿Me oyes o que (Can you hear me or what)?” Arturo said a little louder, snapping his fingers to get his attention. Javier immediately looked up at him, seeing the other man was amused.

“Shit, sorry,” Javier replied, running a hand through his hair.

Arturo chuckled. “Tu papá tenía razón (Your dad was right). Estás arrebatado (You’re completely enraptured).” He slid a chair out and sat down, kicking his feet up on the desk’s edge.

His jaw ticked, annoyance creeping up on him, saying, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve got it bad—are you here to give me shit about it, or are we going to discuss the scope of this job you’ve been on my ass about since I got back?”

The other man huffed out a breath, his face going serious, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. “Your dad also said you get very defensive about it—tu novia (your girlfriend) is off limits. I read you loud and clear.” He put his feet down, sitting up in his seat, his eyes on Javier’s. “Remember when I offered you a job when you graduated from A&M?” he asked.

Javier did—it was his backup plan if swimming hadn’t panned out. He’d wanted to get into law enforcement, and it would’ve been a good start, but then Lorraine fucked that up for him, too, since he had to get the hell out of Laredo.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“I saw your potential all those years ago—determination in your eyes to do something good and look at what you did in South America.”

Javier scoffed.

A crease appeared between the Sheriff’s eyes. “You know you’re a hero, right?” he asked.

Javier’s elbows were on the desk, his fingers laced in front of him. “I’m no hero.” He shook his head. “I just did my fucking job, and that’s it. Not like any of it mattered, anyway—the war on drugs will never fucking end.”

“On a large scale? No, there will always be drug trafficking, but things can be done here at home to crack down on it and keep our community safe.”

His eyebrow rose. “That’s why you need me?”

The older man smiled. “Partially.” He shrugged. “I’m sure you’re aware of the drug smuggling problems we’re having here in Laredo?”

He nodded.

Arturo continued, “We know it’s coming into Laredo and then being distributed out to the bigger cities—we’ve got a whole narcotics unit, and they’ve done some decent busts throughout the county, but things can turn violent quick. You know how it is, people have drugs—”

“They’ll have weapons,” he cut him off, nodding.

They have to protect their cargo.

“Well, our current strategies aren’t making much difference, and even with some wins, it’s not enough. You personally took out the Colombians, and with them gone, the Mexican cartels have been taking advantage, and things have gotten bad, and that’s why I needed you to take this job. I need a new set of eyes. I need your expertise.” He pointed at Javier. “I need you to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. I want you to work with the team and make a better plan of attack. Have you kept up on the Mexican cartels?”

He has. Steve still works for the DEA in Florida and updates him about the goings on in South America and Mexico on their weekly calls.

“Yeah.”

“Good, we know they’re supplying.”

“Of course they are. So, you want me to look over the situation here, consult, and help plan? Can I meet the head of the narcotics unit?”

“You’re the head of the narcotics unit.”

His eyes widened, taken aback. “...what?”

That definitely wasn’t in the job description—he was supposed to be here for informational purposes only, training people, consulting, not running a team. He promised Cielito this would be an office job, and he absolutely would not go back on his word to her; he’d quit first and work somewhere else; hell, his alma mater, had put out feelers on if he’d like to teach. Anger was bubbling in his belly that this was turning out to be a fucking bait and switch, the Sheriff putting way more responsibility on him than he agreed to.

His face pinched in anger, glaring at the other man, his voice low, menacing, not brokering any room for argument, “When you pitched me this job, you said I’d be consulting, bringing in my knowledge and training people, shit like that. I didn’t sign up to head a fucking unit. I promised my girl this job would be nothing like the fucking DEA.”

“Cálmate (Calm down), Javi, it isn’t.” The Sheriff waved away his concern. “I’m sorry for springing it on you like this. I thought you’d like to be in charge since you wanted a desk job, and that’s what it is, a desk job—you’ll never see any action. You don’t even need a gun. You’ve got a lot of experience we could benefit from, so it makes sense you’d be the best person to lead and advise them. You’d help them do their jobs better.”

Javier had the upper hand here—the other man needed him more than he needed this job.

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t want the fucking responsibility of running a team—if that’s the case, I’m walking out that fucking door.” He jutted his finger toward it.

Arturo frowned, sighing deeply as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll forget the title. I’ll assign one of the other guys as the leader. You’ll consult—look into the situation here, help train, and plan. Is that better?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I am not in charge of them, is that understood?”

The other man sighed again. “Yes, Javi. You’re not in charge—no responsibility for them.” He leaned forward, offering his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yeah,” he replied, shaking the offered palm.

“Good,” the Sheriff said. “Welcome aboard.” He got up from his chair. “The team is scheduled to meet with you at one in the conference room for introductions—they’re expecting you.” He was walking toward the door, stopping before he exited to look at Javier over his shoulder. “There’s one other part of your job I forgot to mention.”

Javier let out a loud breath, feeling beyond annoyed. “What’s that?”

“You’ll be the point of contact for the DEA when they come knocking—I’ve got Southern Texas’ largest county to worry about. I don’t have time for their bullshit.”

He scoffed. “You’re joking.”

“I’m serious. I’m glad you’re here, Javi. Thank you for doing this,” he said as he left the room.

“Fuck,” Javier breathed, pressing his face into his hands.

Did he make a fucking mistake taking this job? He felt like he’d bit off way more than he could chew. He was starting to get a headache, reminding himself that this wouldn’t be anything like the DEA; he wasn’t going after cartels, he wasn’t having to put his life at risk, he was keeping his promise to Cielito, and that was all that fucking mattered.

Thinking of her, he remembered the day before when they were eating breakfast, hearing her voice clear in his mind saying, ‘...since you love challenges, you should dig into a problem…’

Find a problem to solve.

What was going on in Mexico wasn’t his problem; that was for the feds to worry about; what was a big fucking problem to him were drugs somehow making it past heavy border patrol and DEA intervention, but could he solve it?

The woman he loved was into that astrology shit, and the stars, or whatever the fuck, seemed to want him to.

Jesus Christ, was he really taking advice from something somebody probably pulled out of their ass?

He thought about it more rationally.

Laredo was his home, even if he wanted to leave it with his girlfriend most of the time. He had Cielito and his dad here; one day, they’d have children. Did he want to bring their kids into a world where there was a possibility of danger? He was remembering Colombia and the horrible shit he’d seen when drug busts went sideways, and innocent people got caught in the crossfire. What if Cielito was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and something happened to her? His memories of South America were fueling the worst-case scenarios playing out in his head of things that could happen to her or their future kids, his heart starting to pound in his chest, dread feeling like lead in the pit of his stomach.

He was beginning to panic as he thought of the potential consequences if he didn’t do this. He needed to keep his family safe; he had to make sure their home was safe, needing to protect his future wife and their future children.

What if I fail to protect them like I failed others before?

His breaths were coming out quick, the room suddenly going dark around the edges, it feeling stifling—he couldn’t breathe.

With it being the beginning of August in Southern Texas, it was barely ten a.m. and already scorching hot outside.

After sending Javi off to work with the coolest lunch box that he sighed really loudly at taking, a kiss and a smack to his ass, you’d showered, putting on some black bicycle shorts and the white t-shirt you’d gotten at a Prince concert the year prior. It had his symbol on the front with ‘The “Jam of the Year” World Tour 97/98.’ written on it, wanting to wear comfortable clothes since you’d be cooking all day—something that required you to leave your apartment.

But not to go to a store… yet.

The air conditioning was turned up as high as it would go in your car, Salt-N-Pepa playing loudly over the whirring of it as you drove down the road.

Ringing sounded in the passenger seat from the cell phone in your purse Javi got you when he moved in; you hadn’t wanted it, but the man worried about you getting stranded on the side of the road, or having an emergency, so to mollify him you’d accepted it.

Your eyes stayed on the road as you reached into your bag, fumbling around until you found the hard plastic Nokia phone that seemed practically indestructible. Pulling it out, you turned down the radio, the screen on the cellphone glowing green showing Javi was calling—which was a surprise, immediately hitting the answer button.

“Hey, babe!” you greeted, driving one-handed.

“Talk to me,” he said between heavy breaths, sounding like he’d been running.

It made you frown, worry curling in your gut that something was wrong.

“Javi, what’s going on?”

“Talk, please.” There was desperation in his tone, understanding he needed you to calm him down.

“Okay, um, gosh, I am so sorry for this stream of consciousness, it’s going to be unfiltered, just straight brain to mouth,” you rambled. “I’m driving right now and wearing those tight, stretchy shorts that I swear to fucking god are a magnet for your hands—you know the ones. Like, you smack my ass so much in these that I know if I’m within reach of you, I’m getting spanked—which, I’m only telling you this because you’re, you know, but I love when you do it so much—I love you, too, a lot, an insane amount, and I can’t wait to see you, so I can give you a big hug and smother your face in kisses—just smooches all over that sexy mug of yours. Um, I hope you’ll like the dinner I’m making—it’s gonna test my skills, and I’m excited to attempt it; hopefully, it’ll be edible.”

His breaths were beginning to even out, continuing to speak your thoughts, “I’m super worried about you right now since you’re calling me before your lunch and needing me to talk. So, just focus on my voice, baby—you’re gonna get through this. Breathe, you’re okay, and it’s gonna pass—everything is okay. Um, fuck, what else can I talk about, oh! I really liked that movie we rented Friday before last—the one with Harrison Ford? It was honestly so on point that the woman fell in love with him while stranded on that deserted island—how could you not fall in love with Pilot Harrison Ford? Which, I mean I wouldn’t—” you added quickly. “—I’ve already got a hunky, grumpy man I’m disgustingly in love with, thank you very much, and Harrison Ford can kick rocks—you’re my hunky, grumpy man, I’m disgustingly in love with if that wasn’t clear, and if I got stranded somewhere I know you’d find me—I don’t know how you’d do it, but you would. I know I said it already, but I love you, Javi—I love you so much sometimes I feel like I’m going to combust—”

“I love you, too,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

“There you are,” you replied, smiling in relief at hearing him. “Feel better?”

“Yes.” He audibly swallowed. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me, and you’d never bother me, Javi. I love you.”

“I love you, too—I fucking knew you wear those shorts on purpose.” The smile was evident in his voice.

You giggled. “Kinda. They’re just really comfy.”

“Uh-huh, right. I’m also happy to be your hunky, grumpy man you’re disgustingly in love with.”

“Good, ‘cause you are.” The reason he called had you sobering up, asking, “Javi, do you want to talk about what happened?”

He sighed. “The, uh, smuggling problem is worse than I thought, and I started thinking about if something happened to you or our kids, and it, uh—”

“Triggered a panic attack,” you finished for him. “Javi,” you said softly. “It’s your first day, and you already had a panic attack. Are you sure you should be doing this job?”

“I promise, I’m okay—it won’t happen again.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I know,” he sighed again.

“You can quit and go back to work with your dad on the ranch while you look for another job that won’t be so triggering.”

“I know… But I want to do this.”

A frown was on your face again. When he told you he’d gotten a job with the Sheriff, you’d been worried it’d make him miserable and lead to him resenting you. He was adamant that wouldn’t happen, and his new work wouldn’t be anything like the DEA, promising you it was just an office job, but with this phone call, your worries were back. He’d been there—you glanced at the clock on your radio—two hours, and he’d already had a panic attack—it didn’t bode well that his PTSD was acting up. Then there was the determination in his tone, hearing how he felt like this was something he had to do, and it made you feel uneasy.

“Okay,” you replied. If this was what he wanted, you wouldn’t fight him on it. “But if this happens again, you call me.”

“I will.”

“Promise me, Javier—don’t hide it from me.”

“I promise, Cielito. I won’t keep it from you.”

“Thank you. Now, do you need me to come down there right now? It’d take me like twenty minutes.”

“No, baby.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m okay.”

“Alright. How’s your first day so far?”

“The woman from HR kept calling me guapo, but I think she was just saying it to get mi mamá’s tamale recipe.”

You snorted. “Eres guapísimo (You’re very handsome). ¿Ella tuvo éxito (Did she succeed)?”

He chuckled. “No, Cielito. No se lo diré a nadie excepto a ti (I won’t tell anyone except you).”

“I don’t know why, but that’s very romantic, and I’m touched.”

“Ella hubiera querido que lo tuvieras (She would’ve wanted you to have it).”

You were smiling big.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“I should probably get back to work.” He sounded like he didn’t want to get off the phone.

“Wait, promise me, Javier, if this job gets to be too much or you feel yourself slipping back to how you were before, you’ll quit. Promise me.”

“I promise, Cielito—I pinky promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it. I love you. Call me on your lunch.”

“I love you, too, and I will.”

Goodbyes were said, the call ending, tossing the phone back into the passenger seat.

Chewing on your lip, your brain was stuck on Javi as you drove.

You really fucking hoped he’d be okay, but your boyfriend was stubborn, and when he put his mind to something, he didn’t let anything get in his way—including himself. It was one of his flaws, yet also a strength, that made him good at his job.

Colombia was a looming shadow, always following him around, and he still hadn’t shed a light on it for you. You knew the overview of his time there—he’d worked with Steve to help take down Pablo Escobar, but he’d fucked up and was sent home before they’d gotten the fucker; A lot of his informants were prostitutes that he’d slept with; He was sent back a second time and was put in charge, working his ass off to take down the Cali Cartel, and once he finished, he’d resigned from the DEA—and now he’d found another thing to put his mind to, and you were worried it would consume him.

You wouldn’t let him fall back into old habits and would talk to him and lay down some ground rules, the first being work stayed at work—when he came home, it was time for him to relax and forget about the day. It was what you did; it was how you survived being a busy emergency room nurse in a hospital in Dallas, where there was so much death. Once you clocked out for the day, your shift was over, and your worries over work ceased until you clocked back in for your next shift. There was no dwelling on things when you’d go home. If you did, you would’ve been miserable and the job much more difficult. You knew it would be really fucking hard for Javi to do, but you were determined to make sure he didn’t revert back to the miserable, depressed man he’d been in Colombia.

It wasn’t going to happen. Not if you had any say.

Your mind had been so preoccupied you suddenly found yourself at your destination, pulling into Chucho’s driveway, the gravel crunching under your tires, seeing him sitting in one of the two white rocking chairs on the porch, waiting for you with a big smile on his face. Pulling off to the side in front of the house and parking, you shoved your cell phone back into your purse, grabbing it and the little notebook from the passenger seat, and getting out, walking along the stone path in front of Javi’s mom’s beautiful flower garden, her husband still tended to.

“Buenos días, Mija (Good morning, Mija),” the older man greeted as he got up from his seat in jeans, a white short-sleeve button-up, and cowboy boots to hug you when you made it up the few stairs.

Smiling as you hugged him back, you replied, “Buenos días, Chucho.”

He let go of you, meeting your eyes with a happy grin. “The house smells amazing,” he said, moving over to the screen door, the springs screeching as he opened it for you, making your way inside the house.

“I hope it turned out amazing.” You were hit with the smell of cooking meat permeating in the air, heading toward the kitchen, the older man following you with the screen door slamming shut behind him.

“I’m sure it did.”

It warmed your heart how much faith he had in you, setting your purse and notebook down on the kitchen table to go look in the Crock Pot and finding the pork you put in it the night before was done. Turning it off, you smiled, seeing that Chucho had already set out a giant bowl and tongs for you to use. Grabbing the utensil, you looked over your shoulder, clicking them twice. “I see this isn’t your first rodeo—thank you,” you said.

He chuckled. “You’re welcome, Mija. It can cool while we go to the store.”

“Very true.”

Your attention moved back to the slow cooker, removing the lid and using the tongs to transfer the big pieces of meat into the bowl.

“How was your morning?” he asked.

Memories of Javi getting dressed came to you, your skin heating when you thought of the dirtier things you’d both done.

“Pretty good—your son let me choose his suit and tie,” you answered, moving another piece of pork.

“A good man.”

“The best, and we had a lovely breakfast before he went off to work.” You’d stood in the kitchen drinking coffee together, and he took a granola bar for the road. “How was yours?”

“Not bad. I made sure all of the pots and pans you’ll need are where I saw them last, and I extended the kitchen table so you have more room.”

You’d noticed it was bigger, going from being able to seat four to about six.

The last chunk of meat was put in the bowl, discarding the utensil into the sink as you said, “You are the fucking best, Chucho.”

“I’m just excited,” he laughed.

After unplugging the Crock Pot, you faced the older man. “I’m excited, too, and really fucking nervous.”

“You’re going to do great,” he reassured, making your heart clench.

“Thank you, Chucho. I really hope it’s good. Do you have aluminum foil?”

He pointed beside you. “Second drawer.”

“Thank you.” You got the foil out, tearing a piece to cover the bowl, putting it back where it belonged, and turning toward your boyfriend’s dad again.

“Okay,” you started. “So, I watched the video of Antonia’s instructions again this morning and tried to take some notes.” You put it on after Javi left, doing your best to write stuff down. Frowning, you continued, “You know I’m getting better at my Spanish, but there were some things I missed.”

He had a warm expression.

“Don’t stress, Mija. I watched and helped mi amor (my love) make her tamales so many times I’ve lost count. I may not know measurements or remember all the ingredients, but we’ve got her recipe cards we can use.” He gestured to the dining table next to him, where your things sat atop it beside a small oak wood dovetailed box that you knew when you opened the hinged lid, it contained his wife’s handwritten recipe cards.

The idea to make Javi’s mom’s famous tamales came to you while watching the home video of her explaining how they were made. You knew they were his favorite food, and wanted to make his first day at work special because, even though he acted like the job was no big deal, you still worried it’d fuck him up—which is exactly what happened, and now you were really happy he’d have your attempt at his mom’s tamales to comfort him.

There was nervousness about asking Chucho for permission. The recipe was a heavily guarded secret and something his wife was known for, and you were just some random woman dating his son. He’d been ecstatic when you called, though, telling you he’d get out Antonia’s recipe box for you to use, which was such a huge honor, you teared up.

The first time you got a chance to look inside the box was the night before when you brought over the pork to cook—the cards inside were old and some stained, able to see which ones she used the most, her recipes written out in beautiful script, all of them in Spanish and finding some she added little notes to—one for Pozole she’d crossed out radish in the ingredients, noting Javi hated them.

It was a little overwhelming knowing each one this incredible woman had touched, each one she’d made, and even though you never got a chance to meet her, it felt like you had—as odd as it was, you felt closer to her, seeing the tweaks she’d made to some recipes and completely understanding why she did them.

Antonia Peña was alive through the stories her family told, the pictures in old albums, the many home videos, and the food she’d once made that you were now getting the chance to make to honor her memory.

Smiling, you said, “Yes, we’ve got the recipe.” Walking over to the table, you picked up your notebook, looking at him. “I wrote down our grocery list in here.” You tapped the cover with your finger. “But in the video, she mentioned a secret ingredient in her red sauce. She spoke too quickly for me to understand what she was saying, and I didn’t see it listed on the recipe card…”

He held up four fingers. “Four arbol chiles. No more, no less. Four.” Your eyes went wide, grinning as you flipped open your notebook, grabbing the pen tucked between the pages. A hand covered the paper, looking at him in confusion. “You can’t write it down,” he said. “It’s a secret only Javi, and I know, and now you do, too.” He smiled.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, feeling so honored to have been told. You were careful of the notebook and pen you were holding as you threw your arms around him in a hug.

Javi said you were the only person he’d tell the recipe to, and here was his dad saying the same, feeling so unbelievably loved by this family.

“Thank you for trusting me,” you said.

He patted your back. “You’re family, Mija—mi futura nuera (my future daughter-in-law), you get to know, but you can’t tell anyone. Es un secreto (It’s a secret).”

You pulled back, nodding, “Yes, of course.” The pen was put back in the closed notebook, using your free hand to wipe at your teary eyes. “You ready to go?” you asked. “You’re my inside man on where to get the best ingredients.”

Chuckling, he replied, “I’m ready. I’ll drive. We’ll go out the back.”

Grabbing your purse, you followed Chucho down the hallway to the house's rear. The walls were bright teal with artwork of flowers Antonia had picked out, passing a guest bathroom, another hallway that led to a spare bedroom, the laundry room, and the staircase that went up to the master bedroom. He stopped at the coat hooks behind the back door to put on his straw cowboy hat and grab car keys from a row of tinier key hooks.

On your first visit to Chucho’s, you learned they didn’t lock the house during the day, so it wasn’t a surprise when you shut the door behind you, and he just kept walking. The gravel driveway fanned out behind the house where many cars and trucks were parked beside each other, knowing most belonged to Javi’s cousins and uncle, who all worked on the ranch.

It confused you when he passed his pickup, having assumed that was what you would be riding in and ending up at a smaller vehicle with a white cover over it and a dusting of dirt.

“It’s a special occasion,” he said, going to the front and beginning to pull off the covering. “So, we’ll take my baby.” Removing it as he walked toward the rear, he slowly revealed an old, red, soft-top convertible sports car in impeccable condition.

“Wow, I get to ride in the fancy car,” you replied, delighted. “This is so nice.”

The cover was set aside, Chucho unlocking the driver’s side door.

“Thank you.” He patted the top. “She’s a ‘68 Ford Mustang. Got her the year she was made.”

You went to the passenger side, looking through the glass at the black leather interior, two seats in the front, and two squished in the back, the lock disengaging with a click.

Getting in, you used the crank to lower your window, the older man starting the engine, and it roaring to life.

“I’m sure Javi had a blast riding around in this,” you said.

He was leaning to the left to press a button near the steering wheel, the top slowly moving back to open with a whine.

“Oh, he did.” Chucho smiled. “I don’t drive it much—drove it more back then than I do now. Javi would beg me to take him for rides and always was an excited little guy when I’d pick him up from school in it.” The top was completely down, and he rolled down his window, too. “But, Antonia, mi amor, was my regular passenger.” He tapped the dashboard. “Brought out the Mustang for date night.” He grinned.

“I love that so much,” you replied, putting on your seatbelt and Chucho doing the same. “Once Javi got his license, did you let him drive it?”

He put the car in reverse, his arm going to the top of your seat as he looked behind him to back out.

“Hell no,” he answered, making you laugh.

He had you both on the road heading into town in no time, the wind whipping past you, unable to stop from smiling. There wasn’t any awkwardness, feeling comfortable casually chatting with him. Chucho told you more stories about Javi and Antonia that had you laughing, having the best time with him.

There was a small lull in the conversation, and turning your head toward him, you said, “Thank you for helping me with this, Chucho. You have no idea how much I appreciate you.”

Smiling, he glanced at you. “You’re welcome, Mija, and you know, you can call me ‘Pop’ if you want,” he replied. “I already think of you as my daughter and don’t mind.”

Your eyes were watering, and it had nothing to do with the top being down.

In all the time you’ve known this man, he’s been more of a father to you than your actual biological dad. He welcomed you with open arms and was so warm and caring, able to see how much he loved his son and now you, too. It was a stark contrast to the coldness you were used to from being the family disappointment, not even sure when you last spoke to your father, thinking it was probably when you visited your family months ago.

Your mother was the one who stayed in contact with you, though her calls have become less frequent since you’d gone off on her for saying shitty things about Javi. The next time she called after the incident, you had put your foot down and threatened to go no contact if she continued to belittle and say horrible things about him. She hadn’t liked the threat but begrudgingly agreed to your terms, and you assumed the lack of phone calls was because she didn’t have anything nice to say.

Honestly, you knew her weekly calls were to make sure you weren’t bringing more shame to the family name, and it was nice not having her breathing down your neck.

You’ve never known what it was like to have such a loving parent like Chucho, and you were over the goddamn moon you had him now.

“Thank you,” you replied. “You’re a great dad, and I’m happy you’re in my life.”

“I’m happy you’re in my and my son’s lives. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for all you’ve done for him. I just love seeing how happy he is and those smiles. So, thank you, Mija.”

“You’re gonna make me cry!” Tears were threatening to spill.

“Don’t cry! This is a happy day.” He patted your knee. “We’re having a great time and almost there.”

La Tapatía Market was a hidden gem on the west side of town in a more residential area, inhabiting what was probably once a neighborhood grocery store back in the 1920s if the old painted brick on the outside was anything to go by. It was on a corner lot, a stone wall separating it from the homes that resided next door to it, and it wasn’t large nor tiny but a decent enough size to offer a variety of goods straight from across the border.

The market also happened to be family-owned, as you learned walking through the front door, hearing a bell jingle above it.

Entering, there was a long counter on the right where the register was, and a young man behind it, who was maybe in his thirties, his black hair buzzed short on his head, and face clean shaven, wearing dark green flannel, his attention immediately on the two of you.

“¡Hola (Hello)!” he greeted. “Me alegro de verte aquí otra vez, Don Chucho (It’s good to see you here again, Don Chucho).”

“Buenos días, Martín (Good morning, Martín),” Chucho replied, smiling. “¿Cómo están tus padres (How are your parents)? ¿Están aquí (Are they here)?”

“No, no están aquí (No, no, they’re not here).” He shook his head. “Tenían que ir a un mandado y deberían volver pronto (They had to go run an errand and should be back soon).”

“Bueno, bueno (Good, good),” he replied. “Oh, Martín, me gustaría que conocieras a mi nuera (Martín, I’d like you to meet my daughter-in-law),” he said, stepping aside and ushering you forward as he told him your name.

“Hola (Hello),” you said. “Mucho gusto (It’s nice to meet you).”

The other man’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“¿Javier se casó (Javier got married)?” he asked.

“No, todavía no (No, not yet),” Chucho chuckled. “Pero espero que más pronto que tarde (But hopefully sooner rather than later).”

“Sí, Don Chucho (Yes, Don Chucho). Es maravilloso que haya conocido a alguien (It’s wonderful that he met someone).” His attention turned to you, smiling. “Mucho gusto (It’s nice to meet you).” Looking between you both, he asked, “¿Qué los trae por aquí hoy (What brings you here today)?”

Chucho’s arm went over your shoulders, grinning as he answered, “Ella es una cocinera increíble y está haciendo los tamales de mi esposa (She is an amazing cook and is making my wife’s tamales).”

The praise had your cheeks feeling hot, thinking it was very sweet how highly he regarded you, but it also was a tad nerve-wracking, feeling the nervous flutter in your belly.

Surprise was on Martín’s face. “Los famosos tamales de la Doña Antonia (Doña Antonia’s famous tamales)?”

“Sí,” Chucho replied excitedly, and it was honestly very adorable.

“Guau, buena suerte (Wow, good luck). Avíseme si necesita ayuda para encontrar algo (Let me know if you need help finding anything).

“Gracias, Martín (Thank you, Martín).”

“Gracias,” you also said, smiling.

Just inside the door and to the left were metal shopping carts, Chucho grabbing one while you opened your notebook, telling him the first thing on the list, and him leading you to the aisle. There were only a couple of other shoppers moseying around, your boyfriend’s dad greeting them by name when you happened across them.

The recipe from Antonia’s cards said it’d make about two dozen tamales, and you were very confused when Chucho had you get five times the ingredients on the list.

Did he want to make sure you had extra in case you fucked up? Five times seemed a bit excessive for that...

You were standing in an aisle, many different kinds of chiles in plastic bags hanging on pegs in front of you. The older man was looking at the labels with concentration etched on his brow before grabbing a bag.

“These ones,” he said, showing it to you. “How many do you need?”

“Uh, twelve chiles.”

“Okay.” He nodded, looking in the bag and counting how many chiles it had in it, then once again, he was quintupling the amount, throwing in more bags, and doing the same with the arbol chiles.

“Chucho?”

“Yes?” His attention turned to you.

“Why are we getting so much extra stuff?” You pointed at the growing pile of goods in the cart.

“So there’s enough for everyone,” he answered.

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Who’s everyone?”

“You’re making tamales…” he said slowly.

“Yes… and that means?”

What were you missing?

“You don’t make tamales alone…”

“Yeah, you’re helping.” You gestured at him.

He smiled warmly. “Mija, you’re going to need more than just me. So, I invited people to come over and help.” He shrugged.

It felt like a record scratched in your brain.

“What people?”

“Just my sisters and some of their kids—they’re very excited to meet you.”

Well, this new bit of information did not help with your nerves at all. Now there would be more people judging your food, and your worry that you’d fuck up was running rampant. You took a deep breath. It was going to be okay. You were doing this for Javi—you needed to do this for your boyfriend, and thinking on the bright side, it will be good to have people who know how to make tamales there.

“Oh, wow, okay. I’m meeting the fam. That’s cool. I’m excited to meet them, too.”

Aside from Javi introducing you to a couple of his cousins who work at the ranch, you hadn’t met anyone else in his family—not because he was ashamed of you or didn’t want you to meet them, he was just being selfish, and hogging you all to himself. His tía María had everyone over at her house after church every Sunday for food and to catch up, and there was an open invitation for Javi and you to attend, but he preferred spending the day with you instead. It was romantic of him, but you were dying to meet the people you’d heard stories about and seen pictures of in the photo albums of him growing up.

You hoped they’d like you.

Chucho was back behind the cart, and you were beside it. He put a comforting hand on your shoulder, looking you in the eyes.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” he said in a gentle voice you could imagine him using with the animals at the ranch. “They’ve heard all about you and are happy Javi has such a great girlfriend. They already like you.”

There was doubt in the back of your mind.

“You’re sure they like me?”

He smiled. “Oh, yeah. Rebeca had some of the peach pie you made for my birthday and wanted the recipe. They all can’t wait to try your tamales.”

That made you feel better.

“I hope I don’t disappoint them.”

"You won't."

A thought came to you. "Fuck, I don't think I made enough pork!"

"You did."

"I did?"

He grinned. "Yes, when you called to ask how much to buy, I made sure you got enough."

Smiling at him, you replied, "You're very sneaky, Chucho and I love it."

"Thank you. What's next on the list?"

“You won’t. What’s next on the list?”

The cart was fuller than you anticipated, with Chucho getting a variety of fruit-flavored sodas called Jarritos and some beer by the time you reached the register. He also refused to let you pay, which was annoying, but after the third time you tried, he gave you a grumpy look that was strikingly similar to your boyfriend’s, so you’d given up.

Everything fit in the trunk of the Mustang, and the two of you were off back to the ranch, Chucho turning on an oldies radio station while you guys made a game plan for the day.

He told you Antonia cooked the red chile sauce first, making the filling next, then the tamale dough called masa after. That was a good idea, deciding that was what you’d do, too.

Returning to the house, everything was brought inside, and you organized it all into piles for each step of the process on the kitchen table. Chucho put all the drinks in a giant cooler with a ton of ice stationed out of the way in the big kitchen.

After washing and drying your hands, you got to work, starting with shredding the pork that cooled while you were out. Chucho turned on the kitchen radio, you telling him to keep it on the Spanish station his wife had loved, and he’d gotten you guys some cold beers out of the fridge.

While you dealt with the meat, he took care of soaking the corn husks in hot water where they’d need to stay for hours to make them pliable and easy to work with when it was time to construct the tamales.

When you finished with the pork, it was put aside, and you started on the red sauce.

The two of you were standing next to each other at the kitchen counter, a big wooden cutting board in front of you both with kitchen shears and a chef’s knife you were using to cut the stems off of the chiles, then using the knife to slice them open and remove the seeds by hand—it was a somewhat tedious process.

“Did you always help your wife with this part?” you asked him, adding another cleaned chile to the pile on a baking sheet beside the cutting board.

“Sí (Yes), well, at least until Javi got old enough to remember not to touch his eyes.” He chuckled.

“A rookie mistake.” You shook your head.

“Oh yeah, I remember the first time, he was maybe five or six, she told him, ‘No te toques los ojos—es owie (Don’t touch your eyes—it’s owie),’ and what did he do? Rubbed them. Antonia had to soak cotton balls in milk and put them over his eyes.”

“Oh god, poor little guy!”

The pile of chiles was getting bigger.

“She felt bad, so I’d help her with the chiles, and he’d be her shadow through everything else.”

“He loved his mom a whole lot.”

“Yes, he did. Surprised he even bothered with me.”

Frowning, you turned your head toward him, pausing what you were doing to reply, “You know he loves you a lot too, right?”

He sighed, “I know.” His hands were still working.

“No, I mean he loves you so much, he won��t leave Laredo, we won’t leave Laredo. He needs to live close to you because he loves you, and he can’t fathom ever being away from you again. I think it’s those talks you guys have over beers.” You smiled, knocking your shoulder against his.

Chucho huffed out a breath. “Maybe it is. We had a good one after he watched the video of his mamá cooking.”

“Oh?” You tried not to sound too curious, returning to what you were doing. “Is there like father-son confidentiality, like doctor-patient?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “But,” he said in a conspiratorial tone, “you didn’t hear it from me that he’s planning to propose in less than a year.”

Grinning, you replied, “On our first anniversary! I know; I weaseled it out of him.”

He laughed. “I should’ve known you’d find out. Mija?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you a betting woman?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. What are we thinking?”

“I’ll bet you fifty dollars he does it before.”

“See, I thought maybe he’d break, too, but he is adamant about this one-year thing. Apparently, he has a whole romantic plan. So, I’ll take you up on that wager. I see him waiting.”

“We’ll see what happens.”

“Yes, we will.”

He spoke a little softer, “You’re really not moving away when you get married?”

“Hell no, Pop. Our kids need to be close to their abuelo.”

You heard him sniffle, so you bumped your shoulder into his again. “I’m glad to hear that.”

The recipe for the sauce was pretty easy to follow, Chucho seeming to know what appliances you would need and getting them ready: preheating the oven, pulling out the blender, bringing you a good-sized saucepan. When it was simmering on the stove, you thoroughly washed your hands with soap and water to clean off the chile oils, Chucho already doing so.

It was now time to wait as it finished cooking, the anticipation swelling up inside you, praying to whatever deity was listening for it to turn out okay.

The black-rimmed reading glasses were on his face—they’d been kept in the inside pocket of his jacket, that article of clothing draped over the back of his chair. His sleeves were rolled up his forearms, his eyes scanning the words on the document from the opened file in front of him on his desk, while his right hand scribbled notes on the yellow pages of a legal pad, his styrofoam cup of coffee, empty.

Before he met Cielito, it was nightmares that plagued him—not every night, but enough that there was a familiarity to the shadows of his dark room, the bright moon outside his blinds a regular companion. What happened earlier was… new, yet he knew he had to call her; she told him to if she wasn’t there, and he had a nightmare, and this seemed pretty fucking close to one. Her voice gave him something to focus on, grounding him, soothing him to the point his heartbeat slowed and his breathing evened out. The whole thing was entirely unexpected, and he fucking hoped it didn’t happen again.

She wanted him to work out the shit in his head, and he hated admitting it, but maybe he needed to see a professional.

Fuck, he couldn’t go to any in Laredo because people would talk. He set his pen down, leaning back in his chair, his fingers pushing through his hair as he sighed. A neighboring town was an option. It’d be a bit of a drive—worth it, though, if they could help with whatever the fuck was wrong with him. He’d talk to his wif–girlfriend, he mentally corrected, frowning. He’d talk to her tonight since she could probably find a place with her connections at the hospital.

After the panic attack, he focused on work, stocking his office with supplies from the supply closet before going to annoy the fuck out of the Sheriff’s assistant. Her desk was right outside Arturo’s closed office door, a coffee mug on her desk with the University of Texas crest and the words, ‘Class of ‘98,’ so she was a fresh graduate, her nameplate reading Joy, looking like a deer in headlights when Javier rattled off various documents he needed from the Sheriff. Eventually, he sighed when he realized she wasn’t listening and asked for her pad of paper and pen to write them down instead, telling her he needed them as soon as possible.

Half an hour later, she’d brought him a small stack of files and apologized profusely, explaining she’d only worked there a month and had no idea what he was talking about, needing help from the Sheriff.

Javier then spent the time up until now reading and jotting down notes to work out his plan.

He flicked his wrist up, looking at the silver watch face, seeing it was a little past noon and time for lunch.

Closing the manilla folder, he moved it back onto the stack, pushing his notepad aside. His hips shifted forward in his seat as he shoved his hand into his right pocket to pull out his phone, hitting one, then the call button to speed dial Cielito, bringing it up to his ear. Sitting up in his chair, he rested his elbows on the desk, taking off his glasses with his free hand.

She answered on the third ring.

“Hey, babe!”

He smiled. “Hi, baby.”

Spanish music played softly in the background on her end, making him smile bigger, warmth radiating in his chest.

“I’m happy to hear your voice. Has everything been okay since we last talked? Anything else happen?”

“Aside from me confusing the fuck out of some girl and, I think, accidentally scaring her?”

She’d been very apologetic and wouldn’t look him in the eyes, bolting once he told her she didn’t need to apologize and that everything was fine.

“Was your face grumpy, and were you bossy?”

His smile fell.

“Maybe… a little?”

“So, that’s a yes. How old are we talking?”

“Just graduated from UT.”

“Then she was probably really intimidated. Be nicer. You’re working with these people five days a week, don’t make them hate you.”

He frowned, thinking about how everyone in Colombia called him an asshole because he didn’t put up with their shit.

Sighing, he replied, “I’ll… try.”

“Good. So, did the Sheriff give you better details on what he wants you to do?”

His face pinched when he thought of the conversation he had with Arturo.

“Yeah, he tried to fucking saddle me with a goddamn team and have me run the fucking show,” he seethed.

“Excuse me?” There was anger in her tone. “Javier, you told him to get fucked, right?”

“Told him I’d quit on the fucking spot.”

“That’s my man.” He could hear the smile in her voice, and it made his own lips tip up. “What happened?”

“We came to an agreement, and I’ll be doing the work I was promised.”

“And you’re positive you want this job?”

What choice did he have? He needed this job to protect her—he had to do this for her and their family. The work wouldn’t be too difficult, and it was a desk job, so he’d stay safe.

“Yeah, Cielito, I do.”

“Okay…”

“I promise I’m okay, baby. I’ll, uh, need to talk to you about this morning at home.” He scratched at his mustache.

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

Changing the subject, he asked, “I hear you’re in the kitchen. What are you working on?”

“Right now? A sauce that I am stressing the fuck out about because I’ve never made it before and don’t really know what it’s supposed to taste like, so I’m basically doing this blind.”

“I know it’s gonna be the best fucking sauce, Cielito.”

“You think so?” He could picture her perfectly in his mind chewing on her bottom lip.

“I know so because you’re making it. Haven’t had cooking as good as yours since mi mamá.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and you fucking know it. I tell you every day.”

“You do really like my cooking.”

“I do, Pop loves your cooking, too, and I know you’ll kick this sauce’s ass.”

She snorted. “I’ll try. Speaking of your father, after work, drive out to the ranch. We’re having dinner with him.”

His brows furrowed.

“Are you cooking at the apartment or Pop’s?”

“Your dad’s because that was easiest for all the work I have to do.”

He smiled. “Is he with you?”

“Oh, yeah. Took the day off to be my sous chef, but I’m missing my good luck, especially with this sauce!” She said the last word dramatically.

The idea of his girlfriend and dad cooking all day together delighted Javier and had him wondering what she could possibly be making. He was assuming some kind of complicated pasta dish with a complex sauce—he was excited to try whatever it was.

“Baby, don’t stress,” he said calmly. “It’s gonna be so fucking good, and you know I’ll love it. I always love your cooking.”

“I have to be real, babe. There’s a lot of pressure with this one.”

“And you’re gonna knock it out of the fuckin’ park.”

“You’re so nice to me, and I am upset I cannot kiss your stupidly handsome face right now.”

He huffed out an amused breath, smirking. “Glad to know I’m your hunky, grumpy man, you’re disgustingly in love with who has a stupidly handsome face.”

“It’s true!” she exclaimed. “You are my hunky, grumpy man, I’m disgustingly in love with who has a stupidly handsome face I wish I could kiss right now!”

He heard his dad laughing in the background.

“I really fucking love you.”

“I really fucking love you, too. I don’t want you to waste your whole lunch on the phone with me. Go eat.”

“I’d rather waste my lunch on the phone with you.”

“That’s sweet, but please eat for me. It will make me feel better.”

“Then I’ll eat my lunch.” He moved the phone into his other hand, pressing it back to his ear, as he leaned over the side of his chair with a groan to grab the metal lunch box off the floor. “You couldn’t pack it in a paper bag?” he asked, setting it on the desk in front of him.

“You keep acting like my lunch box is the worst thing on earth when literally Empire is your favorite Star Wars movie, and I know you think it’s cool.”

He sighed. “Yeah, but I’m almost forty, walking around with a fucking children’s lunch box.”

“A cool children’s lunch box.”

“I guess it’s kinda cool.”

“Stop lying to yourself—you love it.”

“I don’t love it,” he grumbled.

“You do. I’m so sorry, babe, but I gotta get back to cooking. Don’t forget to come out here after work!”

“I won’t forget. I love you.”

“I know.”

He chuckled. “Smartass.”

“You love me, and I love you, too. See you after work!”

“Bye, Cielito.”

“Bye, Javi.”

They hung up, setting his phone down next to the lunch box, his hands moving to flick open the two clasps on the metal with his thumbs, flipping the top back.

He snorted, smiling, as he looked at the decent-sized sandwich, three—he pulled out the foil-covered sandwich—no, four little baggies of fruit snacks, a clementine, and a Hi-C Ecto Cooler drink carton.

God, he loved her.

Pulling open the foil, he sucked in a breath, lifting the top piece of bread and seeing she had made him one of her BLTs.

The previous night, they had breakfast for dinner before she’d left to go do her secret thing, and she’d made too much bacon, which he’s discovering was to make his sandwich—seeing the arugula, tomato, avocado, and aioli on bread from Anna’s bakery.

Something caught his eye in the lunch box, realizing it was a small piece of paper from the notepad on their fridge. Setting the sandwich down, he grabbed the folded note, unfolding it to see her familiar handwriting, a cute heart over the I in his name:

My dearest Javi, I love you SO FUCKING MUCH and hope you have the BEST DAY at work! I know it’s probably going to be a lot (even if you’re stubborn and won’t admit it), so your favorite sandwich to comfort you since I won’t be there and an Ecto Cooler because I know you secretly like them. I’ll be thinking about you ALL DAY and am going to give you so MANY kisses when you get off. Te amo, mi amor. Your Cielito xoxo

His eyes were a little watery at all of the thought she’d put into his day—that she fucking knew it wasn’t going to go as smoothly as he hoped it would. Why was he surprised? She knew him better than he knew himself, and of course, she’d go out of her way to try and make everything okay.

Because she loved him.

Aside from his parents, no one had ever loved him so selflessly. It was a little overwhelming that she loved him with the same ferocity that he loved her. The Sheriff had said he was completely enraptured, but that wasn’t all—he was enthralled, enamored, entranced, she consumed him, and he consumed her; she wasn’t just the most beautiful and perfect woman on the planet, she was the one.

The cell phone was put back in your bag on the kitchen table, relieved Javi was doing good. Even though he reassured you multiple times he was okay after the panic attack, you still worried about him, but he sounded fine on the last call, and now you could really focus on what you were doing. Going back to the stove, you took the lid off the pan, stirring it with a large metal spoon, determined to kick its ass like Javi said you would.

“Does this seem too thick to you?” you asked, and Chucho came over to look.

“Sí, it’s an easy fix. Just add a little more water.”

“Right.” You nodded, doing as he said with some water in a glass measuring cup until it was the consistency you wanted. “Okay,” you said, the cup getting set aside. “Do you want to do the honors and taste it? Be brutally honest.”

Chucho was beside you, taking the silver spoon from your hand. Chewing on your lip, your tummy was all aflutter with nerves. You had followed every step on Antonia’s recipe card and got the secret ingredient, hoping you did her sauce justice, not sure what you’d do if you failed—that was a lie, you’d cry hysterically that you were a failure and let your amazing boyfriend down.

He inhaled deeply. “It smells wonderful.” You were basically on the edge of your seat, watching as he scooped a little of the sauce onto the spoon and brought it up to his lips, blowing on it softly. He paused, looking at you. “You ready?” he asked.

“Yes!” you exclaimed. “I need to know if I brought shame to your amazing wife!”

His eyebrows creased. “Mi Antonia would be so happy that you tried to make her sauce, and she’d tell you what her mamá told her when she was learning how to make it.”

“What did she say?”

“You didn’t make it wrong; you’re creating your own.”

“Oh.”

“Now, let’s see what your sauce tastes like.” And he ended the sentence by putting the spoon in his mouth and tasting it.

He hummed appreciatively, nodding his head, moving to put the dirtied utensil in the sink. “It’s very good, Mija,” he said after swallowing. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in. He was standing in front of you, his gaze on yours. “Wow.” His eyes were getting a little misty, taking off his glasses to wipe at them. “Haven’t had a sauce that good since mi amor. God, I miss her,” he mused, putting his glasses back on. His hand went to your shoulder. “It’s very close and very good. Antonia would be proud, and Javi’s going to love it.”

Happy tears fell down your cheeks, your arms going around him for a hug.

“I’m proud of you, too,” he said, hugging you back.

It made you cry harder, squeezing him a little tighter, roughly saying, “Thanks, Pop.”

After you calmed down, it was time to make the pork filling, which required using a large lidded Sauté pan, combining the meat and sauce, and having it simmer on the stove.

Chucho was making himself busy by cleaning and clearing off the counters of the stuff you no longer needed.

He had the dishwasher open, filling it with dirty things from the sink.

“I’m happy you had all the kitchenware I needed,” you told him.

Groaning as he bent to put the glass blender jar into the appliance, he said, “Couldn’t bring myself to get rid of any of it.”

“That’s understandable.” You nodded. If something happened to Javi, you’d be the same.

He straightened. “And it’s a good thing I kept it all because now you can use it.”

“Yes, I can.”

“May I ask a favor, Mija?”

Turning to face him, you said, “Yeah, of course—anything.”

“I know you’ll want to make more of her recipes. Can the next one be her flan?”

It made you soften, well aware that Antonia’s flan was his favorite dessert, loving it so much he named his horse after it.

Smiling, you answered, “You got it. We’ll have to go on another store adventure.”

He gave you a big grin. “We’ll take the Mustang.”

“I hoped we would.”

Once the filling was done, you tried a bite, loving the rich savoriness with a slight kick of spicy, the pork infused with the chile sauce was absolutely delicious. It was finally time to make the dough, reading over your notes about what Antonia had said in her instruction video. Chucho had gotten out her nice avocado green KitchenAid stand mixer that was probably a good twenty years old and in fantastic condition.

The dough was called masa and made out of a special ground-up corn, and in Antonia’s recipe, she added some of the red sauce to it and used the broth made from slow-cooking the pork, you doing the same. The mixer was on, hearing the mechanical whir as it mixed all of the ingredients, needing them to become the consistency of smooth peanut butter. Chucho was sitting at the kitchen table sipping his beer, the corn husks in two tall piles on a baking sheet, and the pork filling in a large bowl on the tabletop next to them.

There was the sound of the front door opening and the screen door slamming closed.

“¿Donde está la muchacha (Where is she)?” A feminine voice shouted, footsteps coming closer to the kitchen.

“No la asustes, Lupita (Don’t scare her away, Lupita),” another woman said. “Tenemos la suerte de conocerla (We are lucky to be meeting her).”

“Sí, y me muero por conocerla, María (Yes, and I’m dying to meet her, María).”

Two very short older women entered the kitchen, both smiling and holding aluminum foil-covered glass Pyrex baking dishes. The two had similar hairstyles of their hair cropped short, the one with black hair, her curls framing her face with bangs, wearing a purple floral blouse; the blonde with a choppier cut, a gold cross necklace laying over her dark blouse.

“Aquí está (She’s here)!” The lighter-haired one excitedly announced, moving quickly to put her dish on a part of the counter you weren’t using.

Turning toward her, you smiled, a white rubber-ended spatula in your hand, greeting her with, “Hola!”

“¿Hablas español (Do you speak Spanish)?” she asked.

“Un poco (A little),” you answered. “Todavía estoy aprendiendo (I’m still learning).”

“Then I’ll use English,” she said with a heavy accent. “Chucho has shown us pictures, and you’re much prettier in person.”

“Thank you?”

“Mija,” Chucho said, “That’s my sister, Guadalupe—”

“You can call me Lupe,” she interjected.

“And María,” he added. The other woman had set down her glass dish, too, both now standing beside you, Chucho introducing you to them.

“It’s nice to meet you,” María’s accented voice said with a warm smile.

“So, nice to finally meet you,” Lupe told you. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Hopefully, good stuff,” you replied. “It’s nice meeting you both.” Your attention moved back to the mixer, switching it off.

“Lots of good stuff, Mija,” Lupe said.

“You’re making the masa?” María asked.

“Yes.” You nodded, lifting the mixing arm out of the bowl and scraping the sides with your spatula to check the consistency of the dough, smiling when it was smooth. “I think it turned out okay—I have to do the water test.” That was a way to determine if it was ready; if it floated, it was done, and if it sank, you needed to add more fat.

“I’ll get the water,” Lupe said, moving to get a cup out of a nearby cabinet and turning on the sink.

“Did you have a hard time making the sauce?” María asked.

Looking at her, you answered, “Not really? Antonia did a great job of writing out her recipe, so I did what it said, but boy, was I nervous about how it would turn out.” You chuckled.

“Oh, yes,” María said. “It’s the biggest worry.”

“It was,” you agreed, nodding your head.

A warm glass of water was set next to you on the counter. “Thank you,” you said, getting a small piece of the dough, holding your breath as you dropped it into the cup. It was floating, “Yes!” You pumped your fist in the air. “I did it, Chucho!”

“I knew you would!” he replied. “María, Lupita, ven aquí y prueba la carne (Come over here and try the meat).” They went over to the table, and nerves were once again making your stomach flutter, hoping they’d like it. You were distracting yourself by using your rubber spatula to get the dough off of the flat beater.

“¡Dios mío (Oh my god)!” María sounded surprised. “Es bien bueno (It’s very good). ¿Esta fue la primera vez que lo hizo (This was her first time making it)?”

“Mmm,” Lupe hummed. “Esta muy sabroso (It’s very tasty).”

“Sí, es su primera vez (Yes, it’s her first time).” Chucho sounded so proud, and it had your eyes brimming with tears. “Te dije que es una cocinera increíble (I told you she’s an amazing cook). Sabe casi como el de mi amor (It tastes almost like my love’s).”

“Sí, sí (Yes, yes),” María agreed. “Estoy sorprendida (I’m shocked).”

“¿Ella conoce el secreto de Antonia (She knows Antonia’s secret)?” Lupe asked.

“Sí,” he answered.

“¿Tú se lo dijiste a ella pero no a nosotros (You told her but not us)?”

“Sí, porque mi Antonia dijo que la esposa de Javiercito puede saberlo y creo que se casarán antes de fin de año (Yes, because my Antonia said Javier’s wife can know and I think they will get married before the end of the year).”

You spun around, your eyes wide. “Before the end of the year?” you gasped.

His gaze met yours, smiling as he nodded. “Oh, yeah,” he answered. “Javi can be… impulsive, and I don’t think there’s a chance in hell he’s going to make it to your anniversary.” He looked beyond amused.

Swallowing hard, you asked, “Really?”

“He’s right,” María added, looking at you, her lips lifted in a smile. “When Javi was still working out here, and I’d stop by, he wouldn’t stop talking about you. He’s head over heels for you, Chula (Cutie). That boy won’t be able to make it.”

“I agree,” Lupe said. “You’re going to be family sooner than you know.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, feeling positively giddy that the people who’ve known Javi his whole life all agreed he wasn’t going to make it to your anniversary. It wouldn’t even bother you if Chucho won the bet. You’d still be a winner.

“Wow,” you replied. “And I’m happy you like my cooking. I was super nervous.”

“With how good this is?” María pointed at the bowl of meat. “There was nothing for you to worry about, Chula.” She walked over to you, giving you a hug, saying, “Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you,” you said, after separating, Lupe came over to hug you, too.

“You did good,” She told you. “We’re happy to have you here.”

María said to everyone, “There’s lunch on the counter. I made tortas ahogadas, and Lupita made some arroz y frijoles (rice and beans)—Rebeca’s bringing her tres leches cake.”

At the mention of lunch, your stomach grumbled, realizing you hadn’t eaten since that morning.

With everything done to make the tamales, it was time to take a small break, finding out a torta ahogada was a type of sandwich with pork carnitas and red onions smothered in a red chile and tomato sauce served on a crusty bread roll and was amazing.

Eventually, Rebeca showed up, the youngest of Chucho’s sisters and a couple of the wives of Javi’s cousins who worked at the ranch bringing along their young kids, who were happy to watch cartoons in the living room and eat snacks their mom’s brought, everyone else eating and drinking the food and drinks that were in the kitchen.

There wasn’t any awkwardness for you, the family very welcoming as you all talked and laughed, and then it was time to get to work making the tamales, forming an assembly line on both sides of the table—the first person spread the masa on the husk, passing it to the next person to put in the filling, the final person folding and tying them with a thin strip of corn husk. It was obvious all the adults had done the process before, continuing to chat as you worked, the children screaming as they ran around the house, and everyone having a great time.

Chucho was folding and putting the finished tamale in a large pot at the end of the table while you sat next to him, spooning on the pork before passing it to him.

He told the table, “She thought she was going to do this with just my help.” The whole table laughed, feeling heat creep up your neck.

“I didn’t know!” you defended, putting a large spoonful of meat on top of what María handed you.

“It’s okay, Mija,” he reassured, taking it from you.

“This is something you do with family,” Rebeca said, across the table, spreading masa. Her black hair was pulled up in a tight bun, her kind eyes glancing at you.

“In December,” Lupe started, folding on the other side of the table from Chucho, “we have a big Tamalada at María’s and make hundreds of tamales.”

Your eyes went wide. “That must take hours,” you replied.

“It does.” She smiled. “But we have a great time.”

“When Antonia was alive,” María said, “she did even more. It took her days to prepare the filling and masa, then our whole family and her older brother’s would come out here, and we’d have the table like this and switch out people when they got tired. It went the whole day, but she made tamales for the family and others in town who’d order from her.”

“I’m surprised we could fit so many people in our house,” Chucho chuckled.

“You couldn’t,” Rebeca laughed. “People were always in the backyard partying.”

“And we’d finish making the tamales,” Lupe said. “And everyone would stay out here until one, two in the morning hanging out and drinking.”

“That’s something you need to know,” Chucho told you as he took another tamale you passed him. “When the family gets together, it’s never a short visit; we’re together for hours.”

It was hard to imagine wanting to spend that amount of time with your own family—it would be literal torture. But with this family? You’d love it, with how much fun everybody was having and the way the conversation flowed so easily. It was apparent there was a lot of love between these people and that they enjoyed each other’s company, finding it refreshing. The thought that this was how Javi grew up made you really happy—so many people who loved him and were open with their affection; each person at this table had given you a hug and welcomed you into the family, including the daughters-in-law who were excited to have another one who would join their ranks.

You’d honestly never had a better time with so many people, feeling like this was where you belonged.

The rest of his day hadn’t been too bad.

The meeting with the narcotics unit had gone mostly well, Javier taking a lot of notes as they all discussed what they were currently doing, relaying what was working and what wasn’t, him already having ideas of how to help them improve. He was expecting there to be some pushback with him coming in—assumed there’d be dick-measuring contests, but he quickly learned the Sheriff only hired people who actually cared about their jobs and wanted to be better at them—except for the kid on the team who was in his twenties and Javier had to tell to fuck off when he asked if the government really paid for him to get pussy; Travis quickly learned that Javier did not tolerate that disrespectful bullshit.

His Cielito had told him to be nicer to the people he worked with, but they made it so fucking hard.

He’d left at five on the dot, carrying her Star Wars lunchbox out of the building and to his truck, stopping on the way to his dad’s at the florist. Mrs. Taylor, the owner, had a smile on her face when he walked into her tiny shop, asking him which bouquet it’d be this week, her not even remotely surprised when he told her his girlfriend’s favorite, sunflowers.

The flowers were carefully laid in the passenger seat as he drove out of the city limits toward the ranch, thinking about everything Cielito had done for him today—taking the day off to watch/help him get ready, making him come before work, answering the phone when he called and calming him down, hanging out and cooking with his dad, making his favorite sandwich for lunch with a sweet note that he saved in the top drawer of his desk. She was right when she wrote it’d be a lot for him to go back to work, but all those things she did had eclipsed any of the bad shit, and he was in a great mood, feeling so unbelievably happy.

He didn’t know how he could possibly thank her for it all, thinking he’d probably go down on her for a couple of hours and get her off so many times she passed out—that would be after he fucked her nice and slow, needing to feel her come around his dick.

His eyebrows furrowed when he turned onto his father’s long driveway and noticed more cars than usual parked along the gravel in front of the house and out back, spotting a couple belonging to his tía’s. Confused, he put the truck into park in front of his girlfriend’s car, grabbing the flowers before getting out.

The sunflowers were in his left hand, his right loosening his tie while he walked along the stone path to the front steps, it untied and resting on either side of his chest by the time he made it to the door. Once inside, his feet carried him to the kitchen, where he abruptly stopped at the doorway.

She was catty-corner to him across the kitchen, the angle allowing him to see her side as she stood at the kitchen counter next to his tía Rebeca at the stove, a tortilla press in front of Cielito, her grabbing some dough from a bowl beside her, rolling it in her hands to make it into a ball, and putting it in the press, pushing down on it hard with two hands. Tía María was next to Rebeca, cooking, tía Lupita nearby making what looked to be a salad, all four of them laughing as Cielito handed the flattened tortilla to Rebeca to cook on the hot pan.

He was stuck in place, shocked at how easily she was making the tortillas like it was something she’d done hundreds of times before and having a lively conversation with his tías, the familiarity in which they spoke making his heart squeeze tight.

Hearing them call her Chula (Cutie) made him smile because it meant they liked her.

Tía María’s head turned, spotting him, moving what she was cooking onto a cold burner to immediately make her way over to him. “Ahi estas! (There you are)!” she said. “Te demorastes! (It took you long enough).”

Rebeca stopped what she was doing, heading his way with Lupita.

He soon found himself crowded by his tiny tías glaring at him, Lupita reaching up to cup his cheeks, saying, “Cómo te atreves a mantener a este ángel lejos de nosotros (How dare you keep this angel from us).”

“Sí,” Rebeca agreed, pinching his arm. “Ella es maravillosa (She is wonderful).”

“Y una cocinera increíble (And an amazing cook),” María added.

“Nos debiste haber introducido antes (You should have introduced us sooner),” Lupita said.

María spoke, “Podríamos haberle estado enseñándole nuestras recetas (We could have been teaching her our recipes).”

“Y las de tu mamá (And your mom’s),” Rebeca told him, poking him in the arm.

“Que no se te ocurre venir sin ella el domingo que viene (Don’t you dare come without her next Sunday),” María threatened as she jabbed his other arm.

“Sí, más te vale (Yes, you better),” Rebeca agreed. “Necesito su receta de pastel de melocotón (I need her peach pie recipe).”

“Deja de ser codicioso y manteniéndola para ti (Stop being greedy and keeping her to yourself),” Lupita said, patting his cheeks. “Es grosero (It’s rude).”

“Muy grosero (Very rude),” María added.

Javier’s mouth was opening and closing, unsure how to respond, finally clearing his throat to say, “Lo siento, lo siento, fue mi error (I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it was my mistake).” He pressed his free hand to his chest. “Yo era muy codicioso pero cómo no iba a serlo, la has conocido, ella es increíble y la amo (I was very greedy but how could I not be, you met her, she is amazing and I love her).”

The anger left their faces, replaced with fond looks.

“Ella también te ama, Chamaco (She loves you, too, Little Guy),” María said, rubbing his bicep. “Ella te ama mucho y también la amamos a ella (She loves you a lot and we love her, too).”

“Encontraste una buena (You found a good one),” Rebeca told him.

He smiled. “Sé que lo hice (I know I did). Soy el hombre más afortunado del mundo (I’m the luckiest man in the world). Ella es con quien me voy a casar (She is the one I’m going to marry). Vamos a tener hijos (We’re going to have children). La amo mucho (I love her so much).”

“Si dios quiere (God willing)!” the three exclaimed simultaneously.

María said, “Javiercito, tu mamá la hubiera amado y querido que te casaras con ella (Javier, your mom would have loved her and wanted you to marry her).”

“Sí,” the other two agreed, nodding their heads.

“Si, lo se (Yes, I know). Ahora, ¿puedo hablar con mi amor por favor (Now, can I please talk to my love)?”

They all moved away from him, finding that Cielito had washed her hands and was standing behind them. The moment her path was cleared, she was rushing him, flinging herself at him with enough force he grunted when her body collided with his, having to take a step back to keep his balance as her mouth fused to his, kissing him hard.

He was thankful for whichever of his tías took the flowers so he could hug her close to him, melting into the kiss that deepened quickly, her tongue slipping past his lips to slide along his own, her fingers digging in his hair. The older women were laughing, giving them some semblance of privacy as they returned to what they were doing.

Something like calm came over him, his body relaxing as they kissed, his hands rubbing all over her back, needing to feel her. It was the contentedness and knowing deep down in his bones this was where he was meant to be—when he was with her, he was home, she was home, she was forever and everything to him.

His lungs began to ache, and her mouth left his, breathing hard as she kissed all over his face, her hands grabbing his head to tilt it forward so she could reach his forehead, smothering him in loud smacking kisses that had him smiling so big she was able to kiss his dimple.

She finally pulled back to look him in the eyes, a little smile on her swollen lips, “Hi,” she greeted.

“Hi,” he replied.

“How was the rest of your day?” she asked, her fingers fixing his hair.

“Not bad.”

“That’s good.”

“Look at my badge.” He lifted it up for her to see his picture.

“God, you’re hot—it is unfair how photogenic you are.” She glanced up at him. “It’s a good thing, though.”

His eyebrow rose. “That I’m photogenic?”

“Yeah, means our kids will probably be photogenic, too. There are going to be so many pictures—I can feel it in my bones that you are going to be worse than your dad.”

He’d gone soft at the mention of their future children, smiling at her.

“Probably.” He shrugged because she wasn’t wrong. Javier was always using the Polaroid camera, and they started their own album—he’d been meaning to get a better camera. “I see you’ve met my tías,” he said.

“And a bunch of your primos (cousins) who work out here, their wives and kids, and your tíos (uncles). Most of them are out back.” She jutted her thumb behind her. “Your dad is barbecuing, and I was learning how to make tortillas, which aren’t too difficult. I’m basically a pro at making masa now.”

“You made masa?” He asked with his eyebrows up in his hairline.

“Yep. I actually have a surprise for you—take off your jacket, and get comfy at the table.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled, doing as she said and shrugging it off while she walked away. He went over to the kitchen table, putting his suit jacket on the back of his chair, the wood scraping across the floor as he pulled it out to take a seat. The sunflowers he brought were in a small vase on the tabletop.

First, she brought him a cold beer, the bottle sweating in front of him.

“Thank you, baby,” he said.

“You’re welcome.” She winked before heading over to the stove.

He picked up the beer, taking a drink, finding it cool and refreshing before setting it back down. His elbows rested on the table as he fiddled with the label on the glass.

All the women were whispering to each other, and it made him curious as to what the surprise was, watching as someone grabbed a plate from a cabinet.

“Did the sauce turn out how you were hoping?” he asked loud enough for Cielito to hear.

“According to your family, yes,” she answered.

“It turned out real good, Chamaco,” Maria said.

“It did,” Lupe added. “She did a great job.”

“A really great job,” Rebeca agreed.

His eyebrows creased, thinking about how she said it was a sauce she’d never made before and how she was stressed about it, his family now saying she made it well. Did she make a Mexican dish?

“Close your eyes!” Cielito said.

“What?” he asked.

“Close your eyes!”

“Okay…?” he replied, closing them.

Moments later, the beer was removed from his hands, moving his arms out of the way to make space for the plate that was set down.

“Now, before you open your eyes. I need you to know I tried really fucking hard, and if you hate them, it’s fine; I’ll never make them again.”

He snorted. “I’m not gonna hate it.”

“I mean, you might, and it’s okay if you do.”

“I won’t.”

Her hand rubbed his upper back, feeling her kiss the top of his head, her muffled voice saying, “This is why I love you. Okay, open your eyes.”

His breath hitched in his throat, his heart thudding in his chest, not believing what he was seeing.

When she said she was working on a new recipe all day that involved a sauce, he assumed pasta or something along those lines—he never in a million fucking years would’ve guessed she’d try to make tamales, staring at the two wrapped in corn husks on the plate in shock.

“What are they filled with?” he whispered, and the thing was, he knew her answer before she even said it, his eyes burning and his bottom lip starting to tremble.

“It’s your mom’s recipe,” she gently confirmed, the first tear falling down his cheek.

He needed to try them, his hands moving to unwrap one, the tamale steaming as he grabbed the fork she’d set beside his plate and took his first bite.

Javier has had years to grieve the loss of his mother and come to terms with the fact she was gone—he’d never see her, talk to her or get to eat her food again. She was gone. Yet, the spices of the red chile sauce and the sweetness of the pork hit his tongue, and for a moment, it felt like she was alive again, the taste so close that his shoulders started shaking, and more tears fell, savoring each bite he took, until the first one was finished, and he was quickly digging into the second.

It was like coming home after being away for years and feeling the warm embrace of your loved one—the instant comfort, happy nostalgia, and overwhelming love, Javier remembering the many times he’d sat at this same table with his mamá nearby, eating her tamales, feeling like she was here with him now.

“Are they okay…?” Cielito asked. “I hope you’re not mad at me for making them…”

The last tamale was gone, his head turning to look up at her with wet cheeks.

His voice was rough, telling her, “I’m not mad. I’m so fucking happy. You—” His voice cracked, his eyes squeezing shut. “—you,” he tried again. “You gave me a chance to eat mi mamá’s food again, and I’m so happy.” There was no way he could keep from crying, shoving his face into her stomach and hugging her tight as he sobbed.

This woman loved him so goddamn much, it was making him cry harder. He couldn’t believe she went through all of this effort for him—she did it for him. He didn’t deserve all of this. He didn’t deserve her. What was she doing with him? How had he lucked out so much? With all of the shit he’s been through and how life has always kicked his ass, there was a fear in the back of his mind that things were too good and she’d realize he wasn’t worth it. It just seemed so fucking impossible that he found someone who truly loved him—she didn’t even have to say the words, he could feel it in what she’d done, and it was crazy to him she loved him that much.

Was it crazy, though?

He was just as in love with her. He’d do anything for her, anything because she had embedded herself so deeply in his heart, he was sure if something happened to her, it’d stop beating—his love for her felt as bright as the burning sun and would keep shining even when he was no more.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered, rubbing one hand on his back, the other cradling the back of his head. “I love you—I love you so much, and had a feeling today would be tough. Your dad said I can make any of your mom’s recipes, so if there’s something you want, I’ll give it a go, and your tías all offered to help me learn.”

Leaning his head back to meet her eyes, he asked, “You want to make more of her recipes?”

She stroked her fingers through his hair.

“Absolutely. I promised your dad I’d make him flan.”

He smiled. “Pop would love that.”

“I know, so I gotta make it for him. He said he’d take me in the Mustang again to go shopping for the ingredients.”

His eyes went wide. “He took you in the Mustang?”

“He did! Top-down and everything. It was a blast.”

“You should see if he’ll let you drive it...”

She huffed out a breath. “To see if you’re the only one with a Mustang ban?”

“Yeah.”

“I highly doubt he’ll let me.”

“You should still ask.”

She playfully rolled her eyes. “Fine, but if by some fucking miracle he says yes, you’re not allowed to be upset,” she said, poking his nose.

“Deal.” He nodded.

“You feeling better?” she asked.

“Yeah. They were so fucking good. Please tell me you made more.”

“There are so many. Your dad had me make a ton.”

Tía María said from over at the stove, “She thought she and your papá could make them all by themselves.”

“I didn’t know!” Cielito exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

“Wait,” Javier started, “was there a tamalada? Is that why everyone’s here?”

“Yeah,” she answered. “Your dad sprung the news on me that he invited everyone while at the store. It was a lot of fun. I did filling.”

He was frowning, feeling sad he missed it.

“I liked to fold,” he sighed.

“Hey.” She held his cheeks. “We can do it again on a day you have off.”

Smiling, he replied, “I’d like that.”

Leaning down, she gave him a tender kiss.

“I love you,” he murmured into her lips.

“I love you, too.”

His mouth left hers, his chair squeaking as it moved back, so he could stand, turning so their bodies were chest to chest, his big palms cradling her face as he looked her in the eyes.

“No,” he said, “te amo más que a nada y mi vida estaría vacía sin ti (No, I love you more than anything, and my life would be empty without you). Vivo para ti, respiro por ti, mi corazón late por ti, soy nada sin ti (I live for you, I breathe for you, my heart beats for you, I am nothing without you).”

“Javi,” she gasped, seeing the tears brimming in her eyes. “That’s so fucking romantic, but I don’t deserve that kind of devotion.” She shook her head. “I’m nobody, and I’m waiting for the day you realize I’m a big fucking loser.”

His eyes squinted, his eyebrows knitting together, not understanding why she would say that.

“What?” he asked. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re fucking incredible and everything to me. You’re not nobody. You’re my all—you’re it, and I hate the self-deprecating bullshit because if one of us doesn’t deserve love, it’s fucking me.” He patted over his heart. “I don’t deserve you, and I’m really fucking aware of it. So, stop it, and let me fucking love you.”

“Esto es mejor que mi telenovela (This is better than my telenovela),” tía Lupita whispered.

Rebeca shooshed her. “Se está poniendo bueno (It’s getting good).”

“What the fuck are you talking about that you don’t deserve me?” Cielito asked. “I can’t be self-deprecating, but you can? No, unacceptable. You’re a fucking amazing man, and I will not tolerate you thinking that you do not deserve me—you more than deserve me. Thank you very much. So, you fucking stop it—” She poked him in the chest. “—and let me fucking love you.”

He smiled, grasping her hand and bringing it up to kiss her knuckles. “You can love me, and I’ll love you, so that’s settled.”

“Good.”

He kissed the center of her palm. “I really fucking love you.”

“I really fucking love you, too.”

His lips pressed to her wrist. “Estoy enloquecido por ti (I’m crazy about you).”

A kiss to her arm. “Mi corazón es tuyo (My heart is yours).”

Another press of his lips further up. “Soy tuyo (I’m yours).”

One to the bend in her arm. “Eres todo para mi (You’re everything to me).”

Straightening, he gently cupped her cheeks. “Eres el amor de mi vida, mi Cielito (You are the love of my life, my Cielito).” Finally, kissing her on the lips.

Javi demolished seven of your tamales, and when there was a minute with you two alone in the kitchen, you watched him fill two gallon Ziploc bags with probably twenty more that he hid in the fridge to take home, which made you so insanely happy. There was still a bunch left for everyone else to have more than one, not feeling too worried about it since Javi’s tíos showed up with a ton of meat and other things for Chucho to cook on his massive grill and ingredients for his tías to make sides.

Your boyfriend had draped his tie over his suit jacket on the back of a chair at the kitchen table, stuffing his badge in the pocket, rolling his sleeves up his forearms, and popping open a few buttons on his dress shirt before you’d gone out back. A beer he was nursing was in one hand, the other over your shoulders, keeping you close to him.

A dozen or so kids, all under the age of twelve, were running around laughing and screaming in the backyard. The glass dining table on the patio had paper plates, plastic utensils, condiments, a big bowl of fresh-cut fruit, and a tiny stack of tamales on it. The adults sat at a picnic table on the grass, others in plastic chairs pulled close, talking animatedly while eating and drinking their sodas and beers, waiting for more food to be ready, a boombox out playing music.

Javi’s dad had an array of things he was grilling, pointing at each one with his giant metal tongs and telling you what each was: costillas (pork ribs), entraña (skirt steak), chorizó (well-seasoned pork sausage), cebollitas asadas (grilled green onions), and elote (grilled corn).

“The elote,” Chucho said, flipping one over to grill the other side, “we dress it in mayo, cotija cheese that’s crumbly, chili powder, and lime juice. It’s very good.”

“I’m sure I’m going to love it,” you replied, Javi pulling you closer into his side and kissing your hair.

“Ask him,” he murmured in your ear.

“Ugh, fine, hey Pop?”

Your boyfriend jolted next to you, “Pop?” he whispered.

“Yeah, babe—” You rubbed his chest. “—there was a lot of bonding today; he said he thinks of me as his daughter, and real talk, he’s the best dad I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you, Mija,” Chucho said, smiling at you. “I’m happy to have another kid, and who knows, maybe I’ll finally get those nietos (grandchildren) I want soon.”

Javi was in the middle of taking a drink and choked, coughing into his arm while you patted his back.

“We’re waiting until we’re married,” you told him. “And gosh, we’d probably want to have a house, too. There’s no space for a baby in the apartment.”

Chucho was nodding his head. “Of course, of course, if anything, Javi’s got his room here, and I’ve got the spare bedroom we could turn into a nursery, so that’s an option.”

It made you grin.

“That’s so sweet of you, Pop. We appreciate it.”

“Anything for my kids and future grandkids. Now, you had a question.”

“Oh, yes! Would you ever maybe possibly let me drive the Mustang…?”

“Sure.”

Your mouth fell open, Javi saying loudly, “What?!”

“But I’d be your passenger,” Chucho continued. “You can drive when we go to La Tapatía for the flan—it’s the least I can do.”

“Can I drive the Mustang?” Javi asked.

His father met his eyes. “No.”

“¿Por qué (Why)?” he said in rapid Spanish, his tone laced with anger. “¿Por qué ella puede conducir y yo no (Why can she drive and I can’t)?”

“Ella me está haciendo el flan de tu madre (She is making me your mom’s flan). Por eso. (That’s why).”

“¿Qué tengo que hacer (What do I have to do)?”

The older man thought about it for a second before a big toothy smile appeared on his face.

“Cuando te casas con ella, puedes conducir el Mustang (When you marry her, you can drive the Mustang).”

Javi sighed loudly. “Esta bien (Fine). Estas bien agresivo (You’re very pushy). Me voy a casar con ella (I am going to marry her).”

“Yo sé, Mijo, pero no lo suficientemente pronto (I know, Mijo, but not soon enough).”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, you want your grandkids. You’re gonna have to hold your fuckin’ horses and wait.” He took another drink.

“I’m not getting any younger.” Chucho’s attention went back to the barbecue, flipping meat and vegetables.

“I’m aware.”

The two of you migrated over to where everyone else was, standing off to the side as they all talked in Spanish, Javi’s arm around you, his finger drawing circles on your hip.

“I can’t wait to get home,” he whispered in your ear for only you to hear.

“Why’s that?” you asked just as softly.

“So I can spread you out and eat your pussy for an hour or two.” He nipped at your earlobe, your breath catching in your throat. “But first, I want to fuck you nice and slow—want you to feel how I stretch you open and make you squeeze my dick when you come. Gonna pump you full of me.”

You could feel your heartbeat in your cunt, squeezing your thighs together.

“Javier,” you gasped. “We are with your family. Stop making me horny.”

“Yeah? Your panties drenched? If I stuck my hand inside those stretchy fucking shorts I love, would I feel you all wet for me?”

You were, and you hated how smug he sounded.

“Of course, but we’re going to be here for hours. Don’t rile me up.”

His hand moved from your hip to squeeze your ass.

“Maybe I want to rile you up. Have you dripping for me and needy. Get you so fucking horny that we barely make it into the apartment, and I fuck you right there on the floor.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“You fucking love it. You don’t give a single fuck where I do it as long as I fuck you full of my come—you love being stuffed.”

“Javier,” you hissed.

“Yes, mi amor (my love)?”

“You’re being a goddamn menace.”

“I’m being your menace.” He kissed your cheek.

A tiny child was suddenly hugging your legs, looking down to find Javi’s cousin, Danny’s toddler, holding her chubby little arms up for you to pick her up, bending to do just that. The little girl was wearing a pink sleeveless dress, her little bit of dark hair pulled up in two pigtails, sitting her on your hip.

“Hola (Hi),” you greeted her with a smile. “¿Cuál es tu nombre (What is your name)?”

She was rubbing her hands together, not looking you in the eye.

“So-feee-a.”

“Hola, Sofia (Hi, Sofia). Tu nombre es muy bonito (Your name is very beautiful). ¿Cuántos años tienes (How old are you)?”

“Dos (Two)!” she announced, holding up two fingers. “Sí, dos (Yes, two)!”

“Muy bien (Very good). Te estás divirtiendo jugando con tus hermanos y primos (Are you having fun playing with your siblings and cousins)?”

“Sí, corren rápido (Yes, they run fast).”

Looking over at Javi, there was a soft look on his face, you asking him, “¿Cómo se dice (How do you say) they run too fast for you?”

He was just staring, your eyebrows creasing, jabbing him in the side with your elbow, “Javi?”

“What…?” he asked.

“¿Cómo se dice (How do you say) they run too fast for you?”

“Oh, uh, corren muy rápido para ti?”

Nodding, your attention moved back to the child. “¿Corren muy rápido para ti?” you asked her.

“Sí, muy rápido (Yes, very fast).”

“Lo siento (I’m sorry) ¿Cuál es tu color favorito (What’s your favorite color)?

She tugged on her dress. “Rosadooo (Pink)! Y amarillooo (And yellow)!”

Her answer made you giggle.

“También me encantan esos colores (I love those colors, too).”

Sofia frowned. “Tengo sed (I’m thirsty).”

“Oh, um, Javi.” You looked at him. “Can you tell her we’ll take her to her mom?”

He set his beer down on the grass, straightening and holding out his arms. “Ven aquí, preciosa, te llevaremos a tu mamá (Come here, precious, we will take you to your mom),” he said in that sweet voice he always used with the animals, taking the child from you.

He held her easily in one arm, hearing him speaking softly to her in Spanish as he walked her over to her mom at the picnic table—your eyes had gone wide, gulping as you took him in, your ovaries going haywire at how perfect he looked; how natural, thinking those broad shoulders of his would come in handy to carry more than one baby.

Oh.

Oh no.

You had to fan yourself with your hand, it suddenly feeling very hot, doing your best to ignore the ancient, primal part of your brain screaming that he was the perfect man to father your children, and he needed to put one in you right that second—the temptation to toss your birth control when you got home was too damn high.

Dear god, was this baby fever? Were you experiencing baby fever?

The way arousal was burning in your gut and making your pussy throb with need told you, yes, you did, in fact, have baby fucking fever.

You were so unbelievably horny, annoyed it was at the most inopportune time, needing to go splash some cold water on your face to calm yourself down.

Javi was returning to you, your eyes darting away as you said when he was close, “I’m, um, gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” Pointing with your thumbs toward the house. “I’ll be back.”

He was in front of you, his hands rubbing your upper arms, your body shivering at the contact.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a concerned look.

“Yeah,” you said a little too quickly. “Fucking fantastic, not horny at all, no siree, perfectly fine. I’ll be back.”

“Okay…?”

You practically bolted away from him and into the house, passing the guest bathroom to go to the one in Javi’s room. Two of his tías and a daughter-in-law were in the kitchen making side dishes, their husbands in the living room, relaxing in the air conditioning, and watching something on the television.

Safely locked away in Javi’s en suite, you took care of your needs and washed your hands, leaving the faucet running and turning the temperature as cold as possible. Leaning over the sink, you splashed some water on your face, which helped a little, still feeling on edge as you walked over to get a small towel out of the in-wall cabinet to dry off.

The sink was turned off, staring at yourself in the mirror. “We will get married, we will buy a house, and then we will have babies,” you said out loud. “Don’t you dare give in just because your boyfriend is a goddamn DILF without the children. Oh, god,” you whined. “He’s going to be such a fucking DILF! Why does he have to be so sexy?! We can’t even fuck until later. Focus!” You pointed your finger at yourself in the reflection. “No babies, no matter how fucking tempting it is, no. Cool your fucking jets. You’ve got this.” Nodding your head once, you turned to toss the dirtied towel into a nearby hamper.

Unlocking the door, you pulled it open, squeaking in surprise when the hulking figure of your boyfriend was right there, immediately invading your space, his hand on your jaw as he crushed his lips to yours, his other arm wrapped around your back—walking you backward, kissing you like his life depended on it, his tongue quickly pressing into your mouth to tangle with your own, your hands landing in his hair, gripping the soft strands between your fingers.

He kicked the door shut, his lips not leaving yours as he reached behind him to lock it.

The horniness was back at full force, wanting him, no, needing him to ease the ache between your legs, snaking your hand down his front, finding his cock hard under his navy blue slacks, his boxer briefs making it stretch up at an angle toward his belt, Javi groaning as you stroked him over his pants.

He pushed you back against the bathroom counter, his hips pressing into you, moaning as his tongue plundered your mouth.

A moment of clarity hit you, remembering where you were and the many people outside his bedroom door, reluctantly breaking the kiss to say, “Javi, your family’s in the other room.”

Kissing you again, his words were muffled, “I locked the bedroom door.” He squeezed your breast, his other hand grabbing your ass.

Pulling back again, he chased your lips, moving your head to dodge him. “We can’t fuck with them out there, Javier.”

There was a grumpy expression on his face as he stared at you. “Why not?”

“They could hear us?”

“They won’t—we’ll be quick and quiet. Nobody will know.” He licked his plush lips, your attention drawn to them.

There was his bedroom and the entryway separating you from everyone else, so as long as you weren’t too loud… Christ, were you really thinking about fucking in a house full of people? Yes, you were, knowing Javi would make it so good—remembering how he said you didn’t care where he did it as long as he came inside you, which was apparently true, your resolve disappearing in an instant, wanting him so fucking bad nothing else mattered.

“Fuck, okay—a quickie, Javier, and you better make sure I’m not too loud,” you said, poking his chest. “God, I’m so fucking horny.”

His mouth was on yours again, his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt, his lips moved to your jaw, saying into your skin, “I know you’re horny, baby—” He nibbled on your chin. “—could tell outside.” His mouth was against your neck, kissing down it, his hand moving between your legs, making you moan when he rubbed over your sex. “You think I’m a DILF.” He sucked on your pulse point before his head popped up with a confused look, “What the fuck is a DILF?”

“Oh god, you heard my pep talk.” Embarrassment had you covering your face with your hands, Javi immediately prying them off, looking at you fondly.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Cielito,” he said, kissing you quickly. “I loved the pep talk—we needed the pep talk ‘cause seeing you with the baby fucked me up, too. You didn’t answer my question, what’s a DILF?”

“You know a MILF is a mother I’d like to fuck, so a DILF is a dad I’d like to fuck—you’re a fuckin’ future dad I’d like to fuck.”

He kissed you, smiling into it. “You’re in luck,” he said, ending the sentence with a nip to your bottom lip. Stepping back, he spun you around to have your front to the counter, his body flush with yours, seeing you both in the mirror with his lips at your ear, his dark eyes meeting your gaze in the reflection. “You get to fuck me,” he said in a deep timbre that had tingles moving down your spine.

“Good,” you replied, pushing your ass back into his hard cock. “I need you to fuck me, Papí.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, seeing his throat bob as he swallowed. His body left yours, pulling you with him as he took two steps back. “Arms on the counter, baby,” he rasped, his big hand sliding up your spine and gently pushing you forward, bending at your waist to rest your forearms on the countertop beside the sink. “Fucking love these shorts.” His hand came down hard on your asscheek in a loud smack, your cunt clenching, gasping his name.

“You’re also gonna love what’s under them,” you purred.

Hooking his thumbs under the waistband, his gaze was on yours in the mirror, smirking under his mustache. “The red one?” he asked.

“You’ll see.”

He tugged the bike shorts down, the air cool as it hit your bare skin, Javi sucking in a breath, his eyes locked on the red thong you’d worn, unable to keep himself from squeezing handfuls of your ass. “I love you so fucking much—fuck, it’s pretty.” He glanced up to continue, “Thank you for spoiling me today, mi amor (my love).”

Smiling, you replied, “You’re welcome, Javi. Now please fuck me.” You wiggled your hips.

“Are you needy for me, Cielito?” he asked, his hands going to the front of his pants, hearing the clink of his belt and the teeth of his zipper coming apart.

“Needy in the sense that I need your dick inside me right now, and we can save the ass worship for later.”

He chuckled, his slacks and underwear getting shoved down his thighs. “I’ll put my dick inside you, then,” he said, using one hand to pull the soaked fabric of your thong to the side, spitting on the fingers of his other to slick up his cock.

Anticipation was thrumming in your veins, your pussy weeping for him, needing Javi to fill your achingly empty center in the way only he could satisfy. He didn’t waste any more time, pressing the tip of his length to your sopping entrance, gasping yes as he started pushing in, your head dropping between your shoulders, resting your forehead on your crossed arms in front of you. His hands had a tight grip on your hips, cursing under his breath as he slid home in one smooth thrust, making you moan when he bottomed out—it felt so fucking good, his thick cock stretching your tight walls, carving out space inside you while your cunt tried to suck him in deeper, feeling so goddamn full.

The hem of his dress shirt was brushing against your ass, Javi pulling almost all the way out, and thrusting back in hard enough to knock the air from your lungs, setting up a punishing pace that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned. “You feel so good.”

This was going to be hard and fast, the goal to get off as quickly as possible.

You could hear the wet slap of his hips connecting with your ass, the flesh jiggling—his hand landed on your asscheek hard enough the smack echoed in the small room, your pussy squeezing him tight as you moaned. Looking up, you saw him behind you in the mirror, his mouth slack, eyes dark and half-lidded, his attention on you, the first few buttons on his white shirt undone, seeing the flush crawling up his chest to his beautiful neck, the taut skin glistening in sweat.

“Does it turn you on, baby,” he asked through his teeth, pistoning into you, “thinking about me as a dad?”

The beginning threads of your orgasm were starting to weave in your belly, feeling the familiar heat growing.

He slapped your ass again. “Answer me, Cielito.”

“Yes,” you gasped, your words stuttering from the pounding, “Fuck, it’s so good, Javi. It turns me on—turns me on so fucking much,” you babbled. “You’re fucking me so good. Harder, Javi.”

“You want it harder, mi amor (my love)?”

“Yes.”

Bending over your back, his arm went under you and across your chest, pulling you up to stand. His thrusts didn’t wane, shoving your shirt up your chest one-handed to reveal one bra-covered breast, tugging the cup down to pinch your stiff nipple, the sensations shooting straight to your pussy.

He kissed the side of your neck, grunting in exertion.

“You really want it harder?” he asked breathily in your ear.

“Yes, Papí,” you moaned.

His big hands moved, grabbing your biceps near your elbows, pulling you back as he thrust forward, fucking you so hard your mouth was open, gasping out moans. Your mind was a pleasure-addled mess, unable to think about anything except how good he was fucking you—the knot in your belly was getting tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter, until euphoria exploded outward from your core, coming with a shout of Javi’s name that was quickly muffled by his hand covering your mouth.

“Shhh, Cielito—such a good fucking girl for me” Your cunt had clenched up so tight his rhythm slowed to a grind, letting you feel every ridge and vein on his cock as he worked you through your high. His head was beside yours, speaking in your ear, “I know it’s good, baby—need you to be quiet, just ride it out.” He kissed your neck again, his free hand rubbing over your stomach and up to squeeze your breast. “I love you so fucking much.”

Her eyes were closed, her chest heaving after climaxing, Javier waiting for her cunt to stop fluttering around him, his throbbing cock slowly moving in and out of her, it wetter where they were joined.

He loved watching her come and knowing he was the one that got her there, pride always swelling inside him that he made her feel so good.

She was saying something, not making out the words with his large hand over her mouth, quickly removing it.

“What’s that?” he asked, kissing just behind her ear.

Her eyes blinked open, smiling dreamily at him in the mirror.

“I said I love you, too,” her rough voice responded.

One sentence, and it had his body going warm, unable to keep from smiling at her with how fucking happy she made him.

He was close to his end, the heat in the base of his spine threatening to explode with how fucking gone he was on her. All he could think about was everything she’d done for him that day, all of the things, big and small, showing him without her saying it how much she loved him, and he wanted to give her the entire fucking world—it was more than what she deserved, but that wasn’t possible so he was settling with giving her such good dick, it made her drool.

“You’re cute when you’re fucked out of your mind,” he said, placing a kiss on the spot where her shoulder met her neck. Her aftershocks had finally ended, and it was his turn. “I’m gonna move you,” he told her. She gasped when he pulled out, getting her closer to the counter where he turned her to face him, bending to tug down her shorts and underwear, impatiently taking off her shoe to get one of her legs free. When he stood back up, he gripped her bare thighs, grunting as he lifted her onto the counter's edge, spreading her legs to make space for himself.

She was wide open for him, seeing the puffy lips of her pussy shining in the light, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip, wishing he had time to taste her. She leaned back on her arms, Javier taking his place in the cradle of her thighs, quickly sheathing himself back in her wet heat.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he groaned, slowly rocking deep inside her.

Her legs wrapped around his middle to lock at the small of his back, her cunt warm and welcoming, beckoning him to come, feeling the build low in his belly.

There was a need to have her like this, his lips smashing into hers in a searing kiss, swallowing her moans as he started moving faster. His hand held her face, the other pushing her shirt all the way up her chest to get both of her breasts free from her bra, palming the bare skin and tweaking her pebbled nipples while his tongue slid along hers in the way he knew made her toes curl.

Her soft sounds and his rougher ones were quieted with their mouths being connected, his hips swinging into her with strong, even thrusts, hearing the wet suck of her pussy, the slick friction of her velvety walls pushing him closer to his release.

She put all of her weight on one of her arms, her free hand grabbing his hair to pull his head back, her lips wetly trailing along his jaw, her voice saying into his skin, “It’s so good, Javi—you feel so fucking good inside me.” Her tongue licked up the column of his throat, and it had his eyes rolling back, his rhythm stuttering for a second.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted, her mouth sucking a mark on his jugular. “You’re gonna make me come.” The muscles in his abdomen were beginning to tighten.

His pace sped up, able to tell he was fucking her good when her head fell back, and her sounds started getting loud enough he had to cover her mouth again.

“It feel good, Cielito?” he asked roughly. “You like knowing you’re gonna make me come? That this pretty fucking pussy is gonna milk me dry? You love that I’m gonna give you what you want and fill you up—stuff you full of my come?” He licked his lips. “Bet you wish you weren’t on birth control.” Her moan was muffled, squeezing her eyes shut, causing a jolt to run through him.

Seeing her earlier with the baby had ignited a fire inside him, something instinctual telling him he needed to give her one of her own—that they needed one of their own, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he fucked his come deep inside her. From the look on her face, she was also feeling some type of way, which was why he’d followed her into the house, her pep talk confirming he was right. There had been no way for them to wait until they got home to fuck, he was too riled up, and she wasn’t any better.

She looked at him, her eyes glazed over in lust, a sheen of sweat coating her forehead, looking absolutely fuck drunk as she tried to say something he couldn’t make out, still fucking in and out of her.

He lifted his hand.

“What?” he asked through heavy breaths.

She sounded wrecked. “Fuck a baby into me—please,” she begged.

The sentence was his undoing, a strangled noise ripping from his throat, his head falling against her shoulder, his balls tightening, and cock thickening—two more quick strokes before he was burying himself to the hilt, sinking his teeth into her flesh over her shirt as he came so hard his vision went white and he lost hearing in his left ear.

He rolled his hips, working his spend as deep as he could get it, the overstimulation causing a whispery hiss to leave his lips before he finally stilled, his body so relaxed he slumped into her. A euphoric haze came over him, his mind as slow as molasses.

Her free hand stroked through his sweat-damp hair, her nails scratching lovingly along his scalp, which felt so good, he was humming appreciatively.

A few minutes passed, and she finally broke the silence to croak out, “Well, that was unexpected.”

His ear was still ringing, lifting his head to look at her. “What was unexpected?” he asked.

“The sex—” She delightedly smiled, poking his nose. “—and your massive fucking breeding kink.”

Confusion came over his face.

“My what?” he asked.

“For a man who has had a lot of sex, and I mean a lot, it’s always surprising when you don’t know a sex thing.” She pushed some of his hair off of his forehead. “Your breeding kink; it gets you off thinking about knocking me up.”

He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, looking away from her.

“Shit, I didn’t want you to know…” He scratched at the back of his neck.

Her hand gently moved his face to meet her eyes, her brows furrowed.

“Why didn’t you want me to know?”

Letting out a long sigh, he answered truthfully, “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I’m fine with waiting,” he quickly added. “Really fucking fine with it, especially after this morning, but the fantasy…”

“Really gets you going. Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got a massive breeding kink, too. I like to imagine you getting me pregnant when we fuck, and also, the whole there being a one percent chance that you actually could really gets me going.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, rubbing his hands over her thighs. “So, it’s okay..?”

She smiled, resting her palm on his cheek. “Oh yeah. It’s more than okay. We can have our fantasy for now, but my god, imagine how good the sex will be when we’re actually trying.”

That had arousal stirring in his belly. “Fuck,” he breathed again. Cupping her cheeks, he said, “I don’t know how I got so fucking lucky with you, but you’re perfect, and I love you so fucking much. Eres la mejor novia del mundo y soy feliz de compartir cada instante de mi vida a tu lado (You’re the best girlfriend in the whole world and I’m happy to share each moment of my life by your side).” He kissed her softly, murmuring into her lips, “Siempre has sido tú, incluso antes de conocerte, y siempre serás la elegida porque eres el amor de mi vida y tú eres la única para mí (It has always been you, even before I knew you, and it will always be you because you are the love of my life and you are the only one for me).”

She pulled back to look him in the eyes with a smile.

“I think you’re the best boyfriend in the world, and I’m happy I get to spend my life with you and have your babies.” She pecked him on the lips. “It’s cheesy,” she continued. “But before I met you, it felt like something was missing in my life, you know? And now I feel like everything is right—you feel right; you were what I was missing,” she said, poking him over his heart. Javier grabbed her hand to kiss her knuckles, listening to her speak. “So, you’ve always been it for me, always, and life just waited for us to both be lost before allowing us to finally find each other.” She shrugged. “You’re it for me, Javier Peña—you’ve always been it; yesterday, today, tomorrow, a year from now, it’s always going to be you because I was meant for you, and you were meant for me. In summary, I love you so fucking much, too.”

He chuckled, kissing her a little harder this time, feeling so happy he thought he might be floating.

He knew she was the love of his life—knew it with every fiber of his being, and he would spend the rest of his days with her just to prove it.

When your lungs begged for air, you broke the kiss, Javi smiling so big his dimple was showing, the love for you clear in his gaze.

“Today was good?” you asked.

“Today was fucking amazing.”

“Good, good,” you nodded. “Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?” His hands were skating up and down your bare thighs.

“I have another surprise for you that can’t happen until tomorrow…”

“Baby, you’ve done so much. I don’t need anything else.” He quickly kissed you.

“Oh, you’re gonna really fucking want this.”

His eyebrow lifted, looking curious.

“What is it?”

“Well, after a lot of thinking and working up my courage, I thought maybe you’d wanna try fucking my ass?”

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Tagging: @theorganasolo @nicolethered @lola766 @nessamc @vanemando15 @fiscinthirst @melancholyy-hill @hnt-escape @sherala007 @jadesabre83 @rainbeaubrightchild @blub-senpai @pedrohoe04 @theherothesavior @captain-creampuff @javiersjeans @zetasaturno99 @amb11 @lovedbyth3sun @siidereeus @marvelousmermaid @mrszdjarin @themarcusmoreno @woomen23 @ms-loverman-066 @star-wars-fan-2005 @kissing-stars @chloeinpink @notyourlovemonkey @unofficialavenger90 @fictionismyreality @sheetsof-lennon @damnyoupedro @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @enjoyourlattebitch @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtlee @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @theewokingdead @guess-my-next-obsession @pedrostories

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

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endless-ineffabilities · 11 months

Note

MORE MARQUIS MOREEEEEEE I LOOOOOOVED IT, L - O - V - E - D ITTT!!!!!!!

le marquis et le moineau - (ill)fated

Marquis de Gramont x f!reader

synopsis: one of several short stories, set up as a prequel to this oneshot of le marquis et le moineau. This is set in the early days, depicting the beginning of what would turn into a dangerous mutual infatuation.

more of moineau: le marquis et le moineau ▪︎ first dance ▪︎ other works

word count: 2.5k ▪︎ themes/warnings: slow burn, mentions of violence (it's the John Wick universe ofc), language

"Welcome to the New York Continental. How may I be of service?" Charon asks in his flawless genial manner.

You stand behind him, his shadow in training. After only 3 short months as the 'Assistant to the Concierge' - (a title you picked over 'Assistant Concierge', in reference to a certain beloved TV series) - you've come to learn the ins and outs of the Continental.

What makes it tick. The demands of its peculiar crowd of usual guests. What is required to keep such an establishment up and running.

In truth, it takes a lot of fucking work. Much and more need to be swept under the rug so as to not attract attention. Guests need to be kept satisfied, their particular requests adhered to. As long as it is well within the rules of the High Table, of course.

The only thing separating you from the animals.

As if everyone in this sort of life has not already become animal. Well, isn't ignorance such bliss.

The man who introduced himself as Chidi says, "I have come ahead of my superior, the Marquis de Gramont. Needless to say, we must ensure that everything is well-prepared for his stay here in New York. Wouldn't you agree, Charon?"

"Of course, sir." Charon tilts his head. "I will personally see to that, don't you worry. Is he still set to arrive tonight at the planned hour?"

"He should be here at 6 this evening. I trust that the... agitator is being dealt with?"

Charon walks in front of the counter, taking a parcel from a bellhop. He keeps his gaze trained on Chidi. "With compliments of the Continental, sir. The proprietor has ensured that the liability will be brought to the penthouse of the Marquis."

"Very good." Chidi taps Charon on the shoulder once, before walking away, a satisfied sneer on his face.

"Just remember, sir," Charon calls out to him, making his stop in his tracks, "that no business may be conducted on Continental grounds."

"Hmm."

After a moment, you move to stand beside Charon.

"So, sir, what was that all about?"

He turns his head towards you fondly. "I'm sure you've heard of Marquis Vincent de Gramont."

"Well, I've heard that he comes across as a pompous ass, if that's what you mean."

Charon simply raises his eyebrows at you, already accustomed to your blunt, sarcastic manner of speaking. "Well, he will be staying with us for a couple of days, as he has some... business to deal with."

"I won't even ask."

He moves to stand in front of you, finding your eyes. "Dear child, might I suggest steering clear of the Marquis and his associates whilst he is in residence with us here? It would simply be for the best. His reputation does preceed him."

You can't help but smile at Charon's nickname for you, one that heralds back to when your family first moved across the hall from him in one of the High Table sponsored apartment buildings in downtown Manhattan.

You had been only 12, but you were already well aware of your father's line of work. One that required him to be away on business to faraway cities each month, and caused him to rub elbows with the dregs of the underworld.

Not all of them were bad though. You grew fond of some of his associates, namely Charon, of course. And the one they called the Baba Yaga, but to you he was just Johnny.

John Wick hated the name, but he liked you, so the name stayed. Him and his then wife somehow became your second set of parents, with your dad never around and your mother usually drowning in her fancy liquor.

More than a decade later, your father met his end on one of his jobs. One that was only supposed to be "quick and easy". He promised he would be back to you in no time, with a box of your favourite chocolates from Paris.

But he never came. And neither did the fucking chocolates, which truthfully, you now hated. Your father lost his life in that city, so you grew to loathe everything about it.

And now comes the Marquis, the man practically in charge of all of Paris. Not to the public eye, of course.

If Charon asks you to steer clear of him, it must be for good reason.

But you've never been good at following orders. Or staying out of trouble. Or keeping your mouth shut.

"Whoever this Marquis is, I can handle him," you say determinedly. "I'll just act normal, do my job, go about business as usual."

Charon takes a deep breath, resigning himself. "Very well. Just try not to catch his eye." A tenant raises her hand, demanding his attention, so he starts to head her way.

"You know me," you call after him, an impish grin on your face. "I'm only a shadow."

The Marquis de Gramont stands in the ornate lobby of the Continental, surrounded by his posse. Clad in an impeccable three-piece cream suit, his hair perfectly coiffed, his polished shoes gleaming to the naked eye.

He is never beating those pompous ass allegations. You can't help but smirk from your post behind the concierge desk.

You look down briefly, smoothing out invisible creases on your black button-up shirt. Don't laugh. You roll out your shoulders. Compose yourself.

Winston and Charon had greeted his entourage upon entering, and they've been hashing out the details of his stay for the last minute or two. Apparently, the Marquis has some very specific demands. Of course he does.

Those in the group exchange some final words, nodding to each other, seemingly satisfied. Charon raises his arm, directing the Marquis. "Right this way, if you please."

Hands on his hips, the Marquis makes his way over to the private elevator. Which only means that he will have to pass by your post.

You try to keep your head down, as a practiced sign of cordiality. Also, so that you don't let out an impromptu sneer. But you can't help it. Right when he passes by, you raise your head.

And he is already looking straight at you.

The corner of his lips is in a downturn, as if he is judging you where you stand. Pompous prick.

You don't let it faze you. "Welcome to the Continental. We hope you enjoy your stay," you greet him, eyes not leaving his in some sort of defiance.

"Hmm." He walks by, slowly, and you only want to urge him on. But just when he is clear of the reception desk, he turns on his heel.

"What is your name?" He asks, a perfect brow raised in anticipation.

You answer him, keeping your voice steady. You've learned a long time ago not to allow men like him the chance to intimidate you.

A momentary pause, before he repeats your name. You want to hate the way he says it, as if he testing it on his tongue, seeing how it tastes.

But hell, that French accent can make anything sound heavenly.

"Is there a problem, monsieur?" Charon has moved to your side, wary of the attention from the marquis.

Marquis de Gramont barely acknowledges Charon with a sideways glance, before looking back to you. "Non, no problem at all."

He finally walks away. But of course, of course he has to drive a chill up your spine as he calls over his shoulder, "Have her come up to me in twenty minutes."

You grit your teeth in an attempt to maintain cordiality. "Excuse me, sir?" He could have at least addressed me himself.

Nothing. He doesn't even look back at you as he enters the elevator, head dipped in hushed whispers to his security team.

"So much for your being 'only a shadow', hmm?" Charon echoes your sentiment, which has just been apparently disproven.

Winston draws closer, worried look on his face as he says, "Quite a conundrum, dear one. I'm considering sending someone else in your place, however, he did ask for you markedly."

Your stomach churned. "Maybe he just needs some attending? Room service? Basic cleanup? I don't know..." Basic cleanup being clearing the blood of the surfaces of his penthouse, especially after he deals with the man the establishment had caught and presented to him.

Deals with. But not kill. Never that. Not whilst on Continental grounds, that is.

Winston responds, "Perhaps so. I trust that you will handle it? I know you can, child."

You straighten yourself. "Of course I can. He's just some overgrown French brat."

But what the fuck does he want?

"If anything," Winston adds calmly, "and worst comes to worst, your dear Uncle Johnny would surely be happy to lend a hand."

Of course he will. Feeling much lighter, you shoot a smile at Charon and Winston, before returning to your post behind the desk.

18 more minutes.

The Marquis stays in the biggest penthouse of the Continental. The most exclusive part of the property, made even more opulent per his request.

New pieces of artwork are hung on the walls, requested from some New York Baron's private collection. Not that he had a choice.

The man - the traitor - known as Laurent had been staying at the Continental in the week prior, stupidly believing that he is free of the Marquis.

It only took one phone call, and of course, Winston had to relent. They kept Laurent in one of their best suites, lulling him into a false sense of security, all while preparing for the Marquis' arrival.

Then Laurent's room was filled with nitrous oxide, and he was tied up and taken to the Marquis' penthouse.

Laurent sits in a lone wooden chair, nearly unconscious in the middle of the drawing room as you enter, a gash of deep red on his temple.

Chidi sits directly in front of him, seemingly carrying out the interrogation. His superior, on the other hand, lazily sits on the plush couch on the far side of the room. Looking as if he'd rather be anywhere but here. As if there isn't a man being tortured right in front of his eyes.

One of his men announces your arrival, but you sense the Marquis has already noticed your presence.

You clear your throat. "You asked for me, sir?"

"Mmm," he hums, and tilts his head. "Tell me, what was so funny?"

"I'm sorry?"

"When you first saw me in the lobby," he stands, stalking over to you, "you smirked. I wish to know what it was that brought you to react in such a manner."

This is why he asked for me? Because I smirked? Oh, for fuck's -

He steps forward, closer. "Cat got your tongue?"

"No, sir, I... I must admit, I don't quite remember what you speak of. I smirk to myself all the time. I've got plenty of inside jokes and all that."

"To yourself?"

"Yes."

"Are you... well in the head?" He twirls his fingers beside his temple. The bastard.

"Yes, Marquis." You take a deep breath, but you can't help yourself. "But I assure you I'm just as demented as you are."

A gloom falls over his face, and you sense his security team tense up. Preparing for him to say the word.

Your eyes trail around the room, and continue, "And everyone else in this world of ours."

The Marquis stares at you. Half-indignant, and dare you think it, half-amused.

His lips twitch, fighting back a smirk of his own, and his eyes rake your figure. From your uniform shoes to your hands to your lips. Then back to your gaze.

"Fair point." He shrugs, and the room settles once again. His men look away from the pair of you.

He turns, beckoning you to follow. A few feet in front of Laurent, he asks, "What do you make of this?"

Of this? You mean of him? The way the Marquis speaks, as if Laurent is merely a thing to be dealt with and not a person, bothers you. But such is the way of your world.

"Laurent Castillon. French-Italian sommelier. If I understand correctly, he cheated you out of what would have been successful dinner plans."

Sommelier, an arms dealer. Dinner plans, whatever you can concoct with the use of guns. You're more than accustomed to the language, having picked it up over the years.

"Excellent." The Marquis clasps his hands, pleased. "Now, what do you make of this? What would you do, if you were in my shoes?"

He is testing you, prodding you on. Seeing if you would curl back in your shell or flinch.

Is there a wrong answer here, or is this all just some game?

"I would set things right, I suppose."

"You suppose?" He repeats, dissatisfied. "We don't deal in half measures."

"I would - ," you look him directly in his eyes, "I would make him pay."

Something sparks in Marquis de Gramont's eyes. Recognition? Appreciation? Excitement?

"Won't that be a waste?" He takes a step closer, eliminating the space between you.

Stand your ground.

You shrug, "Such is life."

He smiles, "Indeed, petit moineau."

In a flash, without breaking your gaze, he takes a handgun from the inner lining of his jacket and shoots Laurent in the knee. He keels over, screaming.

The familiar sound rings in your ears, making you dig your nails in the flesh of your palm.

The Marquis does not even flinch, does not even look at Laurent who is writhing on the floor in pain.

"And what now?" He rubs an eyebrow with his thumb, still holding his gun carelessly with that hand.

"That depends." What the fuck did he call me? Moineau? "How gracious do you feel tonight?"

"Why?"

"Well," you say carefully, knowing the wrong word might set him off, "you could let the fool go. You've already taught him a lesson."

A long, torturous pause. He does not seem to like that suggestion.

"Take him away." He gives a sudden order, and all his men rush to obey. Seconds pass, and Laurent is out of your sight. Only Chidi and two other men are left hovering in the corner.

"Leave us," the Marquis finally says. Well, shit.

The door shuts behind the men, and you are left alone, with one of the most notorious men in the city. Perhaps the world.

"What's going to happen to him?" You find yourself asking, to fill the silence and also because you're genuinely curious.

He looks at you in confusion, as if the answer is the most obvious thing. "He dies, of course."

You swallow, a picture of forced composure. "Of course."

He rolls his eyes. "Sure, not here on the Continental and all that nonsense. But it does not matter. He dies anyway."

He dies. He says that so easily, like a life means nothing. It probably means nothing to him. Your father would probably have only been another life to spend, just another one in the roster, in his eyes.

"I hope you aren't busy," he says, walking to the other room.

"What did you have in mind?" Why can't he just send me away already?

"We shall dine together. I could use the company."

You grumble under your breath, "So much for being a shadow."

"Pardon?" He asks, just before reaching the archway to the dining room.

"I said, it would be my pleasure."

"Hmm."

Two can play at this game, Marquis.

And even more to come - taglist open!

Next in moineau...

More Marquis, just as it should be.

My HotD series works are not going to be discontinued. The next part to fire like yours will be up next, but don't hold me to it 🖤😉

#marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont imagine #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont #marquis vincent de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont imagine #john wick 4 #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard imagine #vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont x reader #vincent de gramont imagine

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goosewriting · 5 months

Note

📮 You got mail!

Welcome back to requests!! Hope you’ve been doing well-!! may I request reader that does biscuits on Hobie? Like what would his reaction be? They’re human, but when they hug something or someone they’re close to their hands turn into fists and kinda knead/tap the persons back or wherever their hands are in the hug. I’m okay if you add anything else here, can be in any format you like :^D

💌 -BVA🐰🎟️

biscuits.

summary: reader “doing biscuits” on hobie.

relationship: Hobie Brown x GN reader

warnings: none, pure fluff!

word count: ~550

A/N: BV anon my beloved<3 this request was so cute, thank you! by no means do i know how to write hobie’s accent so i hope i still made our boi justice :’D

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

As you wake up, you keep your eyes closed for just a moment longer, enjoying the warmth of your bed. Taking a deep breath and stretching your limbs, you blink a couple of times to get the sleep out of your eyes. Your gaze falls onto the figure next to you and you smile to yourself.

Hobie stayed over after movie night, and you just stay there for a couple of seconds, watching his back steadily rising and falling with each breath. Overflowing with affection, and with your brain still partially fogged by sleep and lazy cosiness, you scoot closer to your boyfriend and start massaging his back.

First you draw indecipherable figures, your fingertips warm against his bare back. Then you use the ball of your hands to gently knead him, like a cat would. The thought makes you smile, knowing full well that if you could purr right now, you probably would.

Suddenly, the skin under your hands vibrates slightly as Hobie’s deep chuckle resonates through him. You pull back quickly, heat prickling at your cheeks.

“Sorry,” you apologise with a sheepish smile, and Hobie shoots you a sleepy glance over his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He smiles, turning away again and shuffling a bit to get comfy, arching his back towards you ever so slightly.

“Good morning to you too,” he says through a yawn. “Don’t stop. ‘S nice.”

“O-oh, okay,” you respond, and get back to work. You’re not really sure what you’re doing, and there’s no pattern to follow, but through his grunts and hums, you try to figure out what he seems to like, and adjust your pressure and direction accordingly.

“So,” Hobie says after a few moments. “What’re you baking?”

Your hands stop their motions for a second as your brows crease together in confusion.

“What do you mean?” you ask, resuming your massaging.

“Well, you’re kneading me like dough, so you better be making something delicious.”

You laugh and warmth spreads through your chest, both at his comment as well at the fact that he’s playing along.

“Hmm, yes. There’s a busy day ahead,” you say in a serious tone, emphasising every word with a kneading motion. “Pizza, cinnamon rolls, biscuits.”

Then a thought occurs to you, and even though he can’t see you, Hobie can hear your smile in your voice, no matter how hard you try to bite it back.

“So many biscuits,” you go on. “Hobie biscuits. Hobiscuits, if you will. Spiderscones, some would say.”

Hobie snorts, then turns around to face you and hugs you to him. He’s impossibly warm, and you unabashedly snuggle into his chest.

“Now I’m hungry,” he states. “Maybe we can do some actual baking today? I’m craving some sort of pastry with all this dough talk.”

“Yeah, me too,” you reply. “Good thing I got my biscuit right here.”

Before he can give you a warning “Oi!” you give his shoulder a loving nip, making an exaggerated biting sound, and climb off the bed, quickly slipping from his attempt to hold you.

“C’mon, breakfast ain’t gonna bake itself!” you tell him standing at the end of the bed.

“Oh, it is on,” Hobie smirks, and you laugh as you skidaddle into the kitchen, with your boyfriend hot on your trail, eager to unleash a tickle attack on you.

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @galaxtic-writings, @dybynyght

#🐰🎟 anon #goose feathers #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader #across the spiderverse x reader #across the spider-verse x reader #hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spider-punk x reader

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stardewsnail · 1 year

Text

Sebastian N/S/F/W Alphabet

Snail’s directory

Sebastian master post can be found here

- NSFW alphabet requests are closed

Alphabet complete

A - aftercare

General

Immediately after climaxing he tends to curl around his partner and hold them tight for a second while he catches his breath. Once everyone is fully satisfied and reasonably cleaned up, he just wants to cuddle. Absolutely wraps his partner in his arms and presses his face into the crook of their neck. Secretly he’s a big baby and he wants to hold and be held. That’s his peak happy place, and he will fall asleep.

Dom leaning

The same as the general but more attentive and will hold his partner either on his chest or as the little spoon. Lots of kisses everywhere and making sure his partner is in a good place.

Sub leaning

Sebastian wants to be held and praised. Stroke his hair, kiss his forehead, tell him how well he did. Lightly scratch his back and he will be practically purring

B - body part

Sebastian has a thing for thighs on his partner, especially if they’re on the thicker side. His favorite body part on himself would be his biceps. He’s surprisingly muscular under that baggy hoodie.

C - cum

He doesn’t ejaculate a lot (like slightly below average), especially for how long his orgasms seem to last. Very noisy when he comes, holds his partner tighter the closer he gets—probably a scratcher.

D - dirty secret

He so deeply wants to be put in a maid outfit.

E - experienced

In general I think Seb is on the lower end of experience. He’s a loner and that doesn’t quite lead to a bangin’ sex life. I personally hc he’s had one serious relationship that was 90% long distance and online so even when he was with somebody he never had much opportunity. That being said, this man can sext like nobody's business. Sebastian could write best selling erotica.

F - favorite position

Mostly anything with his partner on top, but specifically with him sitting up (think like on a sofa) so he can kiss them while they ride. He finds it intimate and also loves the feeling of their whole body against him.

G - goofy

I think he would be surprisingly goofy and light hearted once he got over the initial nerves. He can laugh with his partner and stay relaxed.

H - hair

I don’t think Sebastian would ever expect to get laid so unless it was scheduled (hc about him having a previous long distance partner) there’s a 50-50 shot it’s just gonna be a jungle. If he remembers ahead of time then things are trimmed, but overall kept pretty natural.

I - intimacy

I don’t think he would separate the “romance” from the sex—sex is inherently romantic because it’s intimate. It’s vulnerable. He knows how to set a mood but a lot of the intimacy stems from the intensity of his actions. Then once he’s warmed up to his partner he’s SO fucking mushy.

J - jack off

It’s not every day he jacks off but it is most of them. Most often it’s at his desk—pants undone to let his cock free as he consumes whatever material he fancies that time. He’s definitely into erotica more than porn, but will set himself up an audio while he’s reading if he’s decided to take his time.

K - kinks

Bondage—both him and his partner. Handcuffs, Shibari, you name it—shove a ball gag in his mouth and he is GONE. Also thigh fucking. Fantasy role play would absolutely be a thing for him and I personally think it could tie in well with being tied up. Wax play.

L - location

For the kinds of things Sebastian is really into, he needs a private space with sturdy furniture. Home is where the heart is, and he knows a thing or two about carpentry. That bed frame is custom.

M - Motivation

Thighs and short skirts thighs and short skirts—plus having his partner on his motorcycle.

N - no

Nothing while he’s driving the motorcycle. Road safety at all times.

O - oral

Giving giving giving—he wants his partner to be an absolute mess as he edges them with his mouth. He loves receiving as well but he’s very likely to give head as foreplay

P - pace

Slow and forceful. Very intense with lots of eye contact. His partner is going to feel every last inch of him.

Q - quickie

Sebastian finds a good quickie enjoyable, but he would much prefer to take his time.

R - risk

He rides a motorcycle, so he’s a little bit of a thrill seeker. That mostly comes out in his affinity for bondage rather than risky locations or other behavior.

S - stamina

Sebastian has excellent stamina, especially if he’s trying to draw things out for his partner. Once he cums though, he gets very sensitive and over stimulates easily…which isn’t necessarily a bad thing if you wanna see him beg.

T - toys

He is into toys but shy about it—specifically a vibrating cock ring or a flashlight—something to tease him while he’s tied up.

U - unfair

He is absolutely unfair. He will edge his partner for as long as possible if allowed. He loves the suspense of it and will watch their face very closely. For all of that, he can barely handle being edged and will be a whimpering mess if attempted.

V - vocal

He tries to keep the noise contained but after a certain point he can’t hold back—swearing, whimpering, almost whining—and once he’s there just know he’s going to make a racket when he finishes

W - wild card

He’s very hesitant about anal but once he tries it he discovers he really likes a plug up his ass while he’s having sex. Specifically rocking it inside him while his cock is being sucked.

X - x ray

The man has ass for days. He’s got a lil tummy and surprisingly muscular arms. You wouldn’t know it because of that baggy hoodie he wears. A nice dark happy trail leads down to his cock—six and a half inches and on the thicker side, he’s circumcised. He’s especially sensitive on the underside of his head and will lose his mind if his partner slowly licks along that edge.

Y - yearning

Horny basement boy. Very nervous about initiating but once he’s comfortable he’s gonna pull his partner into his lap so they can feel exactly what they’re doing to him. He’s big on physical affection and touch so it all flows together nicely.

Z - sleep

Since he’s a big cuddler he’s prone to falling asleep pretty quickly, and once he’s out he’s out. He can’t help it, he feels so safe and relaxed.

#sdv sebastian #stardew valley sebastian #stardew sebastian #sebastion headcanons sdv #sdv sebastian smut #snail writes #sdv N/S/F/W Alphabet #sdv n/s/f/w sebastian

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 1 month

Text

Dark Moon | Chapter Seven

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 2,8k

Warnings | +18, torture, beating, violence and threats, slight mention of past abuse, Jimin has much suppressed anger

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Dark Moon is a story destined to get darker and darker, be careful ❤️

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon, @hecateslittlewitchling, @namjoonsbuspass, @darkuni63, @xicanacorpse

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - Previous - Next

She had gotten out of the Dark Moon business, at night she no longer heard shady footsteps of clients coming and going from the rooms of her former colleagues, nor any alcohol-induced shuffling murmurs from the hallway, the thing still seemed impossible for her to believe.

Over the course of those three days Jimin had not approached her in the slightest, in fact she had not even seen him, there were only the objects he used to testify to his presence in the house. Perhaps she also had to "blame" her time spent in her bedroom, her new refuge.

She hid under the covers wearing the softest and most delicate clothes she had ever had, even as a child she had never been able to afford such things, her childhood consisted of hunger and nightmares.

She knew that Jimin had not given her everything for free, and that soon he would present her with a hefty bill.

But what she did not know was that Jimin had avoided any contact with her to keep his beast at bay.

The idea of having her in his house, the house he had recently bought for her, drove him crazy with desire. He wanted to bang her at every angle of the house, make her his, sadistically thinking that it would be like a baptism for the new home.

Just before he made the decision to accept Seokjin's offer, Jimin was living in a smaller apartment, suitable for a man who lived alone but, more importantly, spent most of his time outside.

He wanted to give her all the amenities necessary and suitable for a young woman like her: a nice, airy room, expensive clothes, a private bathroom, and even jewelry.

Things that Y/N had barely touched except out of strict necessity, but it didn't matter, the only thing that mattered was that she was there with him, ready to fulfill his every order when he decided the time was right.

"Earth to Park Jimin, hey... Hyung... Yah, Jimin-ssi!" he roused himself from his thoughts by bringing his gaze to Jungkook; the young man was staring at him with large, doubtful eyes.

It was not only Jungkook who squared him strangely, the others also had one question stamped on their foreheads, ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’

Jimin sighed, "Sorry, go ahead-were we talking about the Just Bloods?" he rubbed his hands over his face, he hadn't slept a wink that night.

"They took out four of our people, in return we are holding one of theirs hostage," Hoseok said, Jimin raised an eyebrow.

"Only one? At the very least I would have expected carnage from you, Hoseok" Hoseok glowered at him.

"While you were having fun picking out the furnishings of your new apartment, I was attacked without warning, lost men, and it's already so much that I only captured one of them," darted the redhead, causing Jimin's amusement.

"Don't feel bad, hyung, you did a great job capturing the strategist," said Taehyung trying to improve Hoseok's tension.

"The strategist?"

"Choi Kyungi," replied Jungkook, "He is the right-hand man of the Just Blood leader, I'm sure they will be furious now."

"Furious and vengeful, what do we do Seokjin?" Namjoon turned to their leader for an answer; Jin did not even think about it.

"I want him to confess what his gang's plans are exactly, if they attacked us it's because they plan to take control of our territory, but I want to hear it from his putrid mouth," he hissed, "Torture him if it seems appropriate, I want him to confess by hook or crook, these bastards have already dared to do too much."

It did not take a genius to understand that Seokjin was livid with anger. The men they had lost had received a strict military education to be the perfect killers, Jin had invested in them and hated losing money, Jin just hated losing.

The man's grim look was sublime, his feline eyes showed no mercy, much less did the eyes of the remaining Bangtans.

Jimin, Namjoon, and Jungkook saw each other again in the afternoon at one of their establishments, Choi Kyungi stood there, tied with chains to a wooden chair, the room mostly empty except for some "work" tools they usually used when they had to gouge information out of someone's mouth.

"Hoseok?" asked Jungkook.

"Jin doesn't want him here, he's afraid it might kill him," said Namjoon as he looked sideways at the man with the sack over his head; they had sedated him to keep him quiet for a while and now it was their turn to wake him up.

"I wouldn't even blame him," spat Jimin, tossing aside the black sack covering their captive's face, the bruised face showed a boy who could not have been more than twenty-six years old, Jimin growled in anger before unleashing a punch on the man's well-delineated jaw, knuckles collided painfully on the already abused face, and instantly Kyungi opened his spirited eyes, gasping breathlessly, "Lice striking from behind would piss off anyone."

Namjoon approached the boy, lowering himself to his height, "Choi Kyungi, may we know what the fuck you're planning to do?" he asked trying to be reasonable in tone, he wanted to save himself the trouble of another beating at least that day, but in response the prisoner spat a stream of vermilion blood into his face.

"Fuck you, Bangtan boy," laughed Kyungi with contempt.

For a few moments frost fell in the room, no one daring to move in the face of that deliberate disrespect, Namjoon wiped his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, which he later observed disgruntled.

"That was my favorite," he hissed, the kick that shot straight to Kyungi's stomach was swift and powerful, the man coughed up more blood as Namjoon adjusted the collar of the sweatshirt in question, his tense gaze betraying his apparent calm. That dog had unnerved him, "I wanted to be charitable and save you a lot of beating, but you leave us no choice," he made a sign toward Jungkook, who nodded with a grin, his dark eyes glittered with sadism, and walking confidently and cadencedly on on his amphibians, black as his soul, he went to pick up an interesting object.

It was a spiked bat, which he clutched in the palm of one hand with confidence, his swollen muscles flexing from beneath the light mesh, foretasting the little job that would soon set them in motion.

"You're not going to walk out of here on your own legs, Choi," he laughed softly, showing the bat to Kyungi, who swallowed slightly without blurting out a single word, "You're such a jerk, like those little friends of yours who tried to play with us, not knowing that for Bangtans there is no such thing as forgiveness," he pulled back his mighty arm with speed, bringing the bat down against one of the unfortunate man's legs, who held back no longer and screamed breathlessly, his eyes out of their sockets testifying to the lacerating pain that the bat equipped with dangerous ferrous spines had been able to inflict on him.

He trembled agonizingly with his bruised jaw clenched; he would not speak.

Jimin studied the whole scene over and over again, he had lost count of how many times Jungkook had hit him; with the bat, with his own kicks and punches, nothing, Kyungi was barely breathing. He was only capable of spitting his own blood, soiling even more of the already long gone floor; he was a tough cookie and this Jimin had to admit.

"Stop, Jungkook," Jimin put an end to that torture, Jungkook gasped with his forehead and upper lip drenched in sweat, his dark, brooding eyes seemed unwilling to lose sight of their prey, with his chest swollen with irritation he threw his weapon to the floor, backing away.

Namjoon stepped forward to take his place, but Jimin shook his head.

He had something far more useful than torture or a beating; he could be said to have let Jungkook continue just for the sake of revenge.

He approached the now unrecognizable man, put a hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out a postcard.

Kyungi widened his good eye, a choked breath caught in his throat.

Jimin smiled serpentinely.

"She's very pretty, Choi," he said softly, "Those chubby little cheeks make my heart melt, I have to admit," he chuckled, waving the postcard, which turned out to be a picture of a baby girl just nine months old.

"How...how" Kyungi stammered without being able to finish the sentence; he didn't have the strength.

"How did I get this picture? Bangtans have their own connections, Choi...as a result I know about your little girl that you left with her grandparents so they would take care of her, you went off to keep her safe and that's admirable, believe me," he said sympathetically, "But I probably wouldn't do the same in your place, who knows how many wolves might kidnap and eat the hunter's family when he leaves the hut to look for more food."

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME, PARK?!" he suddenly ranted, throwing himself at Jimin just enough that the chains could allow him, the idea that his little girl might end up in the hands of those bastards drove him crazy, and Park Jimin looked like the biggest bastard there.

"That should be me asking you, what the fuck do you want from us?" he asked in a low, quiet voice, "You'd better tell us if you don't want anything to happen to Mada."

Kyungi remained silent, frozen. He even knew his daughter's name, how far had he gone?

"Namjoon, take this picture, tonight we are going on a visit to Daegu province, Yoongi and Taehyung know where to go," the boy stretched out the picture of the little girl to his friend, followed by their prisoner's shout.

"I will talk! Fuck!" he whined, "Don't touch my daughter, I'll talk!"

"You'd better start doing that now, because I really don't know what might happen to her if you don't cooperate: our boss might sell her to a rich family that can't have children, as well as he might raise her in our brothel, making her a respectable Bangtan whore in the future," joked Namjoon, "Or he might just kill her, what do you say Jungkook? One way or another, you will never see her grow up."

"He could indeed, once a decision is made Kim Seokjin doesn't give up, not for anything in the world," shrugged the younger man, holding up the game to his friend.

Now in tears Kyungi spilled the beans, "The Just Bloods would never attack the Bangtans for no reason! Shit..." he exclaimed.

"Bangtan never had any contact with Just Blood, what the fuck are you talking about," chafed Namjoon, already fed up with that play.

"Not with us... but with Choi Minho yes," he said, sending a shiver down Jimin's spine, "He provides us with drugs and prevents the cops from giving us unwanted attention, in return we fulfill his favors," he swallowed, "And..." he cast a glance at Jimin, "He asked us to eliminate one person, a Bangtan."

Jimin snickered openly; it was obvious who Kyungi was referring to.

Minho must have really tied his finger the night he had spent at the Dark Moon under Jimin's threats, and he wanted to retaliate with in other ways so as not to get his hands dirty, the idea pissed Jimin off, it was as if Minho was openly declaring that Jimin wasn’t even worth it to be eliminated with his own hands.

That cowardly behavior was intolerable.

"Listen to me carefully, Kyungi," he leaned slightly toward him, "I want to know every thing you have said to each other, the plan you have devised, and most importantly the place where you are meeting," at those words the man tried to shake his head, but Jimin grabbed him hard by the hair, nailing him with one lethal glance, "Maybe we have not understood each other, you will do it or I will personally visit your daughter and feed her to the worms, screwing anything else, understood?!" he blurted lethally, Kyungi trembled from head to toe bowing his head, he had no choice.

Namjoon and Jungkook accompanied Jimin to his apartment first, they had just discussed about giving a bodyguard to the direct concerned.

"No way, I am Kim Seokjin's bodyguard, and a bodyguard with a bodyguard is even ridiculous to imagine," he growled.

"Hyung, a bodyguard is not embarrassing if your life is involved," the younger man tried to reason with him, failing.

"It's embarrassing if I've been trained to defend and stand up for myself, okay? I don't want someone to protect me," he made adamant, causing the other two to snort.

He got out of the car stymied, but Namjoon called him back, turned listlessly, "What?"

"Would you really have hurt that child, Jimin?" he asked, there was no accusation in his tone, just curiosity. In their world they had seen anything and everything, but they had never gone that far.

Jimin remained impassive, before shaking off an uncomfortable feeling.

"It's just the way we live, hyung, no hard feelings," he said in a colorless voice, before turning and leaving.

When he returned to his new apartment waiting for him was a small figure, she held a plate in her hands and on it lay a soft slice of chocolate cake, the girl's eyes widened.

They had not seen each other for days and she did not expect to see him at just such a time, she cast a glance at the wall clock that read two o'clock in the morning. She believed he would not be back by that evening....

She made to set her plate down on the low coffee table, but Jimin beat her to it, slipping away into his own bedroom.

She was petrified, was this the same intimidating man she had come to know?

She asked no more questions, grabbed her cake and ran to her room, to her shelter, before the boy changed his mind and came back to her with the intention of tormenting her.

But Jimin would not return to her that night, he was struggling with the blood that soaked his skin, after Kyungi's confession had made sure the man fully understood his situation, Jimin rubbed his skin under the shower water, bruised with rage.

Minho was not going to get away with this, the son of a bitch had finally moved, now not even Jin would find excuses to stop him from carrying out his revenge.

He thought back with disgust to his captive days spent in the dungeon of the Choi mansion.

His nerves tensed and he narrowly restrained himself from hitting the pale tiles of his bathroom with his fist.

That and more would be reserved for Minho.

He stepped out of the shower with a small towel tied around his hips, his shiny, flawless skin showcasing the man's beautifully fit figure.

He went to bed that way, not bothering to get boxers to sleep in.

He was tired and mentally exhausted, the last thing he wanted was to take one more step.

He closed his thin, magnetic eyes, trying to fall asleep, but in vain. Chaos reigned in his head, a woman's shadow stretched across his memories, and hours passed, hours where he tried to escape her hands, turned over and tossed and turned in bed in a sweat slick. The woman's laughter scratched his ears, while the Choi forefather's smile never stopped taunting him.

He jerked his eyes open staring at the ceiling in the dark, he breathed heavily for air, frustration made him kick between the clean sheets, he lifted himself up holding his head in his hands, a sickening rage that was hard to let go took over his body.

His beast.

He had to let it out.

He abandoned his bed in search of his vice, grabbed the pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, placed it between his fleshy lips inhaling its bitter substance once lit, after three or four puffs he realized it would do no good.

Frustrated and with damp hair in front of his eyes he pressed it down on the ashtray, putting it out in an unnerved manner.

He had developed an addiction to smoking to escape from his problems, but a bad feeling made him sense that even that habit would no longer be of any use, his crisis was not passing and he was going crazy after it.

With one last glimmer of lucidity he remembered her. Y/N.

He widened his eyes, pupils dilated. With his body trembling, invaded by negative emotions too painful to keep to himself, he prepared to reach out to the only life form in the house besides himself.

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hawkeyetrained · 1 year

Text

Bait

Derek Hale x Fem!reader

Other Characters: Peter Hale, Stiles, Lydia, Scott, Malia (mentioned), Liam (mentioned)

Warnings: angst, fighting, cuts and scrapes

Summary: When girls are being killed in Beacon Hills, and looks just like her, she gives the idea of using herself as bait.

Word Count: 2,427

Summer in Beacon Hills brought on a heat wave this year, making everything in the supernatural world that much harder. Lydia and I had gone shopping a week or so prior, so the two of us had gotten lucky with some clothes prepared for the heat, but the rest of the pack didn’t think to plan ahead. Most of the boys had traded in their long sleeves and flannels for t-shirts fairly quickly, opting to get out of the werewolf heat along with the heat from the sun.

The pack and I had been close since Scott first turned. I basically grew up with Lydia as my best friend, and Scott and Stiles were always around. When I first met Derek, I was in the woods with the boys when they had lost Scott’s inhaler. Ever since that day, the former alpha and I had been inseparable.

Now, we were halfway through our summer break before senior year and facing the latest big bad that decided to terrorize our little town. Stiles had noticed the pattern far before any of us did, alerting us to the bodies of young girls who had begun turning up in the woods, all having one scary connection. The four bodies that had been found were all going into their senior year here at Beacon Hills High and had H/C hair and E/C eyes, just like me. When Derek heard of the connection, I was no longer allowed to go out into the woods at all or be left alone anywhere. I was to be watched 24/7 until we caught whatever was killing the girls. I was alright with his plan, wanting to make him happy, but I was also scared that I would be the next body in the woods that Sheriff Stilinski would find.

“Hey.” A voice snapped me from my daydream on the couch in Derek’s loft. “You alright?” It was Peter, knelt down in front of me, his eyes full of worry.

I nodded and gave him a soft smile. “I’m ok.” Of his relationships with the rest of the pack, he and I got along the best. Peter could sense the love Derek and I held for each other, basically from day one, and was very protective of that. He never snapped at me, would bring me what I needed if I asked for it, and had volunteered to stay with me when I worked or needed a ride if Derek happened to be busy.

“You’re lying.” Damn the werewolf hearing. “Your heartbeat changes when you lie, it almost literally skips a beat.” He had a soft smirk on his face to show me he meant no offense.

I ran a hand through the ends of my hair as the last of the pack finally showed up for the meeting. “Just worried, I guess.” He stood and held his hands out to pull me to my feet, allowing me to drift over to Derek’s side as the meeting began.

“Any leads?” The true alpha asked, earning shaking heads and shrugs from the rest of the pack.

The werewolves went back and forth for a while, exchanging ideas on how to catch the new creature, trying to figure out what exactly it was, while Lydia and I shared looks between the two of us, almost having a silent conversation.

So, when I spoke up, she wasn’t all that surprised. “We know what it goes after.”

“We do.” Peter nodded, trying to see where I was going with it and wanting to see if he’ll need to calm his nephew down when I made my point.

“What if we set up a trap?”

“And how do we do that?” Derek’s eyes locked on me with his arms crossed over his chest.

I took a moment to square off my shoulders and hide the fear creeping up in my body that nearly everyone in the room could smell. “You need bait, to draw it out.”

“We can’t just send some random girl from the school, that knows nothing of the supernatural, out into the woods and hope they don’t get killed before we find our monster.” Stiles retorted, throwing his hands in the air.

I rolled my eyes and watched as Lydia smacked the back of his head. “She doesn’t mean someone random.”

Her comment made every set of eyes land on my face, my cheeks going red from all the attention. “What? We know that whatever this is, likes girls going into senior year here with H/C hair and E/C eyes.” I waved my hands to my face. “I kinda fit the description if you don’t remember.”

“No.” Derek growled out quickly. “No way in hell are you going to play bait for this monster.”

“Derek’s right.” Peter agreed with his nephew.

I groaned. “I can’t just sit around and wait for another body to drop when I know there’s something I can do! I get it, I’m human and therefore have no chance against this thing, but I’m also not saying I’ll be alone. Scatter yourselves through the woods, keep an eye on me as I walk around. This could be the only chance we get to stop this thing before it kills another girl we’re supposed to graduate with!”

“Not going to happen.” Came from Derek again.

I was about to speak again when Stiles’s phone rang through the loft. He answered quickly and had a quiet conversation with whoever was on the other end. “So, that was my dad.” My movements froze and I could feel Derek stiffen up next to me. “There’s another body, a lot closer to town this time.”

“Who?” Scott asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Caroline Mathews, I think he said. She’s been missing for three days.”

Caroline and I had the same chemistry class back in sophomore year, we were even lab partners for the better half of the year. “I knew her.” I mumbled.

This was the first girl to die with one of us truly knowing her. It had just been newer girls to the school that we all hadn’t met yet, or ones that we never shared classes with throughout the years. “Really?” Lydia came over to my side as I gave her a nod.

“She was my lab partner in chem two years ago. We used to joke around with Miss Mitchel that we were each other since we looked so alike.” Lydia wrapped an arm around my shoulder comfortingly. My eyes flashed up to Derek. “Please, you have to let me do this. I don’t want more families suffering because their daughter was killed. It’s bad enough we’re up to five now. Please.” My eyes were wide, and my heart pounded in my chest, waiting for the next “no” to leave his lips.

He hesitated before dropping his crossed arms and grabbing my hand. “Can we talk a minute?” I nodded, taking his hand tightly and following him out onto the balcony and into the summer heat. “You really want to risk your life on something we can figure out soon?”

“I know you’re scared, ok, I’m scared. But I also don’t want anyone else dying when there’s a chance that I can help stop this. Please. I’ll do everything you say and stay within eyesight. I swear to you.”

A deep sigh left Derek’s mouth and he suddenly pulled me into his chest tightly. “You do exactly as I say, and we do this tonight and tonight only. Anything goes south, you yell for help, even if we’re right there.” I nodded into his chest, hugging him back before we both went back inside to tell the pack of the plan for tonight.

Six hours later, I had added a green jacket to my outfit and had begun walking around the woods. The sun was slowly setting, and the rest of the pack was spread through the woods, Derek and Peter closest to me, flanking both of my sides about 500 feet away. The rest of the pack was spread out, listening for any strange sounds that shouldn’t belong or any odd scents. My heart pounded in my chest as I wondered around the woods, trying to keep track of where I was and where I had come from. I knew Derek wouldn’t let me get lost, but I wanted to make sure that I could run if I needed to.

My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket, my fingers flying to the object and pulling it up. A text from Lydia lit my screen up. Anything yet?

I quickly typed a message back. Nothing.

A message from Derek was next, popping to the top of my screen. Take a deep breath. You’re safe. Only a little longer before we call it a night.

My eyes flickered in the direction I knew Derek was following me, my eyes searching impossibly in the dark for him. I left the message open, not really knowing what to say or how to tell him that I was absolutely terrified being out in the woods, even though it was my idea to start.

Suddenly, there were heavy footsteps coming up from behind me, and moving fast. I quickly locked my phone, trying to slide it back in my pocket. Just as I was about to yell out for Derek and Peter, a body slammed into mine, sending me crashing to the ground and my phone flying away. Fear gripped me like a vice, squeezing my chest tighter and tighter as my brain tried working on what to do. I knew I needed to call out for the two Hale’s in the woods, to get up and run as fast and as far as I could, but nothing was working.

Deep growls filled the woods next, hands gripping onto my arms and pinning me into the dirt. I finally managed to crack my eyes open to get a look at what was huffing loudly, only to come face-to-face with an unfamiliar werewolf. His face was shifted, deep brown hair ruffled around his face and fangs barred at me with glowing blue eyes.

My chest tightened as his claws started digging into my skin. God, where were Derek and Peter? I struggled in the wolf’s hold, trying to pull my hands free, kicking against his weight but it was useless. Then I remembered Derek’s rule; yell, even if I knew he and Peter were close.

Taking the deepest possible breath, I finally managed to get my head together. “Derek!” My voice came out as a shriek, piercing through the air. “Derek, Peter!” I screamed, pulling as hard as I could against the weight. The hand that had been wrapped around my right wrist was suddenly squeezing at my throat, cutting off any other screams.

“No one’s here.” The wolf taunted. “It’s just you and me.” A sick smile crossed his face, enhancing the supernatural features. His claws pressed harder into my wrist and throat, a gasp of pain leaving my lips as he seemed to toy with me. “No one’s coming for you.”

The clawed hand at my throat raised into the air above me, making to slash at my throat, but before he was able to, a body crashed into him. The strange wolf and someone else went tumbling a few feet away from me, allowing me just a moment to sit up and huff in a few breaths of air before hands were wrapping around my shoulders.

“No! No, let me go!” I screamed, smacking at the hands on me.

“Hey, hey.” A familiar voice soothed. “You’re safe. I got you.” Peter turned me in his arms, grabbing at my chin to make me look up at him. “Look at me. You’re ok.”

I took a shaky breath and finally looked up to him. “Peter.” My word fell as a whisper.

The older Hale nodded, pulling me against his chest as new growls filled the air. Peter pulled me a bit farther from the space he had found me in. I turned as we got to the side of a large tree, Derek, Scott, Malia, and Liam were all stood in a line between me and the other wolf. I could hear Scott trying to talk with the wolf, but Peter’s gentle hands on my wrists distracted me.

“Are you alright?” He asked, voice low and very quiet. I nodded shakily, glancing down to the half dozen moon-shaped cuts along my wrists. Peter’s arms were laced with black veins as the pain subsided, his eyes looking at the scratches on my neck.

“Thank you.” I shuddered, no longer liking my own plan, but I was glad that the pack had found the wolf, and not another girl I was to graduate with this year.

A loud roar seemed to shake the ground, and I managed to catch sight of Derek slamming the wolf into the ground. It seemed like he had tried making a run between him and Liam, aiming for me yet again. Peter was in front of me the moment he caught his nephew’s movement, his teeth bared and a growl rumbling his chest.

“Leave.” Derek hissed, his teeth shining in the moonlight. A threat that I couldn’t hear left his lips, the wolf on the ground seeming to come back to himself a little. “You three, make sure he leaves.” Derek pulled the wolf up and shoved him towards the werewolves and werecoyote. After the wolf and our three pack members were far enough into the woods, Derek finally turned to me, his fangs retracting and his eyes softening from their bright blue back into his usual eyes. “Are you alright?” He asked, coming up and instantly wrapping his arms around me.

I nodded carefully into his chest. “I am now.”

He pulled back and gently took my hands into his, turning them over to check the cuts. “He did this? He say anything to you?” His hand then cupped my cheek as he raised my head to look at my neck.

“His claws.” I answered the first question. “And nothing important. He tried scaring me more than anything. Said no one was coming.”

“I should have come faster. He set traps in the woods to draw our attention away.”

My head shook at him. “You saved me. I’m sorry I had this plan. I know you didn’t like it.”

“It’s fine now. But you’re never playing bait again, you hear me?” He started leading me out of the woods, back towards the pack.

“I hear you.”

@thetallassgirl @hallecarey1

#derek hale #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #peter hale #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x reader #derek hale oneshot #teen wolf one shot

950 notes · View notes

mazeinthemiroh · 2 years

Text

bangchan sfw alphabet

genre: fluff (with elements of crack, angst)

word count: 2.9k

warnings: suggestive??

requested?: no

song rec: superheroes by the script

pls like and reblog if you enjoyed! feel free to request anything <3

a = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

very.

like... very.

have you seen this man? he's so full of love he's almost overflowing with it

we see how he is with the other members, very physically affectionate whether they like it or not!

i feel like with his s/o he would be just as affectionate, if not more so!

so prepared to be tackled by him and completely attacked by cuddles because this man is gonna be all over you

very affectionate with his words too, just showers you with praise and compliments until it's almost embarrassing! but if you do the same to him he gets super shy it's so cute abshddncje

b = best friend (what would they be like as a best friend?)

oh imagine being best friends with chan, what a dream...

you would bring out his inner dork

like his dorkiness will magnify like 99% more than usual

likes to be weird with you. like making the silly noises he does and teasing you gently

both of you are just being goofballs together, such goals.

he's like always smiling when he's with his best friend idk

c = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

when i tell you that cuddles are a must!l

like i said before, he's super affectionate

with chan, it feels natural with his s/o in his arms. he isn't clingy but he is just full of love and wants to show it in any way he can!

he gets so snuggly, especially in the evenings hbhdbfjf

he likes to cuddle in any way possible so long as you're both comfy

loves holding you but also loves being held

like after a long day at work he wants nothing more than to just sink in your arms, laying his head on your chest while you run your fingers through his soft fluffy hair

and he will chatter on and on about his day and you will just lay there, stroking his hair, listening and smiling and humming every now and then as he talks about how his music is going, what the lyrics to his new song are about, etc...

idk its just a very cute and fluffy time now let me go cry into a pillow-

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they around the house?)

settling down? of course, of course... eventually.

you both have plenty of time ahead of you, being young and all. so there's no need to rush into certain things

settling down will take a lot of time and trust for chan, and his focus on his career is something he needs to consider.

so when you guys are older, settling down is totally happening.

what's he like around the house? well, he's tidy!

everything is in it's place, so if you are like me and not very organised, he's got you covered

i feel like chan would split domestic tasks with his s/o just so it's equal? but depending on how much time he has it might be difficult for him to keep up his end of the bargain, being so busy and all

e = ending (if they had to break up with their s/o, how would they do it?)

gently

that's all i gotta say, but lemme elucidate, for angst purposes...

he would probably sit you down one day, a serious, grave look on his face

it would be hard for him to look you in the eyes because he knows if he did it would make him weaker

with a calm, low voice he would break the news and explain himself

would only meet your gaze when you responded with silence, and as your eyes connect his heart would break...

oooo lemme know if you want a scenario about this

f = fiancé (how would they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

commitment is a yes.

but like i said before, all in good time

chan wants to focus on his career. only when he is older will he consider actually getting married

but i am so convinced that chan will only go out with someone he sees him having a long-term relationship with. he's not the type to just date for the sake of it, he wants to be with someone who is willing to stick by him in the long run. loyalty is super important to him

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

so, so gentle.

we know what this man is like. he has such a naturally caring disposition, as well as being very emotionally intelligent

he's basically the human form of empathy so anytime you are feeling down or anxious he will notice and he will comfort you the best he can

in terms of being gentle physically, obviously he will make sure you are never in harm's way

the only time i can see him not being as gentle is if yall got into a tickle or pillow fight, he would restrain your arms and tickle you mercilessly istg-

beware of this one. he might look cute but once he's in a playful mood, stay on guard!

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

chan is hands down the best hugger on the planet

that's not me just saying that, it's scientific fact

we know he loves hugs. he hugs his members all the time and even gives us stays a hug and the end of his lives

hugging chan would make you feel so safe and secure in his arms.

firm yet comforting, with his arms wrapped around your waist as you perch your chin on his shoulder

he's just such a softie hbfhdhnf

also appreciates back hugs too

like come up to him from behind, wrap your arms around his waist, and stroke his tummy whilst squishing the side of your face onto his back

he will turn into a giggly, blushing mess yk.

i = i love you (how fast do they say the L-word?)

trust and love go hand-in-hand for him

saying the beloved L-word would be a big deal for him. it's something he doesn't say that often despite being such a loving person

saying 'i love you' to someone leaves you feeling very vulnerable, like you're putting your heart out on the line. so when chan does say these three magic words, it will mean his feelings are sincere and lasting

and it means he trusts you with his heart. so please cherish it.

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they're jealous?)

i feel like chan is pretty balanced in this sense?

like I know some people view him as Possessive-Werewolf-Alpha Daddy-Chan lmfao i'm so sorry or they view him as being super-duper carefree and not being jealous at all

but i kind of see a middle ground

i think the only time he will properly get jealous would be if you guys have had an argument and then you test his patience by flirting with someone else

depending on how subtle the flirting is, chan's jaw might clench as he looks on with a blank stare, eyebrows furrowing in amusement as he crosses his arms over his chest

just... don't test him like that, it's not worth it even though its very hawt

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss their partner? where do they like to be kissed?)

chan seems like the soft peck type of guy

he will leave little kisses on your lips, cheeks and forehead, partly because he thinks its cute and partly because he wants to tease you

he knows you want his plump, soft lips on placed on yours for much longer, so when you grab his jaw and smoosh your lips with his he grins playfully but softly into the kiss

idk he is very soft for you it's almost sickly sweet-

and yk when a partner rubs their nose with their partner's nose?

you best believe channie-boy is doing that

and sometimes he nuzzles his nose into your neck when he's sleepy and gives you tiny little neck kisses why do I do this to myself.

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

he loves children. he just thinks everything they do is adorable and he will do anything he asks them to do

acts like its his life goal to make the little ones laugh

he will pull random faces and tickle them just to earn a simple smile from them,. it fills his heart up with so much joy!

but if he makes a child cry then he takes it as a personal offence and reevaluates if he's a good person or not-

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

if you watched the most recent chan's room with him being full of cold and his voice is like super low (he needs to rest dammit), well that's kinda what his voice sounds like when he wakes up

low and grumbly

he peaks at you with one eye open and smiles sleepily. lord knows he doesn't wanna get out of that bed but he knows he has to

will probably rope you into a workout or smth

just make sure he has breakfast before he leaves for work!

n = nights (how are nights spent with them?)

chan is more of a night person

meaning he stays up all night working and doesn't get back until the early hours of the morning

if you want to accompany him in the studio, he might protest and be like 'nooo you need your beauty sleep' but he will let it slide because he really enjoys your company

occasionally will put his work down to just talk to you about trivial things

when he gets really tired he will lean back in his chair, swivel round and look at you with a crooked smile.

"hey babe, do you wanna head home?"

once you're both home he will pull a blanket over both of you and cuddle you to his chest

you guys will either stay up all night talking more or drift off to sleep in each other's arms

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves?)

it takes time for chan to trust people

i think he mentioned in one of the 2 kids room episodes or smth like that that he doesn't trust people that easily or that quickly?

chan is obviously outgoing and friendly, and can pretty much speak to anyone and make friends easily

but actually trusting them takes time and energy. he will have an invisible guard up to protect himself from disappointment

however, as more time progress and he begins to trust his partner more, he will open up more and will become more vulnerable

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

he has a lot of patience, usually

growing up pretty much taking care of the other 7 members, with all their many different personalities and opinions to consider, he wouldn't have lasted this long without patience

it would take chan a lot to get genuinely angry. sure, everyone gets irritated about petty things now and then. but if chan feels genuinely angry it would definitely be about something recurring and serious

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about their partner?)

he will remember cute, little, almost trivial stuff about you

but these things aren't trivial to him

no, he cherishes all this information. he knows what your favourite colour was when you were four. he knows you bought yourself an ice cream to cheer yourself up after a bad interview. he knows the ice-skating incident you had in 2016

he loves cute little things you tell him and will store them in his memory only to bring them up in conversation randomly at like 2am

r = remember (what is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

yk it's really hard for him to decide

you have become such an important person in his life that every moment with you is just *chefs kiss* perfect!

but one of his favourite moments he realises, looking back on your time together, is when you have fallen asleep on the couch in his studio

you were persistent in staying with him while he works, ignoring his gentle protests. you were catching up with work of your own, but as the hours progressed your eyelids felt heavier and heavier. you were consciously fighting the urge to sleep until you gave in, drifting off gently

so when chan turned around he was met with your cute, curled-up body, snoring softly. he wasn't surprised you fell asleep, but your sleeping form endeared him. a smile spread across his face as he chuckled softly, grabbing a blanket and tucking you in

why was this his favourite moment? it seems so simple. and it happens so frequently. but to him, these moments are when he realises how much he appreciates you. your comforting presence and need to take care of him makes him feel so loved and safe

s = security (how protective are they? would they like to be protected?)

very protective

i think most of his have seen that clip from the stray kids concert of chan's heartfelt speech, saying how he will protect all his members and all of us stays. protecting the ones he loves is clearly a priority of his

he would like to protect his partner in all aspects, but mainly from emotional harm

and he would like you to do the same for him. both of you protect each other from emotional harm because you guys support each other, giving each other a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

channie is romantic af

when he has the time, he loves putting in the effort and setting up cute little dates with you, like making your favourite meal for you

he considers you hanging out in his studio as a date, and soon studio dates become a regular thing for you both!

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

we all know channie is a perfectionist

which isn't a bad thing

it just means that when things aren't up to scratch in his standards, he will beat himself up about it

he will get down about himself if he hasn't taken you on any special dates in a while, or he forgets a special anniversary etc...

so try to reassure him that he is enough, and that he's doing perfectly just how he is!

because sometimes your reassuring words can bring a lot of comfort to him <3

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

being an idol, chan is pretty much forced to care about the way he looks

we have seen on his past lives that he has shown distaste for the way he looks

he is human. he is like all of us

he has good days and bad days. one day he might feel hella confident in the way he looks as he freaking should but other days he will hide his face as much as he possibly can

which is ridiculous because he is the most handsomest man on the planet

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

so chan has a very mature approach to relationships

he believes that two people should be complete as individuals, maturing and accepting who they are and relying on themselves before they get into a relationship

that way, you have two healthy individuals trying their best instead of one relying on the other or not reciprocating the same effort or amount of love

did that make any sense lmfao

the point I'm trying to make is doesn't see it as being 'incomplete' without you. but rather, he feels like he is a much, much better version of himself when he is with you

x - xtra (a random headcanon for them.)

chan loves you in his hoodies

that's it, that's all i gotta say

he just gets so endeared by the fact that you want to wear them

the first time you stole one of his favourite black hoodies, he chuckled

"do you want me to buy you one like that? it looks so cute on you!"

he will poke your cheeks and cuddle you while you explain that you like his hoodies because they smell like him :(

then he'll understand, and will basically give you free rein to take his hoodies so long as you don't spill anything on them

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

in general, chan doesn't like people who are completely selfish and only look out for their self-interests

or if they have no sense of compassion or empathy

he's fine with tough love, don't get me wrong, but someone who is devoid of empathy or makes no effort to understand someone else's point of view is someone chan tends to avoid

z = zzz (what is a sleep habit of theirs?)

his sleeping habit is... he has no sleeping habits

my man doesn't sleep

okay, okay so when he does actually sleep he snores, we know this

likes to cuddle something when he sleeps so having you in his arms would be of great comfort!

also he said on bubble he tends to sleep naked nowadays so i will leave that one with you-

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phoenixinthefiles · 19 days

Text

To Know Your Heart Is a Brave Thing

💜📱…Flowerbyte drabble (but also not a drabble cus I lack self-control) @vhstown @noharaaa anybody let me know if you wanna be tagged for flowerbyte fics or any other fics

“I feel like you being passive aggressive right now, listening to this song while you talking to me.”

🎶If you don’t want me then don’t talk to me…

“Go ahead and free yourself,” Margo sang to Miles, picking up the lyrics.

Miles shook his head with a grin and Margo matched it before lowering the volume of the music playing through her speakers.

She’d been blasting music all day from various different genres, though she did agree that maybe “Free Yourself” by Fantasia was a bad selection for the moment.

Plus that song was old even in Miles’ world, it was pretty much ancient in hers.

She flicked one of her hands in the air, shuffling her playlist and turning the volume back up simultaneously.

The beginning of “Let Me Love You” by Mario started playing and Margo grinned.

It was still an old song but she knew Miles had a soft spot for it.

He smacked his lips and gave her a wry look.

“Don’t try to butter me up now Ms. Kess.”

“Boy, nobody’s buttering you up, I put my playlist on shuffle.”

A cocky grin spread over his face and Margo rolled her eyes, but her stomach still flipped.

“Even your algorithms like me.”

Though she rolled her eyes again, she knew there was truth in his statement.

In the four months they’d been dating, Margo has noticed the way the world around seems to have changed. Both the physical world and the virtual-verse.

She’d started exploring the physicality of the world around her thanks to her many visits to E-1610.

She walked through the same park where she and Miles hung out for the first time.

She had walked it before maybe once or twice, but after visiting Miles it was like the whole place lit up. She felt drawn to the spots she’d recognized from Miles’ world.

It was like there was something pulling her to sit under a certain tree or rest her hands against a certain fence.

And when she did, her heart would fill with an inexplicable sort of warmth that she knew only came from Miles.

She knew she probably looked crazy to the rare onlooker as she stood in the middle of a nearly deserted park, all alone and with a dumb smile on her face. But she still made it a top priority to visit it at least once a week.

It had become her happy place, and before Miles she didn’t even think it was possible for her to find solace in reality.

She’d never expressed these thoughts to him, she didn’t even know how, but she was sure he knew.

Margo wasn’t completely confident in how her connection with technology worked but Miles’ comment about her algorithms wasn’t too far off.

“I’m so tired, this song might just put me to sleep.”

Margo is pulled back into the present by Miles’ voice.

He’s lying down on his stomach with his phone propped up in front of him. His eyes are low and he blinks them rapidly in effort to stay awake.

Margo feels that warmth in her heart spark up at the lazy smile that’s spread across his face.

"Why are you still up if you're so tired?"

He yawns and his eyes drop a little lower as he rests his chin on the pillow in front of him.

"We haven't talked in a while, this is worth staying up for."

A wide grin splits Margo's face and she ducks from the camera to try and tamp it down.

When she reappears it's still just as big and bright, but Miles is looking at her with eyes that are a little less tired and a soft small of his own, so she knows they're sharing the same feeling.

A physical connection being reciprocated across highly advanced technology and between two teens in different worlds.

"You still need to go to sleep," she says.

He hums and looks away for a second.

"Are you uh...busy tomorrow?"

Her grin widens again but she doesn't hide this time.

"Nope. I'm completely free all day, which is very rare so I should really take the opportunity to do something special."

"Well then a very special person might come to see you."

"Very special, huh?"

"Yup."

They both laugh softly and Margo finds herself lost in his boyish grin and soft eyes.

She's pleased that he seems to be equally as fond of the cheesy grin that has yet to leave her face.

"Goodnight, Miles."

"Goodnight Miss Kess."

There's another shared laugh and then the holo-screen in front of her goes black. Her reflection shows a girl charmed-sparkling eyes, a wide smile, and straining cheeks.

These are the only times her reflection truly matches her real feelings.

This was inspired by "Young Love" by Cleo Sol

#y'all the way I was smiling the whole time while writing this🤭🤭🤭#I love these two so much #fromphoetou #miles morales x margo kess #margo kess #1610 miles morales #flowerbyte #cyberflower #cybershock

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wanderersbell · 1 year

Note

Hey saw ur requests open so i decided to slidee inn

Scaramouche with f!Reader who cries a lot?

Have a nice day luv

wanderer with f!reader who cries a lot

genre: fluff, comfort

warnings: none

word count: 946

a/n: hello! tysm for requesting this i had so much fun writing it he's such a sweetheart when it comes to his s/o (ꈍ◡ꈍ)♥ i hope this is what you were looking for and that you have a nice day as well!

had no idea how to handle it at first.

during the beginning of your relationship, whenever you’d abruptly burst into tears or start pouting like you were about to cry he’d feel his stomach drop and could only stare at you blankly as he internally panicked over what to do.

he had little to no experience dealing with people crying in a situation where it’s not actually the response he wanted from them. backhanding his fatui subordinates in the past and watching them tear up from the sting was entirely different than watching you, his precious girlfriend with your pretty e/c eyes that he’s so pathetically fond of, well up and spill over your cheeks.

especially if it’s over something seemingly insignificant, finding the proper way to respond to your outburst of emotion suddenly becomes the hardest decision he’s ever made in his life.

it could be because you saw a cute happy family singing and dancing with each other across the street, or because you dropped the snack you were super excited to eat, so why are you crying??

poor guy literally cannot figure out why these things provoke such a reaction from you and for the longest time his go-to response is to just remove you from the situation or fix it somehow, which is his best attempt at getting it to stop.

if you’re crying over dropping your food he wastes no time dragging you away from the crime scene and finding the stall you bought it from to replace it with a new one. he’ll stare at you with a worried crease between his brows as you wipe your face dry and sniffle while the vendor remakes it for you, itching to hold your hand and offer more comfort but too hesitant to actually do it.

when you finally reach out to grab his hand and tell him that it’s fine and you just need a hug and that he doesn’t have to try to fix it all the time, he’s even more confused until he finally learns to stop overthinking it and hesitating to pull you close to let you cry it out.

he’s very awkward about it at first, standing as stiff as a board and patting your back like it’s going to bite his hand off or something, but soon it just becomes common practice and he can almost always predict when you’re going to cry before you actually do.

it’s always the small things that set you off.

after one of the longest, busiest weeks you’ve had in a while, you’re practically drained of every ounce of energy and more than anything just want to be home so you can sit down and relax. your legs and feet are killing you when he finally comes to pick you up from treasures street and you start your walk back to your shared place.

you walk in comfortable silence, the wanderer sensing your exhaustion and holding your hand firmly in his own as you trek side by side up the hill. his skin is warm against your own, and the sun that’s just beginning to set over the horizon casts a breathtaking pink and orange across the clouds scattered in the sky that you find yourself absentmindedly watching with growing contentment.

in fact, you’re so distracted by the colors flitting across the sky that you fail to notice the small puddle a few steps ahead of you. your lover also fails to notice this, as he’s far too busy admiring you while you’re distracted by the scenery, so it’s only a few seconds later that there’s a loud sloshing sound and a cold uncomfortable wetness soaks into your shoes up to your ankles.

the wanderer is quick to pull you into his chest and out of the puddle as soon as you yelp in shock, but he’s still too late and your already aching feet are now also freezing cold, wet, and muddy. this is your final straw today, and he knows this better than anyone else, so by the time the first tears start making their way down your cheeks he’s already tucking your head into the crook of his neck and rubbing soothing circles into your shoulders.

“sorry,” you hiccup instinctively, trying not to wipe your snot all over his shirt. he holds you tighter in response.

“don’t be,” his voice reverberates through his chest in a comforting rumble. “it’s my fault, i would’ve seen it first if i was paying attention.”

you shake your head against him. “not your fault, i wasn’t paying attention either.”

he scoffs lightheartedly at your stubbornness but knows better than to argue right now and instead gently lifts your head off of his chest to wipe the tears off of your cheeks with his thumbs.

“it’s the puddles fault then.” he says as your blurry eyes start to dry up and focus on his own. the firmness and conviction in his tone forces a wet laugh out of you, and the sight of a smile on your face causes a small one to break out on his as well.

the amount of adoration you feel towards him in moments like these nearly knocks you off balance but he only holds you tighter against him as you share a fond look. when he leans forward to leave a soft kiss on your forehead the tension finally leaves your shoulders and a deep, relaxed breath has you melting into his arms again, indescribably happy knowing that no matter what happens, he’ll always be there to hold you close when you start to fall apart.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #wanderer #wanderer x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi x reader #my writing #requests! ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

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violetdrkside · 11 months

Text

it took me one shot to make it nonstop

Tattoo Artist Getou Suguru X Reader

Summary:

You are holding your breath, heart pounding, body heating up. You have been hiding a secret from him and now he has you on your knees waiting for the consequences of doing such a thing. Even though his punishments may be harsh you would do anything for him. “So, can you be a good girl and follow my rules and instructions?” he asked. “Yes sir, I can,” you stated as firmly as you could with the feeling of slight sweat dripping down your back. “Only sir?” Fem Reader. She/her pronouns. Physical description vague. 18+ Explicit Content.

Rated E for Explicit.

Word Count: 13.8K

Tags: Alternative Universe (AU), Adult, Content, Dom/sub, Dom/sub play, BDSM, Light Bondage, Consensual Sex, Consensual Play, Use of Safe Words, Master/Pet, Dominant Getou, Submissive Reader, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Fingerfucking, Piss Kink, Golden Shower, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Choking, Oral Sex, Face Fucking, Rough Oral Sex, Biting, Marking, Cum Eating, Teasing, Orgasm Denial, Face Slapping, Face Sitting, Temperature Play, Degradation, Smut, Shameless Smut

A/N: I would do anything for this man. I swear. There is also something about AU Tattoo Artist Getou that just has been tickling my brain the last couple of years and I can't get it out of my head.

Also there is a golden shower part, but it is very short, you can skip it if you like. I marked the section off using ~~~~~~~~

Enjoy! Please give this one-shot some love by liking and reblogging.

You had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity. It had only been a few minutes, you realized as you watched the clock tick on the wall, your knees and shins seeping further into the cushion you were instructed to wait and kneel on. Every second felt longer, like sand falling through an hourglass.

Earlier, you had been told to send him a text back when you arrived home and to provide a picture of yourself in your current position. Once the picture was sent, you locked your phone and set it next to you. There was too much anxiety to even be mindlessly scrolling as you waited—and you knew he would be displeased to walk in and see you like that—but you kept the device nearby. If you somehow missed a message or call from him, you would be in much bigger trouble than you were already in.

You knew what you had done, and you honestly were not sure how you’d managed to keep it a secret from him for this long. With him being away on business and you taking your own vacation time, a month has passed since. It was not until this morning when you were both getting ready for work that he saw. You knew he did not want to get into a full conversation about it now, you both had your days ahead of you, so instead he complimented how good it looked pressing a hard kiss to your mouth and gripping your arm snugly above your elbow. He pulled away with a dark glint in his eyes, a slight smile tugging at the edges of his lips, “I will see you after work. Have a good day and be good, doll.” Pressing one last kiss to the top of your head, he stepped out the door. Fuck. You knew you would be in for it later today, but knowing him, it would be worth it. Your phone buzzed shortly after.

“Make sure to text me when you get to work <3”

You knew at that point today you would have to try and be extra good—you could picture him counting each and every rule you had broken and how he would punish you for each one, ensuring you would take it.

Before you knew it, the unlocking of the door tore you away from your thoughts about the events of earlier this morning, and your eyes immediately jumped to the door, hearing the key turn slowly with a click. In the doorway stood the man you had been waiting to see the whole day. He stepped through the entrance slowly, closing the door behind him. He placed his keys back in his bag as he hung it up on the rack. You remained quiet as you watched him bend over to unlace his black combat boots as he placed them next to yours. He went through the motions undisturbed, as if your heart wasn’t beating in excitement and apprehension. He finally glanced towards you as you remained still a little way from the entrance.

“So, can you be a good girl and follow my rules and instructions?” he asked.

“Yes sir, I can,” you stated as firmly as you could with the feeling of slight sweat dripping down your back.

“Only sir?”

‘Sir’ was a baseline for you two, and you simply assumed you were starting there because he usually had strict preferences for specific situations. You guessed today was the day you would have to call him more than just sir.

“Apologies, Master Getou. Yes, I can listen to your rules and instructions.” You respond back appropriately, gaze lowering to where his feet faced towards you.

“Well, you can follow most of them… eyes on me.” He commands.

Your eyes immediately snap to his deep purple ones as they grew darker, almost black. You swallow the saliva building up in your mouth. You knew he was going to be hard on you this evening, you just do not know how he would go about it. A silence forms between the two of you as you struggle to not break eye contact. He kneels down to get closer, making sure you still have to look up at him. He reaches his left arm out to you, brushing his thumb over your cheek, continuing the motion as he pushes some of your hair behind your ear. Fingers now brushed under your jawline to your chin where he cradles it, thumb tracing your lips gently. His stare pierces through you, trying to make you lose your composure. Although he knows he has to do a lot more to achieve that, it does not hurt to try. He finally breaks the silence, his voice low and speech articulate to make sure you understand every single word he says.

“Now, imagine this: I haven’t seen my precious darling in a month. I haven’t been able to hold you, kiss you, praise you, truly worship you. I haven’t even been able to have you over my knee, to bend you to my will, or to hear your cries and pleas of pleasure for a month. You followed most of the rules and instructions while we’ve been away from each other, but at some point, you went out on your own and disobeyed me, doll, and that hurts. You know I don’t mind what you do if there is a form of communication. So, tell me, why did you do it, hm?” he asks. You can see the hurt in his face as his eyebrows knit closer together, his lips curving down. You knew when you went to do that and not tell him, there would be a high chance he would react this way, but you had been willing to risk it anyway. He stopped caressing your lip but still held your jaw firmly, waiting for you to answer his question.

“Master Getou, I know I went against your rules—and I am deeply sorry for that—but I wanted to surprise you, sir. I wanted to show my devotion to you, I wanted to show that I am and will always be yours. I thought that, while we were apart, it would be a good time for you to see the commitment I have towards you, that we have for each other. I know this may break your trust, but I will do anything to regain it.”

“My precious doll, you are very good to me, but I will not ignore what you have done. We will talk this through, and you will accept whatever punishment I see fit, understand?” You nod your head. “Now get up and sit on the couch, I will be there in a moment.”

The dark-haired man gets up first, grabbing your phone from the ground. You both know at this point you will not be needing it, and he does not want any interruptions to occur. You wait for him to turn away as he heads towards the kitchen. When you hear him rummaging in the other room, you get up, making your way to the couch in the living room. Your body begins to tingle with excitement for what your Master could have in store for you. The one thing you have learned about him over the years is though he may get upset, he does not like to stay that way for long.

He comes to where you are sitting, two glasses of water and a plate of fruit in hand. He puts everything on the coffee table in front of the couch and sits beside you. You turn your head to look at him; you see him tapping his thigh and you instantly know what this means as you shift your body, placing your legs over his lap. He leans over your legs to the table, handing you a glass of water and putting the plate of fruit in your lap.

“Now drink up and eat. Once you are done, we will continue.” he directs you as he begins to take the socks off your feet. He began pressing his fingers into the top and bottom of your foot, making sure to hit all the right pressure points. Once he learned how much you were on your feet from your job, he always made sure, especially after long workdays, to be extra attentive towards them no matter what the two of you did in the evenings. It was a way he showed his affection to you outside the bedroom. He began to ask you how your trip was, amongst other things. For a moment, you were just two lovers keeping each other company. Occasionally, he would open his mouth, indicating he wanted you to feed him fruit as he continued to give you a massage. You had finished your water and most of the fruit on the plate; he turns to look at you, letting out a sigh.

“Now for the hard part, yeah?”

“Yes, Master Getou.”

“We’ll start with the small offenses. You did not make eye contact with me earlier when I was first talking to you, but I can let that slide. You lied at one point about where you were going or what you were doing while I was away. Then, you proceeded to not tell me about said thing you did for… what was it? Thirty days? It’s kind of impressive you kept something hidden from me for that long, but don’t be proud of that, okay? Now, onto the bigger things: not telling me you were getting a tattoo when your lover, your Master is a tattoo artist, a relatively famous one at that. I hope you did your research before you let just about anyone tattoo you. Which leads me to the next issue: having someone that I don’t know touch you for hours, permanently putting ink into your skin. The fact that it should be me marking up your body in more ways than one, and yet you took that away from me. Don’t get me wrong, doll, I’m not mad about you getting a tattoo, it is your body—but you took away from me the opportunity of doing it myself, as someone else’s hands were placed upon you. Let’s say it was because you wanted it to be a surprise; I still didn’t even get to help you pick the person to do it for you. I have colleagues and friends that I trust to do it… Anyway… did I miss anything?”

You could see the pain in his face; you did not fully realize how upset he would be. You did not think he would even want to ink your skin, knowing that it could cause you pain—and not in ways either one of you would prefer—but now you knew, and you would learn a lesson from this.

“No, Master Getou, you covered everything. Though, pardon me, you do know the person who tattooed me. I didn’t go to a stranger,” your voice was low, but you kept eye contact with your lover.

“You’re telling me someone I know tattooed you and kept it a secret from me? Who was it?”

“You mean you couldn’t tell by the work? But you saw it this morning?”

“Doll, I was more focused trying not to get angry than to look at the art, now who was it?”

“Please Master, please don’t get mad at them. I told them not to tell you, I begged–”

“You begged?” he questioned, cutting you off. Fuck. “You begged someone else? You know I am the only one you should be begging. I guess we can add that to the list too. My, my… you sure are racking them up, doll.” His voice had a slight enthusiasm to it as a dark chuckle built up from the back of his throat. You felt all the air from your lungs disappear as you heard him laugh, eyes wide. All your brain could process was this gorgeous man and how he was going to cause you so much pain and yet so much pleasure tonight.

Before you knew it, he had you in his lap, your legs straddling his, gazes meeting one another. His hands rested at your waist, gripping it slightly. His right hand trailed up your spine to the nape of your neck where his fingers threaded into the roots of your hair, pulling your head back. You try to keep your eyes open as they stare into his now obsidian ones filled with lust and anger, you wanted to admire their beauty, but his touch was starting to be distracting. He leaned closer, placing a kiss where the edge of your jaw met your earlobe. You then felt his teeth scrape where he just kissed you and then place another kiss in the same spot. The hand on your waist wraps around you, further pulling you closer to him.

“You know, doll, I am a greedy man. The thought of having someone’s hands on you as they hold a needle that penetrates your skin is making me go wild. Do you even know how much I want to be the person who does that? To be able to put my art onto your body? To have you in that way too?” He grunts into your skin. “Now, are you going to tell me who did that tattoo, or will I have to study it myself to figure it out?” He pulls away from you, fingers still threaded in your hair. You look him in the eyes, taking a deep breath as you gather your thoughts before you speak.

“Master Getou, I thought this through. I had to think of who would be the person who'd make you the least mad if I went to them to get this done behind your back. I know you trust this person more than anyone, considering they taught you everything you know, and did your first tattoo. I thought it was only appropriate to go to them.” You kept your composure together as you let out your last words, exhaling deeply, your hands still at your side. You want to reach out to him and kiss him, let him know that you hated hiding things from him, but he had not invited you to do so yet. You remain still. You could see the gears turning as he was processing everything you’d just told him. You cleared your throat to start speaking again. Getou’s eyebrow arched up, insinuating that what you were about to continue saying better be appropriate.

“Yuki also told me to tell you—and remember these are her words, so please be kind to the messenger—but she said, ‘I don’t regret doing this, and in fact, I would do it again. So let dear Suguru know to get off his high horse and if he wants to pick a fight, he can come to me and deal with someone his own size.’”

The man loosens his grip on you and begins to laugh. Your eyebrows furrow as you look at him, confused at his reaction.

“She really does know how to push buttons, doesn’t she… always has and always will, but I can’t deny that I respect her the most. I would say she is the only one that gives me a run for my money when it comes to a fight too. I’m surprised she even had time to take you in, considering she’s even busier now than when I apprenticed with her.”

“Once she realized who I was, she made sure to clear a spot for me as soon as she could. She specifically said, ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to tattoo that punk’s significant other.’ Then proceeded to agree with me that she would probably be the person you would be least angry about tattooing me and considered it an honor I seeked her out. She really does have a soft spot for you, doesn’t she, sir?”

“That she does, only because I gave her a taste of her own medicine, and she did the same to me. I really did learn everything and some from her… Now now, let’s not get distracted. We haven’t even begun yet. Don’t get me wrong, I’m relieved you went to her and not some random person, but you still sadly broke my rules. You may get up and stand in front of me.”

“Yes Master,” you said with a slight smile on your lips. You lifted yourself off him and stood directly facing him.

“Shirt off.” You raised the fabric above your head and dropped it to the ground by your feet.

“Pants too.” You moved a bit slower unbuttoning your pants, dragging them down your legs and placing them where your shirt was.

“You know, doll, I like it when you are obedient. Now turn to the side so I can see dear Yuki’s work on you.”

You turn so Getou can examine your right side along your rib cage. You feel the tips of his fingers tracing around the tattoo, careful not to touch. You can see him out of your peripheral, face stern, almost unreadable as his eyes move slowly, careful to retain every line that was inked onto you. He was studying, taking everything in. You were doing everything in your power to remain still, but you want to know what he thinks of it; does he like it, hate it? You wish you could ask, the silence is almost suffocating as you try and focus on something, anything else. Your eyes are still focused on him, he knows it, and he finally glances up at you. His lips part slightly, then close again. You know he is trying to find the words he wants to say to you, but is not quite there yet. Instead, he asks you,

“When did Yuki tattoo you? How many days ago?”

“35 days ago, Master.”

“Hm. Have you gone back to see her?”

“She told me to come back after two weeks and then I saw her again a few days ago, right when I got back from being out of town. She normally doesn’t do checkups like that, but she knew if it didn’t heal properly or seem up to your standards, she wouldn’t hear the end of it from you.”

“She’s not wrong, and what did she say? Is it fully healed?”

“Yes, it is. I made sure to follow her instructions thoroughly. She said you should send over her favorite bottle of liquor for how nice it turned out and how she made sure it was the exact match to yours.”

“Oh, don’t worry, she will be hearing from me later. Now…” He started as he grabbed your hips to turn you back to face him. “You make this so difficult for me, doll. I had plans to spoil and ravage you until the sun rises… and I thought you were so good…” He is smirking, you know he enjoys punishing you and you are not opposed to it, or you wouldn’t have been with him for this long. You do know that Getou can be mean when he wants to, and you have a feeling that though he may be pleased with the tattoo, he will not let you off this easily.

“…but you really didn’t live up to my expectations…” his left hand was gripping your hip as his right hand was trailing from your knee up to your thigh. Your face was starting to heat up, you were always amazed how his small touches could make your body react like it does even to this day. The hand moving up your leg moved between your thighs, reaching back to cup your ass. His arm grazes your clothed sex as he pulls you closer.

“So, I think thirty spankings, fifteen on each side, along with five markings on your body of my choosing, because,” He paused, smiling, “I will mark you one way or another. What do you think? You may speak.”

“I accept what you think is best for my punishments, Master.” you say, making direct eye contact with him. He grips you tighter and kisses your stomach again, lips turning up, “That’s my good girl. Now turn around.” He releases his hold on you as you face the other direction. At first, you hear rustling and movement behind you, then you feel him moving your hands behind your back. Something slips around each of them moving up to wrists, that’s when you realize from the smooth texture it’s his belt. The leather tightens around your wrists enough to make you feel your blood pump through your veins.

With a softer tone, he asks if they are too tight, to which you reply no. He turns you back around as he guides you to kneel on the couch next to him, helping maneuver your body so you are now laying face down across his lap. your head faces the side away from the couch, away from his body, from him. You knew this was just the beginning of Getou bending you to his will. You know you have to clear your head of all other thoughts so you can focus solely on your Master’s words and touches because failing to do so will have consequences. If there is anything the man whose lap you lay across hates more than rule breaking is unfocused, divided attention. If he puts in the effort to pay attention to you, your body, your needs, and your wants—then he wants the same from you. His fingers trail from the back of your neck down your body as he begins to speak again, this time his voice is sterner, and more articulate than before.

“Remember, thirty spankings. I will expect you to count each one of them with me. Fail to do so and we will start over. We will restart over, and over and over until you get it right. Understood?”

“I understand Master Getou..”

“Your safe words are?”

“Green, yellow, and red.”

“Good girl, not so stupid now, huh?” He smiled, brushing your hair condescendingly, “Let’s begin.”

Even though you prepared yourself for the first spanking, knowing it would probably hurt, the roughness of his hit still took you by surprise, a small gasp leaving your mouth as you uttered “One.” trying to ensure it was loud enough for him to hear over his own voice. You inhale slowly, another slap to your left cheek, “Two.” You can already feel the sting starting to form, but it lessens as you feel Getou rubbing your ass. His hand moves away again, inhale, you thought this time, feeling the sting on your right cheek, “Three.” you say as you exhale.

You made it to fifteen, his slaps weren’t as hard as you thought they would be, but they were precise. He had his other hand laced through your hair, occasionally rubbing your scalp, which helped you focus on your breathing.

“You’re doing so well my doll. So well, I think it’s time to take these off.” You feel his fingers slip into the waist of your underwear gripping them delicately as he pulls them down your body slowly. Your ass can feel the coolness of the room now, the feeling of being exposed has a chill run up your spine causing your body to shudder and your hands to move in your restraints. Noticing it, Getou reassures you.

“Shh, don’t squirm now, you have been cooperating so well so far. You don’t want to start over now, do you?” A loud smack echoed in the room; your body felt it before your mind registered the hit Getou landed on your ass. You knew his spanking was on the lighter side before, but the difference was drastic. Your mind finally caught up and you trembled out the words, “No, Master… sixteen.”

“I’m glad you’re still with me, but sadly that one will not be a part of the count…” he starts, you feel his fingers up your legs again trailing slowly just like his words, “…it’s good your mind can keep up…” his fingers are between your thighs now, you are doing everything to keep still, you can feel every single touch he has left on your body. “…because your punishment is taking up what I really want…” his fingers now grazing your sex, the vulnerability spiking further, you try to remember to breathe, to keep still. But it does not help as you feel two of his fingers pushing past your lips, gently rubbing, a deep breath leaves your lips, but before you know it the pressure of his fingers is gone, replaced by a dark small laugh that ignites your body. “Fuck you’re so needy already. Doll, this is a punishment. Yet, here you are being a greedy little slut.” He cooed, enjoying it so much, the sight of you, desperate for his hands and touches. “But it’s not fair for you to enjoy your punishment, not when your little act infuriated me—you went behind my back and disobeyed. Can you get that in your little head?”

“I understand, Master Getou. I am sorry.” you were partly sorry, enough to let him hear you apologize but not enough to not enjoy his punishment. Another loud smack echoes through the room. “Sixteen,” you choke out.

“Good. Then you will take whatever I see fit until I am satisfied.” You feel his hand meet your other cheek, your body reverberates from the impact, fully understanding his frustrations with you.

“Seventeen.” You gritted through your teeth,“Yes Master Getou.”

“You let someone defile you with their art, you should let me defile you how the fuck I want. Makes sense, right?” You can feel fury radiating off his body into yours as he lands another hit to your ass. The sting is more prominent since he is letting you feel the full pain each spanking.

“Eighteen. Yes, Master Getou, it makes sense.” You were not fully sure where he was going with his punishments, but you knew you would have to go with it as much as you could.

“Now, let’s finish this up, so we can move on, we have a whole evening ahead of us.”

You made it through the thirty spankings, but just barely. By the last five or so you knew he was putting his full strength into each hit to throw you off. There were points where the smacks landing on the full of your cheek vibrated through your body, making it hard to even say anything as you were more focused trying to blink away the tears building up in your eyes and keeping steady breaths. Getou lightly gripped your now red ass and massaged it for a moment as he loosened his belt that kept your arms bound behind your back. He then told you to stand back up, and you did slowly, trying to feel your legs again as the soreness from your behind began to spread and ache. You moved slowly as Getou watched your every move, observing how your body took his punishment so far, and yet still at ready to catch you should you lose your balance. You were proud to have made it through, so you straighten your back and stand in front of him, waiting for his next commands. Unwavering. Without getting up, he ordered you to hand him his glass from the coffee table.

After handing it to him, he quickly drinks the liquid. You admired how beautiful your Master was as the rays from the sun set shined through the window behind him. Part of the black locks he kept down absorbed the sunlight, he looked ethereal and at this point you knew you would do just about anything for him. He rose from the couch handing you the empty glass back for you to put on the coffee table. As you did, he stood next to you. He peered down and grabbed your chin between his thumb and index finger so you both were closer, he asked, “You still want more, look at you leaning into my touch. You really are insatiable.”

“I cannot help it, Master Getou.”

A short kind smile drew itself on his lips, “Good. Then, follow me.” He says, letting go of your chin as he turns around and walks past the kitchen towards the bedroom. You followed him to the bathroom connected to the bedroom and stood where he told you too, while he turned the water on in the shower. He began to take off his shirt and at this point the only thing you could do was stare at him and think about how much you wanted to touch him, hold him, kiss him, run your fingers all over his body and make him yours.You could not help yourself and asked if you could help him undress, to which he replied, a fake nice look on his face, “No. Only obedient subs get to touch their Master.” He paused, “Which you have been nothing but..” He smirks knowing how much you want to help him, to gain any affection from him, but you were aware you had to be patient and work hard for him to calm down.

He begins to take off his pants and you continue to admire his toned body, adorned from head to toes with tattoos. You catch a glimpse of your matching one and admire it, loving to see how it matches yours exactly. You were so happy with how well Yuki really did to make yours the twin of his. He stands up straight up and looks up at you again. He steps closer, looking down at you, his face showing no emotion, then with one side of his mouth curving up he says, “Let’s not touch works of art, hm?” he pulls the rest of his hair down taunting you, knowing how much you want to thread your fingers through it. Your fingers are twitching ever so slightly by your sides, as the smell of him becomes more prominent with his hair framing his face, moving forward as he looks down at you.

“This.” he hooks his right index finger through your bra strap, pulling it, letting it snap against your skin, “It comes off. Then you step into the shower.” You unclasp your bra and drop it on the ground. You open the glass door to the shower and step in. You face the wall and the shower head, letting the water run down your body. The water felt so soothing on your sensitive skin, you let it run through your hair, cupping some of it and splashing it on your face, trying to get yourself to focus, trying not to think too much about how much you might have hurt Getou. You could see deep in his eyes how he wishes to have been the one to tattoo it on your pretty skin. Especially such a large meaningful piece like the one Yuki did for you, but to have it match almost exactly like yours meant a lot to you.

Of course, you know one day you will let him put his art on your body. You longed to be connected to him in that way as much as he did and it would mean so much to both of you, but it will come soon, for now you know that each of you will have to deal with the current circumstances.

All of sudden you feel an arm wrap around your waist and another on your upper body as a hand lightly grasps your neck. Then, a piercing sting was felt on your left shoulder. You realized it was Getou biting you and your eyes opened wide with a gasp leaving your mouth as water still poured down on you. You could feel his canines dig deeper into your flesh, almost breaking the skin. The nerves he hit spread down your arm and in your neck almost going numb. Before you know it you were moved facing the other wall away from the shower head, Getou still holding onto you. Your body is still warm, from where he is pressing against you, but freezing and making you shiver upon touching the cold tiles of the wall.

“I thought I would remind my doll that I. Am. Still. Here,” he whispers into your ear, causing a chill to run down your spine. You were so lost in your thoughts that you missed Getou entering the shower, not giving him eye contact, or even acknowledging him. Shit. “I am going to have fun defiling you. Marking you as I please…” He grazes his teeth against your skin before biting another time, this time more gently, “Claiming you back.”

“Yes, Master Getou.” your chest is heaving, recovering from the pain you felt in your left shoulder. He pulls you closer, nipping at your ear, his hips hitting your butt, causing soreness from his earlier ministrations.

“You did agree earlier that you would take whatever I would give you, doll. I’d be disappointed had you disagreed.” he snickers, front teeth digging into your neck. You let out a sigh, the pleasure so strong that it brought you right at the edge of the cliff. You were so close, but as you were about to reach your climax, it was ripped away from you as he bit down on the right side of the crevice where your neck and shoulder met. He ensures with the bite that he digs his canines deep into your skin. You are trying not to yell—you want to, you do—but your pride will not let you. You bite your own teeth into your lip to muffle the sound of any scream trying to be released.

“That shouldn’t hurt too bad. Didn’t you get a tattoo, one that took hours, on your ribs nonetheless. This should be nothing compared to that.”

He was not wrong per se, but the pain is different. The bites he leaves are sharp, fast, piercing. The tattoo took so long, with prick after prick, but at times you could dull that pain for a short bit. There is no way you can ignore this one. You know your Master wants you to react to every single punishment he gives you. He wants you to be aware of everything he does to you and your body. You feel his hand trail down your body and you wish it could stay like this, him holding you close, feeling every part of him as he feels you, but you know right now you cannot. He grabs your hips and shifts you so your back is now on the tiles of the wall. The shower head next to you, you can feel the droplets of water hitting the floor on your legs.

He still has a grip on your hips, his mouth now on your neck again with teeth slowly making their way down to your collar bones, going further to your breasts. He makes sure his body is not as close as it was before. The feeling of teeth along your now cool skin makes you shiver and roll your hips forward more into his hands. He pushes you against the wall more and you hear him scold you quietly. His right hand moves up your body, cupping your left breast. His warm mouth travels to meet where his hand is. You close your eyes and move your head upwards, anticipating another bite. He makes sure to avoid your nipples, aware of how sensitive they were. You were not prepared for the feeling of his teeth digging into your skin. You were careful not to bang your head into the wall behind you, but the pain took you by surprise, almost making you weak as you tried desperately to dig your fingers into something, anything to grab on to. You groaned, “Fuck…” Getou looks up at you, seeing tears fall from your closed eyes. This time, he licks and sucks at the bite, trying to soothe the pain, bracing your body with his other hand the best he could.

Getou kneels further down, balancing on one knee, his face level with your hips. He tells you to look down at him and you do. His hair is damp, his muscles tense as he positions himself below you. The subtle eye makeup he wears is starting to smudge, but makes him seem all the more intimidating. The way he looks alone is enough to drive you wild; if you were not in so much trouble already, you would grab onto him and push his face further in between your legs. He grips your right thigh, moving it further apart from your other one. He digs his fingers into your flesh more and grips your other hip again, making sure you are steady. He tells you to hold onto his shoulders and you do not argue with him as you touch him for balance eagerly. His tongue presses to the inner part of your leg and licks up. It tickles, but at this point any touches Getou gives you, you take. You realize how desperate you are starting to become. You just want to have this man already, but you know he is dragging out these punishments on purpose.

He starts pressing small kisses to your inner thigh, the tenderness feels so good, you had been waiting for such touches ever since you saw him again. With his warm lips on your skin, he could only hope to cover your whole body with his kisses. He sucks lightly on your plump skin giving it more licks, your stomach starting to tighten. You just want him to continue like this forever. Giving him a proper good look, you smile, thinking that he looked so good doing this, being yours. Seeing him like this, you only wish you knew what he was thinking. Was he as obsessed with you as you were with him? Was he as high on you as you were on his touch?

You tighten your legs on his shoulders as you feel his teeth bite the most prominent part of your thigh, shooting up your body like electricity. His lips forming a shit-eating grin, showing how content he was with his work so far. This time he ignores any response you have to his biting and moves to your left thigh.

Immediately he bites it, giving you no time to recover from the last one. This one he made sure was the biggest and deepest one of them all. He was still careful to not draw blood, but he made it deep enough for the bruise to start forming immediately. Your chest is moving rapidly from the pain Getou’s mouth and teeth has caused on your body. You are trying hard to not slip down onto the floor of the shower. You want to say you are almost at your limit, but you want to keep pushing forward, you really do. You need to show him you can be good, you need him to forgive you. You need him.

Getou would not shame you if you wanted to stop, but the fire that was forming in your body was craving more. You two had been away from each other for so long that you wanted to have him every single way you could. In and out, you tell yourself as you slow your breathing, guiding yourself to calm down your breathing. With just one look into Getou’s beautiful eyes, you let him know you are able to continue. “Atta girl.” he says, making your heart skip a beat.

He stands back up, glancing at your body and admiring his work. Quickly, your Master had your wrists pinned in one of his hands above your head and you felt two of his fingers dip to the opening of your sex.

“Insatiable little girl. But if you would take all that I give you…” You do, and you prove it by wrapping your lips around his fingers. He lets go of your wrists and grabs your waist to move you further away from the shower head. Now, you are in front of the ledge that is in the shower, back onto it. He pushes firmly on your shoulders, urging you to kneel down. Your eyes immediately shoot up to him when he says your name for the first time this evening, and even if he was being stern, you always loved the way your name rolled off his tongue. Your wide eyes meet his to make sure you are giving all your attention to him and once he knows you are, he begins to talk again.

“Now, I gave my pretty little doll water earlier, and I thought that might have been enough to hydrate you, but it seems you are still being a needy little slut. Good thing your Master loves to give. To provide, even. So keep your head up and eyes on me.”

“Yes, Master Getou.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Such a good little doll, yet so thirsty and Master is feeling a bit…” Sighs of pleasure. Then a satisfied smile on his lips.

It took you a moment to understand what was actually happening. But as you felt more warm liquid drip down from your neck onto your chest down the rest of your body, you realize it was not water.You could see the shower head behind Geto’s body, he was like a shield. The smell is what got you and made you realize he was peeing on you. You both have done many things before, but this was definitely a first. You had seen it on his list of kinks, it was on your ‘maybe’ and on his ‘yes’. You kept your head up the best you could trying to avoid any of his piss getting on your face. Unfortunately, some got on your mouth from it bouncing off your chest and you try not to flinch, knowing it could make the situation worse for you. Getou’s face is painted with a smirk, his eyes narrowed on you. His smug look alone makes your stomach flutter, you groan slightly, silently. How can he look so good while humiliating you in the worst way?

Finally, the warm stream comes to an end and all you can do is sit there, looking up at your Master. You feel disgusting, in shock, this was unexpected so why were you aroused? Why did this usually vile action of his make you close to begging for it again? Your body is covered in bruises, long-since-gone saliva and piss—you are now also starting to become sore as your body settles in a more comfortable position but cannot get past what happened. Pleasure rises in your body seeing how satisfied your Master looks and fuck, seeing him so pleased only turns you on even with his piss running down your body. If anything you are so happy to have made him feel like this you were ready to tell him to do it again. You would do anything for your Master.

“Oh fuck, you’re being so fucking good to me, my pretty doll. My filth all over you, it’s shameful, it’s degrading, it’s all mine. You are mine. You’re on your knees, covered in your Master’s piss, my fucking piss. Mmm, but it’s not enough.” He shakes his head, “Not for my insatiable girl.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He grabs the shower head from behind him and points it down on you. Your body jolts from the cold water hitting your skin, goosebumps beginning to form all over. You close your eyes as you feel him spray you down from head to toe, washing away the traces of himself on you. The constant change in temperature is starting to make your head spin as you try to focus on being in Getou’s arms.

You wonder if he will give you any relief. You wonder how much you must beg, ask for his forgiveness. You have hope he will be a little kinder to you, maybe he already forgave you after his punishments. The stream of cold water ends, your skin still feeling the icy prickles coursing through your nerves.

A hand wraps around your bicep, pulling you up to your feet. If it wasn’t for the help, you’re not sure if you’d be able to stand up due to the soreness settling in your body. He pulls your arms around his neck as he wraps his left arm around you, holding you in place. You feel him lean down to give you an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue slipping in to twirl around yours. His right hand wanders down your body, grasping at every curve. He moves both of you back until you feel your legs hit the ledge. He grips your hip, then moves his fingers between your thighs. He rubs one of the spots he bit you in, making you moan into his mouth from the dull pain it brings you. He presses your body closer to him as his kisses deepen more, lips pressing harder against each other.

His index and ring fingers begin to graze your outer lips and make your back arch. You can feel the wetness build up as he moves his fingers closer to your entrance, making sure to avoid your clit. You open your eyes and gaze at him through wet eyelashes as he looks down, smirking at you.

“Fuck, doll, no matter what I do, you are still wet for me. Begging for more with those doe eyes of yours. You really are my very own whore.” he says as he slips his middle finger inside, making you bite your lip. He continues to speak as he moves his finger in and out of you.

“I pissed on you, humiliated you, marked you mine and yet it still seems like that’s not enough!” He grinned, “You savored me marking you like a dog, I can feel how wet you are on my fingers. You really are enjoying my punishments, aren’t you?” he says mocking you, slipping his ring finger into you. You let out a whimper you were trying to hold in, his words making your body heat up again. His fingers stop.

“Answer me.” His face is serious, eyes glaring at you.

“No.”

“No? Careful, you’re missing something there.”

You did not call him Master, but replied, “No, I did not enjoy you marking me like a dog.”

“Are you sure?” He gritted through his teeth, “Because you have been wet since I started your ‘punishments’” He emphasized the word, both of you knowing it was nothing but. “You’ve always been rather the masochist, huh?”

“I just…” As you begin to speak, he starts moving his fingers inside of you again, now hitting the spot he knows that drives you wild.

“You just what, hm? Use your words, whore.” Between his words and fingers, you could only gasp attempts at words. Your Master truly knows how to really make you come undone.

“What Master likes, I will like. What makes you happy makes me happy—please continue, I need you. I’m sorry for what I did, I just–”” Your grip tightens more around his neck, you bury your face into his chest. Even though he loves it when you are begging, it does not make it any less embarrassing. He pulls his fingers out of you, interrupting the pleasure that was starting to build in your stomach. The arm that was wrapped around your body trails up, his hand at the nape of your neck, large fingers lacing at your roots, pulling your head away from his body.

“Then why did you let someone else defile you? You know I’m the only one allowed to touch you.”

“Because I wanted to surprise you. Yuki is your friend, she is talented, I knew she wouldn’t mess up—I knew she would make it match yours perfectly!”

“Are you saying that I couldn’t match it perfectly, that I don’t have the skill to make yours look exactly like mine?”

“No Master, don’t twist my words, I know you could have! You are beyond talented, it’s just—it’s just that Yuki tattooed your original piece, I thought she could tattoo mine” You paused, “I wanted that bond… I wanted us to have it.”

“You thought you should let her tattoo your first large piece instead of me?” Venom is lacing through his words. Before you could blink, he had you facing the other way, back towards him, your right leg now propped up on the ledge. He then enters you in one long push, knocking the breath out of you, making you put your hands out in front of yourself and on the wall to prevent yourself from hitting it. “Let’s refresh your memory and remind you who you belong to.” He said that as he wrapped his left hand around your neck, propping his right leg behind yours for more leverage, digging deeper inside you.

This made you gasp out of breath, having him already so far inside of you. It had been so long since you last felt him that you immediately clenched around his cock, instinctively. This landed you a smack on your inner thigh.

“Oh no no, you don’t get to enjoy this. I know my little pet is needy but this is for me. This is just for me. You’re my free-use hole tonight, okay?”” He says as he continuously moves his hips to match the emphasis on his words.

You try to focus on anything but the feeling of his cock moving deep in and out of you. Anything. Maybe the patterns in the tiles, the way your breath is hitching every time he snaps his hips against you, even the small grunts that get closer to your ear as he leans forward.

None of it however can distract you from how good his cock feels, grazing every part of you. Your stomach starts tightening more and more, aching for release as you try not to clench again, feeling yourself become wetter.

“Look at how my cock fills you up.” He emphasized each word once more, “It’s making sure your pussy knows who it belongs to.” He suddenly stops his fast rhythm to ensure you feel every single inch of him and you do. The hand around your neck moves down to your stomach, pressing down on it, intensifying the feeling of him moving inside of you. You are nearing your climax, wanting to release desperately. And desperate you were. You start to beg, eyes pleading, mouth barely forming any words.

“Please Master Getou, please, just let me cum. I belong to you, only you, please, please Master, please.” As you beg more, he picks up the pace again pressing harder against, ensuring there is no way you cannot feel him in every way. You are close, you know are gushing more around as you clench around him again. A wave is about to crash around you, then it immediately dissipates as you feel yourself now empty with a smack to your clit making you jolt, and cry out with the echo of Getou whispering, “No” into your ear. The feeling of his breath did not help, the pain on your used clit did. Your orgasm was gone.

You’re nearly crying from the sensitivity ringing through your body. You feel his warmth leave you as he moves away to turn off the shower, telling you to get out. Stepping out of the shower, your Master follows behind you, steering you to the bedroom. The cooler air hits your body, goosebumps starting to form on your skin. You try to keep yourself warm by wrapping your arms around yourself, but it does very little to help. Your eyes are met with his chest as he stands in front of you, your mind wondering what he could possibly do next.

His fingers are now on your cheeks as he pushes them together, making you pout as he directs your face to his again. Fear is curling up your spine as you can see his eyes so dark, finding difficulty in distinguishing where his pupils start and where they end.

“Tell me my doll did not try to go against my command. Tell me my fucking doll did not try to fucking cum.” The small curve forming on his lips with his eyebrows arching up sends a fire through your body that’s doing everything to stay still, gazing up at Getou.

“No, Master.” you plead. He tuts at your response. “Little brat is a liar too?”

“Please sir, I wasn’t going to cum without your permission, I promise!” You know it was a half lie, you almost did cum without him giving you permission, but being away from him for so long has made your body desperate for him.

“Now why are we lying? I know how your body reacts, how it feels, how to control it.” He pauses and gives you a tight smile, “To think you did not learn anything from my punishments….” His smile is wide, almost uncomfortably so, and the way it seems to sharpen at the edges runs chills through your body. It’s like a storm brewing, tense and unforgiving. The sting you feel across your face is like lightning striking down a tree branch, but unlike the branch, someone is there to catch your quivering body. His large hand settles deep in the back of your hair, with his other arm at the base of your ass, pulling you up. The change in position, being on your toes, keeps you alert, staring right at the eye of the storm.

Your Master is silent, his warm breath fanning across your cheeks with a smile. The tears that roll down your face cause your cheek to prickle more, your body throbbing from the stillness you can only hope to be released from. The wetness on your face increases, and you think there are more tears falling, but instead it is Getou’s tongue licking up your cheek, collecting every droplet from your eyes.

“Do you think those tears are going to stop me? If anything, it’s fueling me to teach you more fucking lessons. At least you’ll remember them. Or… we could try one last thing, are you listening?” He pauses, looking at you. You could only give him a soft nod. “A good girl equals a good fuck toy, a fuck toy does not fucking cum. So I’m going to use you again, and if you cum, well… You’re not going to like it if you cum.”

“Please…” you feel your voice falter, the strength you had earlier washed away by your Master’s continuous maneuvering of your body. “I’ll be a good girl, please, use me.”

“Is my little doll tired?” He asked rhetorically, pouting at you, “Good, you won’t give me too much of a fight then.” The grip in your hair is still tight as he makes you lower down to your knees, the tightness in your legs dissipating as you settle into the plushness of the carpet. The coldness in your body starts to numb down even as droplets of water continue to roll down your skin. You ignore the exhilaration pulsating in your limbs.

Your mind is further away, as if the storm swooped it in one go. Your thinking is slowed, eyes more focused on looking up at the stature of the man who fascinates your body. He tells you to open your mouth wide, and you do. The hand that isn’t threaded in your hair is holding his cock right in front of your mouth, an offering. Your mouth takes him as your tongue circles around it, stroking the underside of his head and pressing into his slit.

You hear Getou sigh, an indication of his enjoyment. He urges your head to go deeper, tongue coaxing the veins along the way. He pushes hard, your nose now grazing his happy trail; you feel your throat tighten up as you start to gag. He continues to hold you down until you can hardly breathe, tears coming out of the corners of your eyes.

He pulls your head back, his cock completely slipping out of your mouth as you start coughing, struggling to take in as much air as you could. Your eyes are wide when making contact with his, trying to look for any sign of approval. He lets go of your hair and taps your cheek, “I thought you wanted to be useful? You’re gonna have to loosen up that throat so I can fuck it properly.” You start to nod your head frantically in agreement; his hand is back on your head, shoving you down his length again. This time, he goes much quicker; you can’t help moaning as your lips wrap around him tighter, unable to do any other movement to please him. Almost losing your balance from the pace he has set, you place your hands slightly behind yourself, gripping the threads of the carpet. Your head tilts up, allowing for some relief to the pressure on your throat. He holds you down once more in place and now you can really feel the full length of him down your throat.

The soreness in your jaw is beginning to settle in. You try to ignore it, listening to the sighs he lets out. He pulls you away once again, your tongue dragging, making sure to feel every part of him. He grunts, “Fuck, it’s much better like this. You really are a fast learner.” He looks down at you and mocks, “It’s hard, isn’t it? To keep yourself from cumming, huh?” A pat on your head, condescending one, he adds, “But you don’t deserve it, I know it and you know it, right? You’ll have to work harder.”

He slides out of your mouth and you keep it open, eyes gazing up as you feel them glazing over, just like any of your conscious thoughts. The only thing you can do at this point is nod your head. The more he puts himself into you, the more you lose your composure. Words are becoming harder to voice; you let your tongue slip out slightly, wetting your lips. A string of saliva drips from your mouth and you see him smirking as he leans down closer to you.

He presses his thumb onto your tongue, letting the mess seep out more down your chin. His thumb follows the trail down your neck. “Look at you, being my good pet,” he says, leg wedging your knees further apart. You sink down further, flush to the carpet, leaning further back on your hands. “Put in the work and I’ll give you a treat.” He stands back up fully, inching closer to you, setting his hand on the back of your head again.

Your lips wrap around him tightly, eyes meeting his in an instant. You raise your eyebrows in an unvoiced question, and he nods in approval. You begin to bob your head up and down slowly, taking charge and making sure he feels your mouth on every part of his cock. You swallow him down all the way as you close your eyes and try to breathe. You feel him twitching as he lets out a groan, the wet sounds from your mouth getting even louder. You pull away, reaching your limit.

One large breath—that’s all the luxury you get.

The grip on your hair tightens again and you can barely keep up as he fucks into your throat faster. You do your best not to gag every time he bumps the roof of your mouth. Moans are flowing out of both of you, along with obscene, wet sounds. You close your eyes tighter as the pace increases, knowing he is close, forcing your mind to give in and go blank. Getou lets out a loud grunt, and you can feel him shatter. He cums into your mouth and you must remind yourself not to swallow it right away, to make sure you collect it all. He slips out of your mouth as more of his release drips to the corners of your lips, down your chin and neck, and flowing to your chest.

Your eyes slowly open. Through wet lashes you see your Master, chest heaving, eyes narrowed, and that cocky grin that always makes your stomach start to flutter. The hand that is not placed on your head runs through his hair as he gazes down at you. The glint in his eyes tells you that he is admiring his work. Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out and present it to him, savoring the salty liquid before you are allowed to swallow. He leans over closer to you, your chest heaving as you try and catch your breath, managing to still prop yourself up with your hands. You see the string of clear liquid leave through his lips and fall onto your tongue, mixing in with his cum.

“Now swallow and enjoy every drop of it.” he commands, and you do as you feel his cum and saliva flow down your throat. Once you do, you stick out your tongue showing him there was nothing left. The hand that was behind your head moves to your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek as his index and middle finger on his other hand runs up your chest and neck, collecting the rest of his cum.

“Stupid pet, don’t waste the rest of your meal.” He coos at you, placing his fingers on your tongue with the sticky liquid. You close your mouth, wrapping it around them, tongue swirling around and ensuring you get every drop off. He looks at you with amusement as you clean off his fingers and once you do, he slips them out of your wet cavern. “Such a good, obedient whore for my cock.”

You nod your head and whisper, “I can do better, Master,” throat sore and raspy.

“Good to know, because I’m not done with you yet, I have much more to teach.” His voice is stern, mixed with excitement. Your eyes widen as you study his handsome features, but before your brain can register anything, he picks you up from under your arms and throws you over his shoulder, walking towards the bed. You are becoming dizzy from the blood rushing to your head; you let out a grunt as you feel your ass being slapped then groped by Getou’s large hand. Suddenly, you feel yourself being thrown, your back hitting the mattress, your body relaxing slightly as you lay there.

You feel the mattress dip as Getou climbs on it, moving his body to hover over yours. He begins placing wet kisses along your neck, going down to your chest. His lips are everywhere, kissing every bruise and bite mark along with your untouched skin. He goes down to your left breast, kissing it, his mouth wrapping around your pierced nipple. A moan leaves your lips, back arching, letting him wrap his other arm under you to pull you closer.

You can feel his tongue playing with the metal bar that goes through your skin, sending shivers along it. He pinches your other nipple as he continues to lick and suck at your left one. Another shaky moan is released and you can feel yourself getting wetter, clenching around nothing. Your breaths are getting heavier, wanting to curse him for how talented his mouth is, but it feels so good every single time.

“Already so worked up? I’ve barely done anything.” He grins, “Always so responsive, always so needy.” His words are sweet, but poisonous from how they affect you. His mouth is always affecting you, because all that he says has you feeling so many ways.

“Please Master…”

“Words.” He continues his licking and sucking. “No, wait,” He laughs, “Are you trying to rush me? Doll, I’m only getting started on my meal.” He bites down lightly at your right nipple, pulling at it, making you gasp. “Remember. This isn’t for you, and I’m gonna enjoy this at my slow, painfully slow pace. You may beg, but that’s alright. I enjoy some music while eating.”

He continues the torturous trailing of his tongue on your nipple and skin, now biting around it. Your hips start to roll, searching for any stimulation, and as they do, you feel Getou’s hand slide down your body, stilling them down. Your body shudders as he kisses further down, nipping at your sides. Sliding down further, he wraps his hands around the base of your ass and pulls you closer. He props your knees up, feet planted on the mattress, spreading them wide. He starts to plant kisses traveling up your thigh, biting at the inner parts. Your arms are above your head, fingers gripping into the pillow, the anticipation becoming unbearable.

Your whimpers grow in volume as he inches closer to your sex. He continues his touches on your leg and you try to not squirm, but it is nearly impossible. Your hips keep moving and he stops his bites on your thigh to berate you.

“Move and I stop. Understood?”

You let out a sound of acknowledgement and nod. He slides his fingers up stopping at the top of your inner thigh, your leg twitches slightly.

“How many times should I repeat myself? Use your words.” He continues to stroke his fingers along your thighs.

“I understand, Master.” your breath is shaky along with the words you try to push out from your mouth.

“Mmm, there we go… such a learning curve!” His smirk widens, the obsidian of his eyes shining as the sun is starting to set. The remaining rays cast through the window catch the darkness of his hair and eyes, clinging to it just as he clings on to you. Pulling at the small of your back, he drags you closer, spreading your legs wider. You feel the stretch go through your aching thighs, heels digging further into the mattress. He pulls you up slightly and places a pillow underneath, propping your hips up.

You see him on his knees between your legs, the last of the rays emphasizing each of his tattoos and muscles. Your breath hitches as you try to inhale deeply, acutely aware of the way his eyes scan your entire body as you are exposed to him, and for him only. Burning shame is painting your face and you try to hide it by turning it to the side, hand coming down to cover yourself. As you do, you feel his strong hand bringing yours over your head, clasping both wrists together as his other hand cups your face back to his.

“Stay… I want to see your every expression while you watch yourself drip on my tongue.“ He then smiles, “I will need you to tell me two things, but they’re one and the same, really. Who this pretty pussy belongs to and who’s making you feel like this—just repeat my name, you know, in case you’re too dumb to understand.”

“Yes, Master.” You say quietly, but you know he heard you as he leans away from you, letting go of your face and hands. He leans back again, gathering his long strands of inky hair, putting it back in a neat ponytail near the top of his head. You keep your eyes on him as his muscles flex, moving the strands of hair out of his face. He could be sculpted into a statue like this, you think, admiring his beauty as you prepare yourself to meet your maker.

He leans in closer between your legs, the tingling sensation spreading through your body with the tension of his skin brushing against yours. With a swift movement, he glides his index and middle finger along your center, barely applying any pressure. The goosebumps begin to surface as he swipes up again, gathering some of your wetness on his fingers. He brings them to his mouth, slipping them between his lips as he licks off your arousal. The moan that escapes you seems to be the fuel that ignites him as the last rays of sun dance gently in his eyes, knowing he has you as one the brightest shining stars. His fingers, now wet with his saliva, press and toy with your hole. He coos at you,

“I don’t know how much of you is going to be left once I’m done, because I sure am hungry,” the last part he says slowly, enunciating each of his words, still grazing his fingers along you. You want to beg, you do, but you know it would not change his course.

Finally, he bends down, licking a long stripe along your folds, tongue pressed flat and hard. You whimper from the warmth and sweet relief, but he still teases, avoiding your most sensitive parts. The tip of this tongue continues to move around as he sucks and kisses in between. Before you can process it, a loud moan rips from your throat as his tongue swipes up on your clit and lips suction around it. Your body pulsates in a never-ending rhythm, the pressure pooling in your stomach.

Your fingers itch to grip onto his strands, but you stop yourself from doing so. Instead, they spread out to each of your sides, nails clawing at the sheets as your back arches further. You can feel your arousal dripping further down you as you continue to moan. The man causing you so much pleasure does not miss it and moves his tongue to lick it up, making sure not to miss a drop. At this point, your neck is uncomfortably curved back, your eyes staring at the wall above you.

“Master Getou, Master Getou, please, please…” you start pleading to him, incoherent babbles as your hips rock into his face. His hands are latching onto your waist trying to keep you still, but as his tongue starts moving quickly in and out of your entrance, your body only begins to writhe more. You can feel the heat and pressure increasing as he continues this game of his. Your orgasm is starting to build up fast as your breaths and moans flow out quicker. You start to clench when you feel his tongue flick on your nub again and just as you are so close, ready to let go of everything, you feel it fizzle away as the warmth of his mouth and tongue does too.

You groan loudly as your body settles back into the mattress, your frustrations pooling where your pleasure should have been by now. You’re whispering pleads over and over again, hoping he will give you something, anything.

“It feels good, doesn’t it? Mh? It’s nice…nice doesn’t mean you can relish in it, doll. No cumming, not yet.” he says as he is leaning over you again, his lips close to your ear, but also making sure your bodies are barely touching. “Now who makes you feel so, so good?” he coos at you.

“You, Master Getou.,” you choke out.

“Well taught pet. I’ll give you one opportunity to cum, so sit on my face.” He says as he pulls away and goes to lay down next to you on his back. You turn your head to look at him, wondering if he means it, but in the back of your brain you know it does not matter because you would do anything he says.

“I easily grow impatient. Perhaps a countdown will help? Three–”” he says with the corner of his lips slightly turned up.

You begin to push your body up slowly, feeling all your muscles flexing and tightening trying to make the mere crawl on your way to him. He feels so far away from you when your entire body is this tired, his eyes never leaving you, drawing you in closer. He lays there waiting with his hands behind his head, biceps flexing. His lips stretch out into a lazy smile seeing your effort in coming near him, getting closer to his domain.

You know that although he says he is giving you control, you will always be in the palm of his hand, bending to his will, letting it swallow you whole. Your legs finally straddle his shoulders. You’re holding yourself up as much as you can as you look at the view below. His eyes are still peering at you, looking at every inch of your body. His hands come out from behind his head and you feel them sliding up the back of your thighs, grabbing at your skin as they go up to your waist. His fingertips fuse with your skin as he grips you tighter.

His voice ripples through you, making your body more alert.

“Finally. I am famished.” Each word he emphasizes makes your body almost drop over him, but he keeps hold of you as he pulls you close so you are now on top of his face.

Unlike before, his tongue is quick to lick every part of your pussy. Tracing every single line, every fold. His fingers move as if he wants to weave them in between your ribs, to have you intertwined with his body in every way possible.

You start rocking your hips, wanting more. His nose hits your clit over and over again, making little whimpers slide from the back of your throat. His moaning and hot breath against you has your stomach tightening as your arousal increases. As his tongue moves in and out of your hole, your hands graze up your own body, your fingers starting to trace your nipples lightly.

A low moan leaves you as Getou’s lips suck hard on your clit and one of his hands clashes with one of your ass cheeks, making you pull harder on your nipples. Sweat starts pooling at the nape of your neck, your body prickling with warmth. The sensation is starting to become too much to bear.

You can feel your wetness growing as Getou starts sucking on your skin, the sounds gradually escalating in the room. His hands make their new home on the back of your thighs, gripping them tightly, securing your spot on his face. Gasps are flowing through you as you start to clench around his tongue. You’re feeling each sound he vibrates against you, tongue still flicking and sliding on every crevice followed by his lips.

You are not sure if you can hold it in any longer as the fuzziness starts taking over your head and the shaking of your legs is beyond your control. His lips are now on your clit again sucking hard and you nearly scream from the pleasure that shoots through your body. This is the closest you have been to letting go all evening and it feels so good, you wish you could be in this position all the time. You are ready to release all the buildup and all the tension that has been stored in since the beginning of the evening.

Your high has been ripped away from you again. You are now on your back, pressed into the mattress. You are heaving, chest rising quickly, the vibrations of your body stopping completely. The tears rolling out from the corner of your eyes fall down the side of your face and you can feel the wetness pooling in your ears. The frustration rises through your body as you have been denied your orgasm yet another time. You want to crawl away, curl up and hide somewhere, knowing Getou may not even let you reach your peak. You would get away from him, you really would, but the soreness of your body is settling into the deepest parts of your muscles, making it difficult to move. And in any case, you know Getou would only drag you right back.

“Oh? Is my pet crying? Try harder, add more tears, it’s bound to make me merciful, right?” he says condescendingly, “I did tell you this was not about you, but you are so greedy you let your silly brain make you believe you would cum! Hah!”

You continue to lay there in your hazed state, trying to grasp the words Getou is saying to you. You are trying to listen, but the exhaustion is starting to kick in, your mind wandering somewhere else. A grunt leaves your mouth as you feel your body being rolled over, stomach now pressing into the mattress as your head is turning to one side. The warmth of Getou’s body is over yours, chest onto your back, his arms caging in on either side of you. His lips brush against your ear; kissing, licking, biting at it as he continues to talk to you.

“Tired?“ This time it was him, your boyfriend, not your Master, you could hear it in his voice. Lowering his tone, it was like a confession as he spoke, “You know we can stop at any time. If you say you are done, then you are done and I stop. We can relax for the rest of the evening.” He smiled sweetly, “Limits are there to be respected, for both of us to enjoy this. Don’t push yourself to an extreme you would regret, sweetheart.”

His words start to resonate with you and there is a part of you that is honestly exhausted, who would love nothing more than a hot bath and to curl up in bed, but the other part of you still wants more. You still wanted to feel everything Getou has to offer you. You find the strength to answer him, “I can take more, Master.””

“What is your color?”

“Green.”

He smiles, “I knew my little whore had some spunk to her,” he says as his teeth dug into your shoulder. “Now what do you want more of?”

“All of you. I am yours…” You know you are breaking the scene by not calling him Master or sir, but you also know showing your sincerity and want, your need for him to continue tells him you could keep going.

“That’s my fucking girl. Always so good for me. You know how much I love to be in my pussy,” the huskiness in his tone makes your stomach flutter, your heart beating quicker as his lips brush against the side of your face.

His body still flush against yours, you feel one of his hands travel down, pushing your legs apart slightly as he begins to brush two of his fingers on your heat. Your body twitches slightly from his touches; everything is so sensitive, but the feeling of pleasure rising again was tasting so good.

“Look at my pussy, always so wet for me. Always so sensitive. How can it always be dripping for me like this? Does your pussy need me that bad?”

“Please Master Getou, please please I need you. Please stop teasing, I need you inside me. It… it’s all yours… just…”

“Of course it’s all mine,” he says as you can feel the tip against your opening, “Look how… responsive my pussy is for me…” he continues to say, pushing himself more into you. You moan from the stretch of his cock filling you, pulsating around him. Once he is all the way inside, your back arches into him more, making him hit even deeper than he already is. His hand comes back near your face, pads of his fingers brushing against your lips as you taste yourself. Your mouth wraps around his fingers more, sucking as he begins rocking his hips slowly against your ass. You release more moans as his fingers greedily press against your tongue, coaxing all the sounds out. You continue to arch and move your hips to meet his, trying to feel every bit of him inside of you. The warmth in your face grows as he continues to kiss and bite at your ear and neck, whispering how your pussy is his and his alone.

His thrusts start to become faster and deeper, your hands reaching out to grip the sheets as whimpers and gasps leave your mouth to fill up the room, combined with his heavy breaths. Removing his fingers from your mouth, they make home onto your neck, holding it snug in his grip. You begin to clench more around him as his thrusts start to hit a pleasurable spot. You wish you could grip him tighter and hold him in place, where he can continuously rub against that one spot only.

“Look how my pussy wants to hold onto me. She is so needy, isn’t she? And you are too, my little pet?” he states between ragged breaths. You are not sure if you can form anything coherent to answer him back as he keeps sliding in and out of you, making you gasp.

“She… she is so needy… only for you. All yours, Master… it’s all yours…” you manage to breathe out.

You feel him rise and you groan as the cold air hits your back. His arm pulls at your waist as he brings you up with him, and you settle on your forearms in the new position. His other arm wraps around your neck and shoulders, pulling you up so your back is pressed against his chest again.

He holds you tight in between his arms, ensuring your movements are limited. You feel his pace quickening as your body rocks with his, the sound of skin slapping and rubbing against each other grows louder alongside both you and your Master's moans. Your knees are barely on the mattress with him thrusting so powerfully and holding you so close to his body.

His fingers start to slowly rub circles on your clit. You cannot help but let out a high pitched gasp. The pressure you feel between your legs and your lower stomach becomes greater and you feel yourself gushing as he twirls his fingers around your nub more, keeping up his pace. His other hand grabs your jaw and turns it back towards him giving you a passionate open-mouthed kiss. Lips and teeth crash together in a fight of who wants more of the other. You are teetering on the line of it not being enough and all too much, all at once. Getou is sliding in and out of you at such a pace that your vision goes dark. He puts more pressure on your clit and the wave is beginning to consume your body.

You let out a grunt, thinking you are finally letting go, but are shocked by your body crashing into the mattress. When your eyes finally adjust, you notice that he is balancing his weight on one of his knees, his other leg extended out in front of him with his foot pressing on your head. You start to feel a warm, thick liquid on your back; he has found his release. You groan again as you have been denied for who knows how many times.

“Doll, all your attention is on me. It should always be on me. Now remember, I’ll leave a longer lasting impression than that tattoo ever will.”

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A/N: Well I hope you all enjoyed the fic. So the backstory of writing this was a challenge from the discord server I am a part of. We were talking about what fictional character you would basically let them do anything. I of course chose this God of a man. Then it went on to kinks and what would be hard nos or hard yeses or maybes. So obviously the piss kink get brought up and it started it as a joke, but then it formed to a challenge and 13.8k words later, here we are!

Please give this fic some love, it will be greatly appreciated!

Crossover Post on ao3

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modernperplexity · 1 year

Text

Mine Ch. 1: Homecoming

Chapter Rating: E (18+) Minors DNI, mention of alcohol, substance abuse, suggestive language, abandonment.

Word Count: 4K

A/N: Ahh the day is here and Chapter 1 is finally posted! I apologize for the delay. I had originally planned for this to be up sooner but life happened and my week became more busy than expected. You guys, this first chapter is kind of massive as I am introducing characters and setting up the plot. As I mentioned in my previous post, this is my very first fic so please be kind and bear with me. My asks are open to suggestions, questions, comments, etc. I definitely want to grow and improve as a writer <3

Again, special thanks to @ssuperficialspacecadett, your advice on fic writing was truly helpful! <3 Please, please, please be sure to check out her writing! She is SO very talented!

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Mine Masterlist

Mine Chapter 1: Homecoming

It felt like the billionth-mile marker you had passed on the way to your new apartment. “Almost home, just three more hours to go.” you quietly encouraged your tired self after 18 hrs on the road. You miss the warm kiss of the Florida sun and the palm trees gently swaying in the cool breeze of the beach. The open road ahead was brimming with new possibilities but the closer you came to home, the more daunting it all became. Your hands nervously gripped the steering wheel as you took a deep breath in and slowly out. “It’s the right choice, new job, new era, just with familiar people...It was the right call.” You muttered to yourself, doing your best to quiet the insecure thoughts with your favorite podcast.

You had loved Seattle- absolutely adored it. Your job was amazing, and your apartment beautiful, but tainted. So you pushed through an extra six months after calling off the engagement in an attempt to make the city your own, only to realize you had outgrown it. You had outgrown that relationship too, gave him so many damn chances to fess up about his dubious behavior but drew the line when you serendipitously found a red lacey thong under his bed.

*RINGGG* your phone blared through your train of thought, consequently yanking you back to earth. “Hey, girl! How’s the road?” Michele had been ecstatic at the recent news of your return and proud that you had split with Sam. He was what she often referred to as a “pinche cabron” (fucking idiot). After all, Michele was not the type of person to keep her thoughts to herself. She was always intuitive and strong. Her shoulder being the one you’d lean on time and time again.

“It’s…long” you laughed nervously, “Can’t wait to get my hands on a Cubano and some Tostones.”

“Oh my god! That’s right, you’ve been deprived! I’ll pick some up for us and swing by your new place. Just send me your new address and ETA.”

“You’re an angel! Thank you!” you chirped, your voice betraying your efforts to mask the anxiety boiling up in your chest.

“Hey… you okay?”

Nothing gets past this woman.

A deep sigh relieves the tension in your body while you shift in your seat, stretching your aching back. “Yeah, just getting in my head. Coming home is the right call…right?”. You almost felt defeated, like you moved across the country and came back with nothing to show for it.

“Absolutely! Honestly, after everything that happened. I don’t blame you. I would’ve done the same thing. You know what? I know just what you need. We’re going out.”

The next few days were a blur. The moving boxes in your living room were now nearly gone thanks to Michele and a couple of other friends and family that had stopped by to welcome you back home. Thank goodness for their help, your body was so tired from the trip, it didn’t dawn on you until last night that you’d start your new Speech Language Pathologist Assistant (SLPA) job at the speech clinic the next day.

The clinic had more Speech Language Pathologists (SLPs) and SLPAs than you were used to but that was a blessing honestly. After a day of orientation and introductions, you really felt like you had landed on your feet. The sense of familiarity eased your new job jitters. The lead therapist showed you to your office and you began setting your room up with materials and games for the patients you’d be seeing that day. Lindsay, the sweet SLPA whose office was across from yours, briefly introduced herself and gave you a heads-up about the patients on your schedule. She passed along her notes on the patients who she had seen previously. Their preferences in toys, games, and their progress toward their goals.

“Thank you so much, Lindsay. This is a huge help!”

“No problem, who’s first on your schedule?”

Your hands scrambled through your notes. “Umm…Camila Morales. Have you done therapy with her before?”

“Nope, must be an initial visit. She’s a little one too, says she’s only 3 years old on her evaluation.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks!” You said as you turned on your heel and continued preparing for the session.

Should be fine. Just interviewing the parent, going over goals, letting the patient get to know me… I got this.

You grabbed your patient’s chart at the front desk as the 9 o’clock patients signed in. Lindsay nudged your side and nodded in the direction of the reception desk as a handsome man in a cap grabbed a pen and a clipboard. “I think that’s your patient being signed in”. With a slight nod, you made your way to meet your first patient of the day.

“Camila Morales” you called into the waiting room.

Camila slowly and carefully climbed off the waiting room chair as she heard her name. Her dark chocolate curls gathered into two ponytails bouncing as she made her way to greet you.

“You must be Camila! I’m your speech teacher, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m so excited to show you all the toys we will use for your therapy session today.” You chirped sweetly as you crouched down to her eye level. The corners of her lips slightly curved into a sheepish smile as she held her father’s hand and a light blue stuffed bunny in the other.

“Morning, Miss. Sorry about Bunzy, she refuses to go just about anywhere without him” he explained.

Your gaze met the deep brown eyes of the man in the cap. His gaze was strong but warm, his smile immediately charming. “Good morning! Oh please don’t worry, it won’t be a bother.” You give him your name and stretch out your hand “You must be Mr. Morales.”

“Oh, no. I’m not, uh… I’m Santiago…Santiago Garcia, Cami’s godfather. Fish asked me to bring Cami to her first appointment. He got caught up at work but he’ll be here for the next session.” He breathed. He settled in the chair in your office, watching as Cami eagerly darted to the Dollhouse you brought out for her, already making herself comfortable much to his content.

It took you a moment to register what Santiago said. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I assumed you were her father. Um…did you say Fish?” You said as you grinned at the odd pet name and looked over Camila’s file.

He let out a slight chuckle “I did… My apologies, I meant Mr. Morales...old habits, I guess” he shrugged in awe at himself using a prefix before his best friend’s last name. The way it rolled off his tongue, was unnatural, like a fish out of water.

“Ah,” you smiled, “Got it. Well, today is going to be a pretty easygoing session. I just want to get to know her, let her get to know me, and we will go over her speech goals” You took a packet of speech delay information that you usually handed out to parents and handed them to Santiago. “Please pass along this information to Mr. Morales.. Can you tell me more about Camila?”

Santiago filled you in on Cami’s favorite games, songs, books, and toys. He knew her first words and how frustrated she would get when she could not communicate her wants and needs. He knew Cami quite well and talked about her as if she was his own. She was so comfortable with him, it was easy to see that they had a strong bond. As predicted, the session was a breeze and soon enough Cami was waving goodbye to you as Santiago carried a giggling Cami down the hall, praising her for earning a glittery unicorn sticker. You swear you could hear his smile as he said “Te portaste muy bien preciosa” (You behaved so well, lovely girl).

It was the 5th attempt at coming up with an outfit tonight. The clock was ticking and you knew you were behind schedule. Michele was on her way and she was never one to be late. The room was a mess and your clothes were everywhere. You glanced at your phone which read 8:50 pm. The time pressuring you to settle on a pair of black distressed wide-leg jeans, block-heeled sandals, and a cowl neck camisole.

Oh my god! Michele is going to kill me. I haven't even done my makeup!

You went for an easy look, foundation, blush, mascara, light shadow, and eyeliner. Not trying to impress anyone tonight, It was a girl's night after all. As you applied the finishing touches to your make-up, you heard the front door that you had left unlocked anticipating Michele’s arrival, creak open. Soon after, her steps echoed down the hall leading to your bathroom.

Shit, out of time.

“G’damn, mujer, you’re not ready?” She leaned, arms crossed against the door frame.

Your makeup brush hit the vanity and your hands swung up at the sound of her voice, “I’m ready, I swear... I’m ready” You giggled.

“Okay, Slothy McSlothson. I hope you stocked up your fridge with Pedialite cause we’re probably gonna need it later” she chided “I’ll put in the Lyft request and let the other girls know we’ll be heading out soon”

“You sneaky girl! I’ve been rushing thinking it was pre-scheduled!” a playful scoff leaving your mouth.

“What? I know you! I knew you were gonna run late, so I figured I’d get the Lyft when I got to your place.” She shrugged and reached for the bottle of Gin she brought for you and mixed it with mango juice.

“Here, I thought we’d pregame before the Lyft gets here. I know you can get a little nervous going out sometimes.”

A small gasp left you, “My little Cuban hero, thanks!” eagerly taking the cup and taking a sip, “Where are we going anyway?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

You heard excited squeals as you walked into the lively Cuban bar, the upbeat Salsa filling the space, almost drowning out their enthusiastic embraces. The friends you hadn’t seen in a few years, Crystal, Lexi, and Naomi, ran up to hug you and Michele. After ordering your drinks you sat at a table near the folding window of the bar. They caught you up on their love lives, work, and family. You tried hard to keep the attention on them and not on your failed engagement but it was only a matter of time before it came up.

“Wait, why are we the only ones talking… what happened with Sam?” Crystal asked.

In an instant Michele looked up at you after taking a sip of her drink, attempting to read your expression to know if she needed to change the subject or not. She could read you like a book.

Your gaze met hers, “It’s fine” you waived her off “Things with Sam are done, turns out he wasn’t as committed to me or the idea of spending the rest of his life with one person.”

“Awe shit” Lexi added, “so that means..”

“Yep, found a little souvenir his girl left behind” They all groaned, almost in unison.

“It’s okay, I think I’m better off. I’m relieved I found out before I gave up my apartment or started making any deposits on venues.”

“And you’re back now… who knows, maybe you were meant to course correct and come back home.” Crystal chimed in.

“Either way, you seem like you’re doing great. We’re glad to have you back” Michele smiled and squeezed your hand to reassure you.

The night continued as your group bar hopped from place to place. The warm summer breeze enveloped you as you walked arm linked with your friends. Michele led your group to the last stop of the night. You all but stopped in your tracks when you saw the buzzing neon Live Karaoke sign.

Well, this is going to be fun.

Frankie couldn’t help his fidgeting tonight, consistently checking his phone for updates on Cami. He wondered if she finished her dinner if she struggled during bath time, or if she gave his mom trouble when it was time to go to bed. He leaned on his mom for support if he absolutely needed to. Only letting her babysit when he was at work or when he ran errands. He was so hell-bent on being a good father and staying out of trouble that he hardly let himself relax. He reasoned he owed Cami that much, especially after Ashley decided to leave. After her frustration with his decision to go on that mission, after he came back distraught by the loss of Tom and the wreck of a mission that he was part of, only to fall into the familiar comfort of his vice. Fed up and devastated, Ashley decided to take Cami to Frankie’s mother’s house after saying she was going out for groceries only to never return. That was the day that changed everything. It was that moment that snapped him back into reality. He needed to do better, be better, for Cami. That was all that mattered.

There was no way in hell Santiago would let him cancel. Not after he, Ben, and Will had planned this night for weeks. It had only been a couple of days since Santiago’s return from traveling around the world. This night was a big deal, it was the first time in a long time they were finally all in one place. Frankie would not hear the end of it if he bailed, especially since Pope was currently staying at Frankie’s until he found a place of his own. Frankie loved his daughter but It did sound nice to let loose with the boys. He had worked so hard to be who he was now.

“Fish, you good?” Santi asked, as he gave him a solid pat on the back “Seemed like you were somewhere else for a sec.”

“Just worried about Cami” he breathed before raising his glass to his lips.

“She’s in safe hands, it’s your mom. She raised YOU, she can handle Cami” Will chimed in and took a sip of his beer.

“You guys have been going on about how you’ve been planning this for weeks and you settled… on a karaoke bar?” Frankie chuckled.

“It was Ben’s idea,” Will and Santiago said in unison.

Ben rolled his eyes, “What? It was an honest mistake, we failed to notice one little detail.”

“The bar we wanted to go to turns into a club on Saturday nights, and we all know clubbing is not your scene or mine” Will added.

“...and remind me what was wrong with our usual spot?” Frankie pressed.

“C’mon man, It’s a great bar! Brought a date out here last week. Just give it a chance. The live band is great!”

“As long as you don’t sign me up” Ben gave Frankie a devilish grin and stood up “Ben...Benny…don’t you fucking dare!” Frankie’s grip became tighter around the beer he was nursing.

“C’mon old man, it’s all in good fun! You boys make sure he gets a couple more drinks in him, I’ll be right back” Ben winked as he walked away.

Santiago laughed as Frankie dragged his hands over his face “Tranquilo, I’m sure he just went to the bathroom or somethin’ he’s just busting your balls.” Frankie sighs “He’s right though, you gotta chill... I’ll get us another round”

A group of girls walked by and caught Santiago’s eye as he made it to the bar. Particularly one of the girls. She was pretty- very pretty. He could’ve sworn he’d seen her somewhere. It bothered Santiago for all of two minutes until he decided he’d let it go and focus on the boys. He rounded up the beers he ordered and turned to walk back to the group when he heard you. He recognized your voice. He hardly recognized you without your scrubs on. “Oh shit! That’s Cami’s speech teacher!” he muttered under his breath. He thought it best to keep this to himself, for that moment at least. He returned to the table when his mouth dropped. “No.. way! Is that-”

“Ben. Fucking. Miller…who knew he had it in him!?” Frankie interrupted. His suspicions were half correct. Ben had made his way to sign someone up to the karaoke list- himself.

Ben taps the mic half haphazardly and clears his throat “Is everyone having a good time!?” the crowd cheers “I said.. Is everyone having a good time!!?” the crowd cheers even louder, “M’names Ben…Ben Miller and I’m about to make it even better.” he chuckled to himself “Alright ‘nuff talk, this one’s for my boys!” he turned to the band drink in hand as they continued the chord progressions to The Boys are Back In Town by Thin Lizzy.

“That boy…always loved the limelight. He’s eating this shit up” Will chuckled as he shook his head.

“Holy shit” Santiago nodded to the music “not bad either”. He laughed and turned to see a more relaxed Frankie who had his sight set somewhere other than the stage. It seemed that Santiago wasn’t the only one who had noticed you.

The live karaoke bar had the feel of a big theatre with two levels. Each table had a great view of the stage that had a full live band that had an expansive repertoire of songs available for those brave enough to sign up. The stage was impressive and lively, the stage lights changed colors and moved depending on the song of choice.

After getting your drinks, you and the girls decided on a table close to the stage when a guy named Ben went up to sing. He was really into the song- holding on to the mic stand and swinging it around while he sang. The lights turned blue and yellow around him, highlighting his strong features.

“Wooo Ben!” Lexi cheered,“he’s hot.. definitely your type, Michele”

“Ooh, she’s not wrong Meesh, he’s right up your alley” you added “Wha- oh… okay” you laughed as you realized you and Lexi hadn’t even noticed that Michele had left the table. “Could’ve sworn she was right next to me” you shrugged.

Ben’s song came to a close and the crowd cheered. He definitely was a crowd favorite, from what you had seen, at least. There was a lull for a few minutes while the live band played an 80’s song in the background when the lights turned down and the stage lights turned red. You heard what you thought was the intro to a Queen song and you knew immediately who’d be up there. A sweet and slightly buzzed Michele appeared on stage. “Hi, I’m Michele and this song goes out to my best friend who just moved back to Florida- put your hands together for her!” the spotlight shone on you and the crowd cheered. Your eyes went wide, and your body stiffened. You tried your best not to cower in the heat of the light. All you could manage was a shy smile and wave. After what felt like an eternity, the spotlight shifted back to the stage, as you heard Michele start to sing and dance to the melody of Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen. The stress of being the center of attention left your mouth dry. You needed a drink- desperately.

Frankie’s gaze followed you as you walked to the bar. He was almost mesmerized, maybe this could be a good night but there was no way he could talk to you. He couldn’t even remember the last time he flirted. His whole world had been consumed by NA meetings, work, and taking care of his little girl.

“Wow, Fish, she’s gorgeous! At least go buy her a drink. If you don’t, I will, and we both know I’ll go home with more than just her number” Ben breathed.

*smack!* Without hesitation Will slapped Benny upside the head

“Shut up Ben!” Santiago retorted, pausing to look at Frankie. “He’s right, you gotta get back out there. It’s been a while since…just…let yourself have some fun. I’ve seen how you've been gawking at her for the last 5 minutes. If you don’t go, I’ll beat Benny to the bar and we all know. it will be over for you then” he winks.

Frankie turns to Will, who had consistently been the voice of reason. “Pope’s right, at least go talk to her. What have you got to lose?”

“I’ll give you a head start” Benny started counting down with a shit-eating grin “Three…two”

Frankie jerked up and out of his seat, beer in hand almost spilling some on his shirt from the sheer force of the movement “You know what?...Fuck all of you!” he said with a wide smirk and middle finger in the air. He started toward the bar, the men’s laughter fading in the background.

His pace slowed down when he saw you sitting at the bar. He could tell you were kind by the way your eyes sparkled and smiled along with your curving lips when you talked to the bartender. You looked so pretty, so sweet, so…unattainable. There was no way he could talk to you. Frankie started to panic. His mind started to race and think of the many ways he would ruin it. What was the point of even trying to talk to someone new? He had ruined his previous relationship and basically tore his family apart. Why run the risk of going through something like that again? He was more than halfway to the bar when you caught him looking at you.

Fuck, there’s no turning back now.

Frankie groaned at the thought of the plaguing questions he’d receive from Ben and Pope. He thought it best to bring back a round of beers to ease the embarrassment.

“I’ll have four Blue Moons,” He said, his body tense as he took a seat on the red stool.

“You wanna close the tab or leave it open?”

“You can go ahead and close it..thanks.” He said as he shifted in his seat, reaching for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. The bartender placed the beers on the bar and placed the customer's receipt and a pen in front of him. Frankie was about to sign when he noticed something.

Tequila Sunrise………$6.45

His gaze lifted to look for the bartender, “Uh.. this isn’t my-”

“I think he mixed up our receipts” a kind voice sweetly interrupted.

“I couldn’t toss back four bottles in one sitting if I tried” You shrugged, and smiled at the handsome stranger, “Do you mind?”

“Not at all” he motioned to the seat next to him.

“Rough night, I take it?”

“Oh uh…nah these aren’t all for me but if I was having a rough night, this would be the part where it starts to get better” he flashed you a half smile before taking a sip of his beer. That was the moment when you really noticed his features. The hook of his nose, how his locks curled and peaked under his hat, the small target tattoo on the hand that held his beer.

God, he’s gorgeous.

“So.. tequila, huh,” he said as he handed you your receipts.

“Yeah... I uh, needed something a bit stronger after my friend’s shout-out. It was sweet, but If I’m being honest don’t like being the center of attention.”

“I get that. Well..welcome back. I’m Frankie by the way” he stretched out his hand and shook yours. Your heartbeat reacted to the way his touch felt on your skin.

You both watched the following performances, giggling as you created silly backstories for each person and why they selected the song they were belting out on stage. This was nice, definitely a breath of fresh air in comparison to the handful of dates you had recently been on- your attempt at getting “back out there”. This wasn’t even a date but you couldn’t help but notice how effortless and natural it felt. You talked about your childhood and your favorite beaches to visit. How you used to love stargazing while listening to the sound of the crashing waves, it was your favorite thing to do especially on a bad day. Frankie shared what brought him to Florida, how he enlisted with his best friend, and what prompted him to begin his career as a pilot. His eyes lit up when he talked about flying, his passion and pride on full display. The beers he had ordered stood forgotten, highlighting the time that had passed.

“Oh wow, I uh.. should get back to my group, and by the looks of it your friends might be needing their beers chilled” you chuckled “But it was really nice talking to you, Frankie,” You said hopping off the barstool.

“I had a great time talking to you too, Hermosa. I hope you have a great rest of your night” His deep chocolate-brown eyes scanned yours. “You too,” You said as you smiled and turned, ready to head back to your group.

“Wait!” he reached out, his fingers gently curling around your wrist, “I didn’t get your name”. The pen the bartender left out came in handy as you reached for it with one hand and held his with the other. Frankie couldn’t help but stare as you bit your lip while you wrote down your name and number on his palm, carefully drawing a small heart next to your name.

“Call me sometime.”

“Aaand he’s back! Pope and I thought we were gonna have to go over there and remind you that tonight was for the boys!” Ben teased as Frankie shook his head as he handed the beers to the men.

“So, how’d it go?” Santi prodded.

“She’s great, we hit it off..”

“You get her number or is my beer dangerously close to being lukewarm for nothin’?” Will chided with a sly grin.

“Awe shit..” Frankie’s brows furrowed at the sight of ink smeared on his palm, “the fuckin beers” His eyes desperately searched the venue, but you were nowhere in sight.

“The hell happened Fish…OH, damn that sucks.” Ben rubbed the back of his neck “Well.. uh..did ya at least get her name?”

Frankie dragged his hand against his face cursing himself for not being more careful.

Pope padded him on the back “Well who knows.. if it’s fate” he shrugged with a half smile, “you’ll see her again”.

You had spent part of your weekend awaiting a text or a call from Frankie. To your dismay, the only notifications causing your screen to glow were Instagram notifications, promotion e-mails, and texts from Michele, who had been eagerly awaiting an update on your situation. By the time Monday rolled around you had given up hope that the brown-eyed pilot you had met that weekend had any interest. You chalked up your connection to him being overly friendly. It wasn’t like he really initiated. Maybe he wouldn’t have talked to you at all had it not been for the bartender’s mistake. You shrugged and shook it off, there wasn’t much you could do about it.

Monday morning’s alarm came a lot faster than you had hoped. You put on your scrubs and grabbed a piece of toast and a cup of coffee before rushing out the door. You were determined to have a great morning. Listened to your upbeat playlist in the car singing your little heart all the way to work.

You made your way down the clinic hall, excited to meet your first patient of the day. Opening the door to see a sweet little curly-haired girl swaying her legs in her seat.

“Cam- Oof!” Little Cami crashed into you as her little arms wrapped around your legs, “Hello to you too Cami!” you smiled at her as you heard footsteps approaching.

“Hermosa?” Your eyes went wide at the sound of the voice, his voice.

Chapter 2

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