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wheresarizona · 2 months

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Learning to Live Part 30

summary: Sunday—it’s Javier’s 40th birthday, and you have some sexy surprises planned for when you get home from dinner. Monday—you’re back at work after your lovely vacation, and it’s time to bite the bullet and tell your disapproving family that you’re getting married. You can probably guess how well that goes over…

rating: E (18+! A good chunk of this is about birthday sex. No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (around ten years), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, oral sex (m & f receiving), 69, face sitting, butt plugs (f), anal play (f receiving), double penetration, breeding kink, lingerie, nude photos, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, spit mention, waxing poetic about Javier’s dick, getting KO’d from orgasms, banter, domestic fluff, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, death of a parent/grief, dysfunctional family, arguing, period typical sexism, spoiling Javier for his birthday, nurse stories (humorous), Javier being the little spoon, discussion about eating habits, Javier making you post-sex food, a special guest makes an appearance)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (reader is a nurse with no physical descriptions)

word count: 16.8k (Why am I like this?)

a/n: This chapter was supposed to be solely about birthday sex, but something happened, I’m not sure what, and somehow there’s a lot of plot in it now? I apologize. I am at the mercy of the characters. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul, for betaing! You’re incredible.

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

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There was a game Javier liked to play when you went out to eat with people and were seated next to one another. It was kind of like Chicken, where two cars drive toward each other, and one of them has to swerve, or else they’ll crash—basically, it was a test to see how ballsy you were and how much of a risk you were willing to take to come out as the victor. In Javi’s version, it involved his hand under the table on your knee that would slowly creep up your thigh and under your dress, if you were wearing one, or along your pant-covered leg to try and make it to his goal nestled between your thighs—it was up to you to determine how far he’d get. Were you going to chicken out and stop his movements? Or were you going to be ballsy and let him get to the finish line? Honestly, it depended on how you were feeling and who you were with because it was really distracting when he rubbed your pussy in the middle of trying to have a conversation with someone. Still, the game was a lot of fun, and sometimes you liked to mess with him by letting him get almost all the way to his prize before you denied him, just to keep him on his toes.

Another thing was that there wasn’t always one round. Sometimes, he’d wait a bit and try his luck, again and again, to see how many attempts it’d take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of your Tootsie Pop—unless you told him to stop, then his hand would make itself at home, holding your thigh.

Tonight was Javi's 40th birthday, and you'd gone out to dinner with his father. Usually, on such a special day—and the fact you were always horny for him—you'd allow his palm to reach its destination. This evening, however, you had stopped all of his attempts and wouldn't let him get very far since you didn't want to ruin the surprise that was hiding under your dress—and your fiancé was very, very curious about what your undergarment situation was, getting to the point you kept his hand still between your closed thighs until it was time to leave.

The meal and catching up with Chucho had been wonderful—hanging out with your soon-to-be father-in-law was always a great time.

On the morning that you called the older man to tell him about your engagement, you laughed when he said he'd have something put in writing about his promises that he'd love you both living with him and wouldn't mind if there was a newborn there, too. You were well aware of his eagerness to have grandchildren and bet Javi twenty dollars his dad was going to show up today with legal documents on the matter, and you'd been right—he had a large manila envelope with an agreement he had his lawyer put together inside for you. Once dinner was done, you found out that wasn't all he brought; Chucho presented Javi with a Tupperware container filled with a big slice of tres leches cake his tía María made from his mother’s recipe. As he ate, his dad quietly serenaded him with a song called “Las Mañanitas,” much to his chagrin, the first part being:

“Estas son las mañanitas, que cantaba el Rey David, (This is the morning song that King David sang), Hoy por ser día de tu santo, te las cantamos a ti, (Because today is your saint’s day, we’re singing it for you), Despierta, mi Javi, despierta, mira que ya amaneció, (Wake up, mi Javi, wake up, look it is already dawn), Ya los pajarillos cantan, la luna ya se metió, (The birds are already singing, and the moon has set).”

There was a promise between the three of you that the restaurant staff wouldn’t be alerted that it was Javier’s birthday in order to avoid the employees bringing attention to him and singing; he didn’t, however, put any restrictions on his father or you singing to him, and Chucho was happily exploiting that loophole while his son grumpily devoured his cake he shared with you.

Javi wasn’t actually annoyed with his dad—he had the Tupperware practically licked clean by the time you were ready to go, and before you left, he gave his dad a big hug and whispered his thanks for having the cake made since it was something his mother always baked for their birthdays.

The big 4-0 was a milestone that usually involved a celebration, but your fiancé had declined his father and three tías offers to throw him a party and told everyone he didn’t want any gifts—he was determined not to make it a big deal, and only desired to have dinner with you and Chucho; the tres leches cake was a wonderful surprise, and definitely appreciated, though.

All of that brings you to where you were currently—sitting beside Javi on the bench seat of his truck as he drove you home. He’d pulled up your dress to bare your knee, resting his hand on it, and you were wondering when he would give his game another go; you knew him and that there was no way he’d be able to resist trying again, now that you were alone.

"Did you enjoy your birthday?" you asked, doing your best to keep your squirming to a minimum as you tried to find a comfortable position.

"Yeah," he answered, glancing at you with a smile. "I loved spending the day with you, seeing my mom—" You stopped by the cemetery on your way to dinner to tell her about your engagement. "—and going to dinner with Pop. Today was nice."

You hugged his arm. "I'm happy you had a good day, even though a certain someone—" Lorraine. "—tried to ruin it. Do you think she'll listen and leave us alone?" There'd been an altercation with her on your walk to the restaurant, and Javi finally had his chance to give her a piece of his mind and threaten her and her family with restraining orders if they didn't stop bothering you.

His eyes were back on the road, a frown replacing his smile.

"Maybe? She's been dead set on making my life difficult since I left her, and I don't know if she'll be able to give up."

"Guess we'll just have to see." A change in subject was needed. "Sooo, do you have any requests for tonight?"

His fingers stroked the inside of your knee.

"What do you mean?"

He started slowly moving his hand along your thigh, your palm resting on his jean-covered leg.

"You know exactly what I mean. It's your birthday, so you get anything you want."

He turned his head your way for a few seconds.

“I thought you had tonight planned.”

"I do." You nodded. "But you're the birthday boy, and I wanna make sure to include any specific desires you may have for this evening."

His focus went to what was in front of him, his fingers skating up your inner thigh and under your dress.

"Hmmm," he hummed. "I know you don't want to spoil tonight, but will I get to eat your pussy?"

"If you want to, sure."

"Are you gonna suck my dick?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Will I get to come inside you?"

There was a pause for a moment as you figured out how to respond. "...yes?"

He looked over at you with a curious expression. "That's... interesting. With how you answered, I'll be coming inside you, but not where I imagined…"

You frowned. "Javier, it is your birthday, and I won't have you ruining my surprises by you going all Detective Peña on me." To end the sentence, you squeezed your thighs shut to trap his hand and keep it from moving any further.

Your reaction made him pout and turn his attention back to the road.

"Fine," he said. "I won't think about it." He sighed. "I know you're not wearing panties. I won't be ruining any surprises if you let me touch you."

"Sure, but I want you to wait until we get home so you can undress me."

"Okay."

You rubbed his arm with your free hand. "Patience, baby—you're gonna have a great time."

His eyes met yours, and he smiled. "I know, mi amor (my love), and I'm fucking excited." He moved his hand out from between your legs to grab your smaller one on his thigh, pressing your palm against where he was half-hard beneath his jeans.

"You are excited,” you purred, rubbing him over his pants. “Better get you nice and hard before we get home.”

“With what I’m hoping will happen tonight? That won’t be an issue, Cielito.”

Once you arrived at your shared apartment, you hung up the jean jacket you were wearing, setting your purse onto the console table near the front door, Javi emptying his pockets into the large bowl on top of it. Both of you kicked off your shoes, and your fiancé laid his folded sports coat over the back of the couch before he was on you, his lips hungrily colliding with yours in a searing kiss—one of his arms went around you to pull you flush against him, his other hand cradling the back of your head, making you moan when he eagerly licked into your mouth.

His kisses were sweet from the cake, tasting it on his tongue, arousal burning hot in your abdomen. He had your toes curling and skin vibrating, wanting him so bad, and he seemed to want you just as much when he turned and walked you toward your room with your lips fused together.

Anticipation was swelling inside you, butterflies going wild in your tummy at hoping Javi really did enjoy what you had in store for him.

As your feet moved, your hands worked open the buttons on his shirt, rubbing your palms up the warm skin of his torso once it was bared, feeling the soft give of his belly to his muscular chest—moving higher along his neck, cupping his cheeks, then pressing your fingers into his soft hair.

The moment you stepped into your room, he unzipped the back of your dress and moved you a little further inside to have you at the end of your big, king-sized bed. Javi broke the kiss, shrugging off his shirt that fell to the floor, his hungry gaze focusing on your chest—he was careful when he took the red, satiny shoulder straps into his hands, and pulled the dress down and off your arms, revealing your bosom, and letting gravity take the rest of it to the ground, where it pooled around your feet.

“Fuck,” he breathed. Javi was unable to stop himself; it was as if there was some kind of magnetic pull that had his hand reaching to palm your lace-covered breast. His eyes had darkened, the front of his jeans bulging where he was straining against the zipper. "This is what you've been hiding all night?" he asked, his free palm massaging your other tit.

His reaction made you feel good about your choice of lingerie.

The red teddy covered most of your breasts and down your ribs in sheer lace with laces crisscrossing from one side to the other on the front and back to keep the pieces together; the best part about it, and what you knew was Javi’s favorite part, was the fact nothing was covering your crotch or ass—it was put on like a one-piece swimsuit, your legs going through two thin straps, with the rest of the bottom completely bare.

There was a similar teddy you owned in a pretty plum color that covered more of your skin in lace.

"Yes," you answered. "Do you like it?"

His gaze met yours, and he stepped into your space, his big hands going around to grab your bare backside.

He was smirking with his eyebrow raised. "Do I like it?" he rasped. Javi squeezed your ass. "You know I fucking love it, mi amor (my love)." His lips met yours, kissing you quickly before he ended it with a playful nip to your bottom lip, pulling his head back to look at you. "You're so fucking sexy—Christ, I want you so fucking bad."

Your hands slid up his chest to caress his cheeks, smiling at him.

"I have another surprise for you..." you said.

His eyes rounded. "There's more?" he asked.

You booped him on the nose with your finger. "Yep," you answered. "You're getting spoiled tonight."

"You don't need to spoil me."

"Um, yes, I do. It's your special day. Plus, you spoiled me on my birthday by letting me tie you up and edge you—this is me making sure your night is just as wonderful." You poked him over his pec.

He grabbed your hand, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles as he smiled. "Happy fucking birthday to me."

"Yes, now, pants off, mister,” you ordered. “I don't want you coming in them." The sentence was punctuated with a wink.

What you said made him chuckle. "Yes, ma'am."

Stepping back from him, his hands went to the front of his jeans to quickly get them off. His belt clinked as he worked it open, hearing the teeth separate when he undid his zipper, the pants getting shoved down his legs, Javi having to do the awkward dance of lifting each foot to tug them off, along with his socks.

Once he was completely naked, he closed the distance between you, his big palms holding your face when he crushed his mouth to yours, kissing you hard. You snaked your hand down into the tight space your bodies had created to grab his throbbing cock, the skin velvety soft and hot to the touch, making him moan into the kiss. His hips bucked forward in your grip while you slowly pumped him. His hand massaged your breast and tweaked your nipple through the lace, his other palm tracing along your jawbone, the shell of your ear, and down to your neck, he gently held as you kissed, leaving a trail of fire under your skin.

"Let me show you your surprise," you murmured against his lips.

"'Mmkay," he said and didn't stop kissing you.

It was up to you to break away from him, Javi chasing your mouth when you did, making you grin and press your hand to his chest to softly push him back—his eyes were closed, his lips turned up in a smile, looking so unbelievably happy.

"Adorable," you whispered.

His chest was slightly heaving from his heavy breaths, his lips red and shining from saliva.

"Open those pretty brown eyes, babe,” you told him. “It’s time for your surprise." They blinked open, and he grabbed your waist.

"What is it?" he asked, his head dipping to kiss along the column of your throat. You took one of his hands and slid it behind you over your ass to between your cheeks.

His breath caught in his throat, his face popping up to meet your eyes with a look of surprise.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped. “Is that…?”

His reaction made you grin even bigger. “A very cute butt plug? Yes, it is.”

The plug was made out of smooth pink-colored glass with a tapered tip and bulbous body, the slender neck making it easy for your tight muscles to wrap around it and hold it in place, the flared base covering your hole shaped into a daisy flower.

As you said, it was very cute and filled you nicely—any time you moved, it had a tingle dancing up your spine, fueling the arousal sparking in your tummy.

His fingers were mapping out the flower, gliding over the petals, his gaze locking onto yours, seeing his cheeks had a lovely pink tint.

"Does this mean what I think it means…?" he asked with hope gleaming in those big, gorgeous brown eyes of his.

"That you can fuck my ass? Yes." You nodded. "I figured the toy would save us some time stretching me out."

He looked beyond delighted. "I am so fucking hard right now—how long have you been wearing it?"

"Since I excused myself at dinner to use the ladies' room—spoiler, I was in there getting this inside me; I brought lube and everything."

He was smiling. "My dirty fucking girl." His hand, not on your ass, came up to cup your cheek. "You kept adjusting in your seat when you got back, I thought you were horny—it's why I kept trying to touch your pussy—confused the fuck out of me that you wouldn't let me."

"I didn't want you to discover the lingerie or accidentally feel the plug."

"I get that now—can I see it?"

"Of course." You kissed him quickly and took a few steps to crawl up onto the bed, your hands and knees sinking into the mattress as you got onto all fours to present your ass to him. Seconds later, his warm palms were grabbing your asscheeks, spreading them.

You looked over your shoulder, and his eyes were glued to your backside.

"It’s so fucking pretty," he mused, rubbing a thumb over the base. “Can I take a picture?”

“Need it for your spank bank collection?”

In his bedside table was a stack of your nude Polaroids he liked to jack off to when the need very rarely arose.

His gaze lifted to yours with a smile. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then go for it.”

He walked away from you to grab the Polaroid camera off his dresser, returning seconds later. One of his hands pushed aside a plump cheek to give him a better visual.

“I fucking love this,” he murmured. The camera flashed, then whirred as it ejected the photo, Javi setting both out of the way on the bed. He was back behind you, staring at what he’d just photographed. “Am I allowed to touch it?” he asked.

"It's your birthday—you get to do whatever the fuck you want to me; mi cuerpo es tu cuerpo (my body is your body)."

He looked you in the eyes.

"I love you so much. I don't know how I got so fucking lucky—you're perfect."

"You're perfect."

His thumb circled around the edges of the glass flower, making you moan when he experimented by pulling it out a little and pushing it back in, loving the stretch—he did it again and again, and, again, Javi leaning his head down to spit on your pussy, the fingers of his other hand spreading it through your slit to rub your clit.

There was no way to stop your gasping moans as the toy was fucking in and out of your tight hole at the same time his hand strummed your bundle of sensitive nerves like a virtuoso—the sensations had your eyes rolling back in your head, the muscles in your abdomen starting to tighten as he built you up, higher and higher.

You had to face forward, your arms giving out, and crossing in front of you to rest your head on them—this was going to end quickly with how fucking good it felt, and you weren’t surprised when your orgasm hit, pleasure washing over you with a loud cry of his name.

Your breaths were ragged, sweat beginning to form on your skin.

“My good girl,” Javi purred. Both of his hands suddenly stopped, and a palm smacked the side of your ass, the sharp sting making you gasp.

"I need to eat your pussy," his voice was deeper and huskier.

Your entire body flattened onto the bed, and you turned on your side to look at him. The words came out hoarse, "How do you want me?"

"We can do anything I want...?" he asked. "Is there, uh, anything you're not in the mood for?"

Your eyebrow lifted. "Aside from my regular things I'm not into, nope—I'm down for whatever you want. What do you have in mind?"

He smirked. "You sitting on my face?"

You smiled. "Of course, you'd wanna drown in my pussy on your birthday."

"Yeah, and, uh—" He scratched at the back of his neck. "—would you wanna suck me off while I did it...?"

With how much you guys fucked, you were pretty sure Javi had put you in every position imaginable, but this request was new. Sitting on his face was something you’d done many times, but adding in having you blow him at the same time had your cunt clenching hard around nothing.

"Um, yes," you answered, nodding your head. "That is definitely something I want to do. Get your cute little ass on this bed and get comfy." You patted the bedding beside you. "I wanna take that perfect mustache for a ride."

Javi chuckled as he got onto the mattress and moved up it to flop over on his back, resting his head on a pillow he fluffed to get cozy. His hard dick was lying against his belly, the tip glossy with precum and dripping into the happy trail of hair on his stomach.

It took him a second to get settled before he tapped his chest, his eyes heavy-lidded and crookedly smiling.

“Get up here, baby—this mustache isn’t gonna ride itself.”

You snorted and started to crawl his way.

"Dork," you said.

"One you love."

"That I do.”

When you got to his side, you swung yourself around to face his feet, getting your leg over his torso to straddle him. Javi gripped your thighs and pulled you back to have your wet pussy hovering over his face, two of his fingers spreading open the lips of your sex.

"So fucking pretty," he murmured. He inhaled deeply. "You smell so good, too."

His cock was in front of you, and you held yourself up with one arm to wrap the fingers of your other hand around his length.

"In case I haven't said it lately," you started, languidly stroking him, "you literally have the prettiest dick I've ever seen.”

It was true.

He did have the prettiest dick you've ever laid your eyes on—at full mast, he was just shy of eight inches, cut, not too thin, but not too girthy, either; it was just the right size that when he was inside you, there was a nice stretch and perfect fullness. On the underside of his shaft, two throbbing veins were crawling up the sides and another along the top you liked to trace with your tongue; licking around the velvety soft ridge at the tip and over his frenulum was a surefire way to drive him crazy and get him to make absolutely delicious noises, and when he was coming, you could feel him get bigger and jerk in your mouth, hand, or cunt. If you were looking, you could see his balls draw up and his cock pulse as he unloaded spurts and spurts of his come.

It was truly a work of art.

“And being in a medical profession,” you continued, “I’ve seen a lot of dicks—95% I wish I hadn't seen."

He snorted. "Thank you—you have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot of pussy."

"The prettiest pussy?" You didn't mean to sound so surprised. "Really?"

"Oh yeah, the prettiest and the fucking tastiest."

It was evident Javi was done with the conversation by how he tugged your hips down onto his face and began feasting—which was an apt descriptor for how he eagerly dove in and the groans he made that sounded like he was eating the best meal of his entire life.

He licked through your wetness and over the lips of your cunt to get every last drop of your arousal he could find on his tongue; it felt so amazing you forgot for a minute you were supposed to be sucking him off. Gripping him at the base, you took him into your mouth, your head bobbing as you sucked down more and more of him until he was hitting the back of your throat.

His lips wrapped around your perky little clit, and when he sucked, it was like having lightning shock through you from the pleasure, your loud moan muffled by his cock in your mouth—it was hard to concentrate, and you put what little attention you had on the tip of him, licking along the sensitive ridge, pumping the rest of his spit-slick shaft with your palm that twitched, and loving how it made Javi whine.

He tasted salty from the steady leak of precum and clean, the scent of his skin smelling like the body wash he used in the shower. The lingering note coming through was Eucalyptus—woodsy, fresh, minty.

It was embarrassing that you were struggling to give him a basic blow job, doing your best not to get overwhelmed by his determined mouth trying to take you apart piece by piece as he licked, sucked, and tongue fucked you with abandon.

Fire was burning in your tummy and getting hotter with every second that passed. His dick was sliding along your palate to kiss the back of your throat, and you almost choked when he pulled and pushed on the toy in your ass.

It was skating the line of too much, how the plug was moving a little out to stretch your hole and being shoved back in to fill you again—thinking was hard, and you had to come off of him, unable to keep from moaning or stop your limbs from trembling.

“Oh, god,” you whined. “Oh, fuck.”

With how intense it felt, there was no way you could focus on sucking him off. What you could do was continue stroking his length, your hand gliding easily up and down while you were rocketing toward your end from him fucking you with the toy and sucking your clit. Your hips were moving of their own accord, rocking back to help fuck yourself and grind against his mouth.

Sixty-nining sounded fun in theory. The problem you ran into was your fiancé was relentless in wanting to make you come as hard as humanly possible, which made it practically impossible for you to do your part—it was too distracting. The pleasure had consumed all of your thoughts, and you could barely function.

The coil was winding inside you, getting tighter and tighter until it snapped, and euphoria was exploding from your center with a cry of his name, feeling your orgasm throughout your entire body from the tips of your fingers to your toes. Immediately, he shoved his tongue inside your fluttering hole to lick up your release, refusing to let a single drop of your come go to waste, and you could feel and hear his moans as you experienced the aftershocks of your climax.

With how hard you came, your hand paused on him, your upper body dropping, resting your head on his thigh to catch your breath and ride out your high.

Javi stopped behind you, lifting you from his face and inhaling deeply, taking big gasps of air.

"You okay?" his voice was rough.

"Mhmm," you hummed, speaking seeming too hard.

"You need a minute?"

"Mhmm."

"Let go of my dick."

You did as he asked and squeaked in surprise when he pushed you over to fall to the bed on your side.

"Sorry," he said. The mattress jostled, and pained grunts sounded from him, finding yourself seconds later getting wrapped up in his arms with your head on his chest.

“Did it feel good?” he asked and kissed your hair.

“Mhmm.”

“You come so quick with stuff in your ass.”

You smiled, finally finding your words. “You also come quick with stuff in your ass.”

“Yeah, I do—do you want me to fuck you while you’re wearing it?”

“Do you want to fuck me while I’m wearing it?”

“I wanna see how tight it makes you.”

“Uh-huh, and you wanna come in my pussy because you are on a mission to knock me up, and you would hate missing a chance.”

“That’s not all—it helps me last when I fuck your ass.”

“That’s true. It’s basically a medicinal cream pie. You know, earlier this year, they came out with a pill to help men keep it up, and we had a guy come into the ER who’d taken one—which, just so you’re aware,” you sidetracked, “if you have an erection lasting more than four hours, you need to seek medical help, and this dude was at almost six hours with a raging boner.”

He was frowning. “Did it go down on its own…?”

“Nope. A doctor had to use a syringe to remove some of the blood.”

"Jesus Christ, just thinking about that makes my dick hurt."

"Sorry." You rubbed your hand over his pec. "Let's talk about something else."

"Where'd you get the toy?"

A reasonable question, seeing as the closest sex shop was hours away in the big city.

"Okay, remember last month when you, me, Robyn, and Seb—" Sebastián, or Seb, was Robyn's boyfriend and Javi's cousin. "—spent that weekend in San Antonio, and you guys let us have our girls-only spa day while you and Seb went to see that movie about corrupt NSA agents that annoyed the fuck out of you because they got a lot of the government shit wrong, which you explained in excruciating detail to Seb at a bar afterward? Well, after the spa, she took me to a sex shop, and we bought some stuff."

"If you’re gonna make a movie about a government agency, you should do the fucking research,” he grumbled. His tone changed to intrigue, “What else did you buy…?"

"Some flavored lube and fluffy handcuffs. I was super picky about the kind of plug I wanted because you’d be surprised how many people come into the hospital with things stuck in their asses.” A memory made you snort. “Oh my god, so one time, this man came in with probably twenty or so of those bigger marbles? You know, the ones that are about double the size of a regular one? Lodged up his butt. When he was asked how they got stuck in there, he told everyone he was at home, standing on a step ladder, cleaning the cobwebs from the ceiling when he accidentally fell off and onto a container of them—this man stood by his story that instead of the marbles scattering everywhere when he fell on them, they magically made their way inside him.”

“What the fuck?” Javi said in disbelief. “He really thought people would believe he was cleaning without pants on, fell, and marbles just went up his ass? That makes zero fucking sense.”

“People come up with the stupidest lies when they’re embarrassed.”

“Like when you told the hotel staff we were checking out early because my nephew was viciously attacked by a duck?”

“You’re a jerk.” You pinched his nipple, making him flinch and laugh. “You’re just never going to let me live that down, huh?”

He grabbed your hand to kiss your palm. “No—you’re a terrible liar.”

“Rude.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” He kissed each of your fingers. “Did you buy anything else at the shop?”

“No, because I wanna go there with you to pick out things we’d enjoy."

He perked up, immediately responding, "We could go next weekend?"

"Shopping the weekend before Christmas? That would be a special kind of hell. Sorry, babe, we'll have to wait till next month." You got your hand free of him and patted his chest.

He let out a long, disappointed sigh. "Fine."

Things needed to get back to being horny, so you threw your leg over his waist and moved to sit on top of him with your knees bracketing his hips. His cock was wet from saliva and hard beneath you, and you leaned forward to kiss him, holding yourself up with your arms on either side of his head—this wasn't a peck on the lips or something chaste; this was a kiss that told him you wanted him. The kind of kiss that had his big hands grabbing onto your behind and groaning into your mouth. A kiss where things quickly heated up, and he was helping you grind your wet cunt over his dick, coating it in your slick. A kiss that turned into desperation for him to be inside you.

“Mmm, need lube,” you said into his lips. Sitting up, you leaned to get under the large, folded, black towel near the edge of the bed to grab the small bottle. You popped the cap, pouring a little bit into your palm before closing it and letting it fall onto the mattress beside you.

“With how huge your dick is,” you started as you lifted your hips up. “There’s no way in hell you’re gonna fit without some help.” Javi’s mouth fell open when you grabbed his cock under you, getting it nice and slick with the strokes of your hand.

His throat bobbed, swallowing. “Good call.” With how his eyes widened for a split second, you knew an idea had come to him. He grabbed your thighs. “Wait,” he said.

Your hand paused. “What’s up?”

“I wanna change positions.”

That had your eyebrows lifting in interest. “Oh?”

He was crookedly smiling. “Hands and knees, baby,” he replied, with a light slap to your hip.

“Oh, hell yeah.” You’d finished lubing him up and quickly moved onto the bed next to him, getting into the position he requested, your hands and slightly spread knees sinking into the mattress. Javi groaned when he flipped over and rose up onto his knees, the bedsprings complaining as he shuffled around to get behind you.

The smartest decision you made when you moved in together was upgrading to a king-sized bed—there was so much room for sexy activities.

Bending forward, he reached to grab the camera and set it in a place where it was easily accessible but not in the way.

He slid his dick through your drenched folds, notching himself at your entrance, his other hand holding your hip.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said. “Okay?”

Looking over your shoulder, you met his eyes that were more black than brown. “Yes,” you answered.

He smiled. “Good girl—ready?”

“Yes, Papí.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes closing for a moment. He looked at you again. “Me vas a matar (You’re going to kill me).”

“If by kill, you mean la petite mort, then yeah, handsome, I’m gonna make you come so hard.” You winked. “Now, stick it in.” You pressed back the tiniest bit to have the tip of him starting to enter you.

“And you call me bossy when I’m horny,” he mumbled.

There wasn’t a chance to respond since moans sounded from the both of you as he slowly started sinking into you, taking his time to let your body adjust to being stuffed with each glorious inch of him until he was buried all the way to the root inside of you.

Full didn’t accurately describe how you felt with the plug in your ass pressing against his thick cock—you were beyond full. You honestly couldn’t believe he was able to fit; you couldn’t believe you were able to take him. It was so overwhelming, it had you whimpering, squeezing your eyes shut.

Javi’s voice came out strained, “Are you okay?”

There was no way you could hold yourself up on your arms with it requiring too much concentration, so you let your upper body fall to the bed, cradling your head with your limbs.

“Yes,” the word was said on a breath.

All of the nerves in your body were aflame, feeling like static was thrumming under your skin. You were okay—you just needed a minute to get used to having both of your holes filled at the same time.

“Okay, baby.” He rubbed a comforting hand along the line of your spine. “Tell me when you want me to move.”

He picked up the Polaroid camera.

“Definitely gonna jerk off to this,” he murmured, and you heard the camera snap the picture and the gears whir to spit it out—he’d taken a photo of himself inside of you while you wore the plug.

The camera and picture were set aside.

There was a question you couldn’t stop yourself from asking. “Am I tighter?”

He huffed out a breath. “Feels like you’re choking my dick with that toy in your ass—so, yeah, you’re tighter. You’ll probably cut off the circulation when I make you come, and you squeeze around me.”

Even though it was a struggle to think of anything other than the fullness, he made you worry. “Are you uncomfortable?” you asked. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable…”

“Mi amor.” He bent over your back to kiss the hair behind your ear, speaking softly, “I’m okay—I like how it feels. I’m really fucking worried I’m gonna come too fast.”

That made you feel better.

After an ample amount of time had passed for you to get used to everything, you said, “Move.”

He nipped at the shell of your ear, grunting as he straightened. He gripped your asscheeks and slowly dragged his cock halfway out of your sopping cunt before thrusting back in, stealing your breath. His pace started out languid to allow you to adapt to the feeling of him moving inside you, rough sounds rumbling from his chest, his fingers tightening on your flesh.

The plug made it easier for him to rub against all those spots that made fireworks dance behind your eyelids. Sweat glistened on your skin, the pleasure making you dizzy, and even though it had only just begun, you were already on the cusp of falling over the edge—intense was an understatement for how you felt. The heat was growing deep inside you, deeper than it usually did, the muscles in your tummy constricting.

His hips were slowly fucking into you, Javi grunting, and it was like nothing you had felt before—feeling so full and falling apart with every thrust.

“Oh, god, Javi,” you whined. “I’m gonna come. You’re gonna make me come.”

With how he spoke through clenched teeth, you knew he was fighting for his life not to finish so soon, “Come for me, baby.” He smacked your ass, the pleasurable sting making you clench and his rhythm stutter. “Shit,” he gasped. “You’re so fucking tight—it feels so good.”

It was wet and sticky where you were joined, Javi coaxing wave after wave of arousal from your pussy that soaked his cock and dripped down to coat his balls—his thrusts were loud, squelching sounding every time he pushed in. Moans were escaping your lips while deeper noises ripped from his chest.

Javier wasn’t a tiny guy—just his cock made you feel full, and now you had it pressing into your sensitive walls against a rigid toy that turned up the sense of fullness to a ten and felt so fucking incredible that when he sped up his strokes, you were done for; pleasure erupted from deep in your depths that had your mouth opening in a silent scream and every muscle in your body pulling taut, hearing the man behind you let out a strangled groan as he suddenly stopped moving.

No thoughts could form in your brain, your chest rising and falling hard, your pussy pulsing as you rode out the high. Your ears rang, and you were too out of it to make out what Javi was saying, him sounding like the adults in a Peanuts film; a muted trombone going, ”Wah wah wah.”

A body pressed against your back, feeling hot breaths on your ear.

“Cielito?” he whispered.

“Mhmm?” you hummed.

“You okay, mi amor?”

“Mhmm,” you answered and gave him a thumbs up.

“Do you want me to keep going?”

The words slurred from your mouth, “Yes, please. I want you to come.”

“Okay. If it gets to be too much, tell me.” He kissed your hair, a pained sound leaving him as he moved up on his knees again.

Each time you’d done anal in the past, he’d made you come so many times you ended up passing out afterward. This time, though, the orgasms had been much stronger, and it was already hard to keep your eyes open—there was a chance if you had another, it was going to put you to sleep, and you knew Javi wouldn’t care, but you felt bad about possibly needing a little nap before he had a chance to fuck your ass.

“Javi?” you said.

“Yes, baby?” His palms slid along your sides from your waist to just below your ribs.

“I’m sorry if I fall asleep…”

He sounded confused. “Why are you apologizing for that…?”

“Because I know you’re super excited my ass is up for grabs tonight, and I feel bad I might have to make you wait while I take a little snooze.”

“Cielito, mi amor, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry, baby. I’m gonna tell you something that might surprise you.”

“What’s that?”

“Getting to fuck your pussy like this is better than fucking your ass.”

That surprised you so much that your eyes popped open, and you almost couldn’t believe him, except you knew he wasn’t lying since he was always truthful with you. Your knees were still under you with your butt up in the air, and Javi nestled all of the way inside you, your chest pressed to the mattress. You twisted your upper body to look back at him.

His forehead was shiny with sweat, his hair sticking wetly to it, a beautiful flush rising from his chest up to his cheeks, his darkened eyes meeting yours.

“Are you serious?” you asked.

His eyebrow arched. “Yeah? Why would I lie? Think about it—the plug makes your pussy so fucking tight, and I get to come in it.” He put it into plainer terms, “You’re tighter than hell, and I could knock you up.”

“Oh, you’re having the best time.”

He smiled. “I’m having the best fucking time.”

“You like the plug?”

“I love the plug. Do you like it?”

“Yeah, makes me come harder.”

“Then stop feeling bad.” He slapped your ass, and it made you tense, his mouth going slack and eyes closing at you clenching around his dick. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, his throat worked as he swallowed hard. “It’s okay if you pass out,” he said. “I might pass out, too.”

He pulled himself almost all of the way out of your cunt, and pushed back in, the fullness making your head spin and pleasure simmer in your belly. He was definitely going to get you off again, and you no longer worried about what would happen when you did.

He was going to come, and it'd only been—he looked over at the red numbers of the alarm clock on the bedside table—eight fucking minutes since he first put his dick inside her, or more accurately, worked his dick inside her.

Javier knew it was going to be a tight fit, but what he hadn't expected was it feeling like when he pressed into her ass: the ring of muscle squeezing him hard as he fed himself into her. With the addition of the plug, there was the same tightness, yet it wasn't only at the opening; it extended further into her, massaging his cock with her hot, tight, velvety walls. He was balancing on a razor's edge to not blow his load, and her coming didn't help with how it made her pussy strangle his dick to the point it was toeing the line of being painful.

He was in heaven.

And when he made her come again, he knew she was going to take him with her.

He was rock hard, his heart thudding rapidly in his chest, and skin coated in a thin layer of sweat—Javier was wound up so tight, a ball of tension had formed in his gut that was threatening to burst; she said the toy made her come harder, and it looked like it was going to be the same for him.

His fingers dug into the soft skin on her hips, sliding himself in and out of her wet heat and having to take a big, calming breath, slowly letting it out to get himself under control and focus on not finishing so quickly.

Shifting his gaze down, he could see his cock covered in her juices, glimmering under the lights of the room before sheathing it back inside of her, and the pretty, pink glass flower covering her asshole. He was so sensitive from being close to losing it, the pressure from the toy's solid body and the warmth of her were driving him crazy and making him throb.

He increased the speed of his movements, gritting his teeth, her sounds spurring him on. He wanted to make her come once more, but he didn't have much time with the pleasure welling up in him and growing with every passing second.

His hand gripped her asscheek, his strokes not waning as the fingers of his other hand got ahold of the plug's flared base, pulling on it to stretch her hole until only the tip remained, and slipping it back in, doing that over and over again, and out of sync to his own thrusts.

The way she loudly moaned his name and stretched her arms out in front of her to clutch the bedding with her cheek to the mattress had him twitching inside of her, electricity shocking through his body. Her pussy was pulsating around him, her arousal seeping down his shaft to catch on his sack, and he knew she was close.

"You gonna give me one more, Cielito?" he grunted, continuing to fuck her with his dick and the toy. "Does it feel good getting both of your holes fucked?"

"Yes," she gasped. "Oh my fucking god, it feels so good, Javi." Her hands clenched the sheets, her body shaking. "You’re fucking me so good—marry me; put a baby in me." His rhythm faltered for a second at the stab of pleasure in his belly, and he groaned.

The muscles in his groin started contracting, his orgasm imminent, and he tried to hold it off. His hips moved faster, beads of perspiration dripping down his face and the small of his back.

"I will," he panted. "I'll marry you; I'll fuck a baby into you. I'll do anything you ask me to." His eyes were cinched tight, and he was so lost in her that his thoughts were flowing freely from his mouth. "Dime cuándo, y te haré mi esposa (Tell me when, and I'll make you my wife). En cualquier momento, soy tuyo (Any time, I'm yours). Siempre seré tuyo (I'll always be yours). Puedes tener mi apellido (You can have my last name). Seguiré intentándolo hasta que estés embarazada con nuestro bebé (I'll keep trying until you're pregnant with our baby). Serás la madre de mis hijos (You will be the mother of my children). I can't fucking wait—come for me," he ordered. "Give me one more, and my come is yours. I'll pump you full of it. I'll put a baby in you. Come for me," he all but begged.

That was it.

She gasped his name, her body going stiff, and cunt spasming, wringing out his own orgasm—his hips went flush to her ass, burying himself as deep as possible in her depths, the tightly wound ball in his belly snapping hard enough, he fell forward, blanketing her back. The sounds he made were guttural as pleasure seared through his entire being, his cock pulsing and pumping so many spurts of his come he thought it might never end.

His brain went blissfully blank, his body completely lax, his soul possibly leaving him for some seconds since everything went dark, and he couldn't think of a single thought.

When he came to, he was bone tired and on the verge of falling asleep. Thankfully, he had the presence of mind to bring her with him as he moved to lie on his side, her limbs trembling, and he knew she was sleeping when there was no reaction to him removing the toy from inside her; it was tossed onto the bed near them, and then he tugged on the duvet behind him to pull it over their bodies and hugged her close with one arm, pressing his nose into her hair to breathe in her comforting scent, the ring on the hand he was holding causing him to pass out while happily thinking about how pretty soon she’d be his wife.

Time passed as they slumbered, minutes turning into hours. They shifted in their sleep and he woke when the warmth of her front pressed along the line of his spine disappeared, the springs in the mattress softly squeaking as she moved to get off it with a whispered, "Sorry." He heard her walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

He threw the blanket off of him and got out of bed, not caring at all that he was naked as his bare feet took him to the kitchen, where he got two large cups of cold water.

When Cielito came back into the bedroom, she found him standing by the bed chugging one of the glasses, and she joined him to drink her own. He finished before her, setting his empty cup on the nearby bedside table and taking some steps to end up behind her, wrapping his arms around her lingerie-covered middle. His lips met the side of her neck, kissing up it to nibble on her ear.

She hummed in appreciation, resting her free hand on one of his arms. She swallowed her drink of water. "Did you have a good time, baby?" she asked.

He spoke softly in her ear, "Yes."

Her fingers slid along his arm.

"Good. Are you up for another round, or do you wanna shower, and we can cuddle on the couch and watch something?"

Truth be told, he was exhausted from how eventful the last four days had been, and he didn't think he had the energy to go again—he was drained, and his dick was starting to ache from using it so much in Miami.

"Shower and couch," he answered, kissing a spot behind her ear. Her hand came up to press her fingers into his hair, and it made him shiver.

"Sounds good. Let me finish my water, and then we can go get clean."

"Thank you for today." He was peppering kisses along her shoulder now.

"You're welcome, babe. I'm happy you enjoyed it."

"I loved it."

"I love you."

"I know. I love you, too—I love you so fucking much."

"Same."

Forty-five minutes later, they were clean and changed—Javier was wearing his grey sweatpants, and his future wife was in a faded, thinned, oversized purple t-shirt and her underwear. She was sitting on the kitchen counter beside him eating a grilled cheese while he made his own sandwich on the stove.

At dinner, he noticed she didn’t eat much, and when he quietly asked if she was feeling okay, she told him she was fine and just not very hungry, which turned out to be a dirty fucking lie with how her stomach loudly grumbled on their way to take a shower. So, the first thing he did after they were dressed was feed her; she tried to fight him that it was his birthday and she should be cooking for him, and he responded by telling her it was his birthday and he wanted to make her something to eat. She agreed to grilled cheese sandwiches, and he had to sit her ass on the counter and tell her not to move in order to keep her from trying to help him.

“This is the best grilled cheese I have ever had in my entire life,” she said around the food in her mouth.

He huffed out a breath, flipping the sandwich in the pan with a black plastic spatula. “You’re only saying that because you’re fucking starving,” he replied.

She swallowed. “Lies—it’s the world’s best. You could win awards for how good this is.” Half of her sandwich was already eaten, and she took another bite.

Javier set the plastic utensil onto the counter on his other side and stepped to have himself standing between her legs. He rubbed his palms up her bare thighs, kissing her forehead. “I’m glad you like the sandwich, Cielito,” he said, looking at her. “Do you want me to make you another?”

She was chewing and shook her head, swallowing. “No, thank you. One is enough.”

“I can cut up some fruit? We got enough today at the grocery store for me to make you a fruit salad?”

Her hand pressed to his cheek, her gaze turning soft, and he leaned into her palm. “I’m okay, Javi,” she said. “This one sandwich is enough.”

He frowned. “You told me you were fine at the restaurant and not very hungry, but that wasn’t true, mi amor. I know it was because of the sex tonight—”

“Birthday sex,” she interrupted. “Birthday sex is special and worth going a little hungry for.” “I disagree with that…” His sandwich was finished, and he moved back to the stove, sliding it directly from the pan and onto a waiting plate next to the spatula.

“What do you mean you disagree with that?” she asked.

He put the pan on one of the cold back burners and switched off the stove, returning to his spot in front of her. His eyes were on hers, smoothing his hands along her thighs and under her shirt to hold her hips. “I mean that we’re trying to have a baby, and I don’t like the idea of you not eating enough for yourself and our child just so we can fuck.”

“Oh.” Her attention went to her lap.

“In the future, eat as much as you need—do something light if you’re really worried.” He lifted her chin with his finger to look at him. “Can you promise me that, Cielito? Can you do that for me so I won’t worry?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Thank you.” He slotted his lips against hers, kissing her tenderly. When they separated, he asked, “Another sandwich or fruit?”

“Fruit, please,” she answered. “Can you do it with Tajín and chamoy like the fruit cart?”

She was talking about the fruit cart on the side of one of the busier streets downtown where you could get freshly cut fruits like mango, jícama, papaya, and watermelon, and they did vasos de frutas (fruit cups) similar to the street vendors in Mexico; cups filled with a variety of cubed fruits and topped with Tajín (a powder made of chile, lime, and salt), and chamoy (a thick sauce made out of pickled fruit like mango, plums, and apricot that was mixed with spicy chiles, and a salty brine—it’s a tasty mixture that was sweet, spicy, salty, and sour).

The combined ingredients created a refreshing snack that perfectly balanced the sweet, tangy, and spicy flavors.

He smiled. “Of course, mi amor.” He gave her a quick peck on the lips before making his way to the fridge to start getting out the fruits.

She hopped off the counter after she finished her sandwich to stand next to him, holding up his grilled cheese for him to take bites of while he chopped the fruit and chatting with him about random things on her mind.

They were sitting on the couch, her legs on his lap, and had just finished their vasos de frutas (fruit cups), which ended up being tazones de frutas (fruit bowls) while they watched the first Jurassic Park movie. His empty bowl was on the coffee table in front of them, his hands busy gliding over her legs and thighs. She leaned forward to set her dish down beside his as Dr. Malcolm discussed the moral implications of the island's scientists only caring about what they could and couldn't do and not if they should. Cielito moved to get up, and his face lifted toward hers.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Her eyes met his. "First, I'm gonna go put the bowls in the sink." She bent to pick up one in each hand and straightened. "Then I need to go grab something."

"What do you need, and I'll get it?" He started to stand, wanting to help so they could get back to cuddling quicker.

"Nope,” she said, and he stopped. "I'll get it. You just sit there and keep looking pretty." She smiled.

He frowned. "Okay."

She left the room, and he couldn't pay attention to what was on the television, instead listening to her rinsing the bowls out in the kitchen sink, followed by her footsteps as she made her way back through the living room, his head turning to watch her on her journey into the bedroom where she disappeared from view.

He wondered what she needed—maybe she wanted to paint her nails and had to choose a color of nail polish. Or she was going to get the stuff for face masks, which was something he enjoyed; his skin hadn't looked this good since he was in his early twenties.

"I'll be out in a minute, babe," she called from the other room. "I need to check the message on the answering machine."

"Take your time," he replied, hoping she didn't.

The fingers of his right hand were tapping absentmindedly on his knee.

His gaze went up to the clock on the wall, seeing it was a little after eleven, his eyes following the big hand as it ticked away each second.

Tick, tick, tick.

A whole minute passed before she returned to him, his eyebrows pulling together at her frowning face.

"Who called?" he asked.

"My mother."

That explained it.

"What did she want?"

"She said she had some exciting news and needed to talk to me about something important."

"Any idea what either could be...?"

A long, drawn-out sigh left her. "Yeah, most likely it's to tell me my brother's wife is pregnant again—they've been trying for months."

She found out they started trying the night he first told her he loved her. His face relaxed, understanding now that she was upset by the possible news.

He rose from the sofa and went to her in three steps, wrapping her in his arms to hold her close. He kissed her cheek and whispered, "It'll be us telling people the same news soon—they just had a head start. Don't let it get you down, okay? Everything is okay. We're okay. We’re happy, and that’s all that fucking matters."

He felt her relax in his hold.

"You're right—they've had more time."

He pulled back to look at her, smiling softly.

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure I can knock you up in the same amount of months. Hell, maybe I'll be so fucking good at it that I’ll get you pregnant with twins."

That made her giggle, and her mouth turned up in his favorite smile.

"You're ridiculous," she said. "It's not a competition."

"It is now—we're gonna beat their time."

She playfully rolled her eyes.

"I love you, you goober." She kissed him, and when she broke away, there was a serious look on her face. "Let's stick to one baby for my first pregnancy, please."

"That's not how it works..." he said slowly. "It's a gamble, Cielito."

"Yes, I know that Javier, but let's not put the idea out into the universe."

"Okay—un bebé (one baby). That's all I'll wish for or whatever the fuck."

"Even though I know you're being a lying liar who lies because you'd be beyond happy if there was more than one baby—“ That was true; he’d love getting two babies for the price of one. “—I appreciate the thought. Now, enough about me. You need to open your birthday present."

His face scrunched in confusion. "Didn't I do that when I took off your clothes…?"

"That was only the sexy birthday present. I also got you an actual present."

He was so worried about her that he hadn’t realized she was holding something. She held up a rectangular gift wrapped in solid, bright red wrapping paper.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said. “Today was perfect.”

“Sure, but as I told you when you were undressing me, you’re getting spoiled tonight. Please open this. I’m nervous about it.”

“Why are you nervous?” he asked, taking it from her.

“Because I put a lot of time into it, and I’m pretty sure you’re going to love it, but there’s a chance it’ll make you sad.”

That had him curious. He stepped away and grabbed her hand to lead her to the couch, pulling her down to sit beside him.

It wasn’t too heavy or light, and when he felt it, it was firm. He thought it might be a book. Tearing open the wrapping paper, he discovered it was actually a maroon-colored leather-bound photo album.

He glanced over at her.

“We have our photo album of us we put together. What’s this one?”

He asked the question even though he had an idea of what it could be.

She gave him a reassuring smile. “Open it, and you’ll see.”

He did as he was instructed, and his breath caught in his throat—the first picture was of him as a newborn being held by his mother in a hospital bed. His birth hadn’t been the easiest, and the exhaustion was clear on her face, yet she was grinning. The next photo was in the same spot, but this time, she was gazing at him in her arms with a look that showed she was in love and unbelievably happy. His eyes started watering, turning to the next page to find more pictures of newborn him and his mom now taken at home. All the pages after that featured the same thing: it was always just him and his mom. Some of the photos he’d seen in other albums his father had, there were many, though, that this was the first time he’d come across them.

He lost count of how many were of them in the kitchen, seeing them both age through the years and him doing more to help her as he grew.

There was one where he was maybe three, standing on a dining room chair with his mother beside him as he used a tortilladora (tortilla press) on the table to flatten tortillas, one perfectly done on the plate. His face was turned up toward her with a toothy grin, and she was gazing upon him fondly and clearly proud—it was the first time he had made a tortilla.

He was maybe six in another, using a stool in order to reach the stove with her watching from behind him as he stirred a giant pot he knew had the sauce for her tamales—it was the first time she walked him step by step on how to make them, and it reminded him of something she said that day: “Un día, tu esposa hará esta receta y necesitas poder ayudarla, así que presta atención, Javiercito (One day, your wife will make this recipe and you need to be able to help her, so pay attention, Javier).” And she was right. He had used what she taught him to help his wif-fiancée make her tamales. He even showed Cielito some of the techniques his mother used to make the process easier.

His father had captured a lot of wonderful moments, including one when he had to be about ten with how he’d shot up in height and was almost as tall as his mother—they had matching grins and were mid-dance in the kitchen, her left hand held in his right and their arms around each other’s backs.

So many memories came back to him of times they spent together, and there was even a picture of the last time they made a tres leches cake for his birthday, both laughing about something he couldn’t remember, and it made him smile at how happy they looked.

The final photo was of him in his senior year of college after a swim meet. He’d changed back into his clothes—some jeans and a baby blue button-up shirt, his hair still wet, and a gold medal around his neck. His mother was embracing him from the side, her head barely reaching his shoulders, Javier hugging her back; big smiles were on their faces, and happiness was shining in their matching chocolate-colored eyes as they looked at the camera.

Seeing all of the sweet moments they shared already had him on the verge of tears, and this one broke him, knowing it was his last competition before he met Lorraine—his shoulders shook with sobs as he let himself cry.

The album only contained the memories of before his life went to shit—when he was on track to make his dream of swimming in the Olympics come true, his mother was still alive, he hadn’t hurt his parents with his bad choices, and life was good and still made sense.

“Oh, Javi,” Cielito’s voice was soft, and he welcomed her arms that enveloped him. “I’m so sorry—I worried it’d upset you. I shouldn’t have made this. I’ll take the pictures back to Pop’s.” She reached for the album, and he held it away.

“No,” he said through the tears, his words coming out gravelly. “It’s perfect—I love it.” Closing the book, he set it on the coffee table in front of them before he twisted his body to pull her into his arms, burying his face in her neck. Her hands were rubbing soothingly over his back. “Thank you,” his muffled voice said, tears wetting her skin. “Thank you for making it—it brought back so much happy shit I’d forgotten.”

“You really love the album?” she asked.

He pulled back to look her in the eyes and nodded with a little smile. “Yeah, it really is perfect. You wanna know something?”

“What?”

“I can’t wait to show it to our kids one day.” Her face brightened. “I know you’ll probably cook with them, and they’ll love seeing photos of their abuela (grandma) and papá (dad) doing the same.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely cooking with our kids,” she said, and it had warmth spread through his veins. “Your dad let me go through the boxes, plural, of loose photos he has—side note, I have never seen so many, and I’m pretty sure he’s single-handedly keeping the one-hour photo kiosk in business.”

“Probably,” he chuckled.

Growing up, whenever his father wasn’t working out on the ranch, he was spending time with Javier and his mom, and it was pretty typical for Chucho to get out his camera or video camera to snap pictures or record whatever they were doing—his dad was a sentimental guy. With Javier being his only child, he wanted to ensure they documented as much as possible to look back on fondly.

“Anyways,” she continued. “I went through hundreds, maybe even thousands of photos, and in every single one of you with your mom in the kitchen, you both look so fucking happy, and then add in that some of your favorite memories are cooking with her, and I want that for our babies, too. I want them to have happy memories of learning to cook with their mom and dad.”

His vision was blurring with unshed tears, feeling so unbelievably happy he might combust.

“You want me there, too?”

“Um, yes, Javi. As your mother would say, ‘Eres mi buena suerte (You’re my good luck).’ You gotta be there to at least take a ton of pictures.”

He was smiling. “I’d love that.”

“Good.” She kissed him, just a press of her lips to his, and it wasn’t enough; he deepened it with a swipe of his tongue along her bottom lip, and when she granted him access by opening her mouth a little, he was delving inside to tangle their tongues.

He didn’t know how he got so lucky finding her—she was perfect. Somehow, she made him fall more in love with her with each passing day.

Hearing her say she wanted their children to experience the same happiness he did with his mother had him feeling over the moon and even more excited about them starting their family—she was going to be an incredible mom to their kids, and it filled him with joy knowing, without a doubt, they’ll get to grow up like him with parents who will not only love them more than anything but each other to the point their children will be disgusted by their open affection. Their kids were going to have happy childhoods where they knew they were loved and cherished and got nothing but encouragement for their dreams. It would be drastically different than how Cielito was raised, and that was what she wanted; she couldn’t fathom treating her children the same way her parents treated her. There wouldn’t be one kid who was loved more than another, and they definitely were going to be proud of their babies no matter what. She was breaking a cycle of neglect and impossible standards to ensure their children only knew love and acceptance.

Their breaths were coming out heavier when their mouths detached.

She smiled, the sentence coming out breathy, “Happy birthday, Javi.”

He shared her look. “Thank you for making it amazing—made me almost forget I’m old now.”

She huffed in exasperation. “You turned forty, Javi. You’re not old. If it makes you feel any better, I’m happy to report you’ve still got a bangin’ bod and continue being a sex god.”

“You’re calling me a sex god again?” His eyebrow rose.

“I never stopped calling you a sex god, and let’s look at the facts:” She held up one finger. “Stamina of someone in their twenties.” The next digit went up. “The experience of a forty-year-old that’s spent a lot of time fucking.” Another finger rose. “Makes his partner come every time.” The next digit extended. “Actually knows how to use his mouth and fingers.” The final finger went up. “Has the biggest and prettiest dick known to man—face it, babe, you’re a bonafide sex god; I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a statue of you in some sex temple somewhere.”

His chest had puffed out a little from her praise, and what she said made him snort, Javier, smiling. “What is it with you and statues of me?”

She pushed his bangs off of his forehead. “Um, did you not hear the part where I said you have a bangin’ bod and the biggest and prettiest dick known to man? You’d make a sexy statue—hotter than Prince Eric’s, and that’s saying something.” Both of her hands came up to hold his face as she stared him in the eyes. “What you should get from this is I find you exceptionally attractive and want to have your babies, and I’ll still find you exceptionally attractive and want to have your babies next year, and the year after that and the year after that; you get the picture. Basically, I do not give a single fuck about how old you are because you are aging like the finest wine, sweetcheeks, and I am so unbelievably horny for you.”

From the way she was looking at him, he knew she was telling the truth, and it made him feel some relief. He’d been dreading this day, and he was starting to realize there was no reason to—he was older and wiser, engaged to marry the most amazing woman on the planet, in the process of starting his family, working a job he didn’t hate, and he was back home, where he belonged (even if some of the townspeople thought otherwise). He was happy, truly happy, and yeah, it wasn’t an easy journey, and it took him a while to get to this point, but he made it, and that was all that fucking mattered.

Mondays were the worst.

Mondays after a lovely vacation were the worst of the worst.

Honestly, it should be illegal having to go back to work on a Monday after being away. Unfortunately, it wasn’t, so here you were sitting at the nurse's station desk, a bit past ten in the morning, notating a chart, and nervously waiting for your first break that was in—you glanced at the watch on your wrist—five minutes.

"Still nervous?" Came the Texas twang of your coworker/best friend, Robyn, who pulled out the rolly chair beside you and sat down.

Her long, chestnut curls were pulled back into a ponytail, and she looked ready to model with how perfectly she’d done her makeup; firetruck-red lipstick was coating her full lips, her big blue eyes accentuated with an outline of black mascara and eyeliner, her cheeks rosy, and face blemish free without being caked in foundation and concealer—she could be on the cover of the American Journal of Nursing magazine with her being in her blue scrubs.

Your head turned her way, frowning. "Yes, because I know, in my bones, it's not gonna go well."

She gave you a reassuring smile and put her hand on your arm. "And that's why you're doin’ it on your fifteen-minute break. It gives you a time limit, and havin’ to get back to work is a great excuse to end things."

You weren't convinced. "I guess..."

"I'm sorry, girl, but this is somethin’ you have to do and it'll be better to just rip off the bandaid."

"Maybe I'd prefer to keep the bandaid on and continue living in my perfect little bubble with the love of my life."

"Because the bubble is goin’ to burst one way or another, and at least this way, you're in control."

"I really don't want to do this…" you said truthfully. It had you feeling a little sick.

"I know, girl." She patted your forearm. "I can't promise it'll go well, but just remember you've got Javi and me for support, and you know as well as I do that man will up and leave work without a word to come here for you."

"That's true. He, uh, doesn't know..."

The other woman's eyebrows dipped. "Why didn't you tell him?"

"It's Javi—he'd worry too much and wouldn't be able to work. Now that we're doing this whole baby thing and getting married soon, it's like his caveman instincts have turned up to the max, and he's in protection mode 24/7. So, he's not going to find out about what's going on until after it happens."

"If you think that's best." Her eyes went to her wristwatch. "Looks like it's time." She met your gaze. "Go do it in the on-call room so you'll have some privacy."

You took a deep breath, ignoring the fluttering nerves in your belly. "Okay," you said as you pushed back in your chair to get up. "If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, you better come to get me."

She smiled. "That was the plan."

"You're the best."

The closest on-call room wasn't anything more than a small windowless room with a twin-size bed and a desk with a lamp and telephone atop it. The overhead light was on, and you'd locked the door upon entering, taking a seat at the desk. Picking up the phone's receiver, you pressed it to your ear, your other hand punching in the string of numbers from muscle memory, and hardly any thought.

Ring.

"Hello?" the familiar voice answered.

This was it. "Hi, Mom, it's me."

"Oh, good, you got my message. I was expecting your call yesterday."

"Sorry, it was Javi's birthday, and we went out to dinner to celebrate."

Her voice went tight. "I see... Remind me again how old he turned?"

"Forty."

"Forty years old, and he doesn't own a house or have a career? When your father turned forty, he was already the chief of surgery and had invented a procedure, but I guess they're two different men from two different backgrounds."

Your jaw clenched. "I don't appreciate you belittling the man I love, who had a very successful career in the DEA and helped take down Pablo fucking Escobar and the Cali Cartel before he was forty—but please, go on about his ‘lack of career,’ and how he doesn’t measure up to Dad in your eyes; I’d be more than happy to end this call right now.”

The older woman sighed. “I’m just looking out for your best interests, but since it’s a sore subject, I won’t talk about him at all.”

The ‘best interests’ excuse made you roll your eyes so hard they were at risk of getting stuck in the back of your head.

"Fine—what's the exciting news you have?"

"Oh, yes," her tone shifted, hearing her excitement. "Your brother is having another baby, and it's a boy!" You fucking knew that was why she called, and you didn’t have it in you to be excited, not when the same news from you would have a vastly different reaction. "Your father and I are so excited to have another grandson," she continued. "I can't believe how blessed we are to have three grandchildren, a fourth on the way, and they’re all boys!"

"God forbid they had a girl," you mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I said, wow, that's great," you spoke normally. "Well, give them my congratulations, and if that was all you wanted to tell me, I'm going to get back to work—I'm on break."

Yes, you were chickening out on telling her about your engagement.

"That isn't the only exciting news!"

"Yay, there's more," you deadpanned.

“If your father was home, he could give you more information, but his hospital is going through some staffing changes, and he got you a job to be the director of nursing—you can finally move back home!"

Um, what?

He got you a job you never even asked for or wanted?

The audacity of them doing this behind your back in an attempt to lure you home had stunned you into silence, anger threading through your chest and tummy.

"Are you still there?" she asked.

"I don't want a new job," you said calmly.

"You don't know what you're saying, sweetie. This would make you the head of the nursing program at his hospital and is much better than whatever it is you’re currently doing. You’d make substantially more than what you are right now, and it brings you closer to us, your family—it’s about time you come home, anyway. You’ve been away long enough and haven’t been making the best decisions.”

Tears were burning in your eyes at the blatant disregard for your feelings.

"I'm not leaving Laredo."

She sighed again. "What does that backwater town have to offer you? That hospital you're working for can't compete with what your father’s hospital is willing to pay, and there isn’t anything there worth staying for or tying you down—thank god you've been smart and haven't done anything stupid like get pregnant."

She managed to insult Javi and the life you built without outright saying the words, and it pissed you off how fucking rude she was in regards to your future husband—she could say whatever she wanted about you and the way you were living, but you wouldn’t stand for such vitriol toward your fiancé.

"I'm getting married,” you blurted.

Her line went completely silent, and you thought she might’ve hung up until she said, “I’m sorry. I think I misheard you. What did you say?”

“Javi proposed—we’re getting married, and that isn’t the only exciting news; we’ve started trying for a baby.” Informing people that you were getting fucked raw and filled like a Boston cream donut on the regular made you wish the earth would completely swallow you up so you didn’t have to feel such embarrassment; it being socially acceptable to openly discuss your sex life when it had to do with procreation would never make any sense to you.

“I know Javier doesn’t meet your standards,” you continued, “however, he more than meets mine, and I wish you could see how incredible he is and how happy he makes me, but the only things you care about is the amount of money in his bank account and career choice; which, again, people all over are aware of who The Javier Peña is because of the work he did with the DEA. He was a hot commodity when he returned to the States, and agencies all over the country were trying to bag him.

“Just because he’s not in the same tax bracket as you,” you kept speaking, “and he can’t buy me a big mansion we don’t even need, doesn’t make him any less of a person. Honestly, he’s better than you—he’s better than you. He’s better than Dad, and he’s definitely better than that golden child you worship, who couldn’t even make it into his Ivy League school without you buying his way in. Javi got a full-ride scholarship to his dream university because of how talented he was at swimming,” you said proudly.

“My fiancé is an amazing man who treats me like a queen and will be the best father to our children. Now, let’s circle back to your question about what Laredo has to offer me—the answer is everything. Laredo has everything I could ever need or want. The man I’m marrying and the future father of my kids is here. I have a family here—a real family that loves me. I have friends and a great job here. This is the place where I’ll raise my children and grow old with my soulmate. This is my home and where I’ve always belonged. So, thank you, but no, thank you for such an amazing job offer I didn’t ask for. I’m not leaving Laredo—you’re just gonna have to get used to the fact that Javier and I are a package deal and that he’ll be your son-in-law one day and the father of your grandchildren. If you can’t stomach that, then don’t ever call me again because Javi means more to me than anyone else in the entire universe.”

Silence.

Many seconds passed before she spoke.

“You’re sure he’s the one…?” she asked slowly.

“Yes, one hundred percent.”

“You don’t care about how much money he has because he makes you… happy…?”

She made it sound like a foreign concept, and you huffed in amusement.

“I know, it’s crazy to fall in love with someone for them and not their money.”

“This is what I get for allowing you to watch those cartoon fairytale movies when you were a child. Your ideas of what’s important in life have been skewed by fictional nonsense, and you failed to notice at the end of those films, the girls become princesses—rich—when they meet their princes and finally get their—what was it?—happily… happily…” She was struggling.

“Their happily ever afters?” you said.

“Yes, that’s it! They only got their happily ever afters once they became princesses, and you should strive to want that kind of status or meet a man who will give it to you.”

“Weird take, but to me, they get their happily ever afters when they meet their one true loves, and the fancy titles are just bonuses.” You shrugged even though she couldn’t see you.

She let out a sigh. “You need to understand that real life isn’t like those whimsical cartoons. You might think you’re in love right now, but you haven’t even known this man for a year. How do you know if you will feel this way about him a year from now? Or two years? There’s no guarantee that your relationship will last, and you’re throwing away a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to advance your career and make a name for yourself because you’re infatuated and living in some dream world.”

“I am in love, and it’s the real thing. What you’re not understanding is my career is secondary to my happiness. I care more about being happy than making money, and I’ve made my choice that I’m going to marry Javi because he makes me happy—get it through your head that he isn’t going anywhere.”

“Very well, if that’s your decision, then so be it.”

“Thank you.”

“Can you answer a question about Javier?”

“Uh, depends on what you’re going to ask...”

“He helped take down Pablo Escobar and that other cartel, which wouldn’t have been small feats. I’m assuming a lot of opportunities would’ve opened up to him within his agency, and he was probably on track for promotions. Why did he quit when he was at the height of his career?”

You smiled. “Because he decided his career was secondary to his happiness, and he cared more about being happy than advancing in a job he’d grown to hate.”

“Oh.”

“You know, he only went to work for the Sheriff here, so I wasn’t the sole provider in our relationship—he makes decent money, too, and tries to pay more than his fair share. He took the job to be able to take care of me, and if I couldn’t work, we’d be more than okay on just his salary.”

“Really?” She didn’t attempt to hide her surprise.

“Yes—someone with Javi’s expertise is paid handsomely to consult. He’s gotten a ton of offers to do paid talks at universities and conferences. He’s actually kind of a big deal in that community.” It was lovely getting to brag about him.

“Why haven’t you told me this before?”

“Because from the moment you found out I was dating him, you were convinced he wasn’t good enough for me, and it seemed like nothing I could say would change your mind.”

“I guess I might have rushed to conclusions…”

“You did.”

“Well, congratulations, honey,” She sounded genuinely happy, not as jazzed as the imminent arrival of another grandson, but happy enough it had you taken aback. “This is exciting! I hadn’t realized things had gotten so serious between you two. Have you picked out a date for the wedding?”

To say you felt thrown off kilter from the complete one-eighty she just made on her views of your relationship would be putting it mildly; you thought there was a chance you were in the Twilight Zone with how bizarre this reaction was.

Did you actually convince her of Javi’s worthiness?

That didn’t seem right…

“Um, no?” you answered.

“I’ll call the wedding planner who helped plan your brother’s, and don’t worry about the cost, we’ll take care of it, along with the wedding itself—we’ll have to look at venues in your town that can hold at least, I think, one hundred and fifty guests, maybe? I’ll also have Jerry—” The family lawyer. “—get a prenup together—I’ll bring him with me.” Uh, what was happening? “Let me look at the calendar.” Pages flipping could be heard over the phone, and you knew she was going through her daily planner. “Your father and I have prior engagements over the next month and a half, but I could visit in February with the wedding planner and Jerry to get started on everything.”

The thought of her visiting had you feeling sick to your stomach, the anxiety hitting you like a bucket of cold water over your head.

“Woah, woah, hold on a second,” you said. “We’re not having a big wedding, so there’s no need for a wedding planner. We’re not doing a prenup, either, so Jerry doesn’t need to be bothered, and we want to get married sometime next month.”

“I won’t sour our conversation with legal talk, so I’ll discuss it with you later—you want to get married that soon?” There was a frown in her voice. "I told you we’re booked next month... We wouldn’t be able to make it…”

“We’re not doing much of a traditional wedding anyway, so you won’t miss much. We can send you a copy of the video—” Javi was planning on buying a camcorder to record your nuptials and other erotic things. “—and maybe in February we could visit you.” That was something you didn’t particularly want to do, but her change in attitude and desire to help seemed like she was extending an olive branch for all of the hurtful things she had said about your future husband.

“That would be fine. We’re dying to meet this man you’re in love with.”

Your eyes narrowed. “The one you didn’t approve of five minutes ago…?”

“You gave me a lot to think about in those five minutes, and I’m doing as you said and accepting that he’s going to be my son-in-law. Am I not allowed to change my opinion of someone?”

“Sure, you can change your opinion. You’re really okay with me marrying him?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

A knock sounded on the on-call room’s door, Robyn’s voice coming from the other side, “Hey, I need you out here.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, but my break’s over, and I need to get back. I’ll talk to you later.”

“No problem. Have a great day, and tell Javier hi from me.”

That will freak him out.

You said your goodbyes and hung up the phone, getting up to walk over and open the door.

Robyn was standing there. “How’d it go?” she asked.

“That’s the thing, Robyn, I think it went well, and I’m so fucking confused—I think my mom might even like Javi a little bit now.”

Shock appeared on her face. “Um, what…?”

“Makes zero sense, right?”

“Yeah… You need to call Javi?”

She was the best.

“Would you mind?”

“Nope! I’ll hold down the fort.”

“Thank you!”

This time, when you sat down to use the hospital-provided telephone, you dialed your fiancé’s desk phone from memory.

Ring.

“Peña,” he answered.

“Has hell frozen over?” you asked.

“Cielito?” He was clearly confused.

“Yes, it’s me—let’s focus. Has hell frozen over?”

“Uh, I don’t think so?”

“Are pigs flying?” You heard him roll back in his chair and the rustle of him looking through his office window’s blinds.

“I don’t see any pigs with wings, but that Sheriff’s deputy whose wife won’t let him have red meat so he can lower his cholesterol is in his car eating a burger with the same enthusiasm I have when I eat your pussy.”

“Guy is truly eating it like a man starved—respect. ��Están volando las vacas (Are the cows flying)?”

“No veo a Daphne ni a Velma en el cielo (I don’t see Daphne or Velma in the sky).” He rolled back to his desk. “¿Qué pasa, mi amor (What’s going on, my love)?”

“I talked to my mom…”

“…are you okay?”

“Um, sure.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

He was starting to hang up the phone, and you quickly said, “Javi, no, no! Don’t leave!”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “It wouldn’t be a problem.”

“It’s really okay—I’m gonna see you at lunch.”

The plan was to eat the lunches you made together in his truck.

“Okay.” His tone went serious. “Tell me what happened.”

“I called her like she asked, and she confirmed my sister-in-law is with child and talk about the excitement over a fetus having male genitals.”

“Of course, they’re fucking excited it’s a boy, the misogynistic assholes,” he seethed.

“I am so unbelievably in love with you—I know you’d love having a baby girl and getting to dress her up in pretty dresses.”

“God, yeah.” You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling. “And giving her cute hairdos and I could paint her nails to match her dresses—wait, we’re getting distracted. Did the news upset you? I really feel like I should come down there...”

“I promise I’m fine, babe.”

“I don’t like that I’m not there for you in person…” He sighed. “Was that all your mother wanted to talk to you about?”

“This next part is really gonna piss you off, so please take a big breath for me, my love.”

You heard him inhale deeply.

“Tell me,” he ordered.

“My parents, or father specifically, offered me a job that a person would be insane to turn down to get me to move back home—I didn’t even contemplate for a second about taking it and proceeded to inform her about us getting married and starting our family, then went off about how amazing you are and that this is my home and I wouldn’t be leaving it. I made it very clear that you are the most important person to me, and if they couldn’t accept you as my husband, then I wanted nothing to do with them.”

“…If you want the job, we can move there,” he said carefully.

You smiled. “That’s sweet of you to offer, but I can’t fathom moving away from our family here, especially your dad. This is our home, and I’m happy with the life we have. So, I don’t care about some fancy schmancy job.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

He let out a relieved sigh before he started speaking again, his words soaked in anger, “They hate me so fucking much they tried to give you an offer you couldn’t refuse, so you’d leave me? Are you fucking kidding me? I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t fucking stand these people you share blood with—they don’t even fucking deserve to be called your family with how they disrespect you and don’t give a flying fuck about your happiness.” He had to take another big breath to try to calm his rage. “I might sound like an asshole, but I don’t want them around our kids, and this isn’t me putting my foot down or saying that’s how it has to be; I’m saying that our children’s well-being is my first priority, and these assholes are nothing but poison,” he spat. “I’ll support you if you decide to cut ties with them—hell, I’d love it since it makes me so fucking angry how they’ve treated you and continue to treat you. We’ve got our family here, anyway; Pop and all our tías, tíos, and primos, so you don’t even need those fuckers.” His tone shifted to something softer, hearing in it how much he cared for you. “Cielito, mi amor, all I want is for you to be happy and to feel loved, and I will do everything in my power to make that happen—please, for me, when you decide what to do, you choose what makes you happiest; not what would make me happy and definitely don’t even think about their feelings because they’ve never done the same for you. I’ll stand by you no matter what.”

What he said had your eyes getting misty. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. More than anything.”

And you knew that was the truth.

“I didn’t tell you the whole story,” you said, “and this is where I get confused about the entire interaction.”

“What happened…?”

“So, I kinda bragged about how much of a hot shot you are in the drug enforcement community and that you make decent money, and I think I somehow made my mom like you? I know it sounds fake, but Javi, she wanted to hire us a wedding planner and pay for the whole event that she was going to invite a hundred and fifty people to…”

You left out the lawyer bit because you were going to nip that in the bud when she got around to talking to you about it.

“Uh, what…?”

“It was fucking weird, babe! She even told me to tell you hi when we were getting off the phone!”

“Me? Are you sure…?”

“Yeah! It makes zero fucking sense. Our conversation started with her basically telling me my life decisions were trash and that there’s nothing in Laredo worth staying for—she actually said she was happy I hadn’t accidentally gotten pregnant. Like, that’s so fucking rude. Then her tone had completely changed by the end of the call, and she was pro-you and pro-us getting married.”

“Interesting…” You could picture him sitting at his desk, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip while we pieced together the information you’d given him and analyzed it for any indication of more going on.

“Are your Detective Peña senses tingling?” you asked. “Do you think they’re up to something?”

“I’m not sure… But I could just be paranoid about people trying to fuck with our relationship.”

“Oh god, what if we are being paranoid and overthinking this entire thing? We might be looking a gift horse in the mouth, and my family really has warmed up to you.”

He scoffed, “Tal vez cuando las vacas vuelen (Maybe when cows fly),” he muttered. “It seems too good to be true,” he said. “But, there’s a chance hell did freeze over, and Daphne and Velma grew wings.” He sighed. “My hopes aren’t very high, though; at this point, all we can do is see what happens.” He suddenly sounded panicked, “Cariño, ¿los invitaste a nuestra boda (Honey, did you invite them to our wedding)? ¿Tendré que conocerlos en persona (Will I have to meet them in person)?”

Javier Peña had a cute face, a cute face that naturally looked pissed off when it was resting and showed everything he was feeling. There was no doubt that in the presence of your family, his glares would be murderous, and he wouldn’t be able to hide his anger—which, honestly, delighted you. But you hated the idea of them coming to the place you called home and was your haven away from them, so you were never going to invite them to visit; if you had to, you’d go to them.

“Cálmate, mi amor (Calm down, my love),” you said. “No te preocupes (Don’t worry). I didn’t invite them, and I don’t even want them coming here. I did have to say we might visit them in a couple of months to keep them happy—I’m also gonna send my parents that blender my mother wants but refuses to buy because the one they have still works for Christmas. Hopefully, all that will tide them over for a while so we can figure out if their new attitude is legit or not.”

“Good idea.”

“Well, I better get back to work. I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Yes, you will. If you need me to get your mind off all this shit, just let me know. It’d take us about the same amount of time to meet at home…”

His offer made you smile. “Javier, is this your way of saying you’d like a nooner?”

“Maybe… I’m on edge and need to calm my nerves, and the best ways to do that is either having a cigarette or fucking—I’m sure you can guess my preference, but it wouldn’t be a big deal if I bummed a smoke off someone.”

“You’re in need of a medicinal cream pie,” you said in understanding, nodding your head. “I am also on edge and could use a medicinal orgasm or two. I’ll see you at the apartment, handsome, and the suit stays on—I’m riding Detective Peña into the sunset.”

You could hear his smile when he spoke. “Is that so?”

“Yep—you’ve been staring at my tits a lot lately, and I thought you’d enjoy them bouncing in your face.”

His groan confirmed your suspicion. “Minimum of two orgasms, keep the suit on, and you’re riding me on the couch—anything I’m missing?”

“Yeah, you coming inside me so I can go back to work all nice and stuffed.”

“Marry me.”

“I am,” you giggled. “We need to figure out a date.”

“January 11. Under the big oak tree on Pop’s land at sunset—that’s when we should do it.”

“Why the eleventh?” you asked, curious about why that date specifically.

“You agreed to be my girlfriend on the eleventh. You agreed to be my fiancée on the eleventh. It only seems right that I vow to love you forever on the eleventh of the New Year and hope you agree to be my wife then—Cielito, mi amor, mi vida mi media naranja, mi todo, (Cielito, my love, my life, my soulmate, my everything), will you marry me in twenty-eight days on January 11?”

Tears brimmed your eyes. “Yes, Javi! Absolutely, yes—it’s perfect.”

“Not as perfect as you,” he smoothly replied.

“You’re a sap.”

“—and your perfect tits.”

“A horny sap,” you laughed.

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

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celabi · 7 months

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tbh, I feel like I’ve been drifting away from the original scummy scara I made when I first made the au, so I would like to let everyone know that he is a BIG freak. the type of guy you avoid because he’s just… so creepy and weird. like, restraining order, banned in fifty states type of weird.

he will steal a pen you’ve been nibbling on in class, and do all sorts of things to it that you don’t wanna know. like shoving it down his throat or something idk.

he goes through the trash and takes the gun you spat out, and chews it as if he were a man on death row. and at this point he might as well be.

he ‘makes’ you home made lunch. (which is just store brought food he put into a lunch box). awe, so thoughtful, right? NO, he passed out after cumming so much to replace the dressing on your salad.

spits in your drink, so it’s almost like you’re kissing in a way, because his saliva is in your mouth yada yada. he’s so delusional, gosh.

this man jerks off to anything. pictures of you in a bikini. pictures of your panties that he snuck a photo of from under your skirt. hell, he has even fapped it to a post he found on one of your family members facebook where you look like the most ordinary person ever. anything.

he acts like an angel around you, but the moment you turn your back, he has this dark, violent glint in his eyes at anyone who isn’t you.

he STANK. like discord moderator who manages thirty different servers. he plays video games 24/7 and eats only fast food + he lives in his mothers basement so minus points.

his mind is SO dirty too. like you could be complaining about this one girl who has been getting on your nerves recently, and all he can think about is bending you over the table and running his hands all over your body. he thinks of you when he shouldn’t, and in ways he shouldn’t, even before you knew his name.

yeah he’s so sweet, and kisses the ground you walk on. but he also would love nothing more then to knock you up and keep you as his cute little spouse who he can come home and make love to every day.

god and he’s a brat too, don’t get me started. like, throwing tantrums when you decide to sit with someone else at lunch. starting fights with people who so much as look in your general direction (ones that he loses cause he is so small and scrawny). screaming profanities at the professors who separate your seating plans in lectures, and so on.

if you’ve been keeping up with my posts, you’ll know that this man has a literal sex doll replica of you he sleeps with at night. it’s so detailed to the point where there is freckles in the exact same spot they are on your skin. (even some moles and beauty marks that you didn’t even know you had, and god knows how he does).

has a shrine of you in his closet. strands of your hair he has collected. lipgloss and chapstick he has stolen from your bag whilst you weren’t looking. accessories like rings and bracelets. nail polish, all the works. and in the middle of this shrine, in all its glory, is a pair of your underwear that he took while you were in the changing rooms. he prays to it. the holy grail.

he has been dating you in his head the moment he saw you, like, gets a little annoyed when you don’t remember your five month anniversary, but the thing is, you didn’t even know you’re dating at all.

I love him. don’t get me wrong, but he is not the man you want to get involved with, like AT ALL.

go for someone like scummy alhaitham, who has (some) self respect 👍

#scummy scara :(#yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin impact #tw yandere

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clockwayswrites · 9 months

Text

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 9

WC: 1431, Masterpost CW: blood, cannon typical violence, off screen civilian and first responder deaths, mentions of death

Danny and his Flash were both very busy people, there was no denying that. The good thing was that the worst of their busyness were the same events. Sure, they both had obligations outside of that. Danny had all of the other work with the outreach and now overseeing and even training other team members. Flash… well, Flash had whatever he did with the rest of his life. Danny assumed he worked, even if it was for the Justice League.

It was a little odd not knowing Flash past the mask. Danny understood, of course he did. A secret identity was important and, despite having been on several dates now, they still were getting to know each other. It wasn’t as if Danny didn’t know anything about his Flash. He knew Flash always comforted the kids first, was fiercely loyal, and couldn’t resist petting a dog. He knew Flash loved trying new foods, played video games with friends that Flash wished he saw more, and really did enjoy spoiling him. He knew a lot.

He just didn’t know Flash’s name or what family Flash had or if those freckles ran all the way across Flash’s nose.

Danny would be patient though, because he understood. It helped that he at least had Flash’s number. He didn’t know if it was a burner phone or an app or routed through a number of proxies; he hadn’t asked. The first thing Danny had done, in fact, was to send a Flash meme. It had gotten him shoved, but that had turned into a make out session on the couch, so Danny certainly wasn’t complaining.

And if Danny now kept a collection of gifs, memes, and other silly Flash things on hand to send? Well, who could blame him.

He rolled over to grab his phone from the coffee table and sent off another picture of a cat dressed up in Flash’s outfit. The amount of people dressing pets up as superheros was honestly shocking. He didn’t expect an answer right then, looking at the time, but he found it was… nice to be able to find things to send to Flash for him to find and respond to later. It made him feel connected to someone in a way that he hadn’t had in years.

Danny recognized, now, that he had been really hurting himself trying to stay so separate from everyone. One way or another, this is how things would be for the rest of his life. He couldn’t keep morning what had happened, what he had lost. Besides, he was just a civilian now, he wasn’t a danger to his friends and family anymore. So, along with Flash, Danny had started actually accepting the occasional invitation from some of his coworkers. He had even found a game store to go to and play at on the weekends.

It was harder than he thought, putting himself out there again, but his life was brighter for being around people outside of work every week or so. He had Flash to thank for that.

He also had Flash to thank for getting him addicted to the Percy Jackson books. He could personally do with less lightning, but the story had a real way of resonating with the halfa. Danny was three books in at this point and needed to know how it all finished up.

A few chapters further in a notification interrupted him.

Quick Boy: It’s not fair that a cat wears my uniform better than me!!

Danny laughed and tapped the message.

Danny: The cat is pretty cute. But I still think you wear it best. You have a better butt. 😏

The little dots wiggled as Flash typed. It was endlessly amusing to Danny that despite being, literally, super fast, Flash was slowed down by the physics of the world around him, like how fast a phone could accept input.

Quick Boy: 😳🫣🥵 Danny! Have you been checking out my butt?

Despite himself, Danny felt a blush heating up his cheeks. They hadn’t gotten any further than kissing, it didn’t feel right to go further when Danny didn’t know who Flash was, but that didn't mean Danny couldn't tease.

Danny: You run around in spandex, I can’t NOT check out your butt. Have to say, it’s a pretty good one. 10/10, would ogle again.

Quick Boy: How do you feel about ogling it in my most flattering sweatpants? Got a hold of that Japanese giant bug movie you were ranting about. I can grab food and be over to your place in about an hour?

Danny: Stop calling it that!!!You know the title! 😤

Quick Boy: I’m not typing out that title.

Danny grinned as he rolled off of the couch. If Flash was coming over, he should at least pick up a little. Danny knew Flash didn’t really care, but the pile of laundry that Danny had been avoiding folding was a bit much.

Danny: Thought you were supposed to be fast.

Quick Boy: 😒

Danny: Come on, quick boy, take the nanosecond and type it.

Quick Boy: I hate you.

Danny: No you don't~

(Danny sung along as he typed.)

Quick Boy: “Help I’ve Been Made a Holy Knight in a World of Giant Bugs and Need to Save the Prince”

Danny: Knew you could do it! Proud of you. 😘 See you in an hour! Bring Thai and ice cream!

Danny was just putting away the folded stack of laundry when an alarm on his phone screamed at him.

It was work.

Emergency alert.

All hands on deck.

Danny dashed for his door, shoving his feet in his work boots and grabbing the backup vest he kept at home. Someone would drive the trucks full of kits there, but Danny still took his little kit with him, just in case he ran into any wounded on the way.

So much for dinner and cuddling his boyfriend.

As soon as he stepped out onto the street, Danny could hear the sound of sirens and the acrid smell of smoke stung his eyes. Danny’s heart sank.

Whatever this was, it was big.

“Danny.”

Danny flexed his hands. Flakes of dried blood broke off and scattered in the wind.

“Danny, babe.”

He would need more gloves for his kit. Was he out? He had to be out. He changed gloves so many times. There were so many people. He had to be out of gloves. He would need more for his kit.

Other hands entered his vision, covered in bright red. Not blood red, bright red. Blood red was mostly darker than people thought. Bright blood was worse. He watched as the hands gently rolled down the gloves.

He needed more gloves.

“Not for today, babe. You’re done for today.”

He needed more gloves, there were so many people.

“Everyone is accounted for. You and the others got everyone.”

Not everyone.

How many people died under his hands today?

Were already dead when he found them?

Wouldn’t last the night?

How many people did he fail?

Too many.

“Danny.” The voice was worried now. “Come on babe, look at me, please?”

Blood had gotten under his gloves, staining his wrists.

“Babe, please.”

Warm, fabric covered hands rested on Danny’s cheeks, tilting his gaze up and away from his hands.

Oh. “Flash?”

“Hey there, babe, you with me?”

Why did he look so worried?

“Because you’re scaring me a little. I think you’re in shock.”

Oh.

“Do you have a shock blanket in your kit still?”

“No… used them all. Had to cover…”

How many people did he fail?

“Okay, that’s okay. I’m going to take you home, okay babe? Well, not my home, but where I used to live— right, that doesn’t matter now. We’re going to go and I’ll keep you safe.”

Danny motioned to a cluster of officials. “I have to—”

“I’ve already checked you out.”

“My team?”

Flash glanced down and away.

“Flash, my team?”

“They’re…. all accounted for. Larson…. He got caught in part of the building coming down. He didn’t make it. Patel was paired with him. She’s at the hospital, they think she’ll pull through.”

Danny tried to say something, but the words caught in his throat. He wanted to scream, to rage, to wail— it all caught up in his throat because he couldn’t. He let out a soundless sob.

Flash pulled Danny into his arms, holding him close. “I know. I know. I’m taking you home. You’ll be okay Danny. It will be okay.”

The colors of the world blurred together as Flash ran, but Danny hardly noticed.

-----

AN: So this has been 95% written since before I got sick, but just now was the first time I could get my brain to deal with it. A darker part of the story, I know, but it felt needed. Danny's doing a very, very hard job and one made all the worse because Danny used to be able to do more and now he can't. (Though I have no doubt he pushed use of his powers further than was really safe in this.)

Stay safe and delightful, my darlings!

I no longer tag people for several reasons, you can subscribe to the masterpost instead to be notified! (May notify this part slightly later, I am queuing it.)

#dp x dc #danny fenton/wally west #quick death #abson

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humanpurposes · 3 months

Text

We're Born At Night

Chapter 2

Lady Rhaelle Targaryen of Runestone travels to King's Landing to plead for her sister's life, though the King she must bow to is a kinslayer three times over, and the very man who slaughtered her father

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Rhaelle Targaryen (OFC)

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, politics, mentions of death and war, Aemond is a bit of a dick but that's his job

Words: 5.9k

A/n: I was aiming to post this on Sunday (but a pretty girl said I was cute and I went a bit insane 😌)

“Cheat!”

Rhaelle conceals her delight as she claims the ivory King piece from the cyvasse board. “It is not cheating, dear sister, it is strategy.”

Sunset is not long away. Rhaelle and Daena have spent most of the day in their chambers, waiting, flicking through the small collection of books from the shelf, playing cards and games of cyvasse which all end in the same way, a decisive victory for Rhaelle.

She cannot stomach the thought of food or sweets, cider or wine. She just feels her heart drumming in her chest, pulsing through the blood that runs under her skin. Aemond’s voice is still a whisper in her head and the other faces in the throne room are a blur, like trying to remember details from a dream. She should have been more attentive. The number of potential allies at court might be few but they will be invaluable if they are to advance here.

So they wait. Wait for Lord Corlys to give them some indication that the King has acknowledged their cause, that he has even heard it.

She glances down at her fingers wrapped around the King piece, at the hand he kissed a matter of hours ago. Aemond had been rather welcoming in the throne room, she supposes, at least publicly.

“But you tricked me!” Daena protests, looking in despair over the few pieces she has left on the board.

“I acted within the rules of the game,” Rhaelle says simply.

Daena makes a disheartened but determined huffing sound and starts to set the pieces out again, when there is a knock at the door. Morra answers and returns with Ser Willis, donned in his white cloak, with his helm under his arm and a broadsword proudly by his side.

Rhaelle taps her fingers on the table in front of Daena to get her attention and rises. “Lord Commander,” she says, “to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Lady Rhaelle,” he greets with a small bow of his head. “I have a request from the King.”

Her heart leaps. Finally the waiting is at an end, but she contains herself. “Which is?”

“His Grace often takes his niece and nephew for a walk about the gardens in the evening, before the Prince and Princess are put to bed. He is unable to fulfil this duty tonight and asked if yourself and Lady Daena would like to take his place?”

She catches Daena’s eye for a moment and sees the same brightness in her gaze, the same hopefulness.

Aegon, her heart whispers to her. Aemond has invited them to meet with their brother.

Ser Willis leads the way, Morra following behind as they head towards the courtyard, to the lowered drawbridge of Maegor’s Holdfast. The halls here are closer than inside the rest of the castle and the windows are smaller so the light is lower. Ser Willis leads them through locked doors and flights of stairs, until they come to a series of apartments that are bright and grand, with wide open rooms and paler stone walls that reflect the light.

At last they come to a room where pale blue is the most prominent colour. The stonework is adorned with images of flowers and dragons alike, and a fire crackles pleasantly in the hearth.

There are two settees in the centre of the room. On the one facing the door, a little girl with silver hair in a light blue gown stares intently at the book on her governess’ lap. Her lavender eyes follow the words as the woman reads to her.

And perched on the windowsill is a boy, a little older, with a wooden knight in his hands. He turns his head when he hears the door open and stares right at them, with his lips downturned and his violet eyes wide and unblinking. He looks like Daena did when she was small, with neatly combed silver hair instead of her dark brown curls.

The governess closes the book and gathers the children to stand before their visitors. “Forgive us, my Ladies, we have been waiting patiently for you, haven’t we children?”

The girl clings to the woman’s hand, staring up at them like she is holding back tears, while the boy stands straight with his hands behind his back.

“Princess,” the governess says, ushering the girl forward, “these are your cousins, the Lady Rhaelle, and the Lady Daena.”

Jaehaera, the orphan Princess, the last of her family save for her uncle Aemond. She had a twin once, and a baby brother. Prince Jaehearys was beheaded only a short walk away from this room, before the eyes of his mother, his grandmother, and his siblings. It was in the early days of the war, a son for a son, at the order of Daemon Targaryen.

The little Princess takes a tentative step forwards, clinging to the sides of her gown as she curtsies steadily and gracefully.

Rhaelle curties low and rises to offer the girl a sympathetic smile, because losing a mother is a terrible thing, a lonely thing, which she knows all too well.

“Prince Aegon,” the governess says next, ushering him forward, “these are your sisters.” There is no warmth to her voice like she has for Jaeheara, but no contempt either, just an unsure sort of bluntness.

Aegon looks between them. “My father’s daughters,” he says softly.

Rhaelle extends a hand to him. Those eyes are so precious, she thinks, the eyes that had to see his own mother burned and devoured by his uncle’s dragon. Her heart shatters for him, for both of them, that they have had to witness so much horror.

“We have wanted to meet you for some time,” she says.

Aegon nods and holds her hand tightly. In the corner of her eye she sees the governess watching them.

Ser Willis and another Kingsguard, Ser Gyles Belgrave, accompany them to the gardens. When the governess goes to follow, Rhaelle holds up her hand. “No need,” she says, “my sister and I should like to acquaint ourselves with her family. We will be no longer than an hour.”

Neither the governess nor the guards protest.

The gardens are nothing like the countryside around Runestone, gravel paths and fountains, rows of carefully trimmed hedges, walkways covered in red ivy and trees that have begun to shed their golden leaves. They stay in sight of the castle, and Ser Willis and Ser Gyles are never far behind them.

Daena is delighted with young Aegon. She runs her hands over his hair, kisses his cheek, asks him about his favourite books and if he has held a sword yet.

Jaeheara was quiet at first but has warmed up, letting Rhaelle take one hand and Morra take the other. Her hand is small, soft and delicate, so much that Rhaelle worries she might break her if she holds her too tightly. She babbles on about the things children do. She says her favourite colour is blue, like her gown and like the sky. She says her governess is teaching her how to read, count and dance, but she wants to learn to sew.

“What would you sew?” Rhaelle asks.

Jaeheara knits her brow in thought. “Butterflies,” she says, “and spiders, and ladybirds.”

“You like insects?” Morra says.

“I can’t decide,” says Jaehaera, “but mother liked them very much.”

Rhaelle so desperately wants to bring her into her arms and hold her close to her chest. “Did your mother sew too?” she asks.

“Oh yes, she had a gift for us every day.” She keeps her eyes on the gravel shifting beneath her feet. “That means she was kind, doesn’t it?”

Rhaelle stops and turns to Jaehaera, bending her knees a little so their eyes meet. A flash of silver catches her attention instead, back towards the castle. She looks past Jaehaera’s shoulder, to a balcony overlooking the gardens. She knows it’s him, if the hair doesn’t give him away the black eyepatch against his pale skin does.

“Your mother was kind to me, when I knew her,” she says, gently.

Jaehaera’s eyes widen. Rhaelle worries she might start to cry but instead she smiles. “Uncle Aemond says she was kind.”

Her heart is humming again and her hands are starting to tremble. He must be watching them, watching her.

A little further down the path, Aegon and Daena are picking blackberries from a bramble bush, giggling as they place them in their mouths.

Rhaelle can hardly help herself but cup one of Jaehaera’s plump little cheeks. “We might find some insects in the bushes, what do you think, little Princess?”

“I often see ladybirds on the bramble bushes,” Jaehaera says. “I think they must like blackberries.”

Aegon calls his cousin’s name and waves at her with one hand, while cupping something in the other. He has found a caterpillar and shows it to Jaehaera. She stares down at its little green body with an endearing wonder, before deciding she wants to hold it too and show Morra.

While the children are distaced, Rhaelle steps close enough to Daena that they can speak softly to each other, without having to lean in too obviously.

“He said he knows all about us from Alyssa,” Daena says, “she used to tell him about us, about Runestone. Then he asked me if she was dead too.”

Rhaelle almost flinches.

“He is not yet seven years old and he has watched most of his family die,” Daena whispers bitterly, glancing towards the guards, out of earshot.

Rhaelle watches them too, far too busy with their own conversation to be listening to them and only sparing occasional glances towards the children. Then she looks back to the castle, hoping Aemond is still there, and he is.

When Ser Willis says it is time for the children to be taken back to the Holdfast, Rhaelle and Daena oblige. Jaehaera’s hands and mouth are covered in purple fruit juice and she is delighted with herself.

They pass under the balcony where Aemond stands as they reenter the castle. Daena and Morra are walking arm in arm. Aegon and Jaeheara are excitedly talking about caterpillars and butterflies and all the places they would fly to if they could grow wings.

Rhaelle sees him though, and catches his lone eye. His face is unreadable, stern and soft, dark and light.

Instinct, a reckless urge that she justifies as a risk, drives her towards a doorway leading off from the entrance hall. Daena and Morra will wait for her in their chambers once the children have been seen back to the nursery. The doorway leads to a hall, then a small winding staircase. She hitches her skirts and climbs it quickly, ensuring not to lose her footing in haste. She feels like she is chasing something intangible and follows it along a gallery, then to the balcony beyond that.

Aemond is still standing there with his hands behind his back and his head tall, looking south, over the gardens and Blackwater Bay beyond that. The noise of the castle does not reach her ears here, only the sound of the wind and the waves rolling over the shore beneath the Keep. In the west the sky burns like fire and in the east it is already getting dark.

She approaches him slowly, her shoes making enough of a noise against the flagstone floor to alert him of her presence, but softly enough so as not to disturb him. She comes to stand beside him on his seeing side, keeping her head straight but watching him, always watching him. “Your Grace,” she says quietly.

The corner of his mouth is curled. Is he smirking? Or is he irritated by her presence? “My Lady,” he returns.

Her hands are shaking. She brings them before her, clasping them together so she cannot fidget. “I had assumed you had other business this evening.”

“You assumed,” he says without looking at her.

“Ser Willis said you invited us to see the children.”

“I thought you might like to.”

“I did,” she insists, turning her head to face him. “I did. I am grateful. Daena and I are both grateful.”

Aemond hums, low and cryptic. It makes her feel weightless for a moment. He finally turns his head towards her. “The boy has mentioned you before, his Royce sisters, each of you.”

Coming from any other’s lips she might have taken her mother’s name as a compliment, and it could almost be that given the softness of his voice as he says it. But something else is written in the way he holds himself, the intensity in his eye, the striking gleam of silver hair falling over black leather: he is a true Targaryen, and she is an outsider.

Perhaps if she looks into his eye for long enough she’ll be able to read his thoughts. She finds nothing, save for an unsettled feeling in her chest and stomach. So she looks away, back out over the gardens. “I am glad my brother is being treated so well,” she says.

“Why should that surprise you?”

She tilts her head and gives him a rather pointed look. She asks herself if she would dare answer that question seriously. He still has the knife on him, maybe he’ll draw it and cut her throat for treason if she presses him hard enough.

Instead he hums a small laugh. “Prince Aegon is my heir until I have sons of my own. You needn’t fear if your brother is being mistreated.”

For now.

Then he adds in a quieter voice, “he is good with Jaehaera.”

Aegon was an older brother after all, and meant to have a younger sister of his own until the outbreak of war.

“The Princess is a delight,” Rhaelle says, “she is easy to love.”

Aemond’s eye lights up and he almost smiles. “She’s a sweet little thing, just like her mother was. Jaehaerys was the same…” he seems to regret this train of thought when he takes a slow breath and frowns to himself.

Rhaelle watches his chest rise and fall, this formidable man, a King forged in a time of war, determined not to crumble in the face of his own grief. She can almost pity him, and perhaps she does when she feels a gnawing sort of feeling knotting and twisting inside of her. She aches for him, for his losses and for her own.

“I see my own mother in many ways,” she says, taking a step into him. Aemond looks to her again, darkly but patiently. “I see her in my sister when she is stubborn. I see her in myself sometimes, all the times I thought she was being overbearing. I see her when I ride through the hills at Runestone. I feel her hovering over my shoulder when I draw a bow.”

Aemond has turned his body to face her now, not completely, just a little. One of his hands rests on the balustrade brought into a gentle fist, and he’s standing close to her, enough that she can hear each breath he takes and smell the leather of his jerkin.

“Because we don’t truly lose them,” she says, “at least I hope not. I can scarcely remember my mother’s face but I still know her love.”

“And that gives you comfort?” Aemond says.

“It does.”

“And what of your father, what love do you have for him?”

His question steals the air from her lungs. What love does she have for him, the man she hardly knew? The man her mother hated. The man who gave her his name and the burden of his legacy. Daemon’s blood runs through her veins as much as Rhea Royce’s does, life beyond death, enduring and damning.

Aemond is watching her intently, waiting for her answer, searching her face for a sign of weakness, but always with that gleam of amusement. Did he look for weakness in Daemon before they mounted their dragons at the God’s Eye? Did he find the fear he seems to feed off?

“The same all girls have for their fathers, I suppose,” is her answer.

“And do all girls love their fathers?”

“As best we can.”

“How diplomatic of you,” he says, smirking. He’s toying with her, testing her like a hunting trap.

“You distrust me,” she says.

He tuts. “I would very much like to trust you.”

“Yet you do not.”

“Do you trust me, cousin?”

It’s like asking if she would trust a snarling beast with a taste for her blood. “You are my King,” she says.

“And as King, it is my duty to identify threats, to my rule and to the realm.”

His gaze does not falter, and so she will not allow hers to either.

“Am I a threat, Your Grace?”

He considers her for a few moments, like he did in the throne room, studying her as closely and thoroughly as a scholar studies an ancient tome. All the while he curls his lips like he has a secret. “My brother was King before me,” he says in a low voice, taking another small step into her. “You are aware of the end he met?”

“Poison,” she says.

“And I took Larys Strong’s head for it, a man who served my mother for many years, who saw Jaeheara to safety during the war, who helped Aegon return to King’s Landing when it was taken from him. I could have all manner of enemies in these very walls, those who might seek to replace me with a child, more easily controlled than I am. Wearing a crown did not spare my brother from death and it will not spare me.”

He can trust no one, he means. A crown has become comparable to a death sentence as of late, and Kings and Queens are perhaps not as invincible as they once seemed.

“You are not your brother,” she says.

“No. What am I then?”

She parts her lips to respond, but she cannot give him an answer. In truth, the thought of being face to face with him, to ask for his mercy had terrified her when she first left Runestone. Aemond Targaryen, the man who started a war when he killed his nephew, who burned armies and put innocent men, women and children to the sword, who killed her father.

She has often wondered how he did it, if the battle was quick, or if it was long and bitter. She has wondered if the dragons tore each other to pieces, or if Aemond had been able to look his uncle in the eye as he claimed his life.

Before all of that he was a child with a gruesome gash in his face, who had tried so hard to hide his pain from her.

He hums cryptically and she feels him lean in closer to her, coming close enough that she can see the imperfections and the details in his face, the lines around his mouth and the texture of his skin. The edges of his scar appear as thin lines now. It is a striking element to his appearance, but other than that, she supposes he is merely a man.

“I have asked you once but I shall ask again: have you come to ask something of me, Lady Rhaelle?”

Lord Corlys would warn her to be patient. There is a strategy that must be employed, a set order in place for making a request of the King. She must be delicate, for Alyssa’s sake.

She spots his hand on the balustrade and places her own over it, barely tracing her fingers over his. She feels his gaze on her all the while. “Our house has been divided for too long. Shouldn’t we seek to heal this rift between our families?”

He watches where their hands meet and lifts them until their palms are against one another. Rhaelle’s fingertips press into the grooves of his fingers, against his warmth and the rough calluses of his skin.

“Hmm,” he says, threading his fingers through hers, closing over her knuckles. “You have a way with choosing your words carefully.”

Naturally. Her survival depends on it. “As must we all, Your Grace,” she says.

He mutters under his breath, like she’s played a winning move in a game of cyvasse, “very good.”

She can still feel him when she returns to her chambers, the gentlest brush of his fingertips and the heat of his hand against hers. She can mistake a gentle draft or breeze for his breath ghosting over her face, the sound of the wind beyond the window as the sound of his voice.

Lord Corlys visits them after dinner. She offers him some of the leftover roast beef but she shakes his head and instead asks for a cup of wine as he makes himself comfortable in an armchair before the hearth.

Rhaelle joins him, bringing two cups with her while Morra carries the decanter of wine. Daena gathers a fur throw, a pillow and a book, and settles on a chaise by the window. She doesn’t usually like to read, especially not at night when she can scarcely see the words.

Rhaelle smiles at her, sceptically. Daena shrugs her shoulders and lowers her eyes to the page.

“I have news from Driftmark,” Lord Coryls says, “Baela and Rhaena have accepted their invitation to the King’s Tournament and will set sail for King’s Landing in three days time.”

This is supposed to make her happy. From what she remembers at their mother’s funeral and the wedding feast, her half-sisters were agreeable enough but still unfamiliar. Baela, the older twin, was a little more forward than her sister, a dragonrider from a young age and it showed. Rhaena was far quieter and more cautious. They must be changed now, being right in the heart of Rhaenyra’s war.

“The King’s Tournament?” Daena’s voice calls from the window.

“Tourneys, feasts, dancing; a celebration to mark the betrothal of the King to Lady Floris Baratheon,” Corlys says, raising his glass.

A romance for the ages: he barged into Storm’s End looking for an army to support his brother’s claim, and she was the most agreeable of four sisters.

“The eyes of the realm will be on the two of you,” Lord Corlys says.

“I do not see why we would attract such interest,” Daena says.

“Aemond still needs to secure his rule. His heir is a child and the son of his brother’s rival. After that his closest competitors for the throne are his uncle’s daughters.”

“My sisters and I have no desire for a crown, Lord Corlys,” Rhaelle says.

“You are Targaryens and you have a claim to the throne whether you desire it or not. That invites challenge. Half the country has been devastated by war and the rest will struggle through winter. I’m afraid your matter will take time.”

“How much time?”

He gestures vaguely with his hands. “You will appear before the King tomorrow. You will renounce your father, your step-mother and your late betrothed. The King will accept, and you will ask only that Lady Alyssa be spared from the headsman.”

“He would have her killed?”

“It is a matter of contention amongst the members of the Small Council, but as I understand it, His Grace has little desire to spill any more blood than is necessary.”

Daena chuckles quietly to herself.

Lord Corlys’ brow raises, but he does not comment on it. “In return for your loyalty, I expect the King to welcome you wholeheartedly into his court. When Aemond and Floris are wed you may be given positions in the Queen’s Household. You’ll be able to stay here permanently, you’ll get to see your brother and sisters often, and eventually you’ll make good matches to rich and powerful husbands, as befitting your royal blood.”

She wouldn’t have her mother’s cousins pestering her about the absence of the Lady of Runestone, eyeing the seat that belongs to her sister. Hers and Daena’s futures would be secured.

“And what of Alyssa?” she asks.

“I will ensure she is kept alive and well, and in time, we may convince the King to release her.”

May convince. The thought does not feel particularly assuring, but what else can she do?

She wakes at dawn the next morning, dresses and readies herself for court as she had done the previous day, taking her sister’s arm as they walk into the throne room. There is no grand entrance this time, they are led to an adjacent chamber and enter through a small doorway that leads them to the far end of the hall.

She and Daena stand to the right, below the steps that lead to the throne, behind the members of the Small Council, Lord Corlys, Lord Tyland, Maester Orwyle, Lord Unwin Peake, Martyn Hightower and his brother, Garmund. These men have no doubt argued over the matter of her sister’s imprisonment. “A matter of contention,” as Lord Corlys had said.

Aemond sits upon the throne again, comfortably poised, and she is amongst the first to lobby him.

Lord Corlys steps forward to announce her as she approaches the Iron Throne. She comes to her knees before him and allows herself to look up. She half expects to find him smiling, but his lips are in a thin line, not amused or prideful, but curious, his eye fixed upon her face.

“Your Grace,” she says, mustering all the courage she can to give her voice a clear demand without pushing too far. “I come before you once again as your loyal subject, to speak for myself and for my sister, Lady Daena.”

Aemond crosses one of his legs over the other, with his arm resting upon the throne, amongst the sharp edges of the blades. He brings his fingers to his chin and tilts his head, a command to continue.

She feels her pulse quicken, the words threatening to catch in her throat as they had done before, but she forces herself through it. “I renounce my late father, the traitor, Daemon Targaryen. I renounce my late step-mother, Princess Rhaenyra and her attempt to supplant the true line of succession. I renounce my former betrothed, the late Prince Joffrey. I–” she catches Lord Corlys’ eye and he nods to her.

She thinks of Alyssa, her brave, beautiful sister, who held her and soothed her when Ser Gerold explained that their mother would never return to them, whose wisdom she worshipped and whose arms she sought comfort in until the day Daemon took her to Dragonstone. Once the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, now condemned to death if Rhaelle does not save her.

“I come before you again, to pledge my loyalty to you, and to our house,” she says, keeping her head down, waiting for the sound of Aemond’s voice or his footsteps.

“Come to me,” he says.

It’s like her body is set alight, heat, fury and excitement rising in her belly, her blood running hot beneath her skin. There is anger too, because she cannot read him, because she cannot tell if this is a show of favour or if he means to insult her somehow. She resents his incessant staring. She resents his cold, impassive nature. She resents the light feeling in her limbs as she climbs the steps to stand before him.

He rises to meet her, his hand outstretched and his lips threatening to break into a smirk.

Most of what she had heard of her father was that he was a jealous and ambitious man. He coveted this seat, held by his brother, promised to his niece, ultimately claimed by his nephew. Daemon killed for it, he died for it, and now she is close enough that she could reach out and touch it.

She places her hand in his and he holds her gently, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. She clenches her jaw as she tries not to shudder.

“I accept your pledge,” he says, then loudly, so the others in the room may hear him. “It is not my wish to punish you for the sins of your family.”

The room hums with curious murmurs, nods of approval and whispers.

“Forgive me,” Rhaelle says quietly, as if this were a private exchange, as if they were not on display before the court. “You asked me yesterday if I had something to ask of you, and the truth is I do.”

Aemond’s brow raises, but the rest of his face is solemn. “Go on,” he says.

“My sister, Alyssa, is currently your prisoner, declared to be a traitor by your brother’s order. Spare her life, cousin, I beg you.”

Suddenly the silence in the hall is tangible. What must they be thinking, the Lords and Ladies before them, the men of the Small Council, Lord Corlys?

She does not spare a glance for any of them. She tightens her grip on Aemond’s hand and when she looks into his eye she does not plead for pity or sympathy. She is a Targaryen just as much as he is, with fire in her blood and pride in her heart.

“Lady Rhaelle,” Aemond says, “you are the acting Lady of Runestone.”

“I am, Your Grace.”

“You do a fine job of it, so I understand?”

She hesitates. She ensures the castle, its lands and people are kept well. She advises Lady Arryn when it is required of her. “As best I can, Your Grace.”

He leans in closer to her, close enough that she feels his breath on the shell of her ear and her neck. “Do away with modesty, it is a waste of my time,” he mutters. When he pulls away the corner of his mouth is curled so that it could almost be a joke. “Lady Rhaelle,” he announces, addressing the room, “in return for your loyalty to the crown, I hereby grant you the title of Lady of Runestone and all its inheritance.”

The room applauds this decision but Rhaelle is struck by dread. She looks to Daena, equally surprised, equally powerless. She looks to Lord Corlys, who seems to accept this too. The faces of Lord Tyland, Lord Unwin, and the Hightowers are less pleased.

She turns back to Aemond and keeps her voice low, “Your Grace, I cannot accept–”

His grip on her hand becomes a painful one as he turns his face in towards her. “You will accept,” he says with a cold fury. “While I am moved by your devotion to your sister, she must remain a prisoner and forfeit any and all claims she was previously entitled to.”

His face is dark and severe and her stomach drops like she is standing at the edge of some great height, one step away from a fall. She might be wise to fear this side of him, she thinks, but she is tempted to refuse him, to take that final step from the edge if only to see what anger he can truly unleash. She’d take pride in it, and maybe it’s her Targaryen nature, but suddenly something in the back of her mind thirsts for chaos.

It is her choice to make, but her life and the lives of her family will be at risk if she makes the wrong one.

And so she must choose her words carefully, unsure if it will bring her closer to her goal or drag her further from it.

“It would be an honour, Your Grace.”

Rhaelle and Daena dine alone that night. She is starving, but then the meat is brought out, a cut of roasted lamb, rare meat still on the bone that bleeds when Morra starts to carve it for them. It repulses her. She cannot even look at it. She downs a cup of apple cider instead and manages a mouthful of bread.

Daena can see that something is wrong, but does not question her.

Morra, on the other hand, offers her more cider and something that might be softer on her stomach. “Blackberries?” she suggests with a kind smile.

“Please,” Rhaelle mutters.

Morra brings her a small bowl of them, dusted with sugar. At first she is thankful for how refreshing the taste is on her tongue, until she looks down at her fingertips and sees them stained red.

She forces her hand away from her lips in a sudden jolt of movement, and in her haste knocks her fork to the floor with a jarring clatter of metal against stone.

It doesn’t matter, she thinks, starting to wipe her fingers against her napkin, but the red will not fade. She tries harder, dragging the fabric against her skin until it almost burns, but it won’t come out, it will not–

“Lady Rhaelle?”

She throws her napkin down on the table and covers her mouth, fighting the urge to gag. “I’m fine,” she tries to whisper, “I feel unwell is all.”

“I’ll draw you a bath,” Morra says.

Rhaelle shakes her head. “No, I just…” but she cannot find the words. She cannot decide what she needs.

“Come, sister,” Daena says, having risen from her seat and come to place her hand on her shoulder. “I think you need to rest.”

Rhaelle lets herself be led away into her bedchamber. Daena helps her to remove her jewellery and lays out a night shift on the bed for her. Once Rhaelle has undressed, she reaches for the pins in her hair.

“Let me,” Daena says softly, and Rhaelle’s hands fall away. Daena’s touch is unsure but gentle. She would never have had as much practice at doing another’s hair, not as the youngest sister, but it is a welcome comfort.

Rhaelle stares at her reflection in the mirror as Daena brings a brush through her hair. She watches candlelight and shadows flicker over her face, over both of their faces. Their eyes look dark in the lowlight, almost black, like their mother’s, not the striking violet that makes them their father’s daughters.

“Do you think the Gods will punish me for this?” she utters.

“Punish you? Whatever for?”

She swallows thickly, her vision starting to blur. “I offered a hundred men at arms to Lady Jeyne to fight in the war. I could have offered more. I could have mounted a horse myself and met our father at Harrenhal. I could have written to Rhaenyra and asked her to send Alyssa back to Runestone. I could have offered men to defend King’s Landing, or to hold Dragonstone. There is so much I could have done, and now I have forsaken our family, our own blood because I was too weak to do anything before–” she gasps to catch her breath. The tears have spilled from her eyes now, they sting against her cheeks and taste salty and bitter on her lips.

Daena’s hands vanish from her hair. Rhaelle instead finds herself cradled in her sister’s arms.

“Alyssa is our family,” Daena says. “It was not Daemon Targaryen who protected us when mother died, it was our sister, it was our cousins, it was House Royce. We remember, you taught me what that means.”

Daena presses a kiss to her head and strokes her hand over her hair, like Alyssa used to when they were girls, like the way she has always imagined her mother would. “Aemond will favour our cause,” she whispers. “He has to. He has to.”

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alrightieaphroditie · 10 months

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harder | j.m series masterlist!

pairing *:·ﾟjoel miller x female!reader wc *:·ﾟ5.7k warnings *:·ﾟ18+! minors please do not interact!! v angsty at first, mentions of death and overall sad topics... then we go into a lil bit of kissing, some dirty talk if you squint, teasing, pet names (baby, sugar), titty play, some praise, probably poorly written smut lmao an *:·ﾟit's been a hot second since i tried writing smut and damn am i insecure about it lmaoo this took longer than anticpated too because i sadly lost half of it almost immediately after writing it... so yeah. feedback is hella appreciated on this, and it isn't quite proofread so if you catch something please let me know!! i enjoyed writing this (like a lot) so i really hope you all enjoy reading this! <3

synopsis *:·ﾟever since the dinner at your place, joel and ellie have fit themselves into your life seamlessly. when joel gets back from a hunting trip, he comes over and shows you some new tricks. (18+!)

over the course of a couple months, joel and ellie had fit themselves into your life like puzzle pieces.

the pair would come over to your house once a week every week after that first dinner together, and sometimes you would cook, sometimes you'd grab some food to go from the tipsy bison. they would help you set the table, ellie nagging joel most nights about how slow he was moving to put the silverware around the table. you would all eat, then ellie would sneak into the living room while you and joel cleaned together. and then the three of you would sit around your coffee table, playing board games or cards. or you'd go to see the movie playing in town, or you'd go for a walk around the neighborhood.

these nights with them quickly became your favorite moments of the week. you had formed a close bond with ellie, and the more time you spent with joel, the harder you fell for him. most nights ellie would fall asleep in the guest room you had set up for her, and you and joel would spend hours talking together out on the porch like you did that first night.

sometimes you'd talk about nothing major. he'd comment on how the greenhouses were doing, which was where you helped the community out the most, and it would get you talking about all the vegetables and flowers you were trying to grow. or you'd ask how his patrol shift went, and he'd complain to you about his partner. it was small talk, but with someone like joel, it meant a lot to you that he was willing to simply sit on your wooden bench beside you and listen.

sometimes, after a long week, you'd make joel a glass of whiskey (which you had started to keep around simply for the man. how he didn't know how much you crushed on him was beyond you. maybe it was his age.) and you'd talk about the harder things. your time spent in the bunker your family built. how your best friend was murdered by a group of hunters after they had kept you captive for weeks. how they used you. how you managed to kill them all while they slept because they got lazy and assumed you were too weak.

joel had had a hard time listening to it, but he insisted that he wanted to hear about your past. the guilt he felt was indescribable. he wasn't the one to keep you captive, to use you, but with his past as a hunter he couldn't help but feel like he played a role in your pain. he had spent a lot of time repressing his emotions regarding that aspect of his life, but you encouraged him to talk about it. to feel his emotions. you told him over and over again that you didn't blame him, weren't scared of him. didn't judge him.

it was hard for him to hear, to believe, but your consistency helped him more than he would ever admit. he was more welcome in jackson now than he was when he first arrived, mostly thanks to you, but he still felt like an outsider. like people were just waiting for a pin to drop and for him to reduce back into the monster of a man they claimed him to be. he was tired of trying to prove to everyone that he was simply just a man who survived the only way he knew how to. but with you? he didn't feel the need to apologize for who he was. he could settle with you, and that was something he hadn't felt in a long time.

on the simpler nights, joel would talk about his life before the outbreak, how he and tommy worked in contracting and how he missed doing things with his hands. he'd talk about always being busy, always doing something, when the world turned. about how he was skeptical of the community when he and ellie first stumbled upon it because for once, for the first time since the outbreak, he wasn't constantly having to look over his shoulder for something bad.

on the harder nights, the ones where joel felt like he needed more than one glass of liquor, he confided in you about sarah. about tess. about how his relationship with tommy had changed and he didn't know what he needed to do to fix it anymore. about his insecurities with ellie, how he didn't trust his mind anymore to make the right decisions when it came to her because he was too attached.

he told you all of the things he swore he would never talk about again, and you simply sat there, listening, sharing his burden. the way your hand would rest gently on his arm while he talked, squeezing it every once in a while, to encourage him to go on, it provided him with a strength he didn't know he needed.

joel didn't know this, but that night when he first told you about sarah and the events that happened on his birthday, after he and ellie had left, you spent the rest of your night crying in your bed. crying for joel, for the loss he had experienced. for how the world had turned and how he had to manage the loss of his own world on top of it. for how he was never properly able to grieve her death.

you were beginning to see a side of joel you don't think anyone has seen in a long time. you were also starting to understand why joel miller was the man he is today. after learning about his past, his experiences, and his trauma, you recognized and could empathize why he felt the need to guard his heart the way he has been. it was a testament to his strength, how he could keep going while carrying all of that inside of him, and you admired the hell out him.

and somehow, you had worked your way into his heart, through his guards. and joel may not have known it yet, but you were there to stay, and you would be for as long as he let you.

you were constantly thinking about the man, your days spent replaying your conversations in your mind and getting giddy just remembering them. you honestly were a bit concerned, considering you've never felt this way about anyone before. you wanted to ask maria about it, but then she'd pester you into telling her who you were crushing over, and you didn't think it would go over too well considering joel was twice your age and, well, him.

so, you kept it to yourself, letting your mind fantasize about what it would be like to actually be with joel, physically, romantically, all of it.

you hadn't seen joel in a couple of days, as he was one of the men selected to go hunt. he wouldn't be back for a few more days, either, and you hated to admit it but you missed him. and you wondered if he missed you too. if he ever thought about you while he was away. he was so hard to read, even now, and sometimes you thought about just grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him while you unloaded all of your feelings onto him.

but if there was one thing you knew about joel miller, it was that he would absolutely hate that. so... you kept it to yourself.

you had just gotten home after spending all day in the greenhouse with ellie. maria had you showing her the vegetation that the community was working on, showing her the ins and outs of gardening and how to properly pick the fruit that was growing. she loved it, of course, and on her breaks, she spent most of the time sketching the different fruits and flowers in the little sketchbook joel had found for her.

it was a good day, but a busy one, and you were exhausted. the sun was already starting to set, and you wanted to cuddle up on your couch with one of the romance novels your friend had brought you with a cup of tea. you were still dressed in your work outfit - a pair of olive-green linen pants and simple black cotton t-shirt - and you were already planning on stepping into your pajamas early when a knock on your door startled you.

a glance through the little peephole on your door had your heart racing. joel was standing on your porch, one of his arms behind his back as he glanced around. you could see the muscles in his arm bulge against the faded red t-shirt he was wearing, and that sight alone could've fueled your fantasies for a month straight.

a grin was plastered on your face as you unlocked the front door, and his dark eyes found yours easily through the screen door. "joel miller, as i live and breathe. what are you doin' here?" you adopted an exaggerated southern accent, something you and ellie started doing to poke fun of joel for his texan roots. he kept telling you guys it wasn't funny, but you could always see a small smile on his lips every time you did it.

even now as he rolled his eyes at you, you could see the edges of his mouth quirk up in a smirk, and fuck but you loved it. "you think you're so damn funny with that, don't you?" he asked, his gaze trailing down your body so quickly you almost missed it. but you didn't, and now your face was burning bright red.

"ellie would agree with me and you know it, mister." you argued, pushing the screen door open for joel to come in. he didn't move, though, keeping his arm behind his back with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. you crossed your arms over your chest. "but for real, i thought you were gonna be out a few more days with everyone else?" it was rare that the hunting party would come back early, but not uncommon either.

"didn't have much luck in the area we were in, so we figured we'd come back and regroup before leaving again. i found somethin' though," he trailed off, a full smile encompassing his mouth now. something you had learned about joel in your months of studying him was that gift giving was a huge thing for him. he mainly brought stuff back for ellie, but you've noticed lately that he had been finding little things here and there for you too. you wondered what that meant.

you could just barely make out the edges of something behind his legs, but you couldn't quit tell what it was. your arms slipped from your chest, your hands moving out and making a grabby motion. "you want me to close my eyes?" you teased, making a point of squinting your eyes so that you could see just a sliver of joel between them. he shook his head at you, grumbling something about how weird you were becoming, and he moved his arm from back behind his body.

"joel!" you gasped; mouth dropped in awe as he presented a perfectly intact guitar. "this is amazing! you do know what this means now, right?" his eyebrow rose as he took in the sight of you gently holding the instrument. he had been pretty proud of the find, taking care to clean off the vines and dirt that had dusted itself around the guitar. considering you had been begging him for lessons for weeks since ellie mentioned he could play the guitar; he knew what was coming.

he wanted to tease you about it, regardless.

"if i hear the words 'guitar lessons' come out of your mouth, 'm leavin'." he threatened, crossing his arms across his chest. his worn t-shirt strained against his muscles and tightened around his chest, and it took everything in you not to stare. his tone was mean, as mean as he could get with you, but then he did something you weren't expecting - he winked at you.

you squealed internally.

“that’s not fair and you know it, miller. we literally have a guitar now! what else are we gonna do with it?” you complained playfully, your voice light. you started backing up into the house, joel’s arm reaching out to catch the screen door before it slammed shut in his face. he followed you in, making sure to close both doors and kicking his work boots off next to the small rug you had inside.

you were still marveling over the instrument, turning it over in your hands while taking it in. from what you remembered, this was a pretty standard guitar. the wood was a warm brown, and it had all six silvery strings connected still. you sat down on the carpet in front of your couch, balancing the guitar on your thighs. you were aware of joel as he entered the living room behind you, settling into one of the chairs you had on the other side of the room.

he was quiet as he watched you get comfortable with the guitar, his brown eyes sweeping over your figure. your head was bent to the side, your hair falling in slight waves across your face as you studied where to put your fingers on the neck. he could see you biting your bottom lip as you concentrated, and he had to stealthy adjust himself in the chair as he watched. god, he thought. you looked so beautiful.

his thoughts were interrupted by the loudest, most out of tune noise coming from you and the guitar. he had to fight off the urge to cover his ears, but then he wouldn’t have heard the sound of your laughter that followed quickly after, and that was something he never wanted to miss. his eyes were already on yours when you lifted your head to look at him, a sheepish smile on your face. “clearly i don’t know what i’m doing. your turn?”

he hadn’t played the guitar in years, but he would be lying if he said his fingers weren’t itching to at least hold it again. he rubbed his palms against his jean clad thighs before standing up and taking the guitar from your outstretched hands. for some reason, he was nervous to play in front of you. he wanted it to be good, to be perfect, but with years of not practicing and with no idea how maintained this guitar was, he really couldn’t do much besides try.

joel tested the guitar in his grip, absentmindedly strumming his fingers quietly while he fiddled with the pegs to tune it. and you sat there on your carpet, stars in your eyes as you watched his shoulders relax ever so slightly. you saw his foot tapping against the floor as he strummed, and it wasn’t a song you recognized but it immediately became your new favorite.

he played for a lot longer than you anticipated, his eyes closing softly as his fingers worked the neck of the guitar. you wished in this moment that you had a camera, some way to capture the moment. you’ve never seen joel so relaxed, so in his element. his foot, tapping away against your floor. his hands, holding the guitar with a level of gentleness you weren’t expecting. his head, slowly bobbing along to the chords he played. the sunset was filtering through your window, casting him in an orangish glow.

and your heart ached, thinking about the man before you who once dreamed of making a career out this. he was talented enough, that was for damn sure. you could easily imagine him somewhere up on a stage, holding the same guitar and preforming the same exact way. you wondered if he’d ever sing in front of you, but you didn’t want to push your luck. this alone was enough for you.

the music eventually drifted away softly, joel’s fingers coming to rest as he strummed it one last time. he cleared out his throat when he finished, looking a little shy, but you weren’t having it. “joel, that was amazing.” you gushed, fighting the urge to clap for him.

“s’nothin’ special,” he muttered, but you swore the tips of his cheeks turned a shade of light pink from the compliment.

“that’s bullshit and you know it,” your tone was argumentative back, not wanting him to diminish his talents. you sat forward on your knees, clasping your hands together. “will you please teach me something, joel? anything? one singular basic chord?” you begged, giving him your biggest eyes and playful pout.

“you’re almost worse than ellie is when she wants something.” he teased, rolling his head back on his neck before standing up to come sit behind you on the couch. his legs spread out, and from the corner of your eye you could see his thighs strain against his jeans. oh lord.

“i’m taking that as a compliment. that girl is so headstrong and i love it,” you shuffled back so that your back was pressed against the couch, crossing your legs over the other again so that you could rest the guitar against your lap. you gave an experimental strum, and since joel worked on tuning it, the noise that came out was much more pleasant than your attempt earlier.

“course you would,” the man behind you muttered, and you shot him a grin over your shoulder before adjusting your hands on the instrument. he leaned forward slightly, keeping an eye on your hands and not the way your shirt dipped down the front of your chest slightly. your skin was more exposed, and he could see a constellation of freckles littering your skin. fuck, but he wanted to kiss every single one of them.

with a sigh, joel began telling you where to place your fingers along the neck for specific chords. he was patient, watching carefully as you figured them out with his help. every time you correctly struck the right chord, it made him grin. he liked seeing you so excited over this mundane activity. the way you were always so enthusiastic, so bright, it just drew him in like a moth to the light. he couldn’t help it.

you had shifted away from the couch slightly, your back hunched over the instrument as you did you best to play it. you had picked up the simple chords pretty easily, but you were struggling with getting your finger placement correct on the last one joel gave you. joel kept telling you how easy this one was, too, which had started to frustrate you. the man’s hands were easily twice the size of your own, of course he would think it was easy. and you said as much to joel, too, who only chuckled in response.

“know you can do it, sugar.” he encouraged quietly, scooting over on the couch so that his legs almost bracketed your body. he leaned forward, pulling your upper body back a bit from its slouch as he moved to help you. “keep your arm like this, and then stretch this finger as much as you can. you can move your wrist a little, too.” his rough hands were soon on top of your own, his applying a little more pressure so that he could guide your finger to the correct position.

finally, you were able to hit the chord right, and you cheered for yourself as you strummed it a couple more times. joel’s hand had slide up your arm gently, resting on the top of your left shoulder while you played. he was still crouched over slightly, but when you turned your head to look at him, you were shocked with how close his face was to yours.

now that you were facing him though, you could revel in the way his breath was hitting the spot on your neck just right, how it sent goosebumps down your arms and a shiver to your spine. if you tilted your head slightly, you’d bump his nose with your own. your eyes jumped to his, your hand gripping the neck of the guitar so tightly you worried that you were going to snap it. “joel,” you whispered, soft breaths parting from your lips as it opened slightly.

his dark eyes met yours, and that was it.

you weren’t too sure who moved first. if it was you, dropping the guitar from your lap while you twisted up onto your knees in front of him. if it was him, the hand on your shoulder moving to rest at the base of your neck, squeezing it slightly as he guided you up to his mouth. joel’s thumb caressed your skin softly, and you felt yourself go weak in the knees.

his mouth slanted across yours, and the feeling of his stubble scratching against your face made you whimper into his mouth softly. his hand tightened around your neck, using the leverage to pull you up from your knees, while his other hand guided you by your hip to straddle one of his legs on the couch. your hands went from his shoulders to his hair to cupping the sides of his face. you could feel him grinning against your lips.

you’ve been kissed before but kissing joel was an entirely new experience. you have never done something that felt so right, so good. you never wanted this to stop.

your legs adjusted your weight on his thigh, and you felt joel’s grip on your waist tighten as he pressed you down harder. you could feel the rough denim through your thin linen pants, and when joel moved his hand forward, your hip followed in his grip as he rocked you against his thigh. this was a new experience, however. the feeling of his solid thigh pressed against your core, and you suddenly felt much, much hotter.

“joel,” you whispered again, though it came out in more of a whimper against his lips. his hand rocked you against him again, and yours slid to hold his shoulders and you tested the movement yourself, dragging your hips up his thigh and then back down. another whimper emitted from your lips, and you had half a mind to be embarrassed about the noise, but you were too caught up in the feeling.

“i know, baby.” his voice was rough against your mouth, and he lowered his lips against yours again, this time angling his head to the side to deepen the kiss. joel tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth, making you gasp softly at the hint of pain before his tongue covered the spot. he took the opportunity of your open mouth to move his tongue in against yours, and you basically crumpled in his lap at how demanding he was as he kissed you.

your hips had started to steadily move against his thigh on your own, but his big, rough hand was still resting on your hip, his fingers digging little half-moon bruises into your skin as he helped you press a little harder. joel gave your throat one last little squeeze before he moved to the hem of your t-shirt, his fingers slipping underneath ever so slightly. you could feel the calluses on his hands as he trailed them across your stomach lightly, and your breath caught in your throat as he brushed his thumb over the material of your bra, right where your nipple would be.

you were so overwhelmed by everything joel - his taste, his touch, his smell. you didn’t want to, but you felt yourself struggling to catch a breath, so you pulled away from his mouth slightly, brushing his nose with yours gently. he could feel the little pants coming from your mouth as you exhaled, could hear the smallest of whimpers riding along those exhales as well. everything about you in this moment was working for him, so well that he was trying to think of something ridiculous to stop himself from coming in his damn jeans like a teenager.

“god, sugar,” he said lowly, trailing his nose across your jaw and down your neck before settling his lips on the base of your throat. the feeling made you giggle softly, but it quickly turned into a louder moan as he started to suck on your skin. “you’re ridin’ my thigh so well, huh?” the compliment had you blushing even more than before.

you never would’ve imagined that joel, quiet, stoic, joel, would be talking to you like one of the heroes in your romance novels. it was better than anything you could have ever thought of.

“it feels so good, joel,” you whined, sliding your hand from his shoulder to cup the back of his head. you let your fingers dig into his skin, pulling on the small strands of his hair lightly as you bucked your hips against him. he let out a low groan against your neck, his fingers underneath your shirt pinching the spot his thumb just brushed against.

he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “fuck, i knew you’d be too good to resist. you look so pretty, takin’ what you want from me.” he nipped at your neck, grinning against your skin as you cried out. letting go of your hip, he moved his hand under your shirt with the other one, raising it just enough so that he could see the black bra you were wearing. “can i move this down?” he asked so politely, pressing a small kiss against the skin he just bit.

considering the position you were in, the pleasure this man was making you feel by simply kissing you, you were inclined to let him do whatever he so pleased with you. all you could do was nod your head, give him a small “mhm,” as your eyes started to flutter shut from the tingling sensation happening low in your stomach.

you heard joel give you a quiet “thank you, baby,” before his hands tugged down the front of your bra. he didn’t bother pulling your shirt off, he didn’t bother taking the bra off entirely. instead, he managed to pull them low enough to have your tits spill over the top, and he bit back a groan before he lowered his mouth to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

the feeling of his warm mouth against your sensitive skin had you arching your back, pressing your front closer against joel. he slid one of his hands to your lower back, his skin rough against yours, as he encouraged you to move your hips against him. your hand in his hair gripped tightly, practically holding joel against your chest as he nipped and sucked.

your inner thighs were starting to shake from the movements, and his name was leaving your mouth like a prayer. it only encouraged him more, and he started to softly bounce his leg while you moved against it, giving you even more friction. you felt the heat from your stomach pool to your center, and you weren’t even able to form a coherent thought anymore. you couldn’t help your eyes from squeezing shut, couldn’t help your mouth from falling open, couldn’t help the borderline pornographic moans that emitted from your lips.

“that’s it, sugar. gonna make yourself cum against my thigh, huh?” joel asked, pulling away from your chest as he watched you with hooded eyes. you were completely lost in the pleasure, could feel yourself soak through your panties with how wet you were becoming. you had never cum like this before, but god this would definitely not be the last time. that was a sentiment that you both had shared.

“fuck, joel,” you squeaked out, increasing your hips movements against his thigh. his hand on your back gave you support, and he pinched your nipples roughly once more before he gripped your throat and brought your mouth back against his. this kiss was harder, messier, and more urgent than the kiss before. your teeth bumped against his, you felt your lips getting wet with spit, and fuck but you loved it. joel was usually so in control, so calm, and seeing him become so rushed, so frantic, it nearly pushed you to your orgasm alone.

the thing that did it for you, though, was joel pulling away slightly, your noses brushing together as he offered you quiet words of encouragement. “you’re doing such a good job, just like that, baby. look at you, makin’ a mess on my thigh.” his breath invaded your space, making you gasp as you fought to get air as his hand tightened around your neck. he kissed you once more, just a gentle press of his lips against yours, and you lost it.

your body curled in on itself as you came, white hot heat flooding your senses as you fell into joel’s chest with a loud cry. you were gripping him tightly, anchoring yourself to him as your body trembled. he held you tightly, brushing your hair back from your sweaty forehead and rubbing his hand up and down your back. he was grinning the entire time, his ego raising indefinitely at the fact that he had been able to make you feel this good.

your face was pressed in the crook of his neck, and you were surprised to find genuine tears lingering in your eyes. that knowledge had you giggling, and you must have been delirious because you couldn’t stop it from happening. joel tilted his head back. “what the hell are you laughin’ at right now?” he asked, incredulously. he had never had a girl laugh after being with him.

you could hear the slight panic in his voice, which made you laugh even more, but you sat back. “you made me cry,” you admitted to him, running your fingers underneath your eyes to wipe away the stray tears. joel let out a snort, which had you laughing once again. his thumbs moved to replace your fingers, gently moving across your skin until the wet was cleared up. he leaned up, placing a kiss gently on your forehead. “you okay?” he asked, softly caressing your skin with his hands.

you bit down on your bottom lip, feeling more than okay, and you gave him a quick nod before taking his mouth with yours. the kiss was soft, but you were well intended to give joel the same amount of affection. your hand had just trailed down his chest, stopping at the waistband of his jeans, when you heard your front door open.

“hello?” ellie’s voice rang out from the entryway, forcing you and joel apart. you had never moved so quickly, swinging your leg off of his thigh and fixing your top to cover your chest once again. you were still kneeling on the couch near joel when ellie stomped her way into the living room, giving the two of you a weird look. “why are you guys sitting so close to each other?”

“she had somethin’ in her eye,” joel’s response was so quick, it almost made you snort. “what the hell are you doin’ here, kid? and didn’t i teach you how to knock first?” his irritation was palpable, which you found funny. poor guy was probably seconds away from coming in his pants.

“geez, sorry. i saw that some of the other guys were back early, and you weren’t home so i figured you’d be here.” she explained, holding her hands up in surrender. joel pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, trying to get his breathing under control. he had no right to be mad at ellie, and it wasn’t that he was actually mad… he was just trying not to embarrass himself in front of you.

“why’d you figure that, els?” you asked, loving the fact that ellie knew joel well enough that he would come over here if he wasn’t at home first. even if you guys had just made out on your couch, you still liked the validation that joel maybe, possibly liked you back.

“where else would he be? he literally never leaves the house unless it’s to come over here, and he hasn’t shut up about you since you first met.” she threw herself down in one of the chairs across the room from you, completely oblivious to the glare joel was shooting her way.

“oh really?” your voice was teasing as you turned your head to joel, who easily fixated his glare on you. you wiggled on your knees slightly next to him, which caused his eyes to darken.

“don’t you ‘oh, really?’ me like that. is this how it’s gonna be? the two of you gangin’ up on me from now on? because i don’t think i like it very much.” he slouched back against the couch, folding his arms across his chest.

“yes, you do.” you and ellie chirped back at the same time, giving each other a grin as joel shook his head. he muttered something under his breath before standing up, adjusting his jeans as he did. ellie hopped up from her chair, too, rubbing her hands on her stomach. “can we get something from the tipsy bison? i’m starving.”

“sure, kid.” joel responded, ruffling her hair as she passed by him. she didn’t even bother to wave goodbye before she moved out the front door, leaving joel and you alone again. he glanced at the door until it was shut before turning back your way, placing his hand under your chin to lift your gaze up to him.

“we’ll talk about this later, yeah?” he asked, his brown eyes soft as they focused on your face. you simply nodded, finding yourself shifting up on your knees so that you could kiss him one more time. joel sighed as you did, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away. he bid you a goodnight before he followed ellie out of your house.

sinking back into the couch cushions, you couldn’t help but let yourself freak out for a moment. never in your wildest dreams did you anticipate your evening taking a turn like this, and you were looking forward to seeing joel again so that you could talk. hopefully, talking isn’t the only thing we do, you thought, the grin on your face wider than ever.

after kissing joel miller, it was decided. you were falling harder and harder for that man, and you didn’t mind it a single bit.

tag list *:·ﾟ@yyiikes @farintonorth @scarletsloveletter @miss-celestial-being @thatgingefromtheinternet @javicstories @marianita195 @feliciab1990

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amurih · 4 days

Text

Fuck it ima put it out anyway.

COTL AU where instead of staying in the cult Narinder leaves and builds his own little plot of land that becomes a rare occurrence you find while crusading through the different biomes post game.

Like it starts off when the lamb like spares Narinder and he’s like sent to the cult. And is in such a state of shock and bewilderment of what just happened that he doesn’t really know that the lamb is setting up their wedding until he’s at the alter. And he just SNAPS. To trade one prison for another? And to be stuck with the same being that not only took your crown, but your title as the god of death as your jailer? No thank you. Proceeds to walk out while the service is still going.

(I’m not the kind of person to think that he would be murdering or plotting to kill the lamb at every turn or possibly. No I would think that Narinder is smart enough to realize that he cannot fight the lamb in the condition that he is reduced to.)

Anyway, I want Narinder to experience life post-godhood by himself outside the cult. Maybe progressing over time you see how his plot of land develops into a pretty nice home for himself complete with a garden and an actual building/house. Not a hut, but an actual house.

All the while the lamb is going through it. It’s normal game play like one would post Narinder fight. Lore, upgrades, reviving the bishops, mystic seller, etc. All the while experiencing the highs and lows of ascension. I think the lamb would ask the other bishops once they get indoctrinated of how they went through their ascensions went. Only they would tell them that each went through theirs differently, so in the end it wasn’t really helpful.

So going through a process that you have no idea how to get through and the only person who does has fuck off into the land and hates your guts. Really fucking sucks man. So they try to “catch” Narinder while out crusading. Only they don’t find him physically, they find his place of residence while he is away.

I thought of a way to incorporate the quests that Narinder gives you when he is usually established in the cult. Could still be used: like there’s a book left on a table where you could peak in and see what’s going on with the cat that is currently away from his house.

“ I should head to Darkwoods and see if I can find more materials to build that fence and make more paper. Moving materials from one abandon home stead to this place has been challenging enough. My arms hurt after years of being bound to one position for so long...I wonder if camellias still bloom there now that Leshy is gone? If not I’ll have to develop a new alternative for this persistent strain and sharp pains I keep having. Got to get these walls up before it starts raining.”

“Bah! There’s not enough food at the last abandoned settlement let alone seeds. It’ll take long of a walk all the way to smuggler’s cove just to see if that sea louse got any thing. And it hasn’t been that long since the depletion of fish at pilgrim’s passage. I would have just stuck to what vegetables and berries I’ve got growing, but some animal or heratic keeps getting into my garden and stealing my food!when I find the person or thing that is stealing from me I’m going to make them into my fertilizer. In the meantime I should look into Anura and see if those foul mushrooms are still there. If I remember they are just as foul as Hecket when she would screamed about being hungry during dinner…Those should hold me over until I get this unwanted pest under control.”

“The wind and rain coming in through the holes on the side of the house that I use to see if any heretics come to kill me, has gotten too much. I’m tired of having to clean up the puddles of water that enters the home. And the curtains don’t do much in terms of trying to block both of these elements.That stupid squid Kallamar doesn’t need his crystals now that he’s gone. It didn’t help him when trying to hide from me. I’ll go to Anchordeep tomorrow and get some to make crystal windows. They sure would make it more beautiful than their temple…”

“Finally the loom is ready. It’s been a such a long time since I had decent robes. It’s easy to find cotton, but what I really want is a nice, soft, silk robe. One that doesn’t rub against these scars preferably. I miss the old one Shamura they made with their silk. But, that one got destroyed in the fight with that damn vessel. Maybe there is some in Silk Cradle. ”

(I’ll come back to this when I flesh it out more via work time daydreams)

#cotl #cotl lamb #colt narinder #cotl au #could also include:#narilamb #amurih talks #don’t really have a name for this #kinda thinking “Death’s House”#workshop it later #fuck it we ball

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mcflymemes · 11 months

Text

PROMPTS FOR BEST FRIENDS FOREVER * adjust as necessary, send 'reverse' for the reversal action prompts

DIALOGUE PROMPTS

i never want to know a life without you.

you're a great friend to me.

you mean a lot to me. i hope you know that.

what would i do without you?

don't make me sit on you.

we have too many inside jokes.

i really missed you.

i'm here for you, no matter what.

you can count on me.

wanna hear a dad joke?

you left this at my house.

whatever you need, i'll do it.

that's what best friends are for.

we're friends, right? friends look out for each other.

they thought we were siblings! honestly, i don't blame them.

i really need a friend right now.

could you please come over?

stop making me laugh!

i wouldn't be able to survive this without you.

you can lean on me. i'll be there for you.

i won't just abandon you.

we've been friends for years.

why don't you come over tonight?

let's get a bite to eat. i'm starving.

last one there's a rotten egg!

i call shotgun!

move over! i'm coming in!

you know... you're my best friend.

i trust you more than anyone else.

do you pinky promise?

if you don't stop, i'll tickle you.

i'll bring the snacks!

let's sit at our favorite table.

i've known you since i was five!

they literally can't separate us.

i don't think they've ever seen us apart.

will you be at my wedding?

let's do this together.

of course i remember our handshake.

i don't know how to function if you're not there.

you're the best friend anyone could ever ask for.

do you remember how we met?

stop messing up my hair!

honey, i'm home!

this is basically your house, too.

i really need your help.

i'll be a shoulder to cry on.

if anyone hurts you, they have to answer to me.

you have to carry on without me.

we can do this.

you're the only person who ever really believed in me.

ACTION PROMPTS

[ handshake ] sender and receiver perform their signature best friend handshake

[ pinky ] sender makes receiver pinky promise

[ steal ] sender steals a piece of clothing (like a hat) from receiver and puts it on

[ cheers ] sender and receiver lift their drink glasses in a celebratory toast

[ game ] sender challenges receiver to a board game

[ laughing fit ] sender and receiver end up in a hysterical laughing fit at a joke the sender made

[ keep away ] sender steals an item from receiver and plays keep away with them, holding it too far from their reach

[ splash ] while swimming together, sender splashes receiver

[ club ] sender and receiver go bar-hopping

[ movie night ] sender and receiver have a movie night complete with snacks, blankets, and lots of pillows

[ console ] sender is deeply distraught, so receiver comforts them

[ cuddle ] sender and receiver cuddle

[ sleep ] sender and receiver fall asleep together

[ toss ] sender keeps tossing items at receiver to get their attention

[ reach ] sender is about to fall to their death, and receiver reaches just in time to catch their hand and save them

[ tent ] sender and receiver attempt to pitch a tent together

[ rescue ] in a dramatic turn of events, receiver shows up in the nick of time to save sender's life

[ costume ] sender and receiver wear matching costumes to an event

[ pillow ] sender and receiver have a pillow fight

[ hobby ] sender and receiver enjoy their favorite hobby together

[ piggyback ] sender gives receiver a piggyback ride

[ treehouse ] sender and receiver hang out in a treehouse

[ notes ] sender and receiver pass secret notes to each other

[ fast food ] sender and receiver visit a fast food restaurant to grab a bite to eat

[ risk ] sender puts their life on the line to protect receiver

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808airsoftbros · 8 months

Text

Obsessive Step Mother (Bae Suzy)

Author: A yandere oneshot I've written in Wattpad. Hope you all enjoy it and if you want to see more of my works do check out the Masterlist.

To whoever reads this,

I've completely lost count of how long it's been since my stepmother imprisoned me inside our home without any means to contact the outside world.

However, the only way I could eat it was with my stepmother Bae Suzy or her butler delivering me food, it was delicious and nice which helped make my prison more bearable but regardless, I'm always finding ways to escape.

But leaving this hellhole isn't going to be easy or simple as there are security cameras all over the manor and outside. All the windows and the doors are always locked and even if I managed to lockpick the door the alarms will go off as soon as I step foot out of the mansion.

I've learned all of this from my previous attempts of escaping and I was met with harsh punishment by Suzy. Consequences went from being locked into solitary or the basement, nearly starving me to death, and rape.

Yeah, my stepmother doesn't play games or joke around too much, Suzy and I go way back into my childhood days. It all started when my Appa and Eomma had officially divorced due but I don't know the reasons as I was too naive, Appa had decided to remarry and hooked up with Suzy.

What my Appa found bizarre was how addicted and attached Suzy was to me, she wouldn't leave me alone nor let me out of her sight for a millisecond.

At first, Appa didn't think too much about it for a while until I entered high school, and things started to get concerning.

My Stepmother had forbidden me from dating any girls or barely any freedom at all, of course, I kept on protesting and arguing but it all ended with severe repercussions.

My Appa finally had enough of it and attempted to file for divorce for such erratic parenting but Suzy had clever tricks up her sleeve and it turned out that Suzy had sinister plans in mind.

She hired a hitman to assassinate my Appa and inherit all of his income and the whole manor, thus leaving me in her care.

That's basically how I'm here trapped in confinement for a while, I'm currently about 18 years old and I thought being an adult would grant me freedom from this prison but I was more than wrong...

When I tried to start a new life from scratch, I worked at a local grocery store far from home but somehow her bodyguards managed to catch me and bring me back here.

That's all I have to say for today...

Y/N's POV

Concluding writing in my journal for today, I heard a soft knocking on the door meaning it was time for dinner.

The door slowly opens revealing my devil of a stepmother, holding a tray of food and drinks for the two of us.

"Dinner is ready, darling, I hope you're hungry~." She said to me before putting it down on the table.

Looking at the plates of food on the tray, it appears to be curry with rice, ramen, and Korean beef.

Each dish looked delicious and mouth-watering as my stepmother knows how to cook well, she places a towel napkin on my lap and tucked one in the collar of my shirt to avoid getting any crumbs or small spills on my clothes.

"Now, open wide~!" She instructed me as she scooped up some Korean beef and I did what she asked before she feeds it to me.

The beef tasted delightful as always just like the rest of her food, she continues to feed me like a delicate and fragile child.

With each bite I took out of her hand, she watched me like a predator eyeing her prey making eating unpleasant.

It was obvious she has serious mental health problems but I doubt she couldn't give a shit about it as long as I remain here.

After we were finished with dinner, it was time for my stepmother's special dessert, she called in the butler to pick up the dirty dishes on the tray, and once he had taken away the plates for us, he left us alone in my room.

My stepmother goes up to the door and locks it to make sure that I don't try to flee, she was wearing a black bathrobe and she gave me an evil smirk before slowly walking towards me.

"I hope you're not too full, honey because it's time for dessert~." She said to me before removing the bathrobe revealing her lingerie.

Her smooth and silky skin was literally to die for as she takes good care of herself just for her precious stepson.

"On the bed, sweetie and mommy will take good care of you~." She instructed me and I quickly got onto the bed by instinct.

Crawling on the bed towards me, she takes off all of my clothes leaving only underwear before cuffing me to the bed frame.

"You love how mommy takes control of you, huh~? Good, because I love it too~." She whispered to me before attacking my neck leaving hickeys all over it.

One of her kinks is to leave marks on her territory because of how lovesick she is but there's nothing I can do nor do I have a say in anything.

"Oh, one more thing, mommy has something to put on you~." She informed me before revealing a pink collar and my eyes widened in terror.

Putting on the collar around my neck, she latched on a leash as well putting her in a position that allows complete dominance over me.

Seeing no point in the handcuffs, she takes them off before tossing them aside in my room and she places my hands on both of her breasts.

"Now, shall we enjoy ourselves~?" She proposed to me and I nodded.

"I want an answer, baby boy~." She demanded me in a sweet but psychotic tone and I gulped.

"Y-Yes, mommy," I answered her and she smiled.

TIMESKIP

Last night left me all exhausted because of how sexually demanding she was and my legs are bloody sore.

My snowballs have been utterly drained out and I have bruises in places that I thought were impossible.

But I knew all the hell and torture is far from over, as my stepmother has more ideas planned in her agenda.

I have no idea if she was actually safe or not but I believe she would one day want to have my kids. Whether or not it's true.

Today, she was out for another business meeting in a foreign country leaving only her butler, maids, and bodyguards to watch over me.

Once again, I tried to escape but of course, everything is sealed off and there are eyes in every corner leaving no options for a stealthy escape.

However, there were many tools and resources I can utilize thanks to my training in boy scouts as they taught me to be resourceful and I can make do with anything like ropes, tape, lamps, you name it.

Searching around the room, I found the handcuffs from last night, there was a lamp and drawers full of my clothes.

The door was locked but I had an idea as I looked in my closet to find a broken vintage fan, I yanked off one of the metal blades and used it to pry open the door.

Getting outside of my room, and rushed to the security office to avoid detection by the cameras as they rotate periodically.

Knocking on the door, the guard opens up and I ambushed him before going inside to shut off the cameras and security alarms.

Finally, I got to the front entrance when the coast was cleared and got the door opened with no problems but I was caught by one of the bodyguards.

"Mister Bae, please return to your room this instant!" The guard ordered me and I grabbed a vase.

Throwing the vase with all my might, it landed a direct hit on his head causing him to fall on the floor unconscious.

Walking out of this hellhole, I made sure that the tracker was taken off before I left the manor for good.

Finally, I was free from my stepmother and I begin a new life without her always breathing down my neck.

I grabbed some money from her office so I can buy some food and clothing to last me until I find a job.

Taking a taxi to town that is the furthest from the mansion, I stopped in the middle of a city that is unknown to me but I was excited.

When I thought everything is going well for me, I happened to spot a black luxury SUV parked on the curb beside me.

The window rolls down and I was surprised that I had coincidentally been caught by my stepmother and boy she wasn't too pleased to see me here.

"Y/N, get in the car... Right. Now." She coldly ordered me but I sprinted the fuck out of there and ran deep into the crowd where it will be harder to find me.

I can hear the guards chasing after me but I hear the chatter as they were having a difficult time trying to locate me but I was smarter than them.

Going into a clothing store, I bought some clothes and changed into another outfit to blend in with the crowd.

The idea had worked when the bodyguards had walked past me like I was a nobody to them leaving me free from my stepmother's grip.

From that point on, I started a new life without her by working at a big office building as an office clerk.

A few months passed by and so far everything was going great until I had gotten a meeting with a client.

"Hello, you must be Miss Bae, right...?" I asked until I had looked right at the woman making me freeze.

Getting a closer look at her, I realized that Miss Bae, the client I was supposed to meet turned out to be my stepmother.

"Hehe, thought you could get away this time, did you~?" She asked me as she stood up from the chair.

"Well, shit..." I muttered to myself.

#kpop #actress #kpop idol #bxg #x male reader #kpop yandere #bae suzy #miss a suzy #suzy #miss a #step mother

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yan-lorkai · 8 months

Note

Can I please get some headcanons of the octotrio being platonic yanderes for a m!human friend in Ignihyde? Maybe another student gets a crush on platonic darling and tries to romantically pursue him and the trio isn't having it 👀

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, platonic yandere, male reader, tweels being tweels and Azul's benevolence, stalking, implied death, food poisoning (not sure abt this) , possible spelling errors.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I love platonic yandere sm (⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠), though being octotrio's friend can be quite isolating since everyone there are quite the possessive bunch.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Everyone knew that the infamous trio, responsible for locking people into unfair contracts, for giving people hope and then taking it away from them, had a soft spot in their hearts for you. A... Simple common boy from Ignyhide. Everyone knew that interacting with you meant long-term trouble, it was almost like putting a target on their own back, almost like offering to be squeezed by Floyd, being humiliated by Jade and trapped in a horrible contract by Azul.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ People could only wonder how you achieved such a feat; were you a childhood friend of theirs? Did you help them in any way? Did you make a deal with them? Despite the questions and curiosity, no one has the courage to approach and ask you, much less any of them, how the four of you met and became such good friends.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Maybe you don't realize the effect you have on them when you smile and laugh, and tell them about your day and what kinds of things you studied today, but surely other people can see it. Perhaps you are lucky to be charished, loved and protected, a target of affection, rather than hated by them. Many wonder what your life would be like if they hated you, but then again they love to speculate about you, Azul and the tweels.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ But one way or another, you are good friends. You are always welcome in the Mostro Lounge, with the right to sit at the best table and Floyd is responsible for entertaining you with conversations about the latest news (news being which person Azul tricked that day or which person he was able to squeeze, things like that) while Jade prepares your favorite food and drink, and after a long shift, the three spend time with you in the vip room. They love to hear you talk, even if it's nothing interesting or cool in your opinion, it's like your voice is the voice of a siren, drawing them to you.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Mainly Azul. Among your small group he is the most possessive and clingy, and he loves to monopolize your time, asking you to join the gaming club with him so you can play games together. With him around there is a much smaller chance that a stranger will approach you with malicious intent.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ However, even with the implicit promise that if anyone got too close to you they would be completely slaughtered, someone very crazy still tried. And it ended very badly for him - not that you would notice his absence, you didn't seem to be able to notice the absence of several brief friends you had.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ His name and dorm didn't matter - he's just an npc. What mattered was the way confidence seemed to dominate him as he walked the halls of Ignyhide, looking for you. There was a sweet smile on your secret admirer's lips and a mushy love letter to you because he didn't care who your friends were or how powerful they were.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ The npc wanted to believe that everyone could be a good person and had good qualities. Certainly, despite his bad tendencies, Azul was as benevolent as he claimed. And… The twins could be… Nevermind, he can't think of any good qualities for them. He doesn't even know how you had make friends with these guys without shivering with fear, they can be pretty intimidating when they want to be.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He stops at your door, heart pounding, and raises a fist to knock. But the sound of laughter unnerves him, your laughter as the twins seem to amuse you with something he is unable to understand. The thought of giving up and trying again comes to his mind, but he ignores it, ignores his friends' warnings, ignores his senses to run and not look back and he knocks on the door once, twice, anxiously.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ "Azul, you know you don't have to kno- Oh, hello." You stare at him not knowing how to react. But then your eyes light up in recognition and you remember that you share a time in the History of Magic class. You wave your hand to the twins for silence and turn back to face him. "So do you need anything?"

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ The boy could hardly speak. You were in front of him, wearing your favorite shirt, that cute smile on your lips, and he took a deep breath. "Oh yes, I wanted to give you this. It's… A love letter. But now that I'm here I think it would be better to express what I feel rather than let you read my awful handwriting."

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A throat clearing. Azul Ashengrotto, Octavinelle's dorm leader is standing right behind him, almost as if he sensed something was happening, a charismatic smile on his handsome face as the octopus looks down at the letter in your hand, no doubt wanting to burn it. "My my, you're such a charmer, Yuu. I'm almost jealous."

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You wave him off, looking at the letter and then at your admirer. "That's sweet, you don't mind if I read it, do you? I've never gotten a letter like that before."

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ But you're reading it before he's even replied, heart pounding in your chest as you read the paragraphs and sentences, not knowing how Azul looked at your admirer as if he was going to kill him right then and there. And the look only intensifies as soon as he notices how you are smiling, feeling every word, every feeling put there. You look at him after a few minutes of silence. "I'm glad that my smile makes your day better and that you think my hair is beautiful."

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ From here how things depends on your reaction. Do you accept his confession? If the answer is yes, if you want to get into a relationship with him, the infamous Octotrio are not going to be happy about it. But they will accept. Or at least, you think they'll accept sharing you with someone else, the truth is that they don't and they won't pretend for long that they tolerate the presence of this intruder.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Not when this guy can kiss you and hug you and get your full attention. When he can steal you from them, tell lies about them, try, and god help him if he tries, to separate you from them. And they won't let that happen, even if they have to break your heart and put the pieces back together later, once your little boyfriend disappears from campus and reappears dead.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ On the other hand, if you reject him, if you deprive him of your love and protection, he's still screwed. He made his move and now he must prepare to defend himself from the dangerous onslaughts of your friends, especially the twins who will love to torment him.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He knew the risks. And the teachers won't be of much help, after all they know that the twins can be a little rough and rowdy, but that they are good students. Yeah, they wouldn't believe if he told them that their pranks include Jade serving him food with crushed glass, screws and dirt. Or that he follows him down the halls with that scary smile on his lips, sharp teeth bared, he can only think of those teeth digging into his carotid artery, he proceeded to avoid Mostro Lounge and you after this event - exactly as planned.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Or Floyd, sweet Floyd, who sometimes look like a scarf the way he wraps himself around your neck with those long, strong arms, never letting you escape his grip as he tells you childhood stories or listen to you tell your own stories. That same Floyd likes to toy with his prey, stalking him, making him feel terror and anxiety, before finally letting his hands be stained with blood. When he's done playing there won't be much to bury.

.⁠｡⁠ * ⁠ ♡ Azul, the kind Azul who knows all your secrets, knows how to help and offers you good advice, is responsible for coordinating every action. He knows how to use psychological pressure, he knows the perfect moment to strike and he feels no remorse as he watches your little admirer break down, as he watches him shake in fear. His only chance of redemption is a deal with Azul himself; that or a very unfortunate accident that will leave his family and friends very devastated.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ And whatever his fate, you won't even remember the letter, the goofy look on his face, or meeting him that night. Azul knows exactly how to erase memories with a simple spell he created, after all you only need him and the twins. No one else is important.

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lilys0evil0twin · 1 year

Text

.... Y/n is quite pleased with this new boyfriend of hers. He's overall sweet and kind unlike the other jerks she dated~ Now she wanted to know how he is in bed So invited him over to her house,saying she has a fun game and wanted him to play with her~ Heracles being the sweet innocent himbo he is,agreed. He probably didn't expected to be pushed onto the bed by his gf, who is wearing a sexy lingerie that made him overheat minutes ago. Y/n sitting on him just simply smirked and say:"Oh darling I'll make sure to love you fully tonight, let me give you a taste of pleasure~"

-Anon

Who's ready to destroy the innocence of this gentle mountain of a football player?! Enjoy!

Uhh please don't get confused at my constant switching of his name... I don't know myself

Warnings: smut, nothing much just Hercule losing his v-card.... Hard

Word count: 4198

School, the hell on Earth. The stress of constant exams, the lack of sleep and as Y/n says; being surrounded by morons. Every teacher thought their subject is the most important in students' life, girls fought for every cute guy, spreading lies and secrets around the school and all the guys wanted in return of playing hard to get, was to fuck and move on.

Y/n was tired of it. This highschool stereotype. This teen stereotype. So, out of boredom, she decided to claim males reputation. She became a fuck boy. Well not eternally, but you know what, why not give those bastards a taste of their own medicine. Through out the years her reputation grew, she played the popular boys, the cute chicks. Everyone were gossiping about her but she knew it all about the others. The high-class girls started to fear her, for obvious reasons. You know the song "Take your man" by Mahogany Lox?

"I can take your mans, if I want to

But lucky for you, I don't want to"

And to the male party? The ones brave enough approach her, the ones with death wish will try and flirt, the others just admired from afar....

.....

"...Heracles.."

"Heracles...?"

"HERACLES!"

The sudden loud call of his name strattled the mountain of a teen. Currently in the middle of lunch break, Heracles was sitting at his usual table with his close friends; Castor, Jack and two years younger Göll, who was more like his little sister really. Now with his attention finally focused, Heracles turned towards his friend. "What are you doing, your food's getting cold" the teen with a bob cut asked picking on his rice. With a small, confused 'hm?' Heracles looked down towards his plate "Wha- Oh, ya! Sorry I kinda got lost in thoughts" the ginger smiled, putting a mouthful of already cold marinated chicken with vegetables in his mouth. A small laugh could be heard over the voices in the cafeteria, opposite from the ginger football player.

"Come on Hercules, go talk to her~" their senior Jack laughed, seeing his friend's face go totally red. "T-Talk to who?!" whispering a chocked yell, the football player's tough facade flew out of the window. Jack only raised an eyebrow "You know who, Y/n L/n of course! The Miss unapproachable? The, sorry for the expression, Fuck girl of the school?" Heracles only mumbled something shyly, staring holes into his food. Göll giggled beside him, leaning to catch his eyes. "Don't be scared she'll definitely like you!" she said with so much enthusiasm, it was a wander how it fit into her small form.

"I'm not scared! Why would I be? Wha? Wh-what are you even implying??!"

"Oh please, you're kind, funny and handsome! A total gentleman!" Göll clapped her hands, frowning her eyebrows in determination. Hercules only blushed, buds of sweat forming on his forehead and turned towards Y/n's table over his shoulder. "Oh look now's your chance! She's talking with my sis!!" Göll pointed towards her, jumping in excitement. But Hercules hasn't moved, quickly turning to his plate head falling between his stuff shouldes. Castor leaned closer to Hercules smiling gently. "Look you should talk to her, that way it won't weight you anymore" Jack leaned back sipping his tea as Hercules took a breath.

"Aaaand you can't be a virgin forever~"

"JACK!"

Hercules could hear his friends bicker and laugh as he neared hit target. Just as he was in sight field Brunhilde smile at him in greeting. "Oh, hey Heracles" Brun's voice made Y/n turn and see who was the unlucky soul that decided to interfere in their conversation. Her e/c eyes met with sharp baby blue ones of a surprisingly tall guy. Unimpressed she raised a brow waiting for him to voice his request. The boy cleared his throat, lightly preparing himself. "I apologize for disturbance ladies, but uh," he took a pause, eyes flicking between the two girls "m-may I talk to Brunhilde for a minute please?"

Brun slowly turner her eyes away, looking towards the table Hercules left moments ago, only to meet with the excited shines of her younger sister. The girl was squeezing her tumbs so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her overjoyed form was moving around in her seat, quite opposite to the boys sitting at the same table. Both looking they're way in interested, Jack's heterochromatic eyes slightly squinting in mischief, small smirk hiding under his slowly growing mustache. Obviously getting the hint Brun smiled turning her attention back to Hercules' nervous form. Resting her cheek against her hand, she asked "Oh is it about your game today?" the glit in her eyes showed Hercules she wants him to follow her lead, so despite knowing what she's implying, he obeyed.

"Ah, um yeh.. yes" he nodded nonchalantly. Brunhilde smiled sweetly "Yes, I'll come watch" she turned to her companion "Wanna come with me?" Y/n only hummed, playing with her food. "Ya, why not. I have nothing better to do anyway" she sighed and returned to her food, not really glancing at Hercules. His eyes twinkled as his lips twitched upwards slightly. After a short moment of silence, it started to feel a little awkward.

"So um, I'll see you both there then" he smiled sheepishly turning away to leave before the lunch break finished. But before he left he heard Brun "We'll cheer for you!" Heracles only chuckled, feeling a little embarrassed.

.....

Y/n kinda wanted to check out the football game today so she'd visit anyway. But why not play hard to get? Now she was sitting beside Brunhilde on stands, watching the game unfold. It was interesting. Well not the game itself, but rather the players. I mean who wouldn't like tall, sweaty men ramming and wrestling with each other while the prettiest girls in the shortest skirts cheering them on.

Y/n was intrigued, here and there she caught the Hercules boy looking their way. Of course she couldn't tell whether he was looking at Brun or her. Brun was the friend of his after all.

Brunhilde on the other hand didn't miss those small smirks of his everytime Y/n cursed their team for losing the ball. Brun was determined, she knew this plan would work. Despite not taking part in this whole Heracless-crush-thing, those quiet desperate signals from Göll were enough to decide she'll take the matter in her own hands.

As the game ended Brun excused herself and quickly left, leaving Y/n at the stands near the entrance to the changing rooms. With a little compliance, Y/n agreed to wait for her friend.

Leaning on the wall she boredly swiped through her phone. With an irritated groan she checked the time. 'God where the hell is she?' pushing herself off the wall, about to leave not wanting to waste anymore time. Well she tried to leave, if it wasn't for the soft wall that someone placed right before her. Grunting courses under her breath, Y/n looked up meeting baby blue irises.

"Oh excuse me miss, are you alright?" Heracles stood before her, sweaty and breathing slightly unevenly. Y/n took a step back and . She must've admit, he looked quite tasty in that football uniform of his. It clung nicely to his chest and shoulders. He was tall with wide shoulders and slim waist. Long ginger hair and some kind on make-up on his face. But as her eyes slid down his abdomen, the same markings peaked from under his shirt. They were even on the same side, but other boys from their team weren't painted like that, maybe it is a tattoo?

"Uhm, m-miss?" his voice was what chaught her attention and she quickly looked to his face. Not that she was hiding that she was literally feeding on his appearance. And that pink tint on his cheeks was kinda cute. "You're surprisingly polite for a guy your age" she grumbled, crossing her arms over het chest "I like it, give me your phone" she said extending her hand. Heracles wanted to say something when Y/n mentioned his politeness, but that was quickly shut down after she asked for his phone. Honestly, his whole brain shut down. So he just stood there, like a statue.

"Hello?" Y/n raised an eyebrow "Are you still there?" Heracles only blinked. "Y-Yah uh... I-It's in my back, i-in the locker" pointing a finger behind Y/n. She turned seeing the entrance to the showers. He even pointed to the wrong direction, damn he's so cute. "Well" she faced him again "then go get it, hop hop! I don't have all day!" She clapped her hands, making him nod and particularly ran to find his bag.

After a minute, Heracles was back. Panting and fluffed up, his clothes wrinkly and hair flying all over the place. Showing his phone into Y/n's face. Y/n only chuckled at his cuteness. He was so desperate and desperately trying to hide it. So cute. She tapped in her contacts, putting a heart behind her name. Then she did the same with his contacts in her phone. Putting him under the name 'Gladiator<3'. After she departed with a wave telling Heracles to text her when he gets home. Leaving this poor boy to freeze where he was, gripping his phone a little too hard, blushing so much that if you looked close enough, you'd see steam coming from his ears.

.....

After some shy messages here and there, those two started texting each other regularly. Becoming good friends in no time. Heracles' personality was probably the main indicator, he was sweet, kind and just so easy to talk to. Good mornings and good nights were a must. Telling each other what they were doing each day, how they were etc.

Until Hercules sent this one message that changed everything.....

Gladiator<3

Hey Herc

Whatcha doin~?

Hey

Nothing much

Just thinking

Thinking?

Abt wha?

You

Y/n really didn't know if it was intentional or if he just sent it and later the meaning hit him like a train, and to be honest Heracles didn't either.

Needless to say he was frightened shitless the next day at school. He even considered not showing up, I mean..... His stomach really felt weird, like he'll throw up if he sees y/n in the hallway.

Thankfully he was able to avoid her the majority of the day, but unfortunately for him Jack took things into his own hands.

Y/n felt bad, like really bad. This guy was the only one that she felt bad for after leaving on "seen". The feeling got even worse during the day, Heracles didn't even text her good morning for God's sake!

By the time lunch arrived, Y/n was on nettles. She hoped she'll see Heracles at their table and maybe would be able to talk it out, but once there only Jack was there to meet her. Reading news on his phone, such a weird fella.

"Hi Jack" Y/n slumped into the chair beside him with a sigh. Jack only hummed at her presence, too deep in the thing he was reading. They never talked much, but we're never in uncomfortable silence, so Y/n never pressured him.

Jack put down his phone taking a sip from his tea. "He's at the gym" Y/n looked up not really getting what he was saying. "Hercules, he's in the gym. He's probably juicing his brain for ideas." Jack specified, looking Y/n into her eyes. She only stared back, not moving a muscle.

"Well? Just go" Y/n stood up and left knocking few students out of her way, leaving only her lunch to keep the company to Jack. Who just continued to drink his tea with a smile.

.....

Pacing back and forth the whole gym Hercules already lost count of how many times he circled the room. What the hell was wrong with him? How could he text her that?? Of course she left him on "seen", what was she supposed to text to that. He wouldn't be surprised if she never texted him again, if never even wanted to see him. But.... He wanted to see her...

God he's so fucking scared. What should he do?

Pulling on his ponytail Heracles groaned, head falling backwards, his eyes closed. How could Y/n call him a gladiator when he's such a coward. Heracles had his back turned to the door when they were banged open by someone. He looked over his shoulder to see who was so impatient, only to freeze in his spot.

"Y/n?"

Stunned by her sudden appearance, Heracles never experienced first hand the "speak of the devil". The poor boy was even more surprised when Y/n walked to him and hugged him. "What the fuck are you doing, huh? Ignoring me like this?" her voice was mumbled due to her face being pressed into his chest. Heracles calmed down a little and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her back. After a moment of silence Y/n spoke again, now more clearly. "I'm sorry, for not texting you back."

"I meant it"

"What?"

Hercules took a breath, straightening his back. Gathering up courage to look down at Y/n. "I like you"

"You're such a dork" Y/n laughed hitting the stressed out boy playfully.

Yep, they started dating. The play girl Y/n L/n was now in a relationship.

Those two love birds started spending more and more time together, even going as far as to have sleepovers. Y/n didn't believe Hercules was real at some moments tho, he was like from a romantic novel. Taking her on dates, bringing her flowers, listening to her ranting, even gossiping with her.

It was like a dream, Y/n may have really fallen in love. Only one last thing to do to make sure she's really about to invest into this relationship to work. She wanted him to fuck her. I mean... Can you blame her? Every time she saw him laying on the couch in his worn out tank top and sweatpants.

As time went on, Y/n was only hornier and hornier. Plus it was frustrating that even tho she did catch Hercules staring, he never crossed any lines. He only followed her lead. So why not use it to her advantage?

One evening Y/n called upon the girls meeting. She with Brunhilde and her sisters sat in a circle in her room. The problem at hand? How to seduce Y/n's boyfriend Hercules. The girls exchanged ideas:

Hrist was for Y/n to greet him wrapped up like a present, holding a paper with "For Hercules" on it. And if it didn't work then to just grab him and fuck him senseless.

Thrud was for a simple "Netflix and chill", maybe make some snacks to enjoy and just be a lil touchy and he'll surely follow.

Randgriz was too shy to say anything and the other girls just listened excitedly. Except for Alvitr that was sulking, because no one acknowledged her idea with sexy lingerie. Göll with Hlökk nearly passed out three times if it wasn't for Göndul.

And so the plan was made, with the finalizing help of Brun of course. Now it only needs to be put into action.

.....

The plan was simple, text Hercules asking him to stay at Y/n's house. This weekend was perfect because her parents went on some trip and won't be back till the next weekend.

Hercules agreed to stay of course and Y/n got to work. The first day was their usual. They lazied around the whole day and went to town in the evening. The next day however, Y/n sent Hercules shopping while she got ready.

Putting on her favorite red lingerie, ready to confront her boyfriend whenever he comes back.

.....

"H-hey" Y/n pushed Hercules on the bed. He was quick to sit up when she lowered herself before his legs, comfortably kneeling down. "W-what are y-..?" "Don't worry love, just relax and enjoy~" Y/n says seductively pulling his knees apart. With a lovestruck sigh, resting her cheek on his thigh. Her steady breaths brushed past the space of his pants, getting tighter and tighter with each exhale. Slowly unzipping his pants while maintaining eye contact with the blushing boy. First to look away was Hercules, his blush getting darker and spreading all the way from his ears to his chest. Heart drumming in his ears, banging against his ribs so hard he'd think they'll break. He didn't know where to look, it was getting so hot, where should he put his hands, what should he do?! Just as Hercules started to panic a gasp filled the room, his body shaking, mind going blank.

'Y/n! She-She's !! -' taking in a shaky breath

'She's!!'

Y/n only chuckled seeing his flustered state. She licked the under side of his manhood, following the giant vein from it's base to the head. Giving it a kiss with little kitten licks along his slit. Inching her hand towards his base, fingers slowly rubbing in circular motion. The precum rolled from his tip only to be gently licked off, twitching every time she did so. "Y-Y/n.." her e/c eyes peaked from below her long lashes with a seductive look, fire dancing behind her pupils. He couldn't look her in the eye, it was too much. Cowering his blushing face with the back of his hand, he looked away, eyebrows frowned.

"S-Stop.."

"Oh sorry for teasing you love, but you're just so cute~"

Being called cute now? Hercules pressed his lips together, only to open them in a moment letting out a relieved sigh. The warmth and wetness of Y/n's mouth enwrapped his cock. Sighing and moaning softly, Hercules closed his eyes. His tip hit the back of Y/n's throat. Hercules expected a gag from how hard the impact felt, but nothing. Only the small exhale as her nose buried in the short ginger hair, filling her lungs with his musk. This went on for some time, Hercules's moans and grunts sounded over the muffled sounds from the street.

"Y-Y/n"

"Let it out" Y/n said as her deep throat session ended, going back to licks and kisses. Stroking his length at fast pease, her mouth opened over his swollen red tip. The atlete let out a sudden loud groan reaching his big hand for her petite shoulders. "W-wait! Y/n!" She only chuckled moving her hand faster, forcing him over the edge. His hot cum shoot into her opened waiting mouth. Pulling away and sitting on his lap, Y/n swallowed the sticky, slightly salty substance, her e/c gaze meeting his blue one.

"Why did you? ... Doesn't it taste bad?" if his blush could get any darker, it did. Heracles' squinting, teary eyes barely saw his girlfriend. Y/n shaked her head, her h/c locks swinging from side to side "No, you're sweet" she reached for her face, swiping some escapee cum from the corner of her plump lips "Like a candy cane! Here!" and stuffed her seed covered finger into his mouth. His baby blue eyes widened as his shoulders shifted in surprise. Just as he wanted to protest, Y/n pulled her hand away, replacing her finger with her lips. In hopes to calm him down a little, she deepened the kiss, rubbing her tongue against his. Thankfully it did help, seeing as Hercules relaxed his shoulders, his hands unconsciously moving to rest on her hips.

Parting from the kiss to get some air, a small string of saliva hinting on the so recent kiss. Hercules, now completely relaxed, sighed resting his forehead against hers. "That ... That was weird" y/n chuckled again kneading his biceps gently. "Hmm, you'll probably like my juice more.... But I'm a little pent up so maybe later" she said as she moved from his lap. Y/n pulled up the skirt of her lingerie and pulled down her lace panties. Hercules turned his gaze to the side, being the gentleman he is. ...And not really mentally ready for what's to come.

Y/n grabbed his surprisingly still hard dick and aligned the tip with her soaking entrance as she straddled him again. "Sh-Shouldn't we use the protection?" Y/n's eyebrows flew up, her eyes meeting his in surprised gaze. Then smiling brightly hugging his neck and kissed his cheeks and lips repeatedly "That's why I love you! You're not like all the others!" Y/n hopped down and grabbed one, out of many, condoms from the drawer near the bed. Ripping the cover and slowly wrapping the condom on Hercules's manhood. Once finished she hopped on his lap once again and slowly sheathing him inside. Hercules let out a surprised hiss, eyebrows knitting together his blue eyes now tightly shut. Y/n moved her hips from side to side slightly to adjust to his length faster.

"AH, w-wai-- !!" Hercules grabbed her by her hips, stopping her movement. "Y-You're too tight!" He sighed out, resting his forehead on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her, his thighs shaking. Y/n waited for her lover to calm down again, gently rubbing his wide shoulders till she felt him move his hips upwards slightly. She pulled his face from her neck, moving his head till their eyes met. With that her lower body moved, slowly at first spreading her love juice around the thin wrap hugging Hercules's length. Hercules's hands holding Y/n's hips slid down to her ass, lifting her body effortlessly, opposite way to his thrusts. Gaining speed with every thrust, the room was filled with their mixed breathless moans and groans.

A small drop of sweat slid down his neck all the way to the pecks on his stomach. Y/n followed the drop with her eyes, feeding on the movement of his muscles with every labored breath. She was fascinated in Hercules' improvisation skills, maybe he was really just shy. Y/n moved her hands from his shoulders. One entangling with his low ponytail, slowly pulling on the band to free his ginger hair, and eventually resting her palm on the back of his neck. The other slid down his heaving chest, shifting the direction as soon as she reatched his bellybutton. Her hand gently held his on one of her butt cheeks.

"A-Are you ok?" Heracles asked breathlessly. It was hard to concentrate on more stimulants at once but her holding his hand may have meant he was doing something wrong. He needed to check. Y/n only chuckled giving him a kiss on his neck. "No, just hold on now baby" it took a second for Heracles to hear the meaning of her words. But by the time he could ask what she meant his hands released her bottom and his back hit the mattress. Her small delicate palms holding his down beside his head. With wide eyes he looked up, meeting her e/c irises. The smirk on her face was devilish. Her eyes nearly glowing in the dark.

"Hold on ok, big boy" with that she bounced on his lap with such speed and force Hercules though he'd pass out. Despite being much stronger, Hercules felt weak, literally under the command of his girlfriend. The coil in his stomach snapped before he could even register it's approach. With a quick movement of his hands he grabbed Y/n's arms and turned them both around. Now with him on top, Heracles stopped, emptying himself in the condom, hiding his head in her neck. He gasped for oxygen, tired and drained but still held himself up, not to crush Y/n with his weight. "Y-You did not.... D-did you?" he asked quietly, Y/n chuckled patting his back. "It's okey, it's your first time after all" she said with a gentle smile, Hercules moved from her neck looking at her face then down between her legs, where his cock still rested in her warmth. Blush returning to his ears he slowly pulled out, making sure to catch everything before spilling. He pondered for a second deciding what to do with it till Y/n smiled again and gently took the full condom from his hands and tied it shut, throwing it out into the bin next to get bed. Heracles' blush was constantly present as he turned Y/n to face him. He kissed her gently and lovingly. With their lips still touching he said "But I want you to feel good too"

His fingers moved between her legs. Y/n laughed and kissed just below his lips, "I love you so much" Hercules smiled "And I you" they both chuckled as Y/n palmed his hand against her womanhood, guiding his fingers.

"My lovely gladiator"

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok smut #snv x reader #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #x reader smut #ror heracles #snv heracles

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