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hazelfoureyes · 2 months

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The Radio Demon Fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 4)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

7k words of a fever dream, happy Sunday, sinners ✨💦 I really hope you like it 🥺💖

You were back, unexpectedly but welcomed nonetheless. But now Alastor finds himself in a new kind of hell. There was, unfortunately for him, no killing what he felt when he looked at you.

{Warnings/Promises: Smut, Ace spectrum Alastor x FemReader, Alastor has feelings, creampie is the best nighttime snack, Angel is always the good guy, cervix punishment, mating press, Alastor demon form, Antlers go brrrr, drinking to forget, drowning (in cum)((and emotions)), discussions of murder, Alastor gets horny for discussions of murder, kinda breed kink if you squint, I saw a fan image of a hazbin hotel pool and it’s been stuck in my head for days.}

MINORS DNI (ah! Eh! I — stop. I see you. You know I see you, right? Get outta here! 🚨)

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

You were quick to stifle your smile, seeing Alastor standing in front of you with his hand outstretched. Why were you smiling? You were dead. Brutally so. And, You were in hell. But the corners of your mouth kept tugging upward at the sight of the stupid fucking deer demon before you. His own wild smile, eyes half lidded as he looked at you like he knew you.

You took his hand, needing the help standing. He fingers slipped from your palm and came to rub the velvet skin of your—- ears? You smacked his hand away, taking a step back.

The look he gave you, confusion? You weren’t sure, his head cocked to the side, hand lingering a beat longer in the air. He took a step toward you and you took one back.

Alastor laughed, “Quite the welcome, dear.”

You narrowed your eyes, did he know? Did he know you dreamt of him so many nights? That you struggled daily to not see his face behind your eyelids, not hear his lilting voice in your ear?

“Long time no see, Alastor.” You didn’t mean to sound quite so bored when you said it, you weren’t really sure at all what was going on in your head. You didn’t expect to see him so soon, literally immediately upon your death. You didn’t have time to recalibrate the mixed up feelings you had created for yourself over this stranger.

You pined for months to see him again, trying so hard to push the memory of him as deep as you could. So deep, in fact, you found yourself tortured at night with fantasies of his company. Even during the day, your life was altered around him. You couldn’t listen to the radio, the odd static and reverb just forcing him back into your consciousness. You took long forest walks, thinking about hunters and deer. You wore that fucking robe for an embarrassingly long time, remembering being in another world entirely.

Alastor’s face fell, throat closing slightly as he thought he realized what was happening. You didn’t remember the time you’d spent with him. He had been enjoying lazy nights in his room and pleasurable times in the woods with a ghost. He took a step closer, maybe if he— maybe your body would remember? If you just smelled his bed, perhaps you’d stop acting so cold. If he could awaken the impressions he was sure he left on your soul, he could pick up where he left off. A comfortable companion. Kind eyes that only saw him. His name, sweet and low tumbling from your lips.

You hit the wall with your back, making distance from him. He hadn’t hurt you, but you couldn’t be sure what would happen now. Fantasies are no indication of a person’s real self. Your dream romps were just that— dreams. Fiction your mind produced to fill the gap in your life he somehow created in your short time together. Imagination fleshing out this unknown demon you couldn’t stop thinking about.

His hand fell. There was a second his smile dropped, brows knitted. It came and it went, “Well! I best go get Charlie. She is the official welcome committee of the Hazbin Hotel, after all. Follow me.” The door swung open, his long arm gesturing.

Charlie pulled you into a hug, bouncing between “Welcome back!” And “I am so, so sorry you died!” She held your hands in hers, “The hotel has gone through a lot since you left! I have so much to show you. While Alastor has your room b…” her voice carried on, but your mind stayed put. She did jazz hands at every sconce and door frame on the way to the lobby.

You had expected it, your death. You figured there was a 50/50 chance you didn’t make it out of that forest. But that didn’t make this moment any less surreal. You looked down at your body, yours but new. Your hands came to your head, fingers climbing up your skull until you found them. Two soft, tulip petal shaped ears. Were you going to be sick? The room began to spin. Charlie’s voice underwater. Was some detective going to knock on your parent’s door? Carrying a folder with your photo and bad news? Your eyes clenched at the image, your heart ballooning in your chest.

“Maybe she needs to take a rest,” his voice cut through the waters of your confusion, a spear straight to your psyche. His hand slipped up your arm, resting on your back. You shook your head, eyes blinking wildly.

“It’s fine. Please, Charlie, continue your tour.” You took an exaggerated step to your left, out from under his touch. You thought you heard him sigh. Why was he being so kind? The last time you spoke you were staring daggers at him while he carried on about doing exactly what he had promised.

Charlie excitedly presented the lobby to you, the bar, the library. Alastor walked a few feet behind you both, quiet, his shadow dancing down the hallway in front of you. It’s mouth flipping from grin to grimace and back as it watched you nod along to every detail Charlie felt you should know.

The newest addition to the hotel since you left, a large indoor pool on the second to top floor. You lingered there, watching the water reflect pink and red light from the floor to ceiling windows overlooking Pentagram City.

“Almost done! To the left is Dad’s studio. He comes and goes. Ya know, parent stuff.”

You tried to mask your concern for whatever damaged parent-child relationship she was referencing.

“And to the right is Alastor’s radio station.”

You glanced to the demon, standing near the wall, inspecting his nails. “I didn’t know he had a radio station. I just assumed-,” You shrugged, “He just sounded like that.”

Alastor felt his bottom lid of his left eye twitch involuntarily. Why were you speaking like he wasn’t there?

He bit his tongue, literally. He needed time to think, to plan how to handle this situation. Your death was early and therefore unexpected for him, too. Not nearly as surprising, though, as your loss of memory of him.

He knew though, maybe this was for the best. If you were here, if he could see you around the hotel, perhaps that desire to have you near would die down. His shadow shifted behind him before sinking into the floor. Yes, exactly. This was a good thing. His eyes glanced to you, to your little doe features, two ears and a tiny fluff of a tail. His jaw tightened, had you done it on purpose? What did it mean?

”Would you like to see it?” He didn’t recognize his own voice, because he hadn’t realized he was going to say it until it was done.

Yes. “No thank you.” You wanted to run face first into the wall. It felt like your ribs were twisting off your spine. One side lurched up—- touch him. He wants you, he felt so good. Get him alone. The other side pulling down—- fuck him. He owns you, he’s a demon. Stay away from him.

His ears turned back and down, folding into his skull. You tried to keep your face neutral as you stared back at him, breathing teetering on panting. Every time you looked at him you were in danger of spilling your guts.

“Well!” Charlie slid into the tense air between you two, nervous chuckles, “That makes sense! Because Al’s station is super off limits. So. Uhh where was I going with this.” She looked around, “Is the room ready, Al?”

He nodded, leading you both to the elevator and a few floors down.

“This floor is for our more precious residents. Not that every soul isn’t precious! But ya knooow,” she opened your door, “You’ve got Angel, Husk, Niffty, sometimes Cherri Bomb, and Alastor as neighbors!”

Yippee. You get to lie awake knowing the object of your fucked desire is just past an easily smashed wall.

There was a moment where you all three looked at each other. Charlie becoming more and more fidgety as the seconds ticked on.

“Sooo, We should let her rest, like you said, right Alastor?” Charlie began a dramatic walk to the bedroom door, taking big steps with high knees.

You needed to do this and let it be. “Actually, may I have a moment, Alastor?”

Always, Yes. “I suppose I have the time, my dear.” He twirled his microphone stand before settling it behind his back. Charlie wanted to ask you if you were sure, but the tension was rising again. She backed out of the room, pulling the door closed as she went.

Alone. Again. There was a feeling in the air, like you would either fuck or fight. Was it an animal thing? Or was it always there?

“I never got to thank you.”

His stomach turned, he couldn’t bear this again. Please, stop thanking him. Smile straining, struggling to keep it together, he nodded, “Whatever for?”

You had a strange feeling, a familiarity to the conversation. Ah, that was right. Would this end the same way as your dream? With you on your back? “You were — true to your word.” You fiddled with the comforter of the bed, avoiding looking at him. “You were gentle and you got me home safe and sound. I didn’t thank you. I was just so-,”

“Full of misplaced rage?” His head tilted to the left, eyebrows high.

“Just rage, would have been fine. It was an unfair situation that you helped get me out of.”

Alastor watched your face, only sadness to be found. Not a sight he took any pleasure in. “Well you should truly thank Angel Dust. He is the one who brought me to you, desperate to help you. Even offered me his soul! Not that it’s his to give.”

No one had told you. “Oh,” genuine surprise, “Thank you for that. Yeah, I have to thank him. I’d probably still be in Valentino’s—,” the light of the lamp beside the bed flickered, “studio.”

Looking at you, Alastor couldn’t decipher the feeling in his chest. Relief, sure. Shock, yes. But behind that, a strange tugging beneath his sternum. A pain, vague and nebulous floating over his chest. Why did you come back so soon? Why did you die so early? He wanted to ask you so many things, but if you didn’t retain any memory of your time with him, he doubted he would like the answers.

“I’m going to finish my mental breakdown now, thanks for the tour and uh, the information.” Scratching awkwardly at your arm, you went and opened the door. He paused a moment before moving. “I would like to see your radio station, sometime. If you’d want to show me.” He nodded and left. The room felt colder now, deader.

Your night went exactly how you anticipated, lying awake in the plush red blankets of your new home staring at the ceiling. You wondered if you slept, if you’d see him again. Thoughts of the overworld, family, connections. Little fits of rest came but nothing more than 30 minutes here and there.

Alastor paced his room until dawn, an animal in an unlocked cage. When you had appeared, dead and truly in hell, he thought you’d come to see him. He was embarrassed to even think it now, he had believed you wanted to be with him in earnest. As comfortable with his company as he was yours. He cradled his head, again he felt himself succumbing to the enjoyment of others. He had accepted it with you, more so than the rest, and now it was a weapon in your hands. He felt like an idiot. And he hated it. What a fool, to think you’d died to get home to him. A growl rising in his chest. Home. He desperately wanted to see Rosie, to vent the situation and find clarity. But the idea of leaving you alone in the hotel irked him. He couldn’t put his finger on why. Maybe you wouldn’t be here when he returned. He could always summon you with your connection to him, but he wanted you to be there, with him, of your own volition or he didn’t want it at all.

If you’d forgotten entirely, he had two courses of action. To start over, or to let it die.

He looked to his bed, remembering you lying there. Sleeping, peaceful, content. Safe. Alastor turned to the wall, knowing you lied just beyond the wallpaper and sheet rock in your own deathbed, alone. The out of place physical need for you was something he struggled with, but whatever feeling this was — far worse. You were his, yet he couldn’t have you. Couldn’t possess you in the ways he’d grown accustomed to the past year. Starting over felt tedious. But this wasn’t a feeling that would die, he knew that. He could feel that by how deep the roots of his despair sunk into his soul when you looked at him like a stranger.

He didn’t rest that night, and neither did you.

Maybe it was the deal, the connection between you and him, but no matter where you were in the hotel you could feel him. A sixth sense, his presence always on your radar. A small part of your brain power was always on him, focused on the idea of Alastor. You wandered the halls until the others woke, feeling that little string between the two of you. Taut, strong.

When you found Angel that first morning back, you took a seat beside him in the lobby.

“Alastor told me you are why I got help. From Valentino.” You tried your best to maintain eye contact, not getting distracted by his arms.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart. I kinda did it for myself, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep again if I just let it happen. I’m a freak but I ain’t sick in the head like Val.” He locked his phone, turning to you, “So do you always start passin’ out mid-convo or does Charlie’s voice just do something to ya?”

You groaned, “Did she tell you that?”

“Well she panic-sang it, real worried about you. Did you get settled in yesterday?”

“I didn’t sleep, now that you mention it.” Angel laughed, taking you by surprise, “What?”

“Oh I’m sure you didn’t. Not with your co-star next door.” He winked, “I’m sure you’re happy to be here in the flesh.”

“Ugh I forgot about that. Did -,”

“Everyone see it? Yeah you’re a minor celebrity.” You took a throw pillow and screamed into it while he spoke, “But hey! At least you don’t gotta worry about crazy fans. Smiles will keep ‘em at bay.”

“Why would he do anything for me?” Pillow still over your face, you groaned, “I’m just a soul on his roster.”

“Ha I don’t think he treats just any soul the way he’s been treatin’ you. I think Husk would tell me.” Angel kicked his feet, “What a mental image! Does he have pubes? I feel like he does but they’re like, sharp? Like hostile somehow?”

Pillow down, “Ew, Angel! Hostile? How the fuck would I know?”

Angel stopped, wide eyed, “Oh is it a secret? Is that part of the deal?” A sinister giggle, “You can tell ole’ Angel Dust. We’re pals, remember? You technically owe me.” His many fingers poked at your sides, goading you.

You scrunched up your nose, swatting at his hands, “Angel, what are you talking about?”

His smile fell, now side eyeing you, he opened his mouth to ask you to stop playing coy when he heard you all those nights in Alastor’s room when Charlie burst into the lobby.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t tell you about the redemption activities!” She tossed papers onto the coffee table, “Alright, plan Stairway to Heaven!”

Angel sat back, bored the juicy gossip had to wait, your attention fully occupied by Charlie’s sketches.

Alastor watched you from the second floor balcony. Over the next few days he would always be watching, either from the shadows or out in the open. Looking at you, that carnal hunger was gone. He felt no overpowering desire to be surrounded by you. But, now and then, you’d make a small noise or sigh and he would feel a little twitch. A muscle memory reaction to you

Where the need to touch you had faded, he instead found an insatiable hunger to be near you. He had thought it would be better, you at the hotel. But it had become worse. The further you were, the more undone he felt. It baffled him. So, he stayed near. You were almost always within earshot or eye sight. If not, he at least knew where you were. He could focus on the hotel and his plans for Charlie only then.

You never looked at him, it was obviously on purpose. Even when he would take a seat beside you or across from you, you’d manage to glance everywhere but directly at Alastor. By the fourth day, he felt like he was going to snap. It was beginning to feel disrespectful.

That fourth night when you again couldn’t sleep, you found yourself at the edge of the pool. Did people in hell swim? You’d been there for nearly two hours and not a single sinner appeared. It was well past midnight, though.

The entire room was tinged pink, shadows a pretty red. The water itself looked like a sea of rose quartz. You didn’t have a bathing suit. You didn’t have anything now that you thought about it. Nevertheless, you slipped into the water and let yourself float from the edge.

What a familiar feeling, floating. The ceiling shimmered with the water’s ever-moving reflection. Mind reeling back to the green glow casting your shadow on the ceiling of Valentino’s studio. You closed your eyes, you were always sinking it seemed. Sinking out of consciousness, into a another dream, out of the woods and into the bedroom of your captivator. The only times you felt weightless— ah, right. Body held up by shadows, cameras rolling. Under him, beneath the stars, sleeping form disconnected from your mind. It was always with him. You wondered for a second if you could sleep like this. What would happen if you drowned. Could you drown?

The carpet soaked with every step you took, your body sopping wet, clothes heavy with pool water. You were dragging your bare feet to the elevator when you saw a light coming from the ajar door to Alastor’s radio studio.

He was looking over papers, monocle resting on his cheek. Alastor turned to you, taking note of your shoes in your hand and wet hair. Your ears were heavy with water, fine fur drooping with the weight. “You look like a drowned rat, my doe.”

“Don’t call me that,” you wiped your hair from your face, “I can’t sleep.”

You never struggled to sleep in his bed. “What did you do when you couldn’t sleep on earth?”

Your life already felt far in the rearview, either the effects of sleep exhaustion or your time in the underworld, “I slept… really well. Not a sleepless night I can remember.”

Alastor only hummed a response. Because all of your sleepless nights were here, with him.

“Why are you working?”

“Why are you swimming?”

“I just told you.” Your brows knitted, was this a conversation or a riddle.

Ever present smile beamed back at you, “Well then take a guess!”

You stared at him, sitting at his curved desk with all his switches and buttons. Papers here and there. Just smiling at you. “Cool, thanks for the waste of time.” You turned to leave when you heard a low sound coming from his chest.

“Why do you speak to me like that? Avoid me?” He stood, hair sharp and standing at attention, “What have I done to you to deserve your disgust?”

“Nothing! That’s-,” the problem, “I’m just tired. I don’t feel right, like I misplaced something. There’s a nagging feeling, maybe something I forgot in the overworld.”

Alastor closed the gap between you two, “I can assure you everything you need is here.”

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah. Of course.” Turning to leave, his clawed hand reached for your wrist. Pulling you back, your wet clothes were now soaking into his suit.

His free hand took your chin and made you look up at him. Alastor’s red and pink eyes stared into yours, grin wider than you remembered seeing it before. You fixed your gaze on the desk behind him. “Look at me.” His voice cracked with a static interference. Your eyes finally came to his, your hand now holding his wrist just below your chin. “Don’t you dare look away.” He saw it, a flash of recognition flit across your now wide eyes. There was a pulse of electricity to your core, your body remembering his voice, those words, like an activation phrase. How did he know? Your thighs rubbed together, feet barely touching the ground as he held you close.

When his lips crashed into yours, you melted for a moment. Your body relaxed into him, a small whine slipping from your mouth to his. But then something in you snapped back, remembering he was a stranger holding your leash. You pulled his hand from your face with ease as your feet came back to the ground. Tugging your wrist free, you opened your mouth to yell at him, nothing but heavy breathing came out. Again, he reduced you to speechlessness. You glanced at his face before turning; he looked wounded.

You thought you heard his shoes shuffling along the carpet as you rushed into the elevator. A bang, a thrash, echoing down the elevator shaft as you descended to your floor.

Did he think because you acquiesced to sex before, somewhat under the pressure of a worse fate, he could just kiss you anytime he wanted? Did he see you as a toy?

Maybe being a toy would be nice. Maybe a good fuck would let you finally sleep. He did hit all the right places, those shadowy appendages never letting a single need go ignored…

You slammed your door shut, angrily peeling off your clothes. No, you weren’t a possession. You weren’t an object to be taken off the shelf at his convenience. No matter how much your body ached for his clawed hands and thin waist, you wouldn’t lower yourself to being under him. Not metaphorically, therefore not physically. You curled onto your bed, naked, body humming for him. Sleep came in pieces, fractured moments of rest.

“You look like shit.” Angel greeted you when the sun finally rose and everyone mulled around the hotel. You waited until you were sure the lobby bar wouldn’t be empty, you didn’t want to run into him alone.

“How do you fucking sleep in this place? All night just screams and moans from the city.” You rested your cheek on the bar, “Husk, something with orange juice that’ll make me forget where I am, please.”

“The moans are my favorite. Speaking of moanin’ in the night-,” Angel was cut off.

“Get used to it. You sold your soul to a psychotic dick. Welcome to the club,” Husk’s tone was harsh, tilting into sardonic as he slid your drink to you.

With a huff, you sat up, “Don’t compare us. You sold your soul. I—,” you searched with your hands for the word, “was guilty of having a colossal cunt of an aunt.” A deep sip of your drink, “Fuck, he only got my soul because he made a deal with a different demon for it. Soul traded in like a used car. I’m the Kia Sorento of hell.”

Husk grumbled, “Yeah well, either way. Might as well get comfortable. We’re here for the long haul.”

Angel put a hand out to shut up Husk, scooting his stool closer to you, “So like— did Mister Wrong-Kinda-Horny have you killed?” His eyes went to your ears and back, “Is that why ya came back a little lady deer? Some kinda sex thing?”

You downed your drink and gestured to Husk to refill your glass, speaking to Angel without looking at him, “Why would he do that?

He grabbed your bar stool and swivelled you to face him, leaning in even closer, “Well, ya know…” his eyebrows raised up and down, ready to finally get the dirty details, “because ya-,”

“My little doe, just who I was looking for.” His sudden appearance startled all three of you. He was ready now, to pin down your fate. Were you going to stay at the hotel permanently or not? With his supervision or without?

“Why does everyone keep interruptin’ me?!” Angel slammed his hand on the bar.

On impulse, your own hand formed a first, “Stop calling me that!”

Alastor laughed, unhinged, a finger wiping a tear from his eye. Still, the attitude with which you spoke to him surprised him, “Oh? Why should I? You are a doe,” his microphone gestured to your head, “And your soul belongs to me. If I remember correctly, so does your body.” His eyes darkened, back bent as he came to your eye level, “But I always have video evidence if you’re unsure of the details.”

You lifted your glass and cocked your arm back to throw it but stopped. Alastor was grinning, something in his stare egging you on. He was loving this. Finally you were paying some attention to him. You were looking right at him.

Setting the glass back down, you left your stool and slipped past him, “Lucky for you, radio demon. It’s all you have anymore.” You had decided you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying his name.

Husk sunk beneath the bar, Alastor’s antlers expanding as his eyes became overtaken with black. Angel scrambled over the counter to join the cowering bartender. Alastor whipped around, spine cracking and stretching. You were in the elevator for another quick escape when you turned and saw him gaining on you, his mouth nearly unhinged, teeth sharp and numerous. His body contorted to get his truly demonic face in your eye line, back bending in half to drop his head down, “What did you say?” The air around him seemed to bend and shake, the hiss of a misaligned radio station biting at your skin.

Your finger was shaking as you pressed the ‘close door’ button repeatedly, wetting your lips you found your foothold in anger again, “Fuck you.”

You didn’t recognize the sounds you heard just past the hollow elevator doors. Something between a screech and a wail. Not a sound you’d heard any deer make before.

Shakey knees and legs melting to jelly barely carried you to your room. You collapsed against the door as soon as you entered, locking it. Not that it mattered, you knew that.

A knock shook the wood and made you yelp.

“It’s me!” You recognized Angel’s voice, “Let me in.”

He fell into your room, hair a mess and eyes wide, “I don’t know where he went but he left the hotel. Jesus Christ you have balls of steel.” He fixed his hair, adjusting his chest fluff, “Or are a total idiot.” He saw the tears swelling in your eyes, gears shifting immediately, “Oh shit, sorry. You okay?”

You shook your head no and crumbled to the floor, “I haven’t fucking slept more than three hours a night in like, five fucking days. I’m going crazy.”

“I don’t know why ya’ll are fightin’ but can’t Alastor help you out? Ya’ll are close, maybe a night in his bed will set you straight.”

Your tears streamed down your face, “Angel! What are you talking about?! You keep saying shit like we’re friends. The closest I’ve been to him was in my fucking wet dreams!” You curled into the fetal position on the carpet, exhausted, scared, confused. You’d never seen something as skin-crawling as his full demonic form. But a part of you was mesmerised by the transformation. A sick part of you, you decided.

Angel lied down beside you, facing you, eyes blinking. One of his hands wiped at your tears, “What exactly happened after you went home?”

You sniffled, “I couldn’t get him out of my head. I wore your robe. It smelled like you.”

He laughed, “I wondered where that thing went.”

“I started having these dreams, just—- really fucked dreams of him.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed, “fucked how?”

Your wanted to hide your face but didn’t have the energy to move your arms, “He fucked me in the woods like his life depended on it. Best sex of my life, in my own imagination. Naturally.”

Angel sat up, he didn’t know what to ask first, “best sex?? Sorry- no. Fuck, uh, you had dreams about fucking the Radio Demon? You two never… met up?”

You rolled onto your back, shaking your head, “If he could have visited me, he never did. Trust me, I looked for any sign.”

“Uh huuuuh.” Angel nodded, “Well. His extra weird attitude makes more sense. He’s been super creepy, always just popping’ outta shadows and shit. More than usual.”

Angel looked over you, crying softly on the floor. He considered telling you, but if Alastor hadn’t he figured it was best he stay out of it. Lest he be the one fleeing into elevators.

“Have ya considered actually fucking him?” Angel couldn’t believe he was recommending anyone fuck Alastor, but it seemed like maybe it’d actually do you good.

“Why would I do that?”

Angel looked annoyed, “Because you wanna fuck him?! Get it out of our system?”

“Yes and I sometimes wonder what it would be like to drive into oncoming traffic. We all have the call of the void. He—,” you thought about the kiss, “I feel like it’d just make it worse. I’d want more.”

Angel showed you his phone, “He’s apparently eating sinners in the doom district, so, it’s your call. But maybe a good bang would get you both to chill out.” He scrolled, “Fucking hell. The best sex, of your life? Have you not had much sex or-?”

You crawled up to your bed and plopped your now heavy body down, “Angel.”

“Do you have some weird kink? Is it just really big?”

“Angel!”

“Does he go full demon and his peni-,”

“ANGEL.”

He spun his head around to look at you, “I wanna respect your boundaries but I will actually die again if you don’t explain this shit to me.”

Settling back, you groaned, “I’ve never felt so needed before. He held onto me like he couldn’t breath unless I was under him. But you see him, you’ve been here. Does that sound like him?”

Angel sat beside you, “Honestly didn’t know he knew what sex was until you came here so” he leaned back, two arms holding him up, “You guys are pretty fucked up.” You nodded. “What did he say, when you told him about the dreams?”

“Didn’t really come up.” You rolled your eyes.

He patted your thigh, “Got it. You’re gonna owe me like, a metric shit ton of drugs.” Angel pushed off the bed, waving as he left, “I’ll see ya tomorrow!”

You sat up, staring curiously at where he had just been. Tomorrow? It was only 9am

Angel spent several hours in the lobby, pretending to read and socialize with residents. He jumped from the chaise lounge as soon as he saw Alastor walking into the hotel, “Hey uh, I know you know I think you’re a freaky fuck, but I wanna just say it sucks real bad and I’m sorry.” Alastor didn’t reply or even stop walking, Angel having to jog to keep pace.

“I mean, if my fuck buddy thought our bumpin’ uglies was all just dreams I’d be super fuckin’ bummed too.” Alastor became so still so quickly that Angel nearly fell over trying to stop his momentum. He waved his hand in front of Alastor’s face to make sure he was still conscious, “uhh anyone home in there?”

Alastor’s eyes flicked to dials, residents looking up warily as the power flickered and the space seemed to distort around them, “Explain, quickly.”

“She told me this mornin’! She thinks all those nights you were bangin’ her brains out — which, from one porn star to another, sounded top notch from my room — we’re just horny dreams. She’s all fucked in the head about it.”

Alastor melted into his shadow and slinked down the hall and up the walls, leaving Angel behind, “You all owe me!”

You heard footsteps suddenly advancing on you down the hall. Spinning around, your nose nearly brushed against his, Alastor’s face already down to your level.

He leaned in to you, his mouth hitting against your cheek, “I need to speak to you in my room, dear.” His voice was clearly not asking you.

Your blood ran cold, goosebumps dancing down your neck and arms. “Why would-,”

“Now.” His arms wrapped around your waist, you pushed him away and turned to walk off but stopped. You weren’t in the hallway anymore. A bedroom. With a haughty laugh you turned to spit venom at him for such a dirty trick.

As if expecting it, he cut you off, “They weren’t dreams, my doe. It was astral projection.” He took you by the shoulders and pointed your entire body at the forest scene melting into his room. Had it always been there? You couldn’t remember seeing it before, when you arrived in hell. Just him and his smile.

You felt the blush rise from your toes to your ear tips. Both hands came to your face, desperate to hide your existence from the situation.

You remembered that grassy clearing, the tree line. Peaking in and up, you saw the starry sky you spent so many nights moaning into.

“Why-,” your hands balled into fists, “didn’t you tell me?!” You turned to him, face red. You wanted to shove him, to hit him, but your mother taught you better than to lay hands on someone first. You finished fights, not started them.

Alastor smiled down at you, like he always did, “I thought you had no memory of our-,”

You cut off him off at the head, “visits.”

He laughed, “spirited visits.” Was that a pun? You groaned.

“I, I thought it was just make believe.” The gentle touches, the sweet names whispered into your skin, the way you could taste him even after you woke. The blush burned your cheeks.

Now that you knew, now that your eyes fell on him once again with recognition, he felt you’d actually answer him, “How did you die?”

The question took you by surprise, You thought it was obvious, “I tried to kill a hunter in the woods. Well, I did kill him. But he killed me, too.”

A genuine grin spread across his lips, a cackle, “You killed a man?!” You shouldn’t have been so proud, but he looked so impressed, “Tell me every detail. Who was he to you?” Alastor’s hands came to your arms. You remembered last night, pulse quickening, and walked to his bed. You took a seat on the end, sinking softly into the plush blankets. Your hand ran over the fabric.

“My employee’s father.” The fabric was soft, the threads tiny and tight.

Alastor took a seat beside you, legs crossed, “Oh? And why him?”

A hum, “He was a bad man.”

His hand picked up yours, bringing it to his mouth. There was that loss of blood to his brain, something you effortlessly did to him. “Who says?” His own heart picking up pace. You killed. Was it egotistical to think you inspired such a thing? Did you kill for him?

You watched your fingers tremble under his lips, “What?”

“Who says he was bad?”

Your eyes searched the room for an answer, “I think anyone would agree with me.”

His smile reached his eyes, “So you decided? He probably thought he was quite alright.” He turned your wrist over, mouth pressing to your pulse point. “Did you plan it?” Your scent was familiar but different now. Skin still just as soft. He felt himself salivate. Your spell just as strong in death.

A gulp, all of those walls you struggled to keep standing turned to dust against his smirk. A stranger, a lover. Effortlessly your body shifted into a new gear under his touch. “Yeah, for a week. I waited until I knew he was going to be there. Walked the paths, bought a knife.”

“A knife,” he practically purred, “A favorite. No gun?” He pulled your arm toward him, bringing your whole body into his.

“I wanted something more… personal.”

Alastor buckled slightly, cock jumping in his lap. “You were made to be my undoing. I am sure of it. A cruel joke from heaven to distract me.” His mouth found your neck next, little nips before he chose a place and latched, sucking a bruise easily seen by others.

“This is a really fucked conversation, Alastor.” Your body softened, a small sigh coming before you could consider being embarrassed.

“For a ‘fucked’ situation, my dear.” His nose traced along your jaw. “But one you’ll find I quite enjoy.” He placed your hand on his lap. Did he see the face you made? The stupid grin? Your hand squeezed lightly on the length you felt tenting his pants, earning a moan into your cheek. Real. He was real. In your hands, now. No dreams or projection. No fantasies. No little pink toy. “Bear with me, just a little more. You’ll find my … proclivity for such topics quite important for these kinds activities.”

“You’re sick.” You turned, nose to nose smiling still.

He hummed, his own smile spreading, “desperately so.” Your hand gently traced the shape of him through his pants, “Why did you kill him? As opposed to all the other bad men?”

A question you didn’t feel you could answer, “This topic is having the opposite effect on me…” you squeezed him again.

“Fair enough,” he pushed you back onto the bed, leg going over your body to straddle you, “Then tell me how you felt? A compromise.”

How did you feel? When you killed him? “I felt strong.” He repositioned himself between your legs, “I wasn’t scared. I knew I’d succeed or-,”

“Or?” His breathing now a barely strained pant. Say it. Say it and he’ll let himself go completely.

You focused on the canopy of his bed, a red wine color much like his own coat. “Or I’d end up here, with you.” His head fell, forehead resting on your stomach. You looked down to see his antlers larger than before, no longer cute little prongs. “Alastor?”

He wasn’t an idiot.

Maybe a little roundabout, but you chose him.

Red dribbled from his chin, mind going foggy as eyes went black. His hands rid you of your clothes with delicate cuts, your body lurched up the bed by wide palms.

You chose to come back.

Your hands came down to undo his pants and belt, seeing he probably couldn’t manage himself. As soon as he was free of his clothes, he was rutting into your thigh. “Alastor”, you took his face in both hands, dials flickers to dilated pupils as you got him to focus on you.

“My little doe.”

You came home.

His head came to rest just above yours, wide and sharp antlers just out of reach. His leaking cock finally found your core, Alastor groaning into the blankets to find you already so wet. Your hands gripped his arms, nails breaking skin in anticipation.

Lined up and impatient, he pushed up into you with unmeasured force. You bit onto the flesh of his shoulder, trying to keep yourself from screaming. In those dreamlike visits, he filled you so perfectly, body molding to him. But now, you were stuffed. With one thrust your cervix was bruised and tender. The tiniest pain bled into the eye-rolling pleasure of having him back in you. With heavy breaths he thrust into you with a need you couldn’t ever remember feeling before. He fucked you like he would die without your moans spilling across his chest.

And it was true, feeling your soft cunt clenching him so tightly was a need more than anything else. A ray of light at the bottom of the Mariana’s trench. Impossible, and undeserved. You were everything he wasn't good enough to have, wasn’t clean enough of conscience to hold. An angel clipping a wing to dip into hell, you killed to sink back into his arms. Even if you didn’t say it, not yet. He could feel it in you. He had left a deeper impression on your soul than perhaps you had his. You weren’t just his by way of a deal, you corrupted yourself to his level.

He looked down at you, your eyes already wet and unfocused, mouth hanging open as every breath turned into rhythmic moans. Your soul a fresh snowfall, your adoration for him a drop of blood. His eyes shut, mind focused on where you and him merged now. Friction pulling him forward to his climax.

Your body was trembling, his lower stomach rubbing against your already swollen clit. That soft button just past your entrance wasn’t just being pressed, it was smashed against your walls with his shaft. His head dragging past it. You wanted to speak, to express how good you felt, but your tongue was frozen in your mouth. Every inhale became a gasp, every exhale was now a moan. You felt his body tighten, thrusts become shallow as his large head refused to stray far from your womb. Silently, your hands tore into his shoulders as you gripped through your orgasm. The muscles in your jaw now locked. Your legs came to wrap around his hips and draw him in, thighs convulsing as his pace didn’t stop for you to recover.

With an unmistakable mating press, his cock buried itself in your pussy. Balls deep suddenly made more sense as a phrase. Your cervix stung as his body forced more room for itself in you. The way your walls spasmed around him felt debauched, your body starved for him. Hungry as he had been. Alastor felt your soft cunt drowning in his seed and he groaned into your hair. Already spilling out, he didn’t even consider unsheathing himself from you.

You struggled to slow your heart rate, vision blocked entirely with his own heaving chest. As he softened in you, so did his form. Body reconfiguring above you, antlers now small and uncharacteristically cute.

With regained red eyes, he looked at your face.

“Are you-,” he sighed, “Asleep.” Not a bad future after all, he mused. Watching you sleep.

He considered wiping you down before placing you beneath his blanket, but it seemed like such a waste. Your head on his pillow, he felt everything in his chest settle. Like a puzzle whose pieces were all right but just not flush, his own damned soul settled flat. Everything snuggly in place.

One of his large palms came to rest on your head, a familiar place for him now, “Sleep well, darling doe. I’ll be here when you wake.”

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult: @nonetheartist , fizzled-phoenix , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @fjorjestertealeaf , @pansexual-opera-house , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @roxxie-wolf , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @phobophobular , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @surusurusuru , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum , @ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1

🎞️ TRDFAHS VHS owners: @leathesimp , @alastors-staff, @howabouticallyou , @myrunawaysweets , @karmakillz , @serendipitous-fernweh , @universal-s1ut , @anuttellaa , @sillyb0nez , @nonamevenus , @fairyv-ice , @nitnat6245 , @alicehasdrowned , @alicebaskervilleposts , @jyoongim , @lunaramune , @christinebloodwrittings , @itszzmoon , @thekanrojimitsuri2 ,

@luna-usagi-chan

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

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baby-yongbok · 2 months

Text

Don't Go Insane

Neighbor!Bang Chan x afab!Reader

✧Genre - Smut ✧Warnings: Unprotected piv (Wrap it up ya'll) ✧ Masterlist ✧

A/N: I have never ever written a fic in this format but it was the only was for my brain to process the idea😭This is a product of those fucking SINFUL photos that Chan took for Nylon Japan. I'm sorry if it sucks, I'm trying to get back into writing again so I might suck for a bit, sorry! Hope you enjoy! (not proofread)

You weren't expecting to actually like your new neighbor since your previous one was such a dick but when you meet Chan he's more than kind to you.

He always greets you in the hallway, helping you bring your bags up to your place when you get home from shopping and checks in on you when he hasn't seen you for a couple of days

You find yourself going out around the same time that he would usually get home from his morning workout just so you can talk to him. He's so sweet and charming and hot. Oh so hot.

He brings you food when he's made too much dinner to fit in his fridge which is code for he wanted an excuse to talk to you and gave you 50% of his meal just to see your face.

You invite him in to eat the first time that he brings you food and it quickly turns into spending Sunday nights eating together and laughing at his stories. It's your favorite day of the week now.

You drop by his place to ask if he needs anything from the store every time that you go now. He's memorized the pattern of your knock and jumps to his feet every time he hears it.

You're in line at the store one day when a magazine catches your eye. Is that…Chan!? You grab it, looking through with wide eyes before buying it and nearly forgetting about the rest of your items.

You don't tell him that you saw it. He never said what he did for work and yeah he's hot - Oh so hot - but you never thought that this would be his occupation and you defiantly didn't think that this is how you'd find out.

You flip through the magazine all night. Staring at his beautiful chocolate gaze and his perfectly blushed lips. How is he even real?

You may have also stared at his shirtless pics for an hour too long. No one has to know that though.

He brings over a new recipe that he tried this Sunday. Setting up your usual spot on the living room floor when his eyes land on a familiar photo on your side table. It's him. You bought his magazine? He tries to act normal about it but his red ears and blushed cheeks give him away.

You catch on when he glances at it for a second time and you internally body slam yourself for forgetting to put it away. You both eat quietly, blushing and trying to find the right thing to say next.

“I'm sorry about that.” You speak first and he glances up quickly, straightening himself up with a shy smile. “It's fine, I'm just embarrassed I guess.” He's shy about being hot?? Why does that make him hotter?

“Are you always the shy type?” Your question was genuine but your tone was suggestive, almost teasing. It creates a shift in his demeanor that makes you shiver. “Not always, no.”

You don't know how it happened. It's all a blur. One second he was talking to you, confident and sweet. He was telling you about the shoot for the magazine when he got to the topic of the shirtless photos. The air around you thickened and the words that started it all slid off your tongue.

“You look so good it could drive me insane.” You chuckled but his eyes darkened in response.

“Do you want me to?” His eyes are on yours, his gaze is heavy and intense. “What?” You drop your fork, swallowing hard. “Make you go insane?”

That's how you ended up with his lips on yours. He swallowed each and every strangled moan and replaced it with one of his own. His hands explored your body, fast yet cautious. A gentleman.

He pulls you into his lap, one of his large palms gripping your ass over your leggings and the other cupping your cheek to keep you still for him. He pulls you close, chest to chest. He's been waiting to feel you since the moment he first saw you. He feels like he's dreaming and he prays that he never wakes up.

His breathing picks up when you plant sloppy kisses along his jawline. Mind numbing groans and hisses falling from his lips. “You're gonna make me go insane, fuck.”

His lips feel like heaven against your skin. Soft and all-consuming. He leaves marks along your collar bones, sucking and flicking his tongue over the delicate skin. Your head is spinning as you take him in. This beautiful man that you've been dreaming of for months finally has his hands on you.

You grind against him, his fingers digging into your hips as he presses up into you. The way that he looks up at you with his lip caught between his teeth is intoxicating. “You're so fucking beautiful.” He smiles at your compliment, blinking a blush away and trying to keep his composure. “Took the words right outta my mouth.”

You pull back, sitting on the shaggy rug and frantically undressing. You're desperate, antsy, absolutely insatiable and Chan isn't too far behind but you could never tell by how composed he looks. How does he have that much self control?

He moves to sit on the couch and watches you as you strip. Taking in every beautiful inch of your body while he makes himself comfortable. You look up at him as he sits, man spreading at the edge of your couch and giving you the perfect view of his aching cock straining against his jeans.

Fucking sinful

"Crawl to me, baby. Come here." He beckons you with two fingers that you're dying to be acquainted with. The smile on his face while you follow his order is enough to make you explode already.

He leans forward, cupping your face and kissing you with such soft hunger. So much passion and desire. A promise, like his kiss is asking you to be his. You palm him softly over his jeans earning a soft moan from him. "You want it?” He leans back, resting against the back of your sofa, giving you full access to his zipper and button. “Go ahead, take it, princess."

His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he watches you free his cock and his eyes roll back when you fist it confidently. Pumping him at a deliciously slow place. You want to drag this out. You don't ever want this to end.

He puts his hand over yours once he gets fed up with your teasing. He loves how your hand feels around him but he needs more of you. He taps his leaking cock against your lips and you allow your spit to dribble down his shaft. "Stick that tongue out. There we go, baby. That's my girl. Look at that.”

He holds your hair back as you slide his length into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. His fingers massage your scalp softly making you hum around him. He's a gentleman, a filthy one.

He couldn’t wait to switch places with you, falling to his knees so fluidly that you couldn’t help but to groan at the sight of him. His gaze never left yours. His eyes were constantly asking for permission to continue and you eagerly granted it every time.

He ate your pussy like a fucking starved man. Lick and sucking the expanse of your cunt like he’d never see you again. Your moans encouraged him as he lapped at you, he wanted - no, needed - you to cum on his tongue. It’s all that he’s been dreaming of for the last month.

He made you cum twice and had to hold back the urge to keep going. He’s definitely found his new favorite thing.

Nevermind, kissing you is his favorite thing. The way that you sigh into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue and biting his bottom lip drives him wild.

You’re seeing stars as soon as he slips into you. His strong arms on either side of your head as he hovers, kissing you softly as you adjust to him. “Fuck, you’re a dream come true, ya know that? I’ve dreamt of this, princess.” You can hardly reply once he fills you to the hilt but you try to anyway, moaning out as your vision blurs. “Wanted you so bad, Channie.”

That was enough to break him. He snapped his hips into you, giving you everything that you ever wanted, ever needed, from him. He fucks you deep, speeding up gradually just to hear you moan his name a little louder. He wants to be gentle with you but with a cunt that feels this amazing he can’t help but want to make you fall apart underneath him.

You always imagined being on top when you finally got to be with Chan but it looks like that’ll have to be another day. The way that his cock is splitting you open makes you feel like you might have to call out of work tomorrow.

“Look at me, babygirl. You liked seeing my pictures, huh? Did you touch this pretty cunt while looking at them?” You nod your head with such urgency that you’re positive that you look absolutely pathetic but Chan thinks that it’s cute, he’s in love with how fucked out you look drooling under him. “All you had to do was ask for the real thing.” He rolls his hips into you and your eyes roll back right after.

He holds both of your hands as he slows down a bit, he wants to make love to you. Wants to treat you like the precious gem that he knows that you are but your cunt keeps fucking squeezing around him. He curses under his breath as he tries to compose himself but it’s no use. He watches as he disappears inside of you, groaning when he sees just how perfectly your pussy is taking him. “You’re gonna make me cum, baby. You’re too much. Too good.”

Much to his surprise you cave before he does, chanting his name like a prayer while he rocks into you at the perfect angle. You feel dizzy as you unravel under him, nails digging into his strong arms and your legs wrapping around his waist in a desperate attempt to feel grounded.

The way that you look cumming on his cock drives him over the edge. He picks up the pace, fucking you through your orgasm while he’s chasing his. The overstimulation draws out your climax causing a new wave of pleasure to hit you harder than the last. “Yeah yeah yeah, oh fuck such a pretty girl cumming on my cock like that, that's it baby.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying but he doesn’t care he’s so close so so so close.

You forced your eyes open when he pulled out, you needed to watch him stroke himself over the edge and cover your stomach in his cum. You need to take in the way his eyes squeeze shut and his brows furrow while he moans for you. “Oh fuck fuck fuck.”

The giggles that you share after may be Chan’s new favorite part. He cleaned you up and wrapped his arms around you. Pressing kisses to your hair as you both talk about what just happened with smiles on your faces

“This is a bit backwards but uh, can I take you out? Maybe next weekend?” The butterflies in your stomach go crazy as you blush into his chest, nodding happily and answering with a muffled ‘yes’ that makes Chan chuckle. “Maybe afterward I can fuck the sense back into ya, since I drove you insane tonight.”

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reiderwriter · 7 months

Text

Hating You Is The Easiest Thing I Can Do

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: When your boss pulls your case out from under you and gives it right to the BAU, you're pissed. You're even more pissed when Doctor Spencer Reid suggests you can't do your job properly. After a week in his company, you decide to give him a piece of your mind

Warnings: Day One of Kinktober - Hate Sex, enemies to lovers, dom/sub, Mean!Dom!Spencer, Brat!Reader, spanking, degradation, spanking, spit kink, sir kink, vaginal fingering, slight creampie, Reader's boss is an asshole, typical office misogyny. Spencer is also an asshole, but that's just because he's a dumbass.

A/N: Special thank you to @reidmotif and @mrs-dr-reid for proofreading this one for me! I wrote this when on a major Pride and Prejudice moment, which is why there's a whole lot of plot before the sex. I hope you like the build-up just as much as the smut! <3 If you like it, don't forget to leave a like, reply, or reblog and tell me your thoughts! ((just as a reminder, apart for Sundays and Tuesdays, I'll be posting all the kinktober fics on AO3 exclusively, so check out my writing there - reiderwriter))

My requests are also back open now, so if you like my writing and have an idea, check out my request guidelines and drop me a message in my inbox! You can find the rest of my masterlist here :)

To say you were angry was an understatement. You were seething, the anger bubbling up inside of you and threatening to lash out at anyone who so much as crossed your path as you made your way down the crappy motel corridor. You'd only known Spencer Reid a week, but you could think of no one you despised more.

The FBI had always been a boys' club, you knew that. There were some goddamn strong women in your field office, of course, but you were outnumbered 10 to 1. Which was why you were so determined to do well on the first case assigned to you as lead Agent. The first week of the case, you'd made sure you were thorough. A body had been found in the park by a jogger, and you darted to the crime scene the moment you got the call. A woman in her early twenties, like you, had been raped, tortured, and then dumped here, her body posed in a demeaning way to make it seem as if she were performing a sexual act. Your entire body shuddered at the sight, but you couldn't let your coworkers see you weak so you powered through. Collecting evidence, getting an ID on the victim, interviewing potential witnesses, and yes, even breaking the news to the poor girl's family, you had been so attentive to every detail of the case and you felt you were making progress, your boss delivered a humbling blow.

"Another body has been discovered. I've invited the Behavioural Analysis Unit in from Quantico because you're in over your head." He'd told you, not even looking up at you from the file he was reading on his desk.

"What? I wasn't told about another body, why wasn't I notified?"

"I didn't think you needed to know, now that the BAU is coming in."

"So I'm off the case? That's it?"

"No, I want you to assist them in their investigation. Tell them everything you've gathered so far, get them situated in the office as best you can."

"Get them coffee when they want it? Rub their feet if they ask for it? This is bullshit, I was making progress, if you'd only have given me more time-"

"Agent, I suggest you walk out of this office right now and get your PMSing under control before I have to suspend you from fieldwork." You pressed your nails further into the beds on your palms then and bit back your tongue from replying, simply giving a terse nod and exiting the office.

It wasn't even an hour later before the new team arrived, and you offered a tense smile and welcome as you got them set up in their own office. The Unit Chief didn't seem too bad, but Aaron Hotchner couldn't exactly be described as the most welcoming of people, and you felt an instant camaraderie with JJ, the other agent who'd come into the office with him. There were more agents apparently, but they'd gone out into the field to check out the new victim and reinterview the family, something you weren't exactly happy about. But, if you were going to be their little bitch for the next week, you were at least thankful they were tolerable and polite.

"So here's everything I've got so far. I've been pretty thorough in my interrogations of potential witnesses, and there are no CCTV cameras in the general vicinity of the dump sites, so I don't think you'll find anything else there that'll aid in your profile."

" If you'd have been thorough you'd have found this though, right?" A new voice popped up from the door, and you felt yourself tense up under the sudden accusation. Looking up you saw he was holding up his phone, a picture of a strange marking on a tree lighting up the screen.

"Excuse me?"

"This was left on a tree roughly thirty feet from the first dump site. I called Rossi and Morgan and they found a similar marking near the second victim. It's a Mesopotamian symbol relating to the worship of prostitutes and sex workers to promote fertility." He spoke plainly, but all you could hear was the condescension in his tone, and your blood boiled with rage.

" Agent Y/L/N, I'm sorry about him, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, he's another member of our team." JJ introduced the man, sending him a warning glance, as if letting him know that he hadn't just put his foot in his mouth directly.

You looked at the man then, really focusing on him now instead of the pictures, and almost cursed out loud again. He was a jerk, but fuck was he attractive. Tousled hair, dark eyes, and a perfectly sculpted jaw, it was as if he were sent from hell directly to piss you off and tempt you. You pushed the attraction aside for the minute then, choosing to be the bigger person and introduce yourself.

"I'm Agent Y/N Y/L/N. And I'm sorry that I'm not an expert on Mesopotamian prostitutes, but I guess that's probably your specialty, right, Doctor?" You held out your hand for him to shake, but he just looked down at it.

"If you're referring to my doctorate, I actually didn't study classic civilizations. I hold PhDs in Math, Chemistry, and Engineering and additional BAs in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology. And I don't do handshakes." He glanced straight past you after that, walking back over to Hotch and filling him in on other things you must've overlooked during your brief time working the case.

You glared at his back, finally letting your hand drop to your side again as you let out an angry chuckle.

"Don't take it personally, Spencer is just… He’s He's not great with people. He'll warm up to you." JJ put a reassuring arm on your shoulder and you nodded. But inside you knew there was not one thing the man could do to reverse the bad opinion of him you'd just gained.

–X–

After the initial anger of having the case seeped out from beneath you wore off, you actually began enjoying your time with the BAU. You hadn't put much thought into profiling before, it usually being so far off your radar while you were working in the field office but you were actually coming to enjoy how they worked, and you'd learned a lot.

Your relationship with Spencer, however, only degraded.

Your hatred had reignited the moment you'd been joined by the rest of the BAU Team. Your boss has finally come down to greet them, and, almost as if making you pay for your earlier comments, had genuinely sent you on a coffee run for them. You could deal with the fact that the man had the most annoyingly complicated coffee order you'd ever heard of in the Bureau, but what you couldn't forgive were the sly comments you walked in on when you returned.

"Come on, Reid. That Agent is easy on the eyes, you should talk to her, get you a slice of that." You'd been introduced to Derek Morgan earlier and you'd instantly pegged him as a flirt, so this wasn't exactly shocking to you. What was a bit surprising was the other man's reply.

"If she's attractive I hadn't noticed. I've been too busy trying to clear up her mess with this case."

You walked in the door then, coffees in hand, and slammed his drink down on the table for him. You handed Morgan to him, double-checking that you'd got both of their orders right before shooting another glare at the man and walking away to find the rest of the team.

But not before hearing Morgan chastise Reid in another whisper: "God man, you gotta be nicer to the kid…"

To say that your working relationship had soured totally after your two personal encounters with the man was simply an untruth. You didn't have a working relationship, you had a working rivalry.

From then on, you'd slyly interrupt the man when he was speaking, telling him to cut his genius rambles in half, that you didn't have all day to sit around and wait for him to stutter his way through his theory while there was a murderer on the loose.

He didn't hold back either, constantly asking you questions he knew you didn't know the answers to, just to smile slyly down at you and make you admit that you weren't as good as him. It was getting so detrimental to the office atmosphere that you had to be genuinely separated after only three days, Hotchner bringing you into the field with him on multiple occasions and forcing Reid to stay behind with JJ to work on a geographical profile.

You'd been with Hotchner at a family interview, working with him to gain details of the second victim's actions and whereabouts leading up to her murder to establish a timeline when you got a call.

Excusing yourself from the room, you quickly picked up the call.

"This is Agent Y/L/N."

"Hotch isn't picking up his phone." That was all the explanation you got from the man on the other side of the phone, his voice instantly grating.

"Yes, I'd assume he isn't, Doctor Reid, because we are currently interviewing a bereaved mother and father and he put his phone on silent. Is there something you need?"

"I need to talk to Hotch."

"Well, you called me. What do you need?" You heard him breathe out a frustrated sigh on the other side of the line, and you rolled your eyes, slightly enjoying being this stubborn and getting under his skin.

"Just tell him we're ready to give the profile, okay?" He hung on you after that and you cursed him down the line, receiving nothing back but the empty beeps of the dial tone.

–X–

It didn't take long after delivering the profile to get your guy, but as he hadn't been in the middle of committing any felonies when you picked him up, you'd had to spend a few days in the interrogation rooms.

Hotch had taken a crack at him and gotten nowhere, and so had Rossi and Emily and Morgan. JJ had been the one to make the arrest, so she went in last and still came out with nothing much. He hadn't layered up yet, as they'd suspected he wouldn't, too egotistical to allow anyone else into the room that he thought he was going to talk himself out of.

"We're getting nowhere with this, Hotch. I think I have an idea that could get him to start talking." Reid said as you all stared at the man through the one-way glass.

"What, you think you can charge in there and get him to talk?" It was petty, but it'd been a stressful week, and he was used to this flow of conversation between the two of you.

"No, you are. Hotch, she fits his type, she's attractive, same build and coloring as the previous two victims. I think it'd work." You scoffed at his suggestion.

"Oh so now you think I'm attractive? I thought you hadn't noticed because you were, what, too busy cleaning up my mess?" You crossed your arms as he gave you an incredulous look, and you realized that he didn't think you'd heard him.

"Spencer's right, Y/N." Hotch nodded, looking between the two of you to see if he needed to pull you apart to keep you from fighting or to keep you from jumping each other. You personally weren't sure which you'd like most at that point, cursing yourself as you let your eyes trail down his body.

"It's going to excite him having you so close, you should pop a few of those buttons, too," Reid suggested looking down at your chest as you scoffed and crossed your arms.

"Oh you'd really like that," you mumbled under your breath, but a swift look from Hotch had you shutting your mouth again as he began to brief you.

Going in you felt a surge of pettiness seep through you. You were going to nail this guy, get him to talk about every little nasty thing he did to those girls, and prove to your boss that you could do this when every member of the BAU had tried and failed. But a small, dim, and annoying reminder at the back of your head whispered in your ear that you'd be pleasing Spencer then as well. Proving him right. You weren't sure if you wanted to succeed to hear him or your boss say "good job" to you after you finally succeeded, but when you imagined it with him, he was a whole lot closer, right in your ear, body pressed against yours.

You focused on your anger over your attraction and pushed into the room, ready to stare down a monster and escape unharmed.

–X–

It had worked, of course. It had taken a few hours of building rapport but you'd done it. You'd had him eating out the palm of your hand while he confessed to the three murders you knew about and an extra four that you didn't.

A day of retrieving bodies later and by 10 pm, the case was finally closed.

"Well done, kid, you really got him in that interview. That was some great work." Morgan nudged your elbow as he grabbed his duffle, exiting the makeshift office.

"Don't forget we're getting drinks at the cocktail bar in half an hour. Shower off that mud and change into a hot dress, Agent, and I'll buy you your first shot." Emily called back to you from the exit too, leaving you in a fit of giggles as you promised her you would.

Once they'd all gone, you started packing up your things ready to leave yourself when there was another knock at the door.

" Hey, I need to grab my bag." Reid stood in the door awkwardly, and your smile dropped into a politely neutral face as you nodded to him.

"Don't let me stop you, Doc."

"Spencer."He said, stepping a bit closer to you.

"What?"

"I want you to call me Spencer. You keep calling me Doctor or Doc, I want you to call me Spencer."

"No. Doctor Reid is just fine for me."

"And what if I want more?" He grabbed your wrist as you turned to go, using a bit too much force and leaving you stumbling into him, hitting his chest as you looked up at him, your noses almost touching with the proximity.

"Let me go," you growled, but his grip loosened and you didn't move an inch.

"What if I want more?" He asked again, a little more insistent this time, his eyes dark in the dim room, expression unreadable.

"Why should I care what you want, Doctor Reid?"

"Because I think you want it, too. Because I think that despite all the odds, you want me just as much as I want you."

Your anger burst out of you in a sarcastic laugh then at his presumptuous words.

"Despite all the odds? What odds are those Spencer? You treat me like shit, ignoring me, refusing to even shake my hand, and downplaying the hard fucking work I put in before you got here? God, you are so fucking narcissistic." You finally stepped away from him then, turning away to regain your composure.

"Me? I'm not the one who missed some vital fucking evidence in a murder investigation, Y/N, so I'm sorry I wasn't the most welcoming person, but God if we're talking egos, you should probably check yourself."

"Forget it, you're impossible. I really tried to be nice to you, but more fool me for making messes you had to clean up."

"Are you still stuck on that? Y/N, I'm sorry, but Derek just has a way of-" He stepped closer to you again and you could feel the oxygen being sucked from your lungs.

"Don't you dare blame this on Morgan. You're attracted to me and you fucking despise that, and it's none of Morgan’s fault. Now please, just get out of this fucking office and go back to your motel room." You practically hissed those last words at him, holding back the urge to scream in frustration. Your lips were so close now, as his chest heaved, hands clenched by his sides as he resisted the urge to grab you.

"Forgive me… for suggesting something so obviously repulsive to you." With that, he brushed past you and walked out, leaving you reeling at his almost confession, head light from the lack of air. He'd taken your breath with him as he left the room.

–X–

The promise of free shots had convinced you to get back out to the bar as promised, not letting Reid and his fickle moods control when and where you'd be enjoying yourself.

You finally showed up at the bar and were greeted by hugs from JJ and Emily, already one drink in as they immediately handed you a shot from the bar. Guiding you back to the table, you paused as you saw him there.

Morgan was sat at the table, happily chatting away with Reid, who'd since grown quiet, eyes meeting yours before leaving to rake down your frame. You resisted the urge to cover yourself, confidently standing tall as he devoured you with his eyes. Changing out of your work clothes, you'd decided that you needed some fun tonight, donning a short red dress, barely hitting the tops of your thighs, hugging your curves tightly, and pushing your chest up so it nearly spilled out completely. You'd completed the look with thigh-high black boots and a red lip, looking the absolute image of lust - or anger - personified.

"Whew mama, you look good, Y/N." Morgan greeted you, standing up to give you a kiss on the cheek. Reid still said nothing but kept his eyes trained on you as he took another sip of his drink.

"I was promised shots and dancing, I think I'm dressed pretty appropriately don't you think?" You smiled and giggled up at Morgan, letting your touch linger on him a little longer to see if it would spur Reid into action.

"Have I ever told you about my very good friend Penelope Garcia? I think you two would get along just fine."

The rest of the night continued in a similar vein. You'd stepped out onto the dance floor with Emily and JJ, letting whatever man wanted to sidle up close, begging one of them to be a distraction from the man whose eyes were boring into you from the other side of the room. It didn't work. Their hands were on your hips, guiding you to the sound of the music but in your head, all you saw was him, doing the same.

It didn't help that he was getting hit on constantly from his perch beside Morgan, and you watched with a bitter feeling at the bottom of your stomach as women tried, unsuccessfully, to get him to pay attention to them. After another frustrating invitation for a tryst with a local man, you excused yourself from the dance floor, finding Morgan in the bar, letting him know that you were calling it a night.

"Where's Reid?" You asked, trying and failing to sound casual as you glanced around the now crowded bar for signs of him.

"He left like ten minutes ago. Said he was tired and went back to the motel."

"Was he…" You didn't want to finish the question, not knowing which answer you'd prefer, but Morgan filled in the gaps himself with a wide grin.

"Alone? Yes, kid. Here, it's the address of the motel we're staying at and his room number." You hesitated before grabbing the paper and grabbing your stuff, practically running from the bar and hopping in the nearest taxi.

–X–

That's how you found yourself stomping down the corridor of the motel, pounding on his door at 1 a.m., unashamed in your brazen actions. He opened the door, slightly shocked to see you there, and you pushed your way inside and turned on him as you shut the door.

"What the fuck was all of that?" You demanded as soon as he turned back to you. His shirt was open now, jacket and tie discarded on the floor somewhere deeper into the room, but you forced yourself to look up into his eyes, away from the pale plains of his skin.

"What was what, Y/N?"

"You, staring at me like that the whole night and then just leaving."

"Did you want me to stay?"

"I want you to stop answering my questions with questions, Reid. This is bullshit, you can't act like a dick to me all week and then look at me like I'm a piece of meat you want to rip apart, for fucks sake."

"You made it very clear earlier tonight that you wanted no part of this, Y/N. Are you saying I should've done something else?"

"That's another fucking question, Spencer! If you don't start actually talking to me, I swear to god, I'll-" You ran a hand through your hair, and when you looked up again, he was closer than ever. You backed up into the wall, but he followed you, pressing a leg between your own. Slowly and with that condescending grin plastered across his face, he drawled out his next words.

"You'll what?"

Your lips crashed against his with the fury of your frustrations, a mess of teeth and tongue and biting anger as you surged forward into him.

With a rough push of your hips, he slammed you back into the wall, taking charge of the situation, coaxing his tongue into your mouth, battling you for control, and winning. Grabbing you by the neck he slowly pulled his lips away from yours, leaving you gasping for breath.

"Don't be such a brat, Y/N. When I ask you questions, it's because I want answers." You moaned as you tried to regain his lips, but he chuckled and kept you pinned.

"Tell me, baby, what should I have done earlier instead? Got down on my knees to beg your forgiveness, or thrown you over that desk and used you like a cheap little whore? I think I know which one you prefer."

You moaned at his words, but kept your mouth twisted in a grimace, choosing not to answer. He got tired of waiting, and, with a swiftness you didn't know he possessed, twisted you around so your hands were planted against the wall, your chest pushing against it too as he pulled your hips up and out, effectively baring your pantie-clad pussy to him as your dress pushed up and over your ass all by itself.

"So fucking slutty. You let all those men in that club touch you while you stared at me the entire time." He ran his hands across your ass massaging you underneath your underwear before pulling his hands away again and grabbing your hips. He pushed his clothed cock against you from behind and you moaned at how hard and big he felt already.

"Was this what you wanted, brat?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"I think you'd much prefer it if I fucked you, don't you think?" He turned you around again, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around him, the new angle pressing your core further into his cock.

"Open your mouth, now." Against your better judgment, your body reacted to him quickly, your tongue dropping out of your mouth as he ground his cock into your core, effectively dry-humping you. With a swift motion, he spat in your mouth, your eyes going wide as you instinctively shut your mouth and swallowed.

"Good girl," he stroked your hair, lifting you up and carrying you to the bed. His lips locked with yours as you tasted his spit on your lips, letting him take control and move you in any way he pleased.

"But you've been a brat," he said pulling away. "And brats need to be punished."

With that he forced you over his knee, pulling your panties down as he positioned your hips higher, your ass raised. He fisted one hand into your hair and began softly stroking your ass with the other.

"You're going to count for me, baby. If you lose count, we'll start again. With each number, I'll tell you what you did wrong, okay?"

"Fuck, yes, yes sir." With another soft touch, he pulled his hand up and bought it back again down sharply, letting it cup your ass as you hissed from the sting.

"O-One."

"That was for being a brat in the office. Being so confident you missed some vital evidence that was staring you right in the face."

He did it again, and you squirmed under his touch.

"Two."

"That was for teasing me in front of Hotch. Making me get hard right there in the office before you went to interrogate that creep."

"That made you hard?" You gasped out as he cracked out another slap to your ass. "Three."

"That was for talking. You need to stop fucking talking." He stroked your ass again, delivering a fourth, fifth, and sixth blow in quick succession as you felt yourself leak your arousal all over his lap.

"That was for dressing like a little whore tonight. That was for flirting with Morgan. That was for letting another man touch you. What do you have to say for yourself now, brat?" Your breaths stuttered out of you as you tried to compose yourself, confident that he'd finished your punishment now.

"G-Go…. FuckFuck yourself." He growled and threw you back on the bed, ripping your dress off over your head and letting his lips return to yours as he trailed his hand to between your legs, finally pushing two fingers inside of you as you moaned and writhed beneath him.

" I hate you," you moaned in his ear as his lips trailed down to your breasts.

"You have a funny way of showing it." Your orgasm was rapidly approaching, so close you could practically taste it. He sensed it as well, though, and pulled his fingers out of you before you could reach that bliss.

"You thought it would be that easy, brat?" he whispered in your ear with a low chuckle before flipping you over to your front and thrusting his fingers back into you from behind, causing another moan to rip from your throat, uncontrollably loud in the otherwise silence of the motel at night.

Unzipping his pants and freeing his cock, you felt the weight of it on your ass as he rubbed his precum against your now bright red asscheeks.

"You're going to look so pretty with my cum decorating your ass baby. It's going to make your ass feel better, too."

"You're disgusting," you spit at him, but your hips push harder into his dick, trying desperately to capture him inside of you and force him to use you.

"No more talking, bitch. Take my fingers." He pushed a hand into your mouth and you started twirling your tongue around them, using your distraction to finally violently thrust his dick all the way inside you. You screamed at the sudden filling, cumming around his cock in an instant, trying to milk him for all he was worth. But he clamped a hand down over your mouth so that all that fell from your face was escaped tears and muffled pleas for more.

"Gonna use you like this baby, gonna make you admit you love me."

His thrusts gained a steady pace as your brain emptied beneath him, desperate for more of the pleasure his body was supplying you with. He released your mouth then, content that all your energy seemed to be spent on pushing your ass back into his, listening to the wet, sloppy sounds of your activity.

"Do you like that, brat? You like me making you feel like this, huh?" He slapped your ass again as he thrust, and you moaned back with a nod.

"Yes, Spencer, don't stop… Don't stop." You moaned again, another orgasm rolling over your body, causing you to clench unconsciously around his cock.

"So good baby, you're responding so well to my cock." He trailed a hand underneath you to your clit and started rubbing it in time to his thrusts.

"One more for me. One more and I'll pull out, okay? Just one more."

"I can't, Spencer I can't do it.." You whined underneath him, face fully buried in the motel pillows. You were surprised he even heard you through the tears as the material.

"Yes you can, baby, look you're so close already, just do one more."

"I hate you," you moaned again, feeling your third and final orgasm wash over you, your eyes rolling back in your head as your body started twitching and didn't stop. You felt a small twitch from him too, as he finished thrusting inside of you, letting a little bit of his cum escape into you before pulling out and decorating your ass with his ejaculation.

He fell by the side of you and gasped desperately for a few minutes, before grabbing a hot wet towel from the bathroom and cleaning your ass off.

"Spencer…" you croak out eventually, regaining some clarity, but still not moving much from your spot in his bed.

"Spencer, I don't hate you."

"I know. I don't hate you either. Which is probably for the best."

"What? Why?"

"Hotch just requested your transfer to the Quantico Office so you could start training with the BAU. You did a good job this week, Y/N." Your eyes started watering again and you gently pushed away tears as he laughed at you, asking why you were crying.

"I'm not happy," you joked.

"I just realized that means I have to work with you more." You both laughed at that. You didn't hate each other exactly, but that didn't mean you could work together well either.

And you didn't want to if this was the outcome of your bickering and hatred.

#kinktober 2023 #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid kinktober #criminal minds kinktober #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #hate sex #enemies to lovers

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shares-a-vest · 10 months

Text

Eddie reaches for Steve's fruity-scented shampoo - the stuff he swears he hasn't been using each and every time he stays over. He pops the cap and then the lights go out.

He screams bloody murder and drops the shampoo bottle. He kicks it and presses his palms against the nearest surfaces. One on the tiled wall, the other on the glass as he does everything to stop himself from moving his feet because, if he trips on that fucking fruity shampoo that makes Steve's hair oh-so-silky, he'll go slipping and sliding straight through the glass and into the goddamn toilet.

And he cannot die like that, buck-naked as the day he was born.

Though, if he absolutely had to die in the nude, he'd want it to be while he's railing someone six ways from Sunday...

Preferably the hunk who is bursting in through the bathroom door and waving a flashlight right in his eyes.

Steve opens the shower and reaches in to shut off the water. Eddie palms around and grips his boyfriend's wrist, impossibly warm despite now being wet.

"Are you... uh..." Steve drops the light enough from him to stop spluttering about. Eddie blinks hard, regaining enough focus to find a sly smile tugging at the corner of Steve's lips as he attempts to be serious, "Um, are you okay?"

Alright, maybe falling head-first into the toilet would have been a little less embarrassing than this: Steve staring back at him and snickering. He cups his junk and grumbles.

"Towel?" he spits, holding out one hand.

"Sorry," Steve says as he hands the brown (seriously, why do the Harrington's enjoy brown so much) towel over, "It's just you looked like you were in the middle of some naked jumping-jacks."

"Stevie, I was terrified," he retorts, drying off his arms and hands first so he can get a better grip on anything so he can safely get out of the damn shower before it becomes a fogged-up glass tomb.

But Steve places the flashlight tight under one arm and spots him, hovering one hand and placing the other on his dripping wet hip.

"I know," he soothes, now completely serious, "I was scared too."

Eddie doesn't care that he is mostly wet and that his hair is completely soaked, he goes right into Steve's strong arms, feeling his navy-blue sweater quickly dampen between them. Steve maneuvers around to stop their bodies from completely blocking their light source and hugs him tight.

"So stupid," Eddie can't help but mutter, "How am I more scared of the fucking dark than I was when I was six? Besides, how do you even lose power out here in Richie Richville?"

"Well, considering this house is surrounded by trees," Steve shrugs, "We lose power quite easily in bad weather," he pulls back enough to give a dangerously-teasing smirk considering Eddie's state of undress, "Thought you'd enjoy some candles and what-not, anyway. Doesn't Bilbo Baggins scurry around his cottage with a candlestick?"

Now it's Eddie's turn to move away as he hurriedly wraps the towel around himself - to protect his modesty. Yeah... that.

"Excuse me?" he exclaims, "He lives in a Hobbit hole, for one. And I'll have you know his home is well-lit."

"Come on!" Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes and taking his hand.

He leads them back into his bedroom, which at least has some moonlight peaking in from the windows. And yeah, now Eddie can really hear the source of the power outage. The wind outside and the trees that shroud Loch Nora sound like a goddamn tornado.

"Though I think Rivendell surely must have had some sort of electricity," he wonders aloud as he attempts to focus on something else.

"We can debate the infrastructure of Middle Earth later," Steve chuckles and promptly shoves a pair of sweatpants into his hands.

Eddie steps forward, smiling bashfully.

"You mean it?" he coos, biting the 't'.

Steve's eyes flick to his lips as he bites his own, "I can think of a few things we could do that don't involve the power being on."

Eddie opens his mouth, readying himself for a lame line about their palpable electricity that will probably make Steve laugh when the damn radio crackles.

If a physical object could be a boner-killer, it's the damn radio Steve currently has attached to his hip.

"Steeeve is the power out at your house, overrr!" Dustin screeches the moment Steve fishes it from his back pocket.

"Yes, over," Steve answers. He holds a finger up, silently asking Eddie to wait as they make no attempt to move an inch from each other's personal space, "I'mfine-okaygoodbye!"

He clicks the radio off completely and tosses it on his dresser, paying no mind to the fact it sends his Little League trophy toppling onto the carpet.

#ironically i drafted half of this last night when i thought the power was going to go off bc of the weather #but then ONLY the internet went off 💀💀💀#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #lilys ficlets

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bau-muffin · 1 month

Text

“Pure Intentions”

Ship: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Rating: E

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1,162 Words

Summary: You are an agent who is also spiritual and loves crystals. So, you decide to give your favorite boss man, SSA Aaron Hotchner, black tourmaline.

Hotch really didn’t know why insomnia had chosen to haunt him on a Sunday night, but he felt the full extent of it when he stepped into the bullpen the next morning. He wasn’t really given to vanity, but he felt like his eyebags were eye-totes now, and even though he had downed a cup of coffee before leaving the house, he felt like if he was still for even a second, he’d fall asleep.

Of course the weekend he had off was when his mind barred him from a good night’s rest- the night before work, no less.

He had not been at his desk for more than ten minutes when you bustled into his office, your smile wide as usual despite being almost eight in the morning.

“Good morning! I was going to wait closer to lunch, but then Penelope told me a case came in, so I decided to give this-“ you stopped to actually look at him, and even though an amused smile was pulling at his lips, he looked so exhausted. “I’m so sorry, I should have asked how you were doing first.”

“I’m not sick, just tired,” Hotch said kindly, “what do you have?”

“Black tourmaline! I know you’re not much of a spiritualist, but the low down on it is that it sponges up negative energy! And I mean… I know you don’t exactly have a choice, you know, to be or not to be around negative energy but…” you shrugged before admitting, “It also reminded me of you too. Also, again I know you don’t put huge stock into it, but I also charged it for you.”

You put the shiny black chunk on his desk, almost shyly. He picked it up, studying it and turning it over in his hands. You half expected him to pull his reading glasses out to look at it, and if he had- well, you couldn’t rightly be held responsible for the noise you might have made.

“This reminds you of me?” Hotch asked skeptically, his brows knitted slightly.

“Mhm! It’s a bodyguard type crystal. And… I guess you have that sort of… vibe? To me anyways,” you added on a little less than tactfully as you were visibly becoming fidgety, your hands smoothing down your skirt.

“You see me as the bodyguard type.”

You put your hands on your hips, an eyebrow raising. “Did you or did you not become overprotective when I said that my car alarm was going off in the parking lot and you insisted on stealthily going towards the car first with your pistol? Or did I hallucinate that?”

“I’ve seen some things in my time, and I know malevolent people would target a woman who’s alone when she’s leaving her workplace,” Hotch said defensively. You only smiled.

“Whatever you say. Regardless, that’s for you. Maybe, one day, I’ll get a keychain for you.”

“Thank you, that was… actually thoughtful and sweet of you. You’re right that I don’t put a whole lot of stock into this… sort of thing,” he admitted as he turned the crystal over in his palm again, “but I think… I think the weight of intentions are real.”

“Maybe those intentions will carry you home safe from this case, then. Judging from the groaning sounds coming from Garcia’s cave, I’m thinking it’s a doozy. By the way…”

“Mm?”

“Do you want me to make you a cup of coffee before you go in to briefing?”

“That would be wonderful of you, thank you. One sugar-“

“-and no cream. I know how you make your coffee, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,” you teased.

Hotch shook his head. “The full government name.”

You turned to walk out when he called your name, and you turned back to him.

“Can you come to my desk for a second?”

You complied, going to his desk with a nervous giggle. You thought he was going to speak, but instead he simply rose from his seat and kissed your cheek.

You touched your flushing cheek with a slightly shaky hand. “What was that for?”

He shrugged. “Just a thank you for being as thoughtful as you are. Truly… you make working here a bit easier.”

“Aw, you’re going to make me cry, so I’ll laugh instead.” You were going to turn to flee, but boldness filled you and you leaned up to kiss his cheek, except he moved, and you kissed the corner of his stern lip.

“Uh-” you backed away from him.

“Don’t panic,” Hotch ordered calmly- almost too calmly- “it’s not your fault, it was mine for reacting too quickly.”

Your cheeks flushed hot red and despite his command to not panic, you immediately fled the scene, leaving behind a confused but slightly amused Aaron.

A few minutes later, JJ entered his office with his cup of coffee in one hand and sat it on his desk, the other arm full of file folders. She gestured with her head towards the bullpen, “Hey, um, Agent-“

“I know,” Hotch said with a minuscule smirk, sipping the coffee, and almost immediately moaned aloud. True to your word, you knew exactly how he takes his coffee. He kept glancing towards the crystal sitting on his desk, and when Garcia called for him to come to the briefing room, he carefully slid it in his pocket.

On the jet, after all the details of the case had been discussed, Hotch leaned back in the chair, his fourth cup of coffee of the day in his hand. Even though he made his coffee exactly the same as always, it didn’t taste nearly as good as the one you made for him. He took the black tourmaline out of his pocket and held it in his hand. It works on a jet, right? It’s closer to the sun, it has to be like the best charging method.

“What do you have there?” Rossi asked from across him, looking up from a book- a compilation of Garfield comic strips over the years.

“A crystal. I think it’s… black tourmaline?”

Reid, of course, overheard this and had to jump in with, “you know, within pagan and spiritual circles, black tourmaline has protective properties, banishing negative vibrations, and it’s also supposed to be grounding.” He looked at the crystal in Hotch’s hand. “Oh yeah, I’ve seen this crystal on that agent’s desk. She and Anderson talk about them all the time, and apparently she keeps some of them in her desk, as does Anderson.”

“She and Anderson are good friends,” Hotch volunteered. “She’s the one who gave this to me.”

“She’s a sweet girl,” Rossi commented, sounding too innocent for Hotch’s liking.

“She is,” Hotch agreed simply, not taking the bait.

He and “that agent” were going to have to have a conversation when he got back home- he was entirely too intrigued by you. Perhaps he could ask you what crystal was the best for asking someone on a date.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #fluff #fluffy #fluff fic

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byuljoonie · 5 months

Note

Give me possessive koo smut 😇

pairing: dom!jk x fem!reader

genre: smut, drabble, request, unedited

word count: 2k

warnings: smut, drinking, lots of swearing, oral 4f, overstimulation, mocking, couch sëx, rough missionary, unsafe sëx, degradation, biting, slapping, squirting, bruising, hair pulling, dom!jk, sub!reader, a little toxicity, idk Sunday fun day ig

note: hope it’s to your liking♡ -dubu

“Unlock your phone.” Jungkook’s eyes pour into yours as he waits for your compliance.

“What?” you question, aggravated by his unnecessary interest in your coworkers.

“Open it, Y/N.” he insists, leaning back onto the sofa cushion, pressing the cold rectangle into your palm.

“Babe, seriously?” you whine, searching his eyes for a hint of playfulness, finding nothing but an ocean of severity.

You were having a conversation about work, letting your boyfriend know of your upcoming schedule and activities. You accidentally let the name of your project partner slip through your wine-coated lips.

Jungkook’s ears perked up at the ring of a masculine sounding name. You stare at him in defeat, taking the phone from his hand with a pitiful sigh.

“I haven’t even texted him yet, for Christ sakes Jungkook!” you say exasperated.

“Yet.” he replied matter-of-factually.

“It’s not like I chose to work with him, Koo.” you exclaimed dramatically, unlocking your phone and going to his saved contact.

You felt this antagonizing creature clawing at your tender insides for momentary satisfaction. Why did you let the wine talk before your instincts? Jungkook isn’t exactly the kindest when it comes to other men around you.

He wasn’t controlling, but his possessiveness was like an amplified speaker to anyone who even thought of sparing you a second glance.

You hated to admit it, but it was hot. The veins on his tattoo covered arms bulged with a vengeance. Each intricate pattern defining his Herculean figure.

The white T-shirt not leaving much to the imagination, your eyes lingered on his pierced lips as you passed the phone over. Earning a hum of approval from him, he tapped away on your phone.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. You already follow him on Instagram?” he rhetorically asked, a mound of annoyance behind his darkening pupils.

“I follow all of my coworkers, Kookie.” you complained hesitantly, downing the rest of the red liquid that swirled in your large Burgundy glass.

“Listen, I don’t want you working with him. Simple.” he admitted, pressing the unfollow button on Hoseok’s profile.

You were beyond infuriated, you snatched your phone back pressing the follow button in an instant. Not thinking about the consequences that follow your instinctual actions. Jungkook chuckled at your sudden burst of anger.

“Have you lost your fucking mind, Y/N?” he grabbed the phone from your hand, tossing it to the plush rug, letting it slide beneath your glass coffee table.

The wine made you drunk with rage, the other part of you craving a deeper need from your hellish boyfriend. Jungkook rose from his spot on the sofa, grabbing your neck and pinning you below him. He enjoyed the feeling of your palpitating heartbeat on his fingertips.

“Baby—“ you struggled to speak, legs clasping around his knee that rest atop your unclothed hips. Bad day to only wear his shirt, you thought to yourself.

“Shut up.” he glared down at you, putting pressure between your legs.

“Since you want to act like a pathetic slut —“ he pressed his knee down harder, rubbing your clothed pussy agonizingly slow.

“I’ll treat you accordingly.” he let your neck go finally, being met with a few strained coughs from you. You had no time to react, his shirt was being pulled from your body. Your head swimming with anticipation and thoughts of Jungkook’s defilement.

You felt dizzy and exposed to the harsh temperatures of your once comfortable living room. Jungkook watched you writhing under him, a predatory smile lingering on his soft face.

“You think it’s okay to let him spend time alone with you?” he grabbed your face, pinching your cheeks between his large hand.

“Looking at you, speaking to you, touching you.” he peered over your naked body once more, eyes lingering on your bare chest, his free hand stopping above your panty line.

“All this —“ he began lustfully, “ is mine.”

He ripped your panties from your lower half, causing you to scream in frustration, fighting against his muscular arm. He let your face go, delivering 3 small slaps to your cheek. Putting you in check before he had to let whatever caged animalistic intentions loose.

“I’ve had enough of your resistance, Princess.” he whispered hotly in your ear, biting your earlobe before moving to the next ear.

“I can smell how wet you are from here, Y/N.” he bit down again, sending you into a frenzy of pathetic whimpers.

“Your cunt is crying for my attention, but you want to play with some loser?” he questioned cockily, rubbing his bare palm over your soaking pussy.

You moaned his name in retaliation, hips rutting upwards against his calloused hand. He laughed at your feeble attempts at gaining friction, pulling his hand away.

“I’m going to ruin you right here, baby.” A smirk tugged at his lips, he leaned back on the couch. Grabbing his glass from the table and downing what once was at half full capacity.

He sucked in a small breath, biting his bottom lip before turning back to you. Pulling his shirt over his head and revealing everything your eyes have been waiting for.

“I want to leave a trace of me on every inch of your body.” He stood up from his seated position, stalking over you like this was his last chance to consume you.

He yanked your ankles towards him, turning your body to face him like you were praying beneath him. Your legs hung carelessly over the edge of the couch, too dizzy to hold them up for your waiting beast. He smiled down at you in admiration, loving how ruined you already looked beneath him. Pussy leaking onto the sofa cushion, legs sprawled open for him.

“Look at you — so fucking gorgeous” he gleamed, kneeling in front of your body. He ran a hand over your stomach, letting his inquisitive fingers explore your skin.

“Fucking love your tits, Princess.” he leaned down beginning his assault on your chest, licking and sucking at your nipple like a love drunken mad man.

“More — please Kookie,” you begged, arms resting on his back, nails scratching in intricate motions. He hummed against your nipple, tongue circling the bud feverishly.

He pulled away with a lewd pop, spit dribbling down his chin. “No one’s mouth will ever feel as good as mine.”

He started kissing down the center of your chest, occasionally leaving love marks on your memorized sensitive spots. He stopped just above your panty line, loving the way your breath hitched in your throat.

He went in with a wink, tongue lapping at your exposed sensitive skin. His tongue searched your core for unanswered questions, gripping at your hips with every moan you released. He slurped against your clit letting lewd noises drown out the sound of the crackling fireplace. He released one of your hips, bringing his hand down to open your lips. Exposing your clit to the invading muscle, he latched his lips around the bundle of nerves. You screamed in pleasure clasping your shaking legs around his head.

He removed his lips from your pussy, mouth shining with your essence. He worked two fingers over your clit, sliding them down until they hovered over your entrance. He grinned down at you before he inserted them, fingering you fiercely.

“Aww, who makes you feel this good? Hmm Y/N?” He cooed happily, “Who’s pussy is this?” He mewled, setting his fingers into a come hither motion.

“Y-yours—“ you cried out desperately, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

He used his free hand to slap your clit repeatedly, sending you into a crying mess. Your legs closed around his arm, body writhing against his unmoving fingers. He pulled you closer and closer to your orgasm, biting his lip in concentration, relishing in the sounds you were making for him.

“Cum, baby. I want to feel you cum on my fingers before I fuck the soul out of you.” he confessed sweetly, sickeningly sweet. You groaned at his words, letting the knot in your stomach burst. You felt stars cloud your vision as his fingers continued their actions.

He used his free hand to slap your pussy again, smiling at the way you cried out for him to stop. He kept going, moaning at your cunt clenching repeatedly around his fingers.

“Koo, please” you implored weakly, hiccuping along with a string of moans.

“Please what? Stop?” he questioned teasingly, “No.”

You felt another knot forming in your lower stomach, his fingers edging you closer to a stronger orgasm. Your stomach felt funny, it felt different, like a new sensation of pleasure was pushing through.

His urged you to cum, his fingers hitting your g-spot with ease. With a few last pumps, you felt yourself release on his fingers, screaming his name in shock. You stomach twitched continuously, opening your eyes to see the aftermath of what just happened.

You opened your eyes to see Jungkook’s lower face glistening with your mess, his pupils dilated and hungry for more. You felt your cheeks grow warm, not knowing what to say next, you’ve never done that before.

“Naughty girl, why’ve you never squirted like that before? Guess I should do better, huh?” He rose from his position on the floor, giving you a second to catch your breath while he removed his shorts.

His cock sprung free from its restraints, mushroom head aggressively leaking with pre-cum. “I want you to take this dick like the slut that you are,” he pumped his hand around his length, moaning at the way you lasciviously looked at him.

He lowered himself down until he was level with your center, rubbing the tip against your sticky folds. You granted him a pitiful whine, biting the corner of your swollen lip as you watched him rub against you.

“Use your words, Y/N. I won’t hold back unless you say it,” he probed, restraining himself from slamming his hips forward. You lay quietly looking him in his eyes, daring him to take you.

“Fuck —“ he pushed into you gradually, “squeeze my dick just like that,” he groans fingers pressing heavily into your hips.

“So big, just want you,” you moaned at him, pussy clenching around his cock again. He pulled away slowly, ramming back into your hips with brute force. His balls lewdly slapping against your skin as he fucked you into the sofa. He picked up his pace, rhythmically filling the room with grunts. He reached forward taking a hold of your hair and yanked your head back, biting your exposed neck. A light sheen a sweat coated your hot skin, beads of sweat running down your cheeks as he fucked you. The living room rang with filthy words of mocking betrayal and faux empathy for your overstimulated figure.

He pressed a hand down on your lower stomach, eyes nearly bulging from his head at the feeling of his cock invading your insides. His actions made your breathing increase, hiccuping over his name. His face contorting in immense pleasure as he demanded you repeat after him.

“Say it. Tell me you love me while you take this dick, Y/N.” you felt your hips aching, knowing marks already began forming on your body.

“I love you Jungkook—“ you cried out obediently, pussy convulsing around his stilled cock. Your orgasms rushing through your bodies. You shivered at the empty feeling you felt when he removed himself. He leaned down pressing a kiss on your neck, wiping some of the sweat from your foreheads.

“I love you too.” he smiled boyishly, breathing heavy and warm on your neck. “I’m taking you to work all next week, babe.”

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javierpena-inatacvest · 4 months

Text

Plaid Pajama Morning

Summary: A sleepy Sunday morning with you and Javi in bed

Paring: Husband!Javi x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 1K (She's just a baby)

Warnings: Allusions to smut, Javi being a cute lil sleepyhead, reader wears Javi's shirt, sweet fluffy adorableness 🥹

A/N: Shoutout to my dear @endlessthxxghts for letting me harass them with the thought of what Javi would look like with nothing but some good ole pajama pants and messy bedhead- now here we are 🫠 Idk why the thought of this man in pajama pants has me so feral but of well 🤷🏼‍♀️

Can be read as a stand alone or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!

Sunlight spilled through your windows, the soft orange glow painting shadows on your bedroom walls from the curtains dancing in the crisp morning breeze. You gently stirred in your sleep, rustling the sheets and comforter around you, savoring in the warmth radiating from Javi's body as you nestled in closer to him, tucking your head against his chest and hiking up your leg over his. You felt his arm drape over your waist, tugging you in tighter as his thumb drew sleepy circles on the small of your back, the warm breath of his soft snores and dancing fingertips on your skin making a smile spread across your lips in your half awake state.

Reaching your arm up towards his face, you let your hand cradle his jaw, the scratch of his unshaven morning stubble rubbing against your palm before running your hands through the bed–headed curls at the nape of his neck. A gentle sigh grumbled low in his chest, letting both his arms wrap around you, lightly pressing a kiss in the messy curls of your morning hair.

The quiet silence of the early hours of the morning hung in the air, the sunrise just now bright enough to have you squinting your eyes, scrunching the sleep out of your face as a yawn bellowed from your belly, making you stretch your arms over Javi’s broad body. Wiggling your fingertips before bringing them back to twisting and tugging at his thick locks, your movement gradually began easing him more and more awake next to you.

“Good morning.” Javi whispered, pulling you closer to the bare skin of his chest, letting your head lean against him. You couldn’t help but savor in the familiar scent of him lingering in the sheets, the sweet and savory smell of his cologne still idling in the bed, even after being dampened by a night’s worth of rest.

“Good morning.” You grinned, your voice muffled as your words hit against his warm skin. The two of you lay there for a moment, drinking in the peaceful quiet of your sleepy Sunday morning.

“How’d you sleep, Hermosa?” Javi cooed, letting out his own yawn, flexing his arms above his hand before making their way back to your body, letting his hands creep under the hem of his shirt that you had worn to bed last night, sliding his fingers up and down the fabric.

“Good. I think the sunrise woke me up, sorry if I woke you up, too.” You sighed, rustling in the sheets, pulling them closer towards your face as the chill of the brisk December air filled your room, making you shiver and Javi chuckle as you wiggled against him.

“Shhhh, don’t be sorry, Osita. Glad I got to wake up to my favorite view. The sunrise is pretty nice, too.” Javi smirked, now awake enough to let his lips find yours, a tender kiss catching the quiet chuckle escaping your mouth.

“God, you’re so cheesy.” You giggled, gently shaking your head as you looked up to let your eyes meet with his, the dark brown glistening in the sunlight, making your heart melt just as fast as the first time you locked on to them.

“It’s true.” Javi grinned, planting another soft kiss on your lips as he wrapped both his arms around you pulling you so close, that you thought your bodies would meld together as one. “You want coffee?”

“I’m not sure why that’s even a question, Jav.” You teased, playfully raising an eyebrow at your husband, letting the hand resting along his jaw give his cheek a little squeeze. “Yes, please.”

With one more kiss presses against your forehead, Javi let out a grunt as he rolled out of bed, running his hand through his hair and along the back of his neck before reaching down to grab a pair of pajama pants he had begrudgingly begun to wear as he accepted defeat that the warm weather of the late summer and early fall was long gone. While it was cold enough for pajama pants, Javi had still not deemed it cold enough for a shirt, which you couldn’t complain about in the slightest.

Even with his body still slouched and sleepy, you couldn’t help but admire the muscles of his back as he stretched, your eyes trailing from the broadness of his shoulders to his waist, where his plaid pajamas sat low on his hips, the elastic waistband barely making it high enough to keep from falling off. His tanned and toned skin glowed in the morning light, accompanied by the wild curls of his untamed bedhead.

You turned over, laying on your side as you rested your hand in your chin, elbow propped against the mattress as you watched Javi disappear out of the bedroom, only to return a few minutes later with two mugs, steam curling off their tops. Setting black Laredo’s Sheriff's Department mug on his nightstand, he passed the well loved and worn “Empire Strikes Back” cup off to you, and the goofy grin plastered across your face as you watched his broad body stride across the room, back towards you.

“What’s that look for?” Javi smirked, sliding back into bed with you, shuffling himself under the sheets.

“What? I’m not allowed to admire the view either?” You giggled, biting down on your lip before taking a sip of your coffee, letting the warm liquid run through your body and making your eyes widen just a bit further at the sight of your devastatingly handsome husband sitting next to you.

“And I’m the cheesy one.” Javi teased, carefully grabbing your mug out of your hands and setting it down next to his before rolling over to cage your body under his, peppering ticklish kisses across your face and neck, making you squeal and squirm from his playfully loving touch.

“Wow, teasing me and stealing my coffee before I’m even all the way awake? You’re playing risky games there, babe.” A mischievous grin spread between your lips as Javi’s kisses began to travel their way down your body, his head beginning to disappear under the covers, stopping at your stomach and peeking back up at you with a boyish smirk.

“I think I know something that will wake you up just fine.”

Taglist

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softlyspector · 11 months

Text

Picture

Summary: You really want to take Joel's picture. He can't really figure out why.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: ~2.1k

Warnings: nudity, taking nude pictures, smuttish themes and allusions but no actual smut, Joel being kinda dense/insecure about his looks, mostly unedited

A/N: Happy Sunday! Brought to you by more brain worms that caused this when I was supposed to be working on other things. Something tells me that Joel doesn't exactly know how pretty he is, so this is a result of that thought.

“Just one picture,” you plead.

You're smiling, holding the polaroid camera in your hands at an angle, naked as the day you were born where you straddle his hips.

Your thighs are wet, your release and his smeared between your thighs and his and over his hip and waist. His cock is already half hard again, and the movement of you wriggling back as you aim down at him doesn’t help.

He grunts and digs his fingers into the meat of your thighs. You just laugh at him, readjusting your grip on the camera.

Joel's eyes slide over you, the curve of your waist, the plush fold of your thigh and hip, the dip of your breasts and peaks of your nipples. He wants to reach for you, pull you down into him, but settles for rubbing his palms over your thighs instead, tracing circles there.

You’re still dewy with exertion; your skin glows in the low lamplight of his bedroom. Joel isn’t really sure how he got so lucky, lucky enough to have someone like you focusing all their attention on him.

“And what, darlin’, do you plan on doin’ with such a picture?”

He ain’t big on pictures. He poses for them with Sarah sometimes, just because he wants her to be able to look at them when she's older, mostly for the memories and so she has something of her old man when she’s grown.

Joel figures he isn’t really much to look at, so the why of the picture is miffing him just a little. Why would you want a picture of him? Especially one like the one you're attempting to get him to take now?

He’s fairly sure you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on.

He’s also fairly sure you’re out of his league by miles and miles. So if anyone should have their picture taken, it's you.

You hold the camera up to your eye and aim it at him, but your finger remains decidedly still against the button. “It’d be just for me. You're too handsome to share with anyone else.”

He rolls his eyes and anchors his hands on your hips. “Right.”

“You are,” you reaffirm, lowering the camera. “So pretty." You pause and tilt your head. "I won't take it if you don't want me to. But maybe I could sweeten the deal a little?”

“How's that, honey?” He traces one hand over the curve of your waist, runs the knuckles of his opposite hand delicately up your side, until he can swipe his thumb against the underside of your breast.

You shiver and lean into his grip, your eyes a shade darker than before.

“I’ll let you take one of me. A really scandalous, salacious one,” you promise, carefully setting the camera on the messy bed before you lean over him. You cup his face in your hands, eyes flicking over him like there’s something to see.

Like he's a vault you can't quite figure how to unlock.

He raises a brow. “And mine won’t be?”

“Not as scandalous, not if you don't want it to be. I’m not angling to push my luck with you, Joel Miller.”

He snorts again, sliding one hand against the back of your neck to keep you pressed close to him. You close your eyes and breath out, a delicate little sigh that puffs over his lips.

The room is warm, too warm. The fan running in the corner does little to stir the heat in the room and nothing to dispel the heat between your bodies. He won’t say he minds though. He was plenty hot before, but if it kept you pliant and naked in his bed, he won’t complain about it.

His eyes flick down, over your bare body. Something beautiful and soft. Something really worth taking a picture of.

“Just can’t see why you’d want somethin’ like that.”

“Well,” you murmur, rubbing the tip of your nose against the side of his. “You don’t have to see why. Just know I do.” You blink your eyes open and tilt your head against his.

Joel wants to hear it though, something in him really wants to know. So, against his better judgment, he asks again, “Why?”

You pull back a fraction, even though he keeps a steady pressure on the back of your neck, trying to keep you near. Your eyes are clear and curious, maybe a little confused. “Joel,” you laugh, leaning down to kiss him, thumbs running over his cheeks. You taste sweet, a little like yourself, and bitter, a little like him. “I mean…” you trail off against his mouth. “Do you want one of me?”

“Yeah, ‘course I do.”

He’d keep that picture somewhere safe, somewhere that only his eyes were ever in danger of seeing it. If you trusted him to keep it safe for you.

Joel would look at it, on the nights you couldn’t come over. Fist his hand around himself and daydream of you, think about how nothing and no one else would ever be as good as you, as your pussy wrapped snugly around his cock.

You arch an eyebrow at him, like you can see all the thoughts running through his head. “Right, so why wouldn’t I want one of you?”

He squeezes the back of your neck gently and then releases you, tracing a finger over the shell of your ear and cupping your cheek. “Well, we ain’t exactly twins.”

Joel means it as a joke but you suddenly jerk back, your eyes darting over him. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

You don’t answer, rolling your eyes at him instead. He lets you pull back from him reluctantly, the warmth of your palms on his face disappearing. You shift back until you’re sitting mostly on his thighs, the warmth of your pussy leaking right over his cock. You rock your hips against him just once, smiling and grabbing the camera when he hisses and hooks his hands against you, to still the movement of you over him.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he says, leaving little crescents in your thighs and then divots by your hip bones.

“No I will not,” you disagree. “Now, look here, Miller. One picture. Then we look at it together and if you absolutely hate it and still don’t get it—well, you can watch me rip it up.”

There’s nothing he’d really say no to you about. And this is harmless, with a built in out. “Fine,” he grumbles.

“Fine,” you repeat, pitching your voice to match his, accent and all. “Jesus, you’d think I asked for the moon!”

“The moon would be more understandable, darlin’.”

“Yeah alright, okay, hush.” You lift the camera to your eye and then lower it immediately, frowning at him.

“What? Comin’ to some kid of realization—”

You aren’t, evidently, just rearranging his limbs—tucking one arm above his hand, running a hand through his already messy hair, angling his jaw slightly up. You unfurl his other clenched fist and splay his fingers over the middle of his belly.

“There,” you say with a nod, seeming satisfied with your work.

A long moment passes where you just look at him, tracing your fingers over the vein on the inside of his bicep and over the curve of his shoulder.

Something like embarrassment claws up the inside of his chest. He should be looking at you like that, not the other way around.

“What?” His voice is gritted and sharp.

You just smile at those jagged edges. “Nothing. Just committing this to memory in case you make me tear up my picture.”

“See,” he grouses. “It’s like you don’t need a picture at all.”

You just roll your eyes and lean back. Joel has to resist the urge to move, to reach out and cup his hand against your lower back to steady you. “Stop making that face,” you say, camera pressed to your eye.

He frowns, and you giggle and snap the picture without warning.

The camera whirs and spits out a picture, which you pluck up and unceremoniously roll off of him and into the empty space next to him on the bed, shaking the picture by its edge as you go. A cloud of your scent puffs up around him, like sex and the taste of your skin, that dark perfume you always wear like the black of forests long forgotten. “It’s gonna be a good one,” you say, pillowing your head on his shoulder and tangling one leg over his.

“Am I allowed to move now?” He grumbles.

The acid sarcasm on his tongue makes you laugh. “Sure, baby,” you coo, “whatever you want.” Joel rests his chin on the top of your head, and you keep shaking the photo until it's developed enough that he can see the outlines of his figure.

It’s then that you turn it away so he can’t see it.

He watches your face instead, but you don’t give anything away. You stay silent and still, your eyes flicking over the image curiously. He can’t read the cut of your gaze. “C’mon, honey,” he pleads. “Put me outta my misery and lemme see it.”

“Okay,” you agree softly after another long minute of silent staring.

And then you tilt the picture towards him so he can see it.

Joel gets the sense he’s looking at another person, someone other than him. The man in the photo looks—well, not worn, not tired. He's...well, if he had to say, he'd say he's handsome. Pretty, as you said.

He’s frowning, but it reads as a…maybe a brooding kind of sexy. There are things he doesn’t like—the crinkled lines by his eyes, the softness of his belly, the lock of hair that sticks straight up off his forehead.

But, the rest of it. Golden skin, taut muscle in his arms and chest, dark hair on his belly that leads lower. His jaw is sharp, his eyes dark. Your soft thighs bracket his hips, just barely in frame. He likes that he can see part of you in the picture too. He likes that he can see traces of you on his skin—purpled bruises on his collarbone that the neck of his t-shirt would hide from everyone else's gaze, the sheen of something damp on his stomach just below his veined hand.

Now, maybe he understands a little more. Maybe he can at least understand why you’d want the picture.

“So,” you start after a few minutes of relative silence in the muted hum of the fan working overtime in the corner of the room, the sound of your breathing mixing with his. “Do you see now? Or do I have to rip it up?”

Joel turns his head to meet your bright gaze, the answer already known to you. Instead of answering you, he asks, “When do I get to take your picture, sweetheart?”

You ignore him. “It’s because you’re so handsome.” You trace the picture with your thumb, your eyes locked back on his image. “How is it that you don’t know?” Joel isn’t sure you’re talking to him anymore. “You don't know you're so...pretty,” you say again. “And just how I like you. With those big, dark eyes and—”

“Alright,” he cuts you off, his voice caught in the back of his throat. “That’s enough a’ that. You don’t have to rip it up.”

“Good, I wouldn’t have anyway.”

You would have, if he’d asked you. “My question stands—when do I get to take yours?”

You roll away from him and carefully set the picture on the bedside table. “After you fuck me again.” Something in your gaze darkens, desire pooling in the depths of your eyes.

Joel chuckles, warmth burrowing down in his chest. “Why not now?”

“Well, won’t I be all glowy and loose then? Y’know, like blissed out.”

“Tall order,” he comments as you press yourself into his arm, the weight of you pleasant, your eyes dark and waiting, wanting.

“Not for you.”

Maybe you’re just trying to stroke his ego, but he doesn’t care because it's working and it's probably true. He's good to you, for you.

Your legs lock around his hips when he slots himself over you, pressing his hips to yours and to the needy warmth between your legs. When your eyes flutter back, he thinks that’s something he’d like to have a picture of.

That, and everything else, every other part of you.

“What if I want more than one picture?”

“Picture for a picture,” you sigh as he drags his mouth down the side of your throat, the taste of your skin like the salted sea. “That’s the only way it’s gonna work.”

Maybe he can learn to live with that, if he gets to see you look at him the way you looked at that picture.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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munson-blurbs · 5 months

Note

I would actually LOVE to read about the proposal! How did it go down? Was Harris there? I think a blurb about that would be really special :)

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: A lazy Sunday morning turns into something much more special, thanks to your two favorite guys.

Warnings: pretty much none, just proposal fluff and a smidge of suggestive language at the end

WC: 1.3k

A/N: The proposal/Harris calling Ms. Sweetheart "mommy" was also requested by @hippiefairy02, @cheesewritings, @enam3l, @peachysink, and a handful of anons!

March 1998

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

Harris’s soft voice doesn’t carry over the sounds of running water and the sponge squelching soap bubbles along the lip of a coffee mug, the remnants of a lazy Sunday morning breakfast. He clears his throat and tries again, tugging on the back of your bathrobe as he shouts.

“Ms. Sweetheart?!”

You jump, pulled from your own thoughts, nearly dropping the cup among the sea of dishes cluttering the sink. Eddie had made scrambled eggs and toast for the three of you; a gesture you’d thoroughly enjoyed until you realized that the clean-up fell on your shoulders.

“Jeez, Har. What’s the emergency?” You catch your breath, allowing your heart rate to settle back to a normal rhythm, and shut off the faucet.

Harris wrinkles his nose, the bridge creasing in confusion. “There’s no ‘mergency,” he says, releasing his grasp and motioning for you to follow him. “I gotta show you something.”

You oblige with a soft laugh, haphazardly grabbing a dish towel to wipe the suds from your hands and wrists, and let him lead you to the kitchen table. Crayons are strewn across it, blues and purples and reds intermingled around his artwork.

“Whatcha drawing?” you ask, hands bracing the back of the chair he’s plopped down on. You peer over his shoulder and smile. It’s a picture of you, Eddie, and him. A full-fledged kindergartener, he’s been adding more details to his stick-figure family portraits: a vase of wildflowers sits atop a sienna oval table, black squares and rectangles above it represent the various photo frames hanging on the kitchen wall. This picture looks different than Harris’s usual set-up; he typically draws himself in the middle of you and Eddie, each of his hands overlapping yours and his dad’s. Today, he’s drawn you, then Eddie, then him. And your hands aren’t linked; instead, he’s used a silver crayon to place something in Eddie’s cartoon palm.

You furrow your brows and gesture towards the mystery object. “What’s that, Har?” It’s better not to guess, lest you say the wrong thing and inadvertently offend him. Just last week, you’d asked him if a small blue object in the sky was a bird, and he was on the verge of tears trying to explain that it was a UFO.

“Can’t you see the alien?” he’d wailed, pointing to a little green dot you’d assumed was a rogue eye.

Now, Harris grins. “It’s a proposing ring!” he announces. “That’s why you’re smiling so big!” Sure enough, the curved line of sketch-you’s mouth extends to both cheeks.

Real-you can’t help but mimic the beaming expression. Just the idea of Eddie proposing to you has you feeling giddy. You’d marry him tomorrow if you could; all he has to do is ask. Though your pulse quickens at the thought, you don’t want to build up Harris’s hopes for something that may not happen for a while. Pressing a kiss to his scalp with a soft giggle, you remark, “A proposing ring? That’s so silly!”

“Is it?”

The unexpected sound of Eddie’s voice has you whirling around, startled for the second time this morning. He’s still wearing his pajamas, flannel pants perfectly complementing your own cozy attire. He bites the inside of his lip, and when he takes your hand in his, you can feel it tremble slightly.

“Sweetheart, I…” he starts, trying to remember the speech he had rehearsed an absurd amount of times. He clears his throat before speaking again. “Sweetheart, I wake up every morning and go to sleep every night grateful for you. Never in my life did I think I would find someone who loved me the way you do; someone who loves my son like he’s their own.” He chokes up at the last part, blinking back the tears so he can press on. “Sometimes, I still can’t believe I landed such an incredible, thoughtful, beautiful woman.”

You offer a small laugh, slightly easing his nerves, and he manages to smile. “You…you’re the love of my life, and my world is infinitely better with you in it,” he continues, pulling a small velvet-covered box from his pocket and sinking onto one knee. With shaky fingers, he opens the box to reveal a princess-cut diamond on a thin silver band. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh, my god.” Elation and disbelief simultaneously surge through you, eyes going misty as the realization hits you. Eddie’s actually proposing. He wants you to be his wife, and he wants to be your husband. “Yes, Eddie. Yes, of course I’ll marry you!” You’re laughing and crying, tears streaming down your cheeks; you sloppily wipe them away with the back of your hand.

Eddie stands up, the ring still in its case. You expect him to slide it onto your fourth finger; instead, he turns to Harris with a knowing expression. “Your turn, Har.”

Before you can question it further, Harris takes your hand in his, just like Eddie had. “Ms. Sweetheart,” he looks up at you with wide, exuberant eyes, “will you be my mommy?”

You scoop him up into your arms; he’s almost too tall for you to do it comfortably, and it pangs at your heart. “Yes, I will be your mommy, Harris!” You kiss his cheek with an exaggerated mwah, placing him back on the ground as he excitedly kicks his feet.

With that, Eddie puts the engagement ring on your finger triumphantly, pulling you in for a hug that squeezes the breath out of your lungs. His lips find yours without hesitation, kissing you as long as Harris will allow before the kid becomes impatient.

“Mommy?” The title rolls off of his tongue so easily, bringing with it fresh batches of tears for both you and Eddie. Mommy. You’re Harris’s mommy. The close bond you’ve already developed strengthens in that moment, and you vow to wear your badge of Chosen Mom with pride.

“Yeah, Har?”

“Can we celebrate with ice cream?”

“It’s, like, 9:30 in the morning,” Eddie laughs, scrunching his nose. “I don’t even think Scoops Ahoy is open yet.”

Harris pouts but ultimately relents, on one condition. “Then…can we go when it opens?”

You look at Eddie, who delivers his seal of approval with a quick nod. “I think that can be arranged.”

As Harris cheers, you sneak a glimpse of the new jewelry adorning your finger. It daintily sparkles even under the kitchen lighting, a perfect depiction of your love for one another.

Eddie’s hands snake around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. “How’d I do?” he asks with a goofy, lopsided grin. “Is my future wife happy with her ring?”

You turn around, draping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his, desperate for a moment of intimacy. “I love it. And I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“And me?” pipes up a little voice.

“Both of you,” you amend with a giggle. Pleased with your answer, Harris returns to his crayons and construction paper.

Eddie’s voice is a melodic whisper in your ear. “After our family ice cream date, maybe you and I can celebrate a bit more privately?” You can practically hear his teasing smirk at the raunchy implication.

“We can pick up champagne on the way home,” you murmur back, heat blossoming in your belly. You’re no longer just a girlfriend, but a fiancée, a future wife, and there is nothing else you crave more than the touch of your future husband.

And while you and Eddie finish washing the dishes with a plethora of stolen kisses, Harris picks up a green crayon and titles his drawing, just like he’d learned in art class:

Mommy, Daddy, and Harris.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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bloodybreakupscene · 11 months

Text

-> 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊

miles morales x reader

-> miles having a crush on a bakery worker!! r y'all soulmates or what? (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

-> idea was cute and also i just [re]watched both movies so plz send requests pretty please >__< !! totally not inspired by the song she lives on my block by chicano batman

"miles! can you pick up the—" rio, miles' mother, called from the kitchen, she was currently on the phone with someone as she was cooking.

"the cake? yeah i got it!" he unintentionally interrupted his mom while he walked downstairs putting his jacket on. his footsteps on the stairs making a squeaking sound as he traveled down.

"aye, this boy. be quick, your father will be home soon!" she ushered miles out the door, father's day was today and they wanted to do something special for him.

just before he exits his apartment he grabs his bag, waving 'bye' to his mom. he runs as quickly as he can down the stairs so he can reach the bakery faster. he contemplates putting his suit on and swinging to the location instead but he didn't feel like changing.

miles puts his headphones on and saunters hurriedly through the crowds of people that seemed to come out of nowhere. he sees some people he knows and waves to them, making small conversations with some. just as he reaches the bakery door, he checks himself out in one of the windows.

'i got this,' he thinks as he fixes his outfit and hair in the mirror. his thoughts stop as one of the workers sprays cleaner on the window, wiping the area where his face was. they looked at him confused with an eyebrow raised and all he could respond with was an awkward smile, before walking in.

he shoves his hands in his pocket and walks towards the register where you were working, you looked up from the cash you were counting and instead, at him. he looks at you with lidded eyes as he leaned on the counter, smiling at you. not sure what the hell he was doing you asked,

"uh miles, do you need something?"

his expression changes and his normal happy expression was back, "oh, yeah! i'm here to pick up a cake for rio morales?"

"alright!" you proceeded into the back to look for a cake with the label rio morales, who you recognized to be miles' mom, who came in every once in while

as he saw you walk away he face palmed. 'what am i doing!? i can't do this.' he was sweating so bad, he just really liked you, if that wasn't obvious already. the other worker saw how nervous he was and walked up to him.

"miles."

"huh—? how do you know my name?" he questioned.

"same physics class? i sit next to you. . . ?" the worker said, slightly annoyed.

"oh yeah, yeah, i remember."

"you're trying too hard."

"excuse me?"

"you like (name) right?" worker dude, miles' forgotten classmate, states in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. "they like you too, trust, just be you, man."

"okay, i got the cake, sorry it took kinda long, we have a ton of other orders." you laughed a bit at the end of your sentence as miles turned away from worker dude, who went back to cleaning.

"nah it's good, uh, totally random question…but are you free next sunday?" he says, taking the dessert from your hands.

"yeah," you said rather quietly before clearing your throat, "yeah, yeah i am, uh, why?"

"there's this movie i've been wanting to see for awhile, i got two tickets but ganke couldn't go, said something about working on a final." he smiles, holding the cake with one arm and fiddling with the zipper of his jacket with his other.

"oh! yeah i'd like to go." you responded, big smile plastered across your face.

"great, that's good, i'll text you the time, i could go over to your place! and we can walk there together." miles exclaims, an even bigger smile on his face.

"that sounds nice, can't wait." you giggled.

miles smiles, "well i got to go now, my mom's probably waiting for me." he begins to walk backwards confidently, before bumping into a table, almost knocking a napkin holder over, however he quickly grabbed it before it fell. he shoots you an awkward smile as he runs out the door.

"y'all are so corny." the worker rolls their eyes, putting the cleaning supplies away.

"you're just mad no one's asked you out yet." you shot back.

miles finally got back to his apartment, closing and locking the door behind him.

"miles?"

he sighed, looking up at the ceiling before turning around and facing both his parents.

"hi mamí, dad." he proceeds towards the table they sat at and put the cake down. "happy father's day!"

"why were you home so late? the bakery's what? ten minutes away? it's been an hour." rio asked, concerned.

"what's going on with you miles?" his father, jeff, said, backing up his wife.

"nothing! i was just, you know, talking with people!"

his mother gasped, both miles and jeff looked at her nervously.

"you were talking to that bakery worker, weren't you!"

"what–? miles, what's she talking about?" his father asks, confused.

"no i wasn—"

"our little boy's got a crush on that nice worker at the bakery! i always see his eyes turn into hearts when they walk by."

they both laugh aside from miles, who frowns and takes a seat, arms crossed.

#into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #spiderman x you #beyond the spiderverse #sony spiderverse

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moonsaver · 2 months

Note

Moonsaver… may I ask for any hc’s, scenarios, thoughts, or opinions on a rivalry between Sunday and Aventurine for reader’s affections…

Ohh... tension... let me see what I can do!

Regardless of whoever had their eyes set on you first, it's undeniable that neither of them are backing out just because they now know they have competition.

Sunday's always masking a polite, tight smile whenever Aventurine is around with you. Makes an effort to sneak in jabs, and sometimes doesn't even hide them. He may even pull you aside and subtly ask (or directly, considering how much frustration would build up in him), if you really want to appear with someone like Aventurine. Oh, yes, he's aware. Yes, that gambler with the generous mark on his neck from the Amber lord. The.. signoian who can't seem to keep his sleazy hands off of you. Yes,he's aware. Oh, you think he's a sweetheart? Well, Sunday believes he can be so much more sweeter than that. Follow along, now. You have much better things to be doing than.. going around with that peacock.

Aventurine is getting a kick out of this, mainly because he doesn't believe he'll not have you. So he treats it like some toddler trying to steal candy from him, a lazy smirk on his lips, poorly hidden remarks about touchy subjects like the.. real dreamscape that his family has worked oh so hard on. Seems he's ruffled a few feathers, hm? How delightful. Another gamble and another round to win. Easy. A lazy hand drapes itself across your shoulder, and a know-it-all smile is plastered on his face as he informs Sunday he has you booked for the entire day. You swear you can see a vein pop out of Sunday's forehead as Aventurine emphasizes it's a usual occurrence between you two, and how delighted he is that you've chosen solely him time and again for.. collaborations.

After a few more chance encounters with the other as you hang out with one, the frustration between them starts to rise. Sunday insists on taking you to the most beautiful sceneries in the Dreamscape, gifting you all sorts of luxuries and helping you to the most beautiful hotel rooms Penacony has to offer, even gifting you expensive and sought-after items that he commissions personally from high-ranking representatives from other worlds, that are eager to get on his good side. He insists on helping you with putting of the gifts on like jewelry, compliments you well, and guides your hands to his soft wings, telling you all about the newest champagne bottle he's just been waiting to try out with you, his hand now ungloved, gently tracing circles in the inside of your wrist as he listens to you with half-lidded eyes, pressing gentle kisses into the middle of your palm as he lists all the reasons why he's just better. He doesn't feel the need to insult Aventurine anymore, he just needs you to see that he's better.

Aventurine, on the other hand, is almost desperate. His smug smile is still on, of course, and doesn't let his mask slip for a second, especially around that chicken boy. He buys you all sorts of unique things, mainly matching trinkets like sunglasses, keychains, bracelets, and if he's feeling bold, rings. Takes you to casinos with him, betting on extremely risky terms, and winning flawlessly. To him, this is basically like showing off just how much more happy and fun it would be to have him around. Ugh, Sunday's too much of a stickler, isn't he? Isn't it so much more fun with him? Sunday can't make you laugh the way he does. Takes you out on many, many adventures, too, making your heart rush for the nth time, laughing at the end before dropping you off with care, making sure there's no bruises or scratches on you, and kissing your hand, trying to squeeze his way into your hotel room to try and elongate his stay with you.

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luveline · 2 years

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐚 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary you call your boyfriend eddie from a party in need of saving. or, you lose your t-shirt under mysterious circumstances and eddie has to get you dressed and take you home [3k]

warnings drunk!reader who is a little bit handsy and a lot in love, fem!reader, eddie pov, pure fluff, idiots in love, newly established relationship, some pet names (baby, teddy, handsome), implied of-age drinking, implied weed use

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Face to the ceiling, heart not racing but close to it, Eddie's half adrift in a memory of you from a few days ago.

You'd been sitting on the floor by his dresser with your hair all pretty in your soft clothes, asking him questions nobody else has ever bothered to ask and listening to the answers like this: face tilted, eyes at attention but creased with a contentedness (or so he'd like to think) and your hands under your chin.

An honest to god angel.

He's snapped out of his thoughts by the shrill, near piercing ring of the phone. Panic spikes like a knife in his chest at the sound. He scrambles to pick up the receiver where it rests on the amp beside his bed, legs caught in the sheets and hand holding his weight on the bedroom floor.

He slams the phone against his face and winces at the undue force. "Yeah?"

His legs inch forward. The palm of his hand aches and he's eager to get off the phone before he falls off of the bed, so when nobody speaks he gets a smidge irritated.

"Hello? Henderson, if this is-"

"Hi," someone says.

"Who is this?"

A laugh that's most certainly yours echoes down the line. "It's me."

Eddie presses the phone closer to his ear, as if that'll somehow summon you.

Despite missing you, messing with you is his main prerogative at all times. "I don't know any me's, sorry. If that's-"

"Eddie," – more giggling — "it's me, Y/N."

"And why are you calling me at home?"

"You're incorr- incorrgi- incorribigle."

You hiccup.

Eddie's eyes blow wide and a smile made of what can only be called pure delight stretches over his face.

"Baby, are you drunk?" he asks.

"A little! Okay, a lottle."

"I thought you were only going for iced tea?" After all, it's a Sunday.

"A Long Island iced tea."

He can feel the blood rushing to his head. "What's the difference?"

"Vodka, rum, tequila, gin… Oh, and about three quarters of an ounce of triple sec!"

"That sounds like a party."

It sounds like you're close to, if not totally, wasted.

"Such a party! I have a slight problem, though?"

"What's that?"

"I can't find my jacket."

"What?"

"Or my t-shirt."

Eddie's arm finally buckles and he topples to the floor, cheek crushed to the rug and leg still twisted in blankets. He winces at the clatter and thump of his knees as he climbs into a sitting position, head tilted to one side, breath bated. When it's clear he hasn't disrupted Wayne's backwards sleeping schedule he brings the phone to his ear again.

You're midway through an explanation. Maybe. "–So I said who puts hot sauce there? That's maso-twisted!"

"Did somebody put hot sauce on you?" he asks worriedly.

"What? Eddie, are you even listening to me?"

He rubs his stinging cheek. "Bad connection."

"Anyhow, I'm too embarrassed to go back downstairs."

"Yeah? Listen, I can come and bring you something to wear. Are you still at Amanda's?"

"Would you? She doesn't have anything that fits me."

"Sure will," he says.

Really, he's dreading the idea. If there's one thing Eddie doesn't do it's parties. Preppy parties. But if you're walking around shirtless, isn't that, like, his boyfriend duty or something, to come and bring you clothes?

"You're the best! Do you still have my hoodie with the white flowers?"

He looks at said hoodie where it's balled suspiciously close to his pillow. "I'll find it."

"Yay."

"Hang tight, alright?"

"Okay. Hey, you'll never guess-"

"Babe, I have to hang up."

"Why?"

"'Why?'" His bemusement is obvious. "I'll explain when I get there."

He goes to put the phone down when you say his name with a startling amount of urgency.

"What?" he asks.

"I miss you."

He imagines you, half naked and in your giggling disarray at a random house. The want to take care of you grows and grows. "I miss you too. Now I really have to go."

"Okay bye," you say, and hang up.

–

Eddie parks the van, daunted. He hadn't realised what kind of party you meant when you'd asked him to come originally, and he's doubly glad he said no when he realises the sheer magnitude of it all. There's people everywhere and Eddie doesn't recognise a soul besides the stoners on the front lawn. He closes the van door behind himself and feels like he's just stepped onto another planet.

Eddie had tried to mitigate his own unpopularity growing up by spending as little time around his peers as possible. Something about his general existence seems to irritate and antagonise them, and Eddie's not one for the fuss of it. Or, he hadn't been. It's hard to play doormat forever, and by his third and final senior year he'd learned to take the offense instead.

It might not always work in his favour, but sticking up for himself has done a lot for his self-worth.

Almost as much as meeting you.

Eddie knows you're not gonna be standing around out front in the nude. He weaves through partygoers of all shapes and sizes with your hoodie thrown over his arm, the smell of beer like a cloud. He tries not to make eye contact with anyone as he slinks up the stairs, the pounding thump of music – not by his definition, but music – fading with each step.

There's a small line for the bathroom and two of three bedroom doors are open wide, likely pilfered. Eddie squints at the 'Stay Out' sign on the third and closed door, a skull and crossbones crudely drawn beside it, and grins. He's always been a rule breaker.

Pushing open the door, Eddie finds you crushed between a bookshelf and a twin-sized bed with a phone shaped like a racecar in your lap. You look like you're sleeping.

Your eyelashes flutter as he sits carefully in front of you.

He works his hand under your chin and lifts your head. He's gentle, worried you've summoned a crick in your neck from sleeping the way you have.

"Baby," he says softly, "you really shouldn't be by yourself like this."

He pushes his fingertips up to the highest point of your cheek and rubs the corner of your mouth with his thumb. You rouse slowly, as if suspended in jelly. He helps you lift your head.

"Hi," he says as your eyes open clearly.

"Hey," you say. Your eyes close again.

"Why are you on the floor?"

You tug against the phone. The line makes a snapping sound as it resists. "Can't reach from the bed. Wanted to…" you drift off. Eddie pats your cheek until you finish, "Stay in case you called me back."

"I don't know this number."

You drop the phone unceremoniously. "Oh."

Eddie feels bad for the phone's owner but doesn't pick it up. He's too busy stroking your cheek, trying to work you out of your shell so he can get you dressed and sleeping soundly in your bed, rather than on someone's younger brother's floor.

His affection has the opposite effect to what he'd wanted; you start to doze in his hand, pretty face scrunched up and chin slowly creeping toward your chest.

"I brought your hoodie," he says, pulling his hand away reluctantly.

"'M tired, Eds."

He softens like butter in the sun. "I know," he says, glad for the small privacy you've both been allowed. "Do you wanna go home?"

"With you?"

"Whatever you want."

You sit up with the most suffering groan Eddie has ever heard you make, arms lifting above your head. Your back arches a touch and you moan as your neck clicks.

Eddie looks at his lap with wide eyes, a blush rising thick and fast to his cheeks and the tips of his ears – he can feel the skin blooming with heat.

You're still very much shirtless.

"Where did your clothes go?" he asks.

You've more clarity about you as you settle. "I don't know."

"Did someone take them off of you?"

You must clock his fear. You sit up on your knees and take his ring-heavy hands into yours, fingers clumsy but well-meaning as they curl around his. "Nobody touched me. Teddy…" You smile and your eyes squint just so. "You worry too much."

"I actually worry the right amount. Where did your friends go?"

You drag his hands to your hips and place them with a high focus. He gives into your whims with his cheeks now fully pinked, hands cool over the warmth of your doughy flesh. Your stomach has rolled into a pouch from the way you're sitting and he resists the urge to lean down and kiss it, hit by a momentary lapse in judgement due to the pure, unadulterated adoration coursing through him.

You're cute.

Sitting here as you are, pupils blown and hair a lovable mess, all smiley and pretty and expectant, what else is there for him to do but take you in? He lets his eyes travel up the length of your navel, over the valley of your chest rising with each breath, and the curve of your smile until he's eye to eye with you.

You let his hands go and spread your arms. "Hug?"

Giving him no time to respond (though he would've said yes without question) you slide your arms over his shoulders and fall into his embrace. He supports you with a hand behind your back but otherwise remains where he is, happy to let you get comfortable, let you nuzzle your face against his and murmur to yourself too quietly for him to hear.

You smell nothing like iced tea, that's for sure. There's a distinct stick of alcohol lingering. He inhales the smell of you, that sharpness, and finds the softer, familiar scents of you underneath.

"This is nice."

He couldn't agree more. He drags the flat of his palm up your back and grins.

"I would've said yes if I knew parties were like this," he says.

You giggle, the sound overloud in his ear but never any less sweet. "Stick with me, babe, and every party is like this," you promise, an air of salaciousness to each word.

"Is that so?" he asks. He squeezes your hip until you're laughing again.

"Totally!"

"Do I have to get naked too, or is that just for the girls?"

"You definitely have to. I'm a feminist, you know? I'm about equality. Please."

"Take me out to dinner first," he mumbles.

You burst into laughter, a rush of abrupt sound. You cling to him as you do, your chest pressed hard into his and your face sliding into his frizzy curls.

"Dinner," you start when you've calmed, "that could be fun."

"You're hungry?"

"I wasn't until you mentioned it."

He pulls away from you reluctantly. You look as half-cut as you did when the hug began but your tiredness seems to have abated for now. Your adorableness remains as all encompassing as before, and he has to stroke down the length of your face with his hand to stop from aching.

You're lax at the affection. He traces the half circle under your eye with the side of a knuckle, the skin so soft it feels like silk.

"I'll get you whatever you want," Eddie says, and means it.

"Really?"

"If you get dressed."

"My arms don't work, handsome. You'll have to dress me."

"That so?"

You nod gravely.

He bites the inside of his lip to contain a smile and grabs your hoodie from under his thigh. He shakes it out and opens it up. You bend to push your head through first, cheering victoriously when your disorientated face appears.

What follows is a process in which he thinks maybe your arms have been replaced by spaghetti.

"No. No. Sweetheart, no, oh my god. What are you doing right now? You're not even trying," he says, giggling.

"Your laugh is the nicest sound in the world."

"I'll try and take you seriously when you can get your hands through your sleeves. How old are you, two?"

"And a half."

"Stay still. I'm gonna bunch 'em up."

He bunches your sleeves as he'd said and finds your hands to pull them through. He feels like this is what it must be like to dress a toddler, only the toddler is tall and too drunk to keep her head up for long amounts of time.

"And… There." He neatens your sleeves and collar. "Done. Good job, baby."

You beam wide enough to apple your cheeks and throw yourself into his lap all over again. He's surprised and bends from your weight, receiving you with a mixture of apprehension and glee.

"If you throw up on me we're gonna have to break up," he says, smoothing his hand over the back of your neck.

"Really?"

"No."

You can't stop laughing tonight. You giggle breathlessly and pull back enough to cup his cheek. Your hands are heavy but what you've lost in your inebriation you make up for in love; while your motor spatial skills have taken a heavy blow, your kisses are as syrupy as always. You kiss his cheek in an inelegant triangle and make these tiny, lovely sounds that give him butterflies.

Lips pressed to his face, you say, "You're my boy."

He feels shy in a way he hadn't realised he could as he brings his hands up your back to hold you.

"I'm your boy," he agrees.

There's a short silence where he breathes you in and rubs your shoulder. He'd missed you more than he realised.

"Want KFC? I'm paying."

He rolls his eyes and pushes you away from him gently. "Whatever you want."

You stand on unsteady feet. Eddie offers his arm and you stand hip to hip with him and let him hold you up. You're not so wobbly as to need as much help as he's giving but he doesn't mind and you like the connection, head dropped to his shoulder. He gets you past the bathroom queue and down the stairs, pausing at the coat rack where he spies your purse. You sway at the sudden stop.

The contents, to your unbelievable, infallible good luck, have been left alone. Even your loose cash. Eddie can't comprehend it.

"I told you before, I'm paying," you brag.

He chucks your chin, enamoured with your cocky smile. "You're soooo confident that I'm gonna let that happen."

Its always like this. Surrounded by people and somehow you might as well be the only two people in the room for how it feels.

Your answering laugh is loud and sympathetic. "Duh. I get away with everything all the time 'cos you have a crush on me."

You stride out of the open front door and onto the stone pathway bisecting the lawn. He catches your hand before you can get too far away and you spin to look at him.

You're walking backwards. Staggering, really, Eddie's hand the only thing keeping you upright as you croon, "You like me."

"Who told you that?"

"Nobody needed to tell me, I already knew. It's obvious."

He yanks you toward him and you huff into his chest. You're more giggle than girl tonight, gasping breathlessly as you threaten him. "Watch it!"

"You watch it. Who do you think you're talking to?" he jokes, staring down at you with a pretend scorn.

You pout and brush a loose curl behind his shoulder.

"Nothing to say?"

"Nothing to say to you."

"Really?"

"Nuh-uh."

"What's obvious about it?" he asks, leaning down until your noses touch. He blows a hot breath out of the corner of his mouth.

You squeeze his hand. "I'm tipsy–"

"Tipsy!"

"But I'm not stupid, Munson."

"You're going down the list tonight." You've called him everything. Eds, handsome, baby, Teddy, now Munson. He'd much prefer the second, third and fourth, but any name at all sounds like a pet name when you say it.

"Move, loser," someone says, shouldering him suddenly and roughly out of the way.

Eddie doesn't have time to think about it, he takes an unwilling step forward and you go back, too drunk to shriek. Your breath catches as your ankle twists and you trip and fall onto the small of your back. Unfortunately for Eddie, your hands are still twined together, and he falls into you like a domino, knees hitting damp grass and face smashed into the space above your shoulder.

He doesn't have the cushion of alcohol.

"Ow," he says, peeved. Not at you, but peeved all the same. He screws his eyes shut and sulks.

"Thought I had to buy you dinner first."

"Shit." Eddie springs up off of you. "Shit, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

You stay lying in the grass. The party lights splash across your bare skin, pink and green and orange-yellow painting your lips and your nose and the curve of your neck.

"Why'd you do that?" you ask curiously.

"Some asshole pushed me." He looks over his shoulder for a culprit and finds no one.

"Like I believe that!"

"Stop laughing! This isn't funny. I think I might've winded you."

You grab him and dig your fingers into his hips. "With this skinny waist? Unlikely."

"Hey," he chides through a laugh, "what?"

"So trim."

"You're totally gone."

"Gone on you." You sit up and slide your hands under the fabric of his t-shirt.

"We're in public, perv."

"And?"

"Stop feeling me up."

"But this is the best part."

Eddie shivers at your cold fingers gracing the lines of his sides and then inward. You massage his abdomen with a feather-light touch.

"Nice," you murmur.

Eddie pushes you down into the grass and kisses you chastely. Then a little less than chaste. Nothing serious, he's not a sicko, but he just can't hold it in. To be liked in the way that you like him feels like a privilege he can't begin to deserve.

"Thanks for coming to pick me up," you say as your break apart, smiling at him fondly.

He rubs your foreheads together. "You definitely pulled me down with you. This is your fault."

"My bad," you say. Your flippancy drives him mad.

He kisses the corner of your mouth and then leaps off of you to half-carry you to the van.

Half an hour later in the bright fluorescents of KFC when you're covered in fried chicken grease and grass stains, you make a heart with your hands and hold it upto your face. "Smile, handsome. I'm taking a mental picture."

He smiles.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thanks so much for reading!

if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging! i promise it makes a big difference!

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson imagine #edie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson lives #fem!reader

7K notes · View notes

asdfghjklmals · 1 year

Text

BLAME GAME✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. daddy joke. WORD COUNT: 0.9k words. TAGS: boyfriend!gojo, satoru gojo x fem!oc. established couple. adoptedkiddo! megumi makes a small appearance.

SYNOPSIS: oc gojo girlfriend tries to play a prank on satoru, but he slips up and gets himself in trouble instead... AUTHOR'S NOTE: lol i saw a funny reel of this girl pranking her boyfriend and i got inspired. also used something from the jjk short stories. 😉 REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

“satoru gojo!” you bellowed from the bedroom.

you heard his feet promptly shuffling to your room as your white-haired boyfriend peaked his head through the bedroom door. you repeated his name again.

“satoru gojo!”

“uh? yeah? that's me...” he stared at you, concerned and confused, walking slowly to the foot of your king sized bed.

“come here.” you said with no emotion in your face, using your index finger to lure him towards you. it took all of you to not burst out laughing in his face. it was amusing to see the soft and bewildered look on his face. he was really such an attentive boyfriend who loved you silly and he was truly worried.

“why are you calling me by my—wait, you never use my government name. we go by babe, baby, sweet cheeks, honey, and sometimes daddy in this household!” he stomped his feet jokingly, trying not to laugh because he couldn’t tell if this was a dangerous situation and if he needed to tread lightly. your lips twitched as you also tried not to laugh either or your cover would be blown.

“satoru, honey.” you said more calmly, but with a hint of danger in your tone. god, you deserved an emmy award for your acting.

satoru was going through all the events that happened today in his head, trying to figure out what he did wrong along the way. “we went shopping today, i made you your morning coffee perfectly may i add, i took out the trash, megumi did the laundry, and i didn't leave my socks around the apartment… so why are you using my government name like that?!”

“what do you think it is?” you questioned him.

“i literally have no clue. you should be having a good sunday so far and i was enjoying my day until you used my full name instead of baby. i haven’t even done anything yet!” satoru defended himself, scratching the back of his head. he was out of back up plans, it was time to resort to an emergency measure. kisses. lots of kisses.

he swiftly made his way over to your side of the bed and sat down next to your side, he grinned at you and tried to sneak a kiss on your cheek but you stopped him just shy of your face. his lips hit your palm instead. “you know what you did.”

“babe, what did i do? just tell me and i promise i’ll make everything right again,” he whispered as he kissed your ear. you felt the hairs on the back of your neck raise as you shuddered. he stared at you with piercing azure eyes, his sunglasses sliding down his nose bridge.

“why are you whispering?” you started giggling.

satoru gojo was a smart and calculated man (most days), but today, he was really at a loss. “why are you laughing?” he demanded to know.

“i saw the funniest video of a girl doing this exact thing to her boyfriend and you had the same reaction as him.” you kept giggling after explaining. your bright smile made your green eyes disappear, crows feet wrinkle, and your pearly whites glisten.

as much as satoru could melt by watching you laugh, he kissed his teeth in annoyance. “i really thought you were upset with me! you never use my full name unless i’m in trouble with you. i thought my ass was going to be sleeping on the couch tonight for sure. my neck already started to hurt thinking about it.” he dramatized as he massaged the back of his neck, but it wouldn’t be satoru gojo without the theatrics.

“i had to go through all the things in my head that would’ve upset you like not taking out the garbage, leaving my socks around the house, fighting with megumi, not putting down the toilet seat after peeing cause of that one time you fell in, not separating the white and dark laundry colors, or even when the kids and i were at the maid cafe last wee—”

and that’s when satoru gojo saw his life flash before his eyes. he covered his mouth quickly with his free hand, his eyes wide open in terror. you glared into his panicked blue eyes.

“satoru gojo! you went where?! and you took megumi too?!” this time, there was no acting in your tone.

EXTRA:

“come on, megumi, pick up the damn phone. don’t forget that i pay for your phone bill.” satoru gritted through his teeth. he had just received a 20 minute lecture on how megumi and yuji didn’t need to be in a maid cafe and that he didn’t have any business being there either. it was actually an honest accident that they ended up there. the kids followed him into the maid cafe where he was scoping out an abandoned building where some curses were lingering across the street. he wanted to use the building as his afternoon lesson with his students.

“what do you want?” the younger fushiguro picked up, annoyance in his tone of voice.

“well, that’s not a polite way of answering the phone that your guardian pays the cell phone bill for.” satoru quipped.

“it’s always something with you, gojo-sensei,” megumi sighed. 10 years of putting up with satoru gojo did that to people. megumi wondered how you dealt with him. you deserved a nobel peace prize in his eyes.

“well, (y/n) found out about the maid cafe,”

“and you’re in trouble with the boss. cool, i’ll see you at home la—”

“no, no. not just me, we are in trouble.”

“it was your stupid idea to go there! who the hell scopes out an abandoned building at a freakin’ maid cafe?” megumi couldn’t believe that he was being dragged into a punishment too. last time he got in trouble, you took away his kindle that you and satoru had gotten him for christmas last year.

the white haired sorcerer pulled a picture out from his wallet. it was a picture of megumi and yuji from the maid cafe. satoru cunningly suggested a scapegoat, “how do we somehow put the blame on yuji?”

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

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wheresarizona · 2 months

Text

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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