#hide the tootsies
Text
All tucked in!
Or she's attempting to hide her paws from me because she decided to play with her critical care as though it were play-doh.
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
Man that is made of beef and the million woes of a lonely child
#sory about the kaza tootsie jumpscare i never remember to hide other doodles#i adore this man i want to dig a burrow in him like a rabbit#douma#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#my art#theres a secret secondary drawing to this of me biting his butt like the sunscreen girl and dog inage#mauling him. then kissing his booboos
117 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sometimes people talk to me like "ew why do you like that jerky guy in that show? you must want him to be a jerk to you lmao" I'm like NO I want to TIE HIM TO THE BED AND MAKE HIM CRY
#it's always about the bad guys who are shown to have some kinda emo baggage#that they hide#this is only an exciting idea if you're cracking them open to get to the soft center#like a tootsie pop#I cannot do that with a soft innocent uwu blorbo#outside must be hard
0 notes
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!
Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist
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.
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.
Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist
Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!
#pedro pascal#javier peña#Javier Peña/reader#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier peña smut#wheresarizona writes#learning to live series
356 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hard Exterior, Soft Interior
Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • After the loss of Merle, he couldn’t lose you too. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Injuries / Scars / Anxiety / Depression
Requested by: Anon
You know those hard candies with the gooey interior? Can I think of an example?…uhh…bon bons? Tootsie pops have the soft interior…then there’s the gross lollipops with gum inside.
But anyway. The general idea of hard candies with soft insides.
That’s kind of like Daryl…and when I told him that. He of course thought it was a stupid concept.
I’ll always think that tho
~
Oh, you’re wasting my time
“Hey”
You’re just, just, just wasting time
“Hey Y/N?”
Something happens and I’m head over—- Y/N quickly removes the headphones to her walkman to finally acknowledge Dale’s existence. “Hey, sorry”
“Lost in your own little world huh?” Dale laughs as does she but a bit more embarrassment infused. “I need a favor”
“Oh Uhm. Dale I hear what comes from your RV at night and I’m not—-“
“OKAY” Dale yells laughing nervously. “Not the kind of favor I’m askin’…you know the new guy that came back?”
“Lori’s husband? Yeah he seems nice”
“Oh yeah he is. Just. Uhm.”
“Dale. Just spit it out” Y/N started to get annoyed.
Wait for the sign to flick the switch of death
“Merle!”
It’s the beginning of the end
“Merle come on out!” Daryl snaps returning from his hunt to this new guy with familiar faces getting up in his.
Sweat, chilling cold, as I watch death unfold Y/N watches Daryl get up in the faces of the others in the camp while having her headphones on. To avoid hearing Daryl’s enraged yelling. Consciousness, my only friend
“You left him?! ON A GODDAMN ROOF?” Daryl snaps at the sheriff standing before him.
My fingers grip with fear
What am I doing here?
Y/N suddenly lunged forward and her headphones slipped off her ears naturally as she grabs Daryl’s arm pulling him back after he got a punch in.
“Stop”
“They left him. They fucking LEFT HIM” Daryl yells feeling the anger continue to brew inside of himself. He was about to act on it once more until Y/N brought herself right in front of him pressing her hands firmly on his chest.
“Hurting him, will do nothing for you and won’t bring him back” Y/N states not moving from her spot until he relaxed.
“Who’s that?” Rick questions his best friend as Shane turns to who he was talking about.
“Y/N”
“Sister?”
“Fuck no. If she was, I wouldn’t have a hidden interest” Shane whispers the last part. “She’s one of the only few that’s close to the redneck.”
“Well I gotta thank her, or I’d be on the floor in a pool of my own blood…already was before this hell” Rick laughs slightly before pulling Shane with him to discuss the Merle situation.
We can go dancing, we can go walking
Daryl frowns holding the walkman in hand after Y/N has given it to him to listen to some of her cassettes to calm him down.
As long as we’re together (As long as we’re together)
Listen to some music, maybe just tal—- Daryl quickly removes the headphones when Y/N approached his little campsite away from the main one. “Hey…”
“Hey so, Rick has a plan to go back and get Merle. Wanted me to come get yea to see if you’ll join them”
A sense of relief washed over him the first time when Y/N pretty much stated she will stay at the campsite while they take care of rescuing his bitchass brother.
“Hey”
Daryl brought his attention back to her eyes full of worry. “Yeah?”
“If you do this. Go back to the city? Please be safe. Okay?” Y/N’s smile temporarily returned to grace her features as he mentally took a picture of such.
As long as she’s safe…
He will be
What do I do to ignore them behind me?
Do I follow my instincts blindly?
The scream rang through the forest and startled everyone in the campsite. Y/N immediately grabbed the bat that helped her from the city before Glenn saved her and went to help her newfound family.
Do I hide my pride from these bad dreams?
And give in to sad thoughts that are maddening?
The small Atlanta group returned from a failed mission and was met with sickos infesting. Daryl gripped his crossbow tightly and went in search for her.
Do I sit here and try to stand it?
Or do I try to catch them red-handed?
Y/N crushed the head of the walker that was tripped by the archer standing behind it. She sighs relieved that he’s safe and sound. While the sense of relief graced him a second time. Daryl gestures for her to remove her headphones which she did.
“You always fight better listening to music?”
“I do a lot of things better when listening to music” Y/N smiles looking at the damage taken to her bat and dropped it once she made the executive decision that it was unusable. “Guess I need a new one or something brand new”
“Yknow I could always teach yea to use one of these” Daryl smirks gesturing to his crossbow as his smirk fades slightly when she laughs a little.
“I’d love that, D”
And his smile planted itself on his face thankful this horror show was over with.
Now after said horror and coming to the decision, everyone who was alive started to pack up for the CDC and Y/N put her backpack in the passenger seat of Daryl’s truck while he got his bike situated in the bed of it.
“Got a cassette ready?”
“You know me so well” Y/N smirks holding up said cassette tape before putting her bag by the feet of the seat and climbing in.
Here we go to another candle I know
All the girls, they’re playing on a jelly roll
Time to take a ride, time to take it in a midnight eye
And if you wanna go, get on below
“Y/N…yea think we’ll find Merle?”
“Probably. Just one less hand.” Y/N smiles trying to hide her laugh when stating that, even if Daryl thought it was a bit funny as well. “He’s like a roach in this world. It’s gonna probably take a nuclear bomb to get him off the planet”
“I hope he turns up soon. Yknow? He’s the only family I’ve got”
“Hey!” She playfully acted offended as she took his unoccupied hand into hers. “We’re family”
Pinking out the day
Dreaming out the crazy way
Finger on the love
Their connected hands never parted once she took a hold of it.
It’s all above
The CDC felt like a luxury…no one deserved. Especially after all the lives that were lost because someone failed to inform about this virus. Or however the hell this could’ve been avoided.
Y/N suddenly felt stressed being in this glorified bunker as she mainly observed the others enjoy themselves. She only really felt better about the overwhelming emotions coursing through her when he would look at her. Even as drunk as he was.
Look at the stars, look how they shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah, they were all yellow
The archer offered the bottle to Y/N as she happily declined. She watches him hand the bottle over to Glenn as he took it for himself to get drunk for probably the first time in his life. Daryl then got situated right beside her turning to her reading what he could from her expression.
All she was, was tired. In that moment none of them had to fight or fear for their lives. Y/N wanted to remember this always. Being right beside him.
I came along, I wrote a song for you
And all the things you do
And it was called “Yellow”
________
The Dixons joined the campsite and did their part by hunting for the group. In return they got a group to watch their back and help with whatever may be asked. Even if they were stubborn enough to not accept the help offered.
Daryl returned from a quick hunt with a minor injury that he didn’t think much of. But after dropping off the catch, he didn’t think it would be noticed. The cut on his arm.
Then she came to their small camp set up holding her first-aid kit in one hand and her walkman in the other.
“Hey pretty lady”
Of course Merle was first to acknowledge her existence and make Daryl come out of his tent to try to prevent his brother from saying anything vulgar to who came. But hell. The pretty lady was indeed very pretty.
“Uhm. It’s Y/N…not whatever you said. Anyway” Y/N tossed the kit to Daryl as he fumbled a bit. “Thought you could use that”
“Don’t wanna stay?” Merle pouts as Daryl groans to his question before elbowing him to go away which he did with a groan.
Leaving the two alone for a moment.
“Thanks…I’ll uh. Give it back when I’m done”
“Okay. You’ll know where to find me” and that smile of hers struck him right in the heart.
________
So then I took my turn
Y/N laid comfortable in the bed made for her as she shared a room with Daryl. She laid on her side facing the archer who slept peacefully.
Oh, what a thing to have done
And it was all yellow…
In the middle of the night, Daryl woke out of anxious habit from when he was younger. He brought himself to turn toward the person he was sharing the room with to find her dangerously close to him.
Your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones
Turn into something beautiful
He quietly lays back down after sitting up slightly, gently brushing the hair back out of the way of her face. Watching her face scrunch up a bit before finally relaxing and snuggling closer without touching him.
You know, you know I love you so
You know I love you so
As the next morning came around…and most were painfully hungover, Daryl found himself still laying down beside Y/N not wanting to move from his spot. Watching her be content, safe, alive and well…he didn’t want the moment to end. Didn’t want to feel like the world would end a second time if she were to leave it.
The second she stirred awake, part of him wanted to stay…tell her something that’s been on his mind since the day he met her…but instead. Daryl brought himself to sit up and sit on the edge of the makeshift bed giving the two a bit of space.
“Good morning” She yawns out the greeting listening to him reply with the same phrase as his voice was music to her tired ears. “How are you feeling?”
“Alright. Got a bit of a headache”
“Mm. You did drink a lot” Y/N laughs softly as she grabs her backpack taking out a small bottle of pain killers and handing it to him while he grabbed his canteen shortly after.
“Yea didn’t—-“
“I wanted to” Y/N smiles warmly as she pulls the blanket gently off of her and put her important belongings back in her backpack “You think someone is making breakfast? Or literally doing anything”
“Smelled somethin’ but don’t know what” Daryl handed her back the pain killers as she tossed the bottle carelessly into the bag before pulling out her earbuds that she could use to share her tunes with.
“Wanna just…sit and listen to music for a bit then? Before the world needs us?”
Daryl couldn’t and never would say no to that. He brought himself back to her side taking one earbud as she put hers in before getting her mixtape in.
Love of mine, someday you will die
And I’ll be close behind, I’ll follow you into the dark
No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
The two instinctively laid down side by side, their hands barely touching.
Just our hands clasped so tight, waiting for the hint of a spark
Daryl’s pinky tapped Y/N’s hand a few times before hers locked with his.
If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied
Illuminate the “no”s on their vacancy signs
Y/N brought herself to turn to Daryl watching him do the same as they kept their attention on the other. They slowly inched toward the other when the sudden yelling caught their attention.
If there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks
Then I’ll follow you into the dark
The clock. The clock that everyone took noticed in the CDC when they first entered the giant room of computers…was a doomsday clock on its own. Once it hits zero, the power goes out and the building goes.
That’s a fiery death no one wants…unless, they are done with the horrors of what’s outside the CDC.
In Catholic school, as vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black
And I held my tongue as she told me, “Son..
Fear is the heart of love,” so I never went back
“Y/N! Come on!” Daryl yells to her frozen state as Y/N’s gaze was glued to the clock on the wall watching it slowly go down. “Y/N!” He continues to yell before running over to her and noticing the questioning look on her face. “Nah. You ain’t staying”
“Daryl…”
“No!”
“But this…just…” Y/N started to tear up at the thought that she wanted an escape like this. “Daryl I don’t…I don’t know what I want anymore”
“But I do! I know what I want” Daryl himself, the hard exterior of the tough lone wolf redneck that stood before her, cracked open. “And that’s you. You in my life” to show that soft interior.
If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied…
“I can’t lose you too. I don’t want to lose you ever” Daryl admits watching her features soften as he carefully pressed his forehead against hers which lead to the tears pouring from her eyes. “I’ve lived. I understand that. But I haven’t truly appreciated the life I was given until you came into it. I need you to stay in it” he begged and no one has ever heard him beg once before.
Illuminate the “no”s on their vacancy signs…
As the group tried to get the glass to break, Daryl came running in with Y/N in his arms. The moment he came is when he saw the grenade in Rick’s hand right as he pulled the pin. He quickly crouched covering Y/N’s body with his own feeling her tighten her grasp on him as the explosion shook them both slightly.
Daryl quickly pulled back to check her features feeling her hand gently caress his cheek before he got back up carrying her out.
If there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks…
The archer got her to his truck when the eruption of the CDC shook the ground they stood on as Daryl quickly knelt to the ground gripping onto Y/N for dear life as she did the same while the tears poured from her eyes.
“Please don’t ever let go of me”
“I won’t. I promise. I’ll promise every day if I gotta Y/N” Daryl states pulling back once the eruption settled and Y/N was gently placed on her own footing.
Y/N straightened up with Daryl feeling his hands plant on her hips as she couldn’t help the tears from falling even faster.
“I love you”
Daryl quickly moved his hands from her hips to her face, firmly pressing his lips to hers. Finally after all this time of pining. He felt his own tears fall as he gently pulls away from her lips bringing her body close to his.
“I love you so much you have no idea”
Then I’ll follow you into the dark
#cultofdixon#the walking dead#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#head over heels#ride the lightning#take a chance on me#by myself#dirty boots#yellow#i will follow you into the dark#blue is Y/N listening#red is Daryl#purple is both
378 notes
·
View notes
Note
I feel that after Sephiroth took dating advice from Zack and it actually worked, it's only downhill from there
100%
Read at your own risk
Sephiroth now goes to Zack for ALL dating advice, and much life advice.
Zack: Ok, you gotta bring a bow-ket of flor-ets, hehehehehe
Sephiroth: *taking notes*
Zack: chicks dig that!
Sephiroth: *taking notes*
Zack: remember protection! Don't want a bunch of kiddos running around.
Sephiroth: *taking notes*
Zack: chocolate is usually a good idea. My favorite is tootsie rolls!
Sephiroth: *taking notes*
Zack: Hold the door for her! And dress nice, get a nice clean shirt--Angeal says buttons are a must--and your bluest jeans, not ones you use for working.
Sephiroth: *taking notes*
Zack: if it rains, some old fashioned gals like it if you carry them over puddles or throw your jacket down so they don't get wet, but that's kinda outdated.
Sephiroth: *taking notes*
Zack: And man, here's the real secret: you gotta, and I mean you GOTTA, flick the bean and lick the lunch meat, if you know what I mean. You'll get her super wet!
Sephiroth: Wait, I thought we were supposed to avoid getting her wet?
Zack: only in the rain, man, only in the rain. 😉
Sephiroth: *taking notes*
Later that evening...
*ding dong*
Lazard: *opens the door*
Sephiroth is standing there in a shirt that exposes his belly button and is festooned with buttons, as if it was stolen from an art student's studio after a crazed night before finals where the assignment was to use whatever was at hand and they only had buttons and a bedsheet.
He has also painted a very tasteful strand of DNA next to his belly button in the bluest blue body paint he could find. He removed the harness to accommodate the button shirt, but is still wearing his coat, pants, boots, and yes, pauldrons and gloves.
He is holding a pot full of dirt and...is that a grub? In one hand, and a bouquet of broccoli florets in the other. A plastic bag is dangling from his belt.
Sephiroth: Hello, Lazard. Would you like to accompany me on our scheduled date?
Lazard: 👁️👁️
Sephiroth: 🐱
Lazard: Certainly. Is that a bouquet?
Sephiroth: Yes, even though Zackary pronounced it incorrectly earlier, I discerned his true meaning.
Lazard: Here, let me put it in water. Feel free to set down your...items...as well.
Sephiroth: I was informed to bring things that chicks would dig, so this is a pot of grubs. I also purchased beans and lunch meat for licking and flicking activities later, and a gift of chocolate. Please hold still. *Takes a slice of lunch meat out of the packet and gently applies it to Lazard's face*
Lazard: I'm sorry, I don't understand...?
Sephiroth: Oh! I was supposed to make you wet if it wasn't raining, and since you're using the sink to fill that vase, this was the next best thing I could think of. Is...is it working? Do you feel adequately wet?
Lazard: goddess yes, but, ah, I don't need the meat, well, not THAT meat, on my face.
Sephiroth: Oh! *Licks it off, has a nice little snack*
Lazard: *trembles*
Sephiroth: Shall we go out then? I'm unsure if the beans are meant to be flicked here or abroad; I was hoping you would advise.
Lazard, leaning against the counter, voice coming out in a squeak: We can stay in!
Sephiroth: Are you certain? While full of protein and with a vegetable, this hardly seems an appropriately fancy meal for someone I am trying to woo.
Lazard, hiding his...area d'oolala...and sweating: No it's fine!
Sephiroth: I can always summon Masamune to ward off children!
Lazard: I don't think that would be necessary either way *panting*
Sephiroth: Well, if we're not going out, I would like to show you what else I learned. *Throws another wet piece of lunch meat on the floor, then his coat on top of it (oh Gaia, the button monstrosity is a tank top that shows his arms), then picks up Lazard and walks over it.* There! You wouldn't be wet if it was raining! At least your feet wouldn't!
Lazard, face to face with the hottest man in Midgar: Take your pants off.
Sephiroth: One last thing! *Grabs the nearest door, which happens to be the bedroom door* *beaming*
Lazard: Are you...holding the door for me?
Sephiroth: Yes!
Lazard: fuck me
Sephiroth: Of course!
#ff7#sephiroth#zack fair#lazard deusericus#he is doing his best#and his best is fantastic#pet the pussy for his efforts#ok i am sorry for that one
38 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey Tootsie! Have you ever hinted to Jax that you may like him??
Even if she tried, Jax already knew from the beginning of her crush on him. It's pretty obvious, as much as she tries to hide it.
#the amazing digital circus#tadc#tootsie blog#tadc oc#the amazing digital circus oc#tadc tootsie#tadc jax#the amazing digital circus jax#tadc bubble#tootsie ask blog questions
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Night of Bitter Despair: A Fading Letters Story
Pt. 1
The Night of the Witches. An event that happens once every millennia, where witches from all across the world gather to exchange recipes and secrets with each other. Such an event had never been witnessed by any cookie before...
And yet, here Pure Vanilla stood. Worn from days of travel and dwindling supplies, he looked up at the entrance to the witch's kitchen. The hard part was finally over. The answers he sought were beyond those doors. All that was left to do was walk inside. Pure Vanilla quickly gathered himself and quickly ran through the door, the heavy iron slamming behind him. The kitchen seemed dim, vague shadows littering the halls. That was, until, light flooded the room, illuminating everything in various hues and patterns.
"Oh my goodness... It's unlike anything I've ever seen before..."
His eyes widened at the sight. Sugar work adorned the table as it looped endlessly into the sky, reflecting onto the table like a kaleidoscope. Palaces made with fondant and marzipan littered the table as a set of hands placed down a fountain spewing an endless amount of dark chocolate. A chortle echoed across the room as the witch's hand swept across the area, forcing the healer to hide behind one of the marzipan creations. As he peaked out from his hiding spot, more and more things were added and removed as the witch saw fit. He saw a whisk being snatched away as a tray of scones was meticulously planted to his right. Pieces of candy were spread like breadcrumbs on a forest trail. Piping bags were constantly in motion as the finishing touches were added. Just in time, too. The witch's endless decorating finally stopped as the doors burst out, slamming against her home.
"FILOMENAAA!!!"
A particularly shrill voice rang out, causing Pure Vanilla to cover his ears. Were the witches always this loud? The witch known as Filomena turned her head before giddily embracing her friends. "WINIFRED!!! BASTINDA!!! It's been a thousand long years! Glad to see y'all!"
"HAH! A MILLENIA IS NOTHING IF IT MEANS SPENDING TIME WITH YOU. YOU ALWAYS THREW THE BEST PARTIES!" Bastinda huffed before haphazardly dropping her treats at the table, a flagrant grin appearing.
"AND THIS TIME I CAME PREPARED! I'VE HAD PLENTY OF TIME TO COME UP WITH NEW RECIPES."
"...humph. ...even with all your effort, your sweets still look stale..." The third witch, Winifred, sulked behind before placing her items on the table, taking the time to wipe off any smudges. "...unlike you, I've been perfecting my handiwork."
Bastinda couldn't help but roll her eyes, mocking the mopey looking witch with a giant yawn. "look at me... I'm Winnie-Fred... and I make the same old desserts over and over-OH PLEASE, YOU COULDN'T PERFECT A SWISS ROLL FROM A TOOTSIE ROLL!"
"HEY. Settle down, will you?" Filomena huffed before pushing the two to their seats. "It's not a competition! Look at these! They look stunning!"
The other two begrudgingly looked at each other before muttering a half baked truce. "There, was that so bad-" She was soon interrupted by a loud bell ringing from across the room. "Oh, what good timing! The main course is finished! Please, enjoy the appetizers while I go put the finishing touches!"
Pure Vanilla removed his hands from his ears, bemoaning the awkward state he was in. But he was grateful because now two witches were just sitting there, eating and talking. He could just ask them right then and there! He picked up his staff and moved from his hiding spot before-
"They're REAAADY!!!"
Crumbs.
The other witch had returned, wearing a pair of oven mitts and placing down several plates of cookies. Huh. Pure Vanilla assumed she was going to grab... Well, anything else. She mentioned a main course, so why..?
"PHEW! I baked a TON of cookies!" Filomena took one before shoving it in Bastinda's face. "Here, try one! You're gonna LOVE IT!"
Before he even realized it, his confusion had turned to horror. Bastinda took the cookie and beheaded it in a single sickening crunch.
"W-what...? What... is this...?!" Pure Vanilla's face paled immensely. A trickle of sweat ran down his face as he froze with fear. His weak dough trembled, instinctively clutching his staff as Bastinda's face lit up with excitement. She clapped her hands with childlike glee before grabbing a fistful of cookies and shoving them into her mouth. The drool and crumbs splattered onto the table while she kept reaching out for more.
"...save some for the rest of us, you glutton..." Winifred sneered before sneaking away a few of her own.
"OH, YOU KNOW I CAN'T HELP IT! THEY'RE JUST SOO... DELICIOUS!!!"
It was disgusting. It was cruelty. Pure Vanilla had to resist the urge to vomit as more crumbs fell from their hands. Soon, all three began to take part in this savagery. What was he doing-?! Why was he just standing there as innocent cookies were being mauled right in front of him? He had a soul gem! Pure Vanilla could save them!
Adrenaline began to run through his dough as he ran to one of the abandoned plates, casting a healing spell over those that were spared in the culling.
"PLEASE-!! You must get up!! You have to help me save the others!!" But there was no response. As he took a closer look, Pure Vanilla saw those injured... smiling. They were being eaten, and they were smiling, as if they hadn't a care in the world. He didn't have time to take it in, as one of the hands came back to finish the job.
He quickly ran to another plate where he tried again, trying to pull one of the cookies away, but to no avail. What was worse, these cookies were smiling as well.
"Why..?" His hurt and confusion rose until it couldn't be contained any further. "Why are you SMILING AT ME?!"
SLAM.
Winifred's hand landed with a hideous thud. The plate shattered on contact, shrapnel dashing across the table as the remaining cookies broke against the wall.
"...what's thiiiis? I don't remember making this cookie..!" Her head turned to Filomena, who squinted at the sight.
"Well obviously, I must've made it earlier. You can have it as a treat!"
Pure Vanilla began to hyperventilate. In a few seconds a target had been placed on his back. He need to leave. He didn't care how or when, he just had to. Immediately his body began to move on it's own, sprinting towards the only exit he was aware of.
"Aaah... this one's a runner."
Spoons began slamming down onto the wood. The knives that once sat idle for decoration were now soaring across the room. The constant thumping made him lose his balance constantly, but he couldn't afford to stop now. Fists came crashing down, shattering one of the plates.
Run.
A fork almost pierced his neck, tearing the tablecloth underneath him.
Just keep running.
His only instinct was to just keep going, for as long as it took. "You're so close", he kept telling himself. "You can't stop here or you will die!" So when he began flying, he was almost relieved.
At least until he understood what had happened.
"...I got it."
It was so quick, and yet it felt like everything was moving in slow motion. Winifred's hand had finally caught up to him, striking him from behind and sending his tired body into a freefall. He felt his soul jam on his neck begin to loosen and slip. His staff had snapped from the force as he saw moments of his life flash before him.
"...Why..?" He finally managed to croak out. He hadn't realized his throat was so sore already. "Why would... you do this? Why would you deceive us...?"
All Pure Vanilla was met with was silence. Tears began to fall, and soon he was weeping bitterly. Deep in his dough, the answer he searched for was answered.
Cookies were made to be eaten.
Why would they ever entertain the questions of something so insignificant if they had always planned to eat him? Had his life mattered at all? He was born with a will and a soul, wasn't that enough to be acknowledged? He had friends and family. He had someone he loved so much he would walk to the ends of Earthbread for her. But to the witches... none of it mattered.
None of it mattered...
All they cared about was that they caught him.
"OOH, RIGHT INTO THE ULTIMATE DOUGH! I DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD IT IN YOU, YA OLD BAT!" The all too familiar voice of Bastinda cackled as her bulging eyes stared at the cauldron in the back.
"Oh, it's been a while since I used that old thing!" Filomena crooned, her gnarled hand tracing the rims of the giant bowl.
"...y'know... I always wondered what might happen... if a cookie was baked into it again..." Winifred's eyes lowered, a malicious looking smirk plastered onto her face.
A thought came to them. A truly horrible thought. You could feel their collective gears begin to turn as they all stopped to look at the cauldron. They could, surely they could. What was stopping them? Bastinda's toothy grin curled up before her body trembled in excitement. "ENOUGH STALLING," she giddily gripped the table from sheer excitement, "LET'S DO IT, WINNIE!! LET'S SEE WHAT FORTUNA HAS IN STORE!!"
In unison, the three witches plunged their hands into the dough before lifting up the healer and dropping him onto a spare tray. The oven's heat had begun to spread across the room as Winifred took the honor of shoving him inside, sealing his fate once and for all. The only thing left to do was wait.
This was how Pure Vanilla Cookie was going to die; alone. His determination was greatly rewarded with indifference and malice. Weak to the wills of the creators he once revered, his body would burn to a sad, pathetic lump and be thrown out as the remnants of a failed experiment. His soul began to ache as the fire around him grew in size.
He could almost see what would happen next. Golden Cheese would be wondering where he went. She'd be the first to notice, of course, and she'd be the first to tell everyone. Hollyberry and Dark Cacao would form a search party, desperately looking in his favorite places, places that he would never visit again. He imagined them standing in front of his gravestone after it ended in failure. Hollyberry would bawl her eyes out and Dark Cacao would try and hold back his devastation in a failed attempt to remain steadfast for her. And White Lily... White Lily would never read another letter from him again. She would never know how much he loved her. He would never see her smile again. He would never hear her laugh. He'd never see the way she fiddled with her hair or the way the sun shone down on her eyes or how the world lit up when she was near.
It was a future where everything would stop in it's tracks.
It was a future where everything he loved dear would come crumbling.
It was a future he could not accept.
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
tootsie pop
soap x reader nsfw
Warnings: blowjobs, kissing, cussing, homework theusual nsfw stuff
Ejoy~
soap watched as you pulled out a tootsie pop unwrapped it and put it in your mouth.
he watched you as you worked on your reports the sucker sitting in your mouth poking out of your cheek
he could feel himself getting restless
you glanced over at him and then at his work pulling the sucker out of your mouth with a loud pop pointing at his computer
" what'd you put down on page 15?" you ask
"frag grenade in the arse"
"you really put that down?"
"the only way you could explain it" he winked
you glanced back at your work proofreading it and playing with the sucker in your mouth
soap watched as your hooded eyes read the material with you sucking on the tip of the lollipop
"fuuck" soap whispered
"hm?" you looked up from your computer taking the sucker out "what's up?"
"n-nothing just misspelled something," he said pulling his laptop closer to him
he could feel his erection growing in his pants. he shouldn't be turned on, you're just enjoying a treat nothing more but, the only thing he could imagine was those sweet lips kissing and licking the tip of his cock like that. he bucked his hips thinking of it having to hide his bulge under his laptop.
"let's proofread our work!" you said taking your laptop off your lap and handing it to soap. he was hesitating, thinking about switching out the computers without revealing his hard-on. he grabbed your laptop quickly moving it with the hopefulness that you didn't spot it
he read your work correcting spelling mistakes and rearranging sentences. he peered over you again at the sight of you lapping the sucker in your mouth sucking on it hard trying to juice out the flavor. beads of sweat started forming on his forehead as his erection was painfully tight against his jeans. soap sighed in desperation moving his hips slightly just to release some pleasure. you peered over him and smirked you opened your mouth sliding the sucker down your tongue pulling it back in and sucking on it loudly. the slick sounds made soap moan
"fuuckin hell'
you looked at him doe-eyed sucking the tip of the candy releasing it out of your mouth. "whats wrong" you asked
"its nothin" soap replied
his face was bright red, sweat starting to form on his brow. he bit his lip. he shifted his focus to the computer trying to take his mind off of the provocative thoughts racing through his brain that's when he felt the laptop being removed and a hand replacing on his erection.
"does me licking this get you hard hmmm?" you palmed his cock causing a moan slip out of soap
"mhmm" he whined bucking his hips
you unzipped his jeans freeing his clothed erection. ghosting your hands on the silloette lightly rubbing it up and down pinching the tip lightly. soap bucked his hips whining
"please" he whispered
"hmmm?" you gripped his cock a little bit hit harder stroking it slowly
soap graned "pleaase"
"please what" you grazed your lips up and down his clothes shaft gently licking his tip tasting his precum seeping through his breifs
"God fuck- please y/n i want you to suck my cock" soap whined squirming under your grasp
You smirked gently pulling down his breifs releasing his dick. You pumped it a fee times before licking the precum off his tip and bobbing your head down
Soap let out a loud moan grabbing a fistfull of your hair
You hollowed out your cheeks taking in his full length moving your head up and down at a fast pace leaving soap a whining mess
"Oh fuuuck~" he moaned "god fuck youre so fucking good" he whined
You released his cock with a wet pop gliding your tongue up and down his shaft sucking the tip your tongue swirling circles around it. You rubbed your hand up and down his length. Soap whined out your name chanting it like a prayer.
"GOD FUCK~ god pleaaase i wanna cum so badly" he moaned bucking his hips
You hallowed out your cheeks taking his full length in his tip hitting the back if your throat earning a yelp form from soaps mouth. Panting he pushed your head down making you deep throat him. He released his load into your mouth his cum seeping down your throat as you swallowed every last but of his cum. He pulled your head up grabbing your cheeks and slamming his lips onto your his tongue dancing with your own kissing you like it was his last kiss with you. The two of you parted with a string if saliva panting holding eath other
"We better finish our work" you said crawling off of him and grabbing your laptop.
"Yeah....we... we should" soap panted positioning his jeans back on zipping them up
He crawled iver you caressing your face giving your lips a kiss
"Unless you want to do more" he smirked
"I like the sound of that" you said
#call of duty#call of duty mw2#cod mw2#call of dooty#modern warfare#simon riley#call of duty modern warfare#simon ghost riley#soap mactavish#cod#soap x reader#soap mactavish x you#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mctavish x reader#john soap mactavish#call of duty x you
156 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi love!! first of all how are you? how are things going? Hope everything’s okay. so, I’ve been reading your fics for a while now and I absolutely adore your style so I decided it was time to ask for one and hope for the best. it’s a NSFW with Zoro and a F! Reader, it would be about her joining the crew around skypiea and them pining for each other but being so good at hiding their feelings both them and the crew have no idea (Robin would still notice somehow ahhaha) but that only leads to the feelings become unbearable so I would say after the events of thriller bark (specifically Zoro taking Luffy’s pain) they just explode and they have a hot steamy session LMFAO (you have all the freedom to decide the details of how and why exactly they just say ‘fuck it’). hope you will enjoy this request and if not there is absolutely no pressure for writing it, of course. <3 byeeee
Hey lovely! It's been a week but I have this fic for you!! And man, am I happy to present it. I love Zoro, and I love pining, so while this was a very LONG labor of love--I had a lot of fun. This piece is a bit massive. It has 7.9k word count so it is not for the light of heart lol but if you read it to the end you get to reach the center of the tootsie pop *wink wink*. Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
The Pull, the Moon & a Wish Upon A Star
ZORO X FEM READER | NSFW / Soft Smut ™
WORD COUNT: 7.9k
CONTENT WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, nudity (duh), unprotected sexual intercourse (just don't do it folks, only works in fiction), biting, scratching, kissing, lots of angst and sexual tension, if you're looking for light and fluffy this isn't it, excessive mentions of the moon (so if you're anti moon gtfo), groping, nipple play, zoro talking too damn much and being a little nasty, for ZORO this is pretty TAME because he is like....enamored, so just let him be, allow this moment of softness because it doesn't come often, so, SOFT ZORO, and like this is zoro being soft so if you don't think it's soft enough...idk what to tell you, it's zoro, i proof read it twice so if you find a typo ignore it, if you tell me there is a typo you need to suck my dick first, thx
A SUMMARY: I don't have one. Read the request lmao.
I - NEW MOON
A dreamer has no home in Mock Town.
Dreams were for children. Quaint little stories made of glittering sand sprinkled into their eyes, blinding them to the harsh truth of the world. The sting would force their eyelids shut, and they’d drift off into lands made of fantasy and fluffy clouds, carrying them off to somewhere peaceful; somewhere they would never be hurt, a haven safe from pain.
They’d lay in their bed woven from lies while the moon spills its light through the window.
It had been a long time since there was any moon watching over you. You slept in darkness, holding the lies you told close to your chest. A romantic heart held prisoner in a chest constructed by cynical chains. You spoke like a realist, even when it split your tongue in half. The taste of copper grounded you to your reality, and you swallowed it down, finding it a fitting exchange.
Your blood for the chance to avoid their scorn. It was the price you paid to live in anonymity.
Loneliness went down easily when you drank it with whiskey. You had learned this years ago, so you consume it daily; a necessary evil. It is smooth on your tongue as you watch them from your corner of the establishment. The back of their heads are unfamiliar as they sit at the bar. You think you imagine it, the way your heart seizes at the sound of his voice. A gruffness so rugged it cuts into your skin, spilling everything you held inside. You scoop it up immediately as you throw the rest of your drink back into your throat. The burn in your chest is antiseptic.
Dreams had nowhere to run in Mock Town. This is where dreams came to die.
It is a mantra you repeat, with every blow they deal on the loud captain and his swordsman. It is a mantra you clamp down on with aching teeth, when their navigator begs them to fight. Your fingers twitch around the etched glass in your hand. You grip it so tightly it cracks, like fault lines across the illusion you had been hiding behind. When they leave the bar, everything shatters.
You wake up, at last, from the nightmare you had built yourself only to plunge into a different colored one.
They’ll never come back. It is a lie you feed yourself, cram it into your mouth and down into your stomach, until everything overflows. Until you believe it. You pick up the fallen pieces left in their wake and start gluing them back together, before your heart can escape again. But he does come back, and a hammer swings into you when his fist flies into Bellamy’s face.
You chase after him as he takes his prize, your oversized kusarigama attached to your back. The chain links clink as you run, its sound chasing your steps. His name is stiff on your tongue but you cast it out, a coin entering a fountain–one last desperate wish. Luffy finds your proposal comical, and so is the weapon on your back. He smiles until the corner of his eyes crinkle, a smile so radiant you swear you’ve only felt the same warmth under the sun.
“Please!” your voice pleads, hands grasping at invisible strings. “I want to see the sky island too!”
His hum is contemplative. You feel time stop. You don’t breathe, you can’t, until he answers you at last: “Sure!” His laugh is infectious and odd. “You seem pretty strong, Kusari.” It isn’t your name. It never has been, but it sounds right when he says it.
It still sounds right when he introduces you to everyone; feels right in your bones. The swordsman’s eyes connect with yours–his gravity too large for you to avoid its pull. Inside you, the ocean’s tide begins to change. A smile graces your lips, congenial and friendly. One that was practiced and rehearsed, like every lie you told. Pretending was a curse you had been tasked with. It was easy and it was necessary. The method that always kept you safe.
Zoro shakes his head at everyone’s enthusiasm. Luffy’s impulsiveness was something he was used to, but disagreed with, time and time again. You were a risk he would have never taken. There were too many dubious variables, your background as a bounty hunter made you skilled and dangerous. His doubts on your genuineness are cast aside by excitement of a new adventure. Zoro lived on the edge of his swords, betting his life at every hurdle, his destiny always held firmly by his own capable hands. Sky island or you, it didn’t matter what the peril was. If it was in his way, he’d cut it down without mercy.
It would be a shame, he thinks–an afterthought polluting his resolve–if he would have to make you his enemy. Your weapon intrigues him, at least that’s his reasoning. There would be no other behind his curiosity. You had a face he could forget, if he really wanted to try.
He’d just have to want it badly enough.
II - WAXING CRESCENT
A persistent irritation, like a rash from a poisonous leaf, plagued him. You were too familiar, too quickly ingrained in his routine. Your sense of humor reminded him of Robin. Your mouth was always twisted, in a cynical kind of smile–but only with him. It annoyed him. You had no riddles for Sanji or Luffy or Usopp, but when you’d speak to Zoro–he was constantly baffled.
What was your insistence on befuddling him? He figures ignoring you would do the trick but your presence is unforgivable; a sin, like a nick on his blades, a scar on his back, a sake poured on dirt. He wanted to obfuscate your existence, like a dark cloud in a night sky, hiding the moon from sight.
Robin and you quickly become a pair, synchronized jokes, and synchronized looks. You team up and prepare riddle after riddle that Zoro can’t seem to solve. He contemplates leaving you two with Nami to your devices but there are so many unknowns in the jungle his conscience doesn’t allow it. His worries become unfounded when he watches you wield your weapon with ease. There was no sign of hesitation when you acted on Chopper and Nami’s behalf–placing their safety as a priority. His shoulders relax, but doubt still circles–a fin in the water–reminding him that it was still too early to tell if you were friend or foe.
Friend or foe, he can’t deny it.
Your face was one he could forget, if he really wanted to. The problem was, he was starting to believe he didn’t want to. In the brief free moments, his eyes would search for it–like a dry tongue seeking water. The softness of your cheeks beguiled him, made him wonder, like a fool, if they were soft as they looked. But your smile was a blade whose sharpness he knew too well. He couldn’t allow himself to be cut. It was a shame he could never live down.
III - FIRST QUARTER
An adventure on Sky Island had been one you never even had dreamed of. An island in the sky was something only children thought of. It had been a long time since you basked in innocence.
The thrill of surviving by the skin of your teeth still thrummed through your body. You giggled, a drink in your hand as you enjoyed the kitchen to yourself. The crew had gone to explore Water 7 and while you were happy to be part of the team–it was still something you were getting used to. Working by yourself, for yourself, had been something you’d done for years and were good at. Now, there were others; people you had started caring about.
He finds you in the kitchen, and immediately is envious of the glass in your hand. Not because the dark amber contents swirling around two blocks of ice is alluring. Not because of the way condensation clings to the glass, a sign of deliciously cold temperature enough to soothe most kinds of thirsts. He is envious of the glass, how you cradle it possessively when Zoro steps closer. He is envious of the rim, how your tongue flicks out to lap at a stray drop, sliding down–how it is graced by your lips when you bring it up for a drink.
“Looks good,” he says with strain. Tension pulls at his neck, making it difficult to talk. “Is there more of that?”
You gesture at the table, where you had left the bottle of whiskey. He intends to move, truly, as he is mere steps away from your body but your eyes are bright and mystifying. They jumble his thoughts and it takes a quirk of your brow to kickstart his brain once more.
As the moon commands, the tides obey, and a series of events unfolds that can’t be stopped. There’s so much to think of, you almost forget how much Zoro ails you. You forget how you think of him at night while you try to find a comfortable spot to sleep in. You forget the way his eyes pierce you during dinner, how they steal your breath. You forget the strange moments his hand brushes against yours when you pass him by, and the strange way he says your name as if it was a kiss given in secret.
You forget until Sanji is irate, top lip curled in anger. His words bounce off you, and you frown with a small shake of your head. You shake it, not because you find the accusation incredulous–you and Zoro had fought the best you could to protect the money–but because it feels as if you should care more. Zoro–usually calm, composed, quick to avoid drama–always flies at the handle at Sanji’s provocation. This time it’s no different. He comes, not to his own defense, but yours. The cloud over your mind lifts, and there’s a light beaming into your chest. Your mouth twists into a grimace.
You try to keep the light out by bringing a hand to your chest. Beams slip right through the cracks of your fingers.
Your hand is still over your chest when Robin goes missing. You seek her out, desperate for an ally to make you forget–to remind you of the dangers of letting others in. There was an unspoken understanding between you two; a darkness shared and understood. You understand this even when you find out about Robin’s possible betrayal. In your heart, you try to reason, in your mind you find enough to doubt. When Zoro speaks up, like the devil on your shoulder, and makes it clear he isn't holding his breath when it comes to Robin, coldness sets in. People were complicated. You had learned that lesson with blood in your mouth. You wonder if Zoro has learned this as well–or was he the darkness too? Did he find it hard to trust? Had he been forced to cement walls around himself?
You begin to sink in, hiding behind your usual facade. Lies slip out of your mouth, one after the other, snakes with two and three heads. It was better this way, fabricating a self so different from your true source that nobody could ever hurt you. Desire could only lead to disappointment. Whatever embers he had left behind on the back of your hand, you try to smother it out, covering it with your free hand.
IV - WAXING GIBBOUS
Raucous laughter meets shadows and light.
Luffy could never pass up a party, and after saving Robin there was so much to celebrate. The taste of sake on his tongue was familiar; a pleasant burning whose limits he knew all too well. This was something he could control, a phenomenon that did not incite fear or anxiety.
He could not say the same about the phenomenon of your skin under the light of the moon. A throat so dry he feels choking seizes his words, so he drinks and drinks and drinks. Relief never comes, sentences he repeats in his head as he circles around you fester in the pit of his stomach. You are so happy–elated even, that Robin is back. You haven’t left her side, cracking joke after joke.
It’s sickening how much it irritates him that you refuse to be alone. If it’s not Robin, it’s Nami clinging to your hand, offering you another drink. If it’s not Nami, it’s Luffy trying to shove more food at you–food you gently refuse. If it’s not Luffy, it’s the stupid cook, hearts shooting out of his eyes as he touches your hand.
Your hand–the one he hasn’t touched.
He bites down so hard he thinks he’s cracked a tooth, so he spits at the ground, expecting blood. He sees nothing, and chooses to believe that this means nothing. The sake is rotten, and he is tired, so so tired. Zoro doesn’t pray, he has never prayed in his whole life but he considers it that night when he closes his eyes. So he hopes instead. He hopes he’ll be over it in the morning and you’ll be nothing–a long forgotten moonbeam in a distant night sky.
He wakes up, and realizes quickly that you are still not nothing.
He swings his swords repeatedly, motions that he is familiar with. He focuses on the strain of his muscles, the ache slowly setting in. He focuses on the sweat on the back of his neck, the one dripping down his rippling muscles. He focuses as much as he can, but your gaze on him is fastidious.
He senses you watching him, a strange lecherous feeling that twists his stomach. He refuses to meet your gaze and bites down again. If his teeth cracked then so be it.
You are shameless, he thinks, as he swallows his drink. Your dark eyes are unwavering, focused on his neck. Zoro swallows, heart beating in his chest like a wild animal. His foot is under the table, tapping away as he tries to keep the rest of him still. Nami is arguing with Luffy, and Zoro shakes his head slightly, trying to wake up from the spell you have casted on him. He should laugh with the others, he should ignore Sanji’s pointed stare, he should ignore the cold sweat on his forehead and the sudden dip at the pit of his stomach when you lick your lips.
When you finally drag your eyes away from his neck, in a way that looks like it pained you, Zoro takes a sharp breath. He thinks you have set him free from this twisted prison but you ensnare him again when you meet his eyes. Zoro brings his glass to his mouth once more, and swallows the remains of the whiskey.
It burns his chest on the way down, but there is a fire more heated and consuming at the bottom of his stomach. One that builds higher and higher when you smile at him.
Later that night, when he’s prowling the newly constructed Thousand Sunny like a restless large feline, Zoro has to remind himself why he even set out from his hometown. He reminds himself that he has to become the strongest swordsman, as he fights the urge to slide his hands down his stomach, to reach further down for the arousal that bothers him. His forehead pressed against the cold wood of the training room, he tries to reason with his breathing. He thinks about the new bounties announced, the thrill of new adventures. There is no room for deviation in his goals. He knows this. There is a set path to follow–the one the moon has been guiding him to all along.
Turning to you would just lead him to darkness. Zoro refused to be swallowed up by it, no matter how alluring the flash of its teeth were.
V FULL MOON
A life for a life.
He thought nothing of it at first. He thought it necessary. At first he had lived selfishly, seeking to keep a promise given a long time ago. Somewhere along the way, his Captain’s dream had become as important as his. Somewhere along the way, he had friends he cared about, friends he wanted to protect. His strength alone had not been enough, and so for this sin: he offers his life.
If there was anyone who could protect the rest, it would be Luffy.
He tries to hold on to this hope as pain cuts into him. It rips at his skin, making tatters at what keeps him together. Blood splurts, hot and searing. A pain that burns so deep he thinks it’s in his soul. He clenches his teeth, willing for them to crack and splinter off, if it means keeping quiet. A man should not cry when his mind has been set up. His eyes are open but he sees nothing–not in particular, except his own blood clouding his vision.
He tries to focus on other things, when a pain so blinding and deep makes him want to drop to his knees. He thinks of Nami and Usopp, and hopes they’ll be okay. He wonders if Chopper will grow happier. He wants to believe Sanji will get stronger, enough to continue protecting everyone. That stupid, idiotic cook who had tried to offer his own life in his place. Zoro grimaces, a pained groan almost leaving his mouth so he bites down on his tongue–metal taking over his taste buds.
He had no regrets. He never had any but as his vision becomes blurry there’s a face that fills his eyes. A different kind of pain booms in his chest, until it fills everything, until it pushes out the air from his lungs. He takes a ragged breath, and feels fear for the first time in a long time. He fears regret. He fears never seeing her face again. He fears never knowing.
He should have held her. He should have kissed her. Just like he always wanted to.
He curses the sound of your voice, the same that cuts through the pain, and reminds him to hold on. He curses the softness of your skin–the back of your hand, the only sensation he knows of you. He curses how he craves to know more even in the face of this endless pain.
He curses you over and over again, until it is done, until all he knows is the pain you leave behind.
Sanji annoys him. Zoro tries to not lash out. His body feels heavy but he feigns it. He tries to keep it together for as long as he can. He has to make sure they’re all okay. Once he is convinced that it was all worth it, once he sees your face wearing an expression he doesn’t want to think about, he allows himself to rest. It takes all the energy he has left to leave you–to walk away from you without touching you, to not run his fingers through your hair, to press your body against his.
As consciousness fades, he wonders how much longer he can hold back. Would he regret it later? If he died? Would he regret never telling you? His inner voice becomes slurred, incoherent, distant until darkness takes him under.
Robin tries to tell you, even though Sanji tried to stop her. She tries to tell you the truth about Zoro but you dismiss her. You insist it is none of your business. Your voice is calm, flat even, as you fold laundry in an attempt to hide your trembling hands. In your mind, you’re screaming. In your mind, you want to run and grab him by the neck. In your mind, you want to understand what possessed him.
But in your heart you know why. In your heart, you know that Zoro wouldn’t have had it any other way, so you try to pretend you don’t know. It was the least you could do to pay him back for what he had given you all.
You know he will be fine. You know he will recover. He just needs time. You want to give it to him, and you do, as you try to stay busy. Still, your feet are treacherous. They keep taking you back to him. You watch him sleeping, a sickness weighing you down. Your eyes feel full, a heart so heavy you think you might collapse under its weight. Heavy feet root you to the spot by his bed. Trembling fingers reach out, so hesitant they can only touch lightly. You softly brush fingertips across his forehead; your silent prayer for him to wake up soon. The sight of his battered body makes you sigh, and your tear filled eyes rest on his hand. Those hands that had protected everyone time and time again. They seemed so strong every time he wielded his swords. Not once did you think they could look this frail. You reach out to touch the bandages, and gently squeeze his wrapped index finger.
Just as gently, you reach down and kiss his temple.
“Wake up, idiot,” you whisper, lips brushing against his clammy skin. “I miss you.”
Your confession feels like a knife you pushed into your own chest. You move quickly, almost run out of the room. Blood gushes, and you hold up a hand, trying to push it back in; the feelings, the words, that kiss.
When he wakes, it takes a moment to feel like he is awake at all. It isn’t until the straw hats leave Thriller Bark that he feels more like himself. Per Luffy, there’s a celebratory dinner. Brooks–someone Zoro was still getting used to–had taken it upon himself to be the night’s entertainment. Fish-Man Island was the next destination and Zoro’s excitement was slowly overtaken by hazy thoughts of you. The more he drank, the more he thought he should finally tell you. The more he watched everyone laugh, eat, sing, drink—the more he thought he should just accept it.
He should accept the pull you had on him. He should accept the command, the order of things; like the moon and tide.
He follows this pull up to the crow’s nest, newly remodeled by Franky. There’s little time for Zoro to admire the modifications. He is too busy trying to find a way to breathe again after the sight of you left him breathless. You’re bent over the telescope, gazing at the sky–he figures maybe the moon, maybe the stars. He’s not sure. All he’s sure of is that his heart might burst if it beats any faster. All he is sure of is that if he doesn’t find a way to silence it, you might hear it past the bones, and flesh entrapping it.
A fluttering of anxiety fills him with dread. A strange feeling he isn’t familiar with. It feels as if it was imperative he touches you; as if he didn’t, only death would follow, as if he didn’t hold you, the world–his or everyone’s–would end. It was such a dramatic, sickening feeling he wanted to rip his own heart out. If that was the solution, he’d do it but he had a feeling at the pit of his stomach that even that wouldn’t work.
He tries to quiet his breathing, not wanting to disturb you, too mesmerized by the sight of your round and plump ass. There’s fire over his skin, blistering and searing the hairs on his arms. He clears his throat, alerting you to his presence.
You turn around, embarrassed that you didn’t feel him entering the room. It’s a fleeting emotion, quickly overtaken by something much more complicated; heavier, infinitely more deadly. It is sickening, really, how insanely attractive he is. You swallow with difficulty, suddenly annoyed that you didn’t bring a drink with you; anything to whet your appetite if it meant keeping your hands off Zoro.
“Hey,” you say softly, trying to buy time for your mind to kick into gear. The cogs in your brain are sluggish. You blame the alcohol, and not the fire in your belly. You want to tell him you’re glad that he’s awake. You want to tell him how scary it was, but you know he wouldn’t want to hear that. “I’m sorry I drank all your sake while you slept,” you tell him instead, your mouth stretching into a crooked smile. “I figured someone should.”
He scoffs, matching your grin.
“That’s a poor excuse. You’re such a liar,” he tells you, and you take a sharp breath. You’re not sure if he meant it–that you were a liar–or if he just said it in passing. You blame the alcohol for your confusing thoughts, and you blame it again when you don’t notice the way he has quickly breached the distance between you two.
The moon is full and bright, hanging high in the inky night sky. Its light is bright and it shoots through the window, spilling over the floor. Zoro is mesmerized by the way it glistens on your brown skin. You look so small against the window, with your back to the moon, it makes him want to crush you against his chest. His mind is hazy, his tongue heavy. He blames the sake. He blames the sake and the moon. He blames them as his hand reaches out to brush a curl out of your face. He tucks it behind an ear, his eyes memorizing the roundness of your cheek, the shell of your ear. He blames the moonlight on your skin, when he cups your cheek to see if he can trap it there, between your skin and his calluses.
He blames the night sky, the smell of the sea when he reaches down to softly brush his lips against yours.
You can’t breathe when his nose brushes against yours. You still can’t breathe when he pulls back, enough to look down at you. His eyes stare into yours and you still can’t find your breath. You think you’ll die now, by Zoro’s mouth, by his hand on your cheek. Your heart pounding against your frail ribs reminds you that you’re still alive. It is a resounding call to arms. You think you should pick up your weapons, but the fire in his eyes burns your resolve to ash.
His heart is on fire. Zoro knows that is a ridiculous thought. He knows that’s not even correct or possible, but the longer he looks at you, the more he feels it to be true. He hears it in the distance; the sound of war—drums, and screaming, blades scratching against each other, sinew tearing, blood gushing; throbbing in his ears and in his veins.
The sound echoes in his body, a rush of adrenaline lighting small fires throughout his being. This moment feels infinite, as if he is frozen in time. A want so desperate pools inside him until it ignites.
He comes tumbling down when he kisses you again. A ravenous mouth open and seeking against yours. His large hands hold your face, as he brushes his tongue against yours with the sole purpose of consuming; conquering. Your tongue is warm and soft, slippery, a sensation he can’t get enough of. He hums when you give in, when you let him suck on it without inhibitions. His breathing is harsh through his nose, and it becomes quicker when you place your hands over his, when you move them down his arms onto his chest.
You grasp on to his shirt, as you return his kisses. His teeth are unforgiving. They bite down on your bottom lip, on the corners of your mouth. He is insistent on discovering everything about it. He runs his tongue against your bottom lip, his forehead pressed against yours. He wonders as he sucks on it, how many times have you bitten down on it, how many words have you swallowed in place to offer lies instead. He’s never told you how often he sees right through you. He sees it even now, as you struggle for control.
“Don’t fight it,” he breathes against your cheek, his fingers tangling in your hair. “Not now. Not tonight.” He kisses your closed eyes; one at a time. He kisses your cheeks, lips blistering hot. You feel him brush his mouth against your jawline. “Don’t think. Not until tomorrow,” he asks you against your neck, trailing kisses down the column of it. You think about this offer, consider rejecting, but when his teeth snags against the soft flesh on the hollow of your neck you forget everything. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as he follows your collarbone to one shoulder. He bites down with enough force to make you cry–one that turns into a soft moan.
It is enough. That is the sound that snaps his resolve. He wanted to be gentle. He wanted to make this moment last, as if he would never have it again, but you are something he was never prepared to fight against. When you moaned, with your nails digging into his back he was left with no choice. He had to have you, tonight, at all costs.
His hands are as unforgiving as his mouth. They rip into your clothes, ignoring your protests. The sound of tearing fabric is accompanied by the sound of your gasps. His breathing is harsh against your ears, causing a wetness between your legs you try to take no responsibility over. It is the sight of his chest, wide and thick when he rips his own shirt that makes your mouth water. Your hands reach out immediately, just as you always dreamed of. You run your palms over his muscles, memorizing every dip and sharp angle, as you press your open mouth to his neck. You suck on a spot, determined to leave a mark–any. It was desperation. One that was fed by fear. You feared this moment not lasting. You feared never again touching his skin, kissing him, holding him.
His own desperation was evident by his greedy hands. They way he seized your hips, to press his erection against you. His hands slide over your hips to your ass, and he digs his fingers into the supple flesh. He’s kissing you again, a clash of tongue of teeth; sloppy, and messy, a wetness on your chin he licks up before sucking on the spot. Zoro’s eyes take in the sight of the floor, as you kiss his chest. He moans when you bite down over a nipple, and he pulls on your hair.
“Stop that,” he hisses, pushing you back towards the benches. “Or I’ll fuck you on the floor.” It doesn’t sound unappealing to your ears, so you try to bite his other nipple but he is faster than you. He picks you up by the ass, forcing you to shout in surprise. Zoro carries you to the bench, and he sits down after placing you back on the ground.
You look down at him, and his naked chest. His pants are still on and you feel extremely exposed. Zoro had, in his efficacy, ripped every single article of clothing you had on. Leaving you naked, and heated. You scoff.
“So you get to keep your pants on?” you ask him, pointing with a frown. Zoro laughs at you, as he reaches into his trousers with one hand. He pulls out his hardened cock, and strokes it gently. There’s a lump in your throat, one with no name, so you swallow it quickly. The sight of his pink tip is enticing. He smears the precum over his slit with his thumb. You think it a shame, and almost tell him so but he’s speaking trying to get your attention.
“Pay attention,” he tells you with a raised brow, his hand settled now at the base of his cock. You raise a brow to match his. Zoro smiles, and pats his lap with his free hand. “Come here,” he commands you to move towards him, heart hammering away at the prospect. You had thought of this moment before. You had no shame admitting it now. You had thought often of how it would feel to have Zoro inside you, so deep you could feel like dying. It seems Zoro had other plans when you approach him as he spins you around by the hips. “This way. Your back to me.”
You swallow and sit on his lap, feeling his cock pressed against your ass. He kisses your shoulder, your neck as his hands roam over your thighs. There’s a slick coating your folds. You’re more aware of it the more he touches your skin. His breath is hot against your ear when he speaks again: “I’m going to spread your legs,” he tells you, and follows through quickly on his statement, spreading them by grabbing your thighs. You gasp, cool air touching your heated core. Zoro runs his tongue along the shell of your ear. He nips the top of it, teeth sharp and digging hard enough to leave an imprint. You feel yourself getting wetter.
“You’re wet,” he breathes out–a heated whisper, almost trembling. His fingers rifle through your folds, slickness covering his fingertips. Zoro presses his mouth against your ear, his eyes closing at the pleasure. It feels so silky and soft in his fingers. He craves more. “I’m going to make you cum,” he tells you, slipping one finger in slowly, one knuckle at a time. “I’m going to make you cum over and over again. I want to touch you everywhere, deep inside.” He slips in another finger when you moan, curving them in search of that spongy spot. His desire builds the wetter you get, the more you moan and whimper in his hold. His cock is hard, and it leaks again against your back. You feel it there sticking to your skin. “I want you,” he growls against your shoulder, as he picks up the pace, scissoring his fingers inside your squelching pussy. “I want you so badly. This isn’t enough.” His teeth sink into the soft flesh of your shoulder. You cry out, as he clamps down harder, leaving a mark on your skin. He kisses the blooming bruise, hand moving desperately as you clench around his fingers. The soft pad of his palm beats against your clit, his calluses eliciting a pleasure you never knew could be possible every time they brush over your sensitive nub.
He leans over you, his broad chest making you feel vulnerable and small. Your thighs are aching as he continues to push his fingers in and out of you. “Maybe another one,” he grunts in between pants, peering over your shoulder. He watches himself insert a third finger into your soaking pussy. You cry out, at the sensation of being stretched. He is watching himself work, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Sweat clings to his temple, and runs down his cheek. You’re doing your best to hold back, the fear of being heard keeps you from giving in entirely but the sight of him so enthralled with the way he’s beating into your pussy makes you want to fold. “Do you like it?” he asks you, panting against your ear. You whimper and bite down on your lip, almost drawing blood. “You’re so wet and so tight. I think you do,” he insists, licking your ear, and sucking on your earlobe quickly after. “But why are you holding back?” His mouth is flushed against your ear, his breath humid. “Are you scared they’ll hear you?”
Zoro chuckles lightly against your ear, picking up speed until it becomes a brutalizing pace. The sounds in crow’s nests are lewd enough to make you blush. You hear the wet sound of your pussy, the way you keep whimpering and gasping. Your body is shaking.
“Come on, babe,” he asks you in almost a whine. You gasp, and moan, surprised at the visceral reaction your body had to the sound of his soft voice. “Let me hear you. The real you. Or do I have to fuck you harder?”
The moon continues to hang high in the sky as he works his fingers inside you. Its beams scatter in the room, casting shadows over the side of your face, and over your breasts. He wishes he could see more than he does. He wishes he could memorize the sight of you, falling apart to his touch, and never forget it. The scent of your shampoo haunts him, so he scissors his fingers inside you in a desperate attempt to even the odds.
He kneads one breast with his free hand, squeezing its nipple between index and thumb. When you cry out, he gasps loudly against your ear, surprised at how much that turned him on. He wants to hear it again, again, and again; so he repeats the motion, twisting and pulling until you’re moaning and whimpering in his embrace. Your skin looks so soft under the moonlight. He brushes his lips over your neck and shoulders trying to taste you. It isn’t enough so he tries again, chasing the essence that makes you who you are. He nips at the flesh of your back as you bend over, a particular strong jolt of pleasure forcing your tummy to contract. No matter how many times he digs his teeth into your skin, until you’re covered in crescent shaped marks, he can’t seem to get his fill of you. You feel so good around his fingers, your arousal dripping down his wrist and his forearm.
Your orgasm catches him unaware, and he slows down his fingers, surprised at the loudness of your voice. He finds himself laughing against the hair above your ear, pleasure making him shiver. His fingers slow down slightly before he pulls them out entirely. “About time,” he whispers before he has you flip over to face him. He adjusts you on his lap, until you’re grinding your soaked pussy on his cock. “But we’re not done. I need more.” He brings your face to him, a hand on the back of your neck. The kiss is forced, mouth pressed tightly against yours. You whimper softly under its weight. Whatever tenderness that kiss held evaporates when his attention moves downwards to your breasts.
He sucks on your breasts, as he grips your hips. His fingers hold you so tightly you’re compelled to move them against his length. He leaves bites over the swell of your breasts, and the fire inside you continues to burn. You had stopped trying to hold it in, your moans cast into the shield of darkness like stars on the inky sky. Zoro seizes them with his mouth, teeth bearing down on them. He pins them to his body like decoration and seizes to find more, conquer another every time he nips at your sensitive nipples. You hold on to Zoro, desperation forcing you to dig your nails into his back. Every time he kisses your breasts you feel like melting, disappearing into the heat of his mouth.
Your hands reach out to his face, trembling. Your hips move still, the heat of Zoro’s hands keeping them steady. His eyes on your face send a shiver down your spine. Your breath feels so out of reach, as if you’ll never catch up to it, to place it back in your lungs. You trace over the angle of his cheekbones, try to memorize the sharpness of his jawline by going over it with one index finger. Although pleasure continues to build, you’re distracted by the sight of his ears. His earrings trap the light of the moon, and they blink repeatedly, little stars hanging from his earlobe; a mesmerizing sight that makes you want to make a wish. If you wished with all your heart, would it come true? If you wished for a dream, would it be fulfilled?
Your breath hitches, eyes glued to his swinging earrings. Their beautiful golden color is made all the more striking against his tanned skin. You touch them, fingers playing with them. Zoro takes your hand and kisses the inside of your wrist, the pool of your palm. He moves your hand to his chest, and presses it there. The feel of his heartbeat steals your breath. You gulp, trying to shake the dizziness, but Zoro is kissing you, taking your bottom lip into his mouth gently. You hold his face between your hands when he pulls away, feeling like you’re holding on to water. His hands are back on your hips. He lifts you up, as the fingers of one hand drifts to his earrings again. You brush your fingers against them, and they make a soft tinkling sound–a quick little song–as he buries his cock inside you.
It is better than you could have ever imagined. He fills you in an instant, provoking moan after moan to flood your mouth. Soft, and steady, you tell yourself, pressing your forehead against his. He lets you lead at first, his fingers tapping repeatedly against your hips. He’s counting, for who knows what, timing an entrance.
Zoro thinks he's finally lost his damn mind. He was determined to savor this moment—like an expensive whiskey, consumed in small sips, swirled around the tongue before swallowing, but you’re so wet, your arousal coats his belly, and sinks into his pants. You’re hot inside, fiery, and smooth. Every swirl of your hips reminds him of how desperately he wants to ram into you, again and again. He thinks about you clenching around his fingers as you moan against his mouth. He sets his jaw, trying to tighten his grip around his willpower but your pussy is even tighter. His breathing is ragged, he shakes his head, trying to cast off the sudden heat in his eyes making him see red.
But he can’t help it. He can’t fight it any longer.
“Okay,” he says against your neck as you continue to bounce on his cock at a slow pace. His hands are on your hips, they grip tighter. It should have been your warning but you’re so caught up in the feel of him, eyes shut as your face is turned to the ceiling, that you don’t realize what’s happening. “I’m sorry but I need to do it my way now.” He holds you still, and starts thrusting up into your pussy at a maddening speed. You cry out at the sudden change of pace, fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders. He hisses, but he doesn’t let up, selfishly chasing the high of your tight pussy.
“Oh my God,” you cry out, eyes shut tightly, as pleasure courses through your body.
Zoro laughs against your pulse. He sucks on it even as laughter rumbles in his chest. When he comes up for air he asks you: “Who’s that? Don’t know him.”
You laugh but it turns shrill, morphing into a cry of pleasure. Zoro feels you clench around him, faster and faster. He moans, and bites your chin. He picks up the speed, angles his hips with his eyes on your face, determined not to miss a single thing. When you cum, fall apart around him, he watches you with his mouth open–barely staving off his own orgasm. You fall into him, and he holds you, your body twitching in his embrace.
“No,” he says, pushing your back on the bench. You look up, eyes fluttering close, your body feeling heavy and sore. “A little bit more. I need just a bit more.” You shake your head, weakly pressing a hand to his chest. Zoro takes your hand, wraps the arm attached to it around his neck. “Don’t act weak with me. I know how strong you are. So just take it. You can take it.” He takes one of your legs and places it on top of the backrest of the benches, your ankle bumping into the wall. Zoro stares down at you, and you’re caught again–by the heat of his gaze. Dark green lashes fluttering under the moonlight, his swinging earrings blinking at you, his mouth parted, a flush on his cheeks. It all looks so divine, you think this a sight belonging to the gates of Heaven. You think you’re close to dying.
And death comes calling when he enters you again. You have nothing left inside you to fight it. You moan time and time again, with every brutish slam of his hips against yours. His balls sound loud and impossibly perverse every time they slap against your ass. There are bruises forming, you’re sure, but you don’t care. You hold on to him, wrap your arms tightly around him but he pushes you down, determined to watch your expression. You cling to his hips instead, the ones that keep pummeling into you, harshly, his cock ramming into your puffy and overstimulated pussy. He thinks the sight of your face, twisted in a mixture of pain and pleasure is the sharpest knife he has ever been cut open by.
Zoro staves off a cry of pleasure by diving in for a kiss, desperately sucking your tongue into his mouth. He kisses the corner of your mouth. From his mouth, he hears stupid promises but his mind can’t believe it even through the haze of lust. He tries to take them back but he whispers into your ear again, soft and sweet things he wouldn’t dare speak in the light of the sun. You know he’s only saying this because he is not thinking straight, because like you, he is consumed by this burning lust. You know when a new moon comes, when this has waxed and waned, that he would forget the words uttered in a moment of madness.
He loves the way you feel, the way it’s so easy to kiss you. He loves the way your voice catches on his skin, slipping into the little cracks to stay forever. He hates it too. Hates how he thinks he’ll carry you always. Even in the light. Even in the dark. He thinks he should take it all back, the kisses, the words. He thinks this even buried to the hilt, your pussy fluttering around his length again. He thinks this even as he gasps and moans, cuming with you.
His body shudders as he spills inside you. You feel it start to ooze out of you, but you ignore it, just like you ignore the sudden flush of your face.
Zoro crumples over you, and covers you in kisses. Your hands are shaking as you seize his shoulders, trying to find the sense to speak about what just happened but he is gone the moment you grasp him. There are towels nearby, and he drapes one between your legs. He lowers himself over you, trapping your body between his arms. His mouth is still relentless, kissing your bruised lips over and over again. You see the moon caught in his earrings again, and you reach out for it.
Someone once told you, a dream was a wish you made on a star. Your fingers dance along his earrings. The gold blinks back at you–twinkling stars hanging from his ear. You wish, on all three, for the same dream.
You wish that maybe when the new moon comes, the pull it had on you two would bring you together time and time again.
#fic request#zoro x you#zoro x y/n#zoro x reader#zoro smut#zoro angst#zoro soft smut#Soft Smut ™#one piece x y/n#one piece x you#one piece x reader#one piece smut#one piece soft smut#for the cummunity!
419 notes
·
View notes
Note
hot scenario: phantom x mountain foot kink n a yummy bit of humiliation
YEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAH
HATE | No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |
Aeon catching Mountain while Aurora paints his toenails. Gives him a wink and wiggles his toes at him to make sure Mountain knows he knows. Aeon him go BEET red and stalk off elsewhere, and while his nails dry he takes some cute pictures of the tootsies. Waits until he catches Mountain in a group setting before he sends them to him, though. Until Aeon's in a spot where he can watch Mountain's eyes go wide and his throat get all flushed while he tries to maintain a conversation and hide his sudden erection.
Yeah, I'm down.
26 notes
·
View notes
Note
A question for you because you seem like one of those people who has watched everything: how did you get started watching bl, and what are your ultimate favorite shows?
Double-barrelled! I'm honoured.
How did I get into BL?
The short answer is that ~2016 the YouTube algorithm served me up Lovesick and I immediately went EXCUSE ME WHAT IS THIS and looked up everything else available and watched literally everything I could get my hands on (which at the time was easy because there was only a handful compared to today, but it still felt like a wealth of content to enjoy).
The longer answer is that I used to be really involved in GL (I was the secretary at the first Yuricon in North America in 2002 or 2003) and then BL manga fandom (was in a scanlation group for awhile) through ~2006? so its extra hilarious that this wasn't my route in; I apparently took a break right before they started making live action versions in Japan. But when I got into Thai BL it was fun rediscovering these tropes in a new medium and through the lens of a new-to-me culture, noticing how they differed and how the genre had matured (and how it hadn't), and on catching up on the stuff out of Japan, seeing some of the manga I read over a decade ago come to life! So I mention this history because it's definitely a part of why I stayed (and probably why the algorithm found me relatively quickly).
I only started tracking things in a spreadsheet in 2020 (and it's not nearly as comprehensive or useful as @absolutebl 's), but I did try to backfill the highlights of what I've seen and I have over 550 rows on there, fwiw. I'm a completionist so I do try to watch everything, though that's getting more and more impossible these days.
Ultimate Favourite Shows
This question is so hard. I know you didn't even give me a limit but you have to understand @lurkingshan, I can't choose favourites, I have a draft top ten list that has been blank for 3 years because I can't commit. Okok. I'm just going to list shows as they come to me (not in any particular order):
Thailand: Until We Meet Again, He's Coming to Me, Diary of Tootsies, WhyRU, Ingredients, Not Me, Secret Crush on You, I Told Sunset About You & I Promised You the Moon, Triage, You're My Sky, Make it Right, La Pluie, My Ride, Bad Buddy, My School President, Laws of Attraction, Moonlight Chicken, Dear Dr I'm Coming for Soul, To Sir With Love/Khun Chai, The Eclipse, Midnight Museum, Lovely Writer... Grey Rainbow [ducks, hides, runs away]
Japan: Doushitemo Furetakunai (no touching at all), Kinou Nani Tabeta (What did you eat yesterday?), Our Dining Table, Takara-Kun and Amagi-Kun, Old Fashioned Cupcake, 7 Days (mon-thurs & fri-sun), His (miniseries & movie), I Want to See Only You, Kieta Hatsukoi/My love mix-up, the Cherry Magic Movie, Life~Senjou no bokura/Love on the Line, 180 Degrees Longitude Passes Through Us, Given (anime is my fave version), Tokyo in April Is..., Cornered Mouse Dreams of Cheese, Utsukushii Kare/My beautiful man
Korea: Our Dating Sim, Semantic Error, The Lover [BL side], Color Rush, Blueming, Cherry Blossoms After Winter, Love Class 2, Made on the Rooftop, Discipline Z, Light on Me, To My Star (yes both seasons), Strongberry (faves are Long Time No See, Confidential Coffee Break, and A First Love Story), Sing My Crush, Just Friends?
Vietnam: Goodbye Mother, Hey! First Love, Nation's Brother, You Are Ma Boy, Follow My Sunshine, FOOLs, Tien Bromance: My Small Family, Love Bill
Philippines: Gameboys, Gaya sa Pelikula, Boys Lockdown, Cheat [warning: horror], Your Home, Better Days
Taiwan: Be Loved in House, My DNA Says Love You, We Best Love (1 & 2), HIStory (Crossing the Line is my fave, and second fave is...Make Our Days Count [ducks, hides, burrows into ground]).
Other: Summerdaze (short from Singapore), Stay Still (Hong Kong), HeHe and He (Hong Kong, final season in progress but s1&2 are so funny) and the bromances/difficult to categorize: Scumbag System, Word of Honor, The Untamed, Guardian, Coffee Prince, Bromance (Taiwanese), Great Men Academy, Mr Queen, Sleuth of Ming Dynasty, SCI Mystery
*deep breath* ok I'm stopping lol narrowing it down any less than this gives me pain so I won't try. Also I'm sure I forgot something obvious (and Tumblr was eating drafts of this at various points). All I can say about this list is it's under 100 and that's the best I could do.
Thanks for the ask, and to anyone who made it this far thanks for reading!
#thank you for the ask!#multi bl#rec list#i remain a parody of myself and unable to choose favourites#thank you for coming to my ted talk#ask game#typed so i can stop thinking it
46 notes
·
View notes
Note
I want to put AFO in my mouth and chew on him after this chapter
Unironically me too, the dude is wrapped up in SO many layers of denial and self delusion and it’s all bc he wants to hide what a pitifully weak person he actually is. Truly the tootsie pop of mha characters.
#mha spoilers#spoilers#like him blaming kudou for yoichi’s death…#afo really does have the emotional maturity of a five year old who is convinced that nothing is ever his fault#turning himself into a character in his own story is just another way to distance himself from taking responsibility for yoichi’s death
20 notes
·
View notes
Note
Currently thinking about catching the boys masturbating. 🫦 Do you think they would react differently if they caught you looking or on average the same?
Also love your work and happy you’re back. 💋
HAHAHAH NO BECAUSE I LITERALLY WATCHED GUYS JACKING OFF ALL EVENING YESTERDAY ON NSFT BECAUSE I’M A HUGE VOYEUR -
Anyway, thank you so much, love! <3 I’m happy to be back too (at least here anyway).
18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI
(You knew this was coming ¬‿¬)
Steve Rogers
Steve doesn’t masturbate a lot unless he’s on a long mission, but by chance you catch him in the act, it would be in the bedroom after he came from a mission and didn’t find you in the house. His raging boner makes him have to bust a quick one before you arrive home because it almost hurts. He uses one of your undergarments and gets off to the smell as his scenting is stronger than the average human, and he could smell your pussy clear as day through them. He doesn’t notice you entering the bedroom, halting by the door frame in shock of what you were witnessing.
Steve feels a presence moments later and locks his eyes with yours. He’s almost speechless but retorts his shyness and asserts dominance. “Got myself a peeping Tom, huh? You should be ashamed of yourself, doll. I’ll have to teach you a lesson of respecting my privacy…” and with that he decides to finger you hard until you squirt.
Ransom Drysdale
Ransom is a man of needs, and if you’re gone for too long (whatever he defines as a long time), he’ll resolve to jacking off in his king sized bed using his expensive custom fleshlight molded to look just like your pussy. He groans as he imagines it being you, but of course it doesn’t feel nearly as good as your real cunt. He makes obscene noises as he chants your name, but then he hears a gasp and he is immediately drawn away from his fantasy. He sees you, holding your mouth with a regretful face of letting that sound slip your mouth.
His face turns red out of embarrassment, but he tries to hide it with a dirty suggestion. “You better not utter a word unless it’s to tell me you’re gonna suck my dick - to which I choose is your obligation because you’ve been a naughty kitten.”
Ari Levinson
Late in the afternoon when Ari thinks you’re asleep, he would masturbate out of casual horniness for you and hope that the sound of the TV was loud enough for you not to hear his lewd noises. He would spread his legs on the couch and stroke himself with relaxed eyes. Little does he know you’re behind him after you woke up to get some water, and you stopped when you saw Ari’a arm in motion as grunts came out of him. You let out a mewl that caught Ari’s ears and he turned around to see you.
“Oh, would you look at that. Little minx couldn’t help but watch me touch myself. Why don’t you join me so you can help me out while I touch your pretty little pussy?”
Johnny Storm
You would have caught this guy jacking off in the bathroom after he got out of a steamy shower. You heard him moan and huff short breaths and so you decided to peek through the unlocked door and enjoy the show of him jerking off to a polaroid picture he took when he had his cum splayed on your tits. You only had sex an hour ago, but you aren’t too surprised to see him like this, especially since Johnny’s one major manwhore.
The door slightly creeks, and his head snaps over to see you. He smirks and puts down the polaroid picture. “What’cha hiding there for? Get your sweet ass in here and I’ll cum on your face, tootsie.”
Jake Jensen
You hear all kinds of grunts and whining along with subtle mutters coming from Jake’s computer room. And low and behold - Jake’s gripping his cock tight on his office chair as he listens to your moans he had once recorded on full volume with his headphones. He mutters obscene things like ‘oooh, just like that, babe!’ Or ‘ah, wanna fuckin’ cum on your thighs!’
He only takes notice of you when his eyes loosen up from squinting for so long and he immediately jolts up in panic. “- Shit!! Um, hey! You weren’t supposed to see me like this…” he says while tucking a blanket over himself. You shake your head with a smile of adoration at his unnecessary embarrassment and decide to remind him who he is to you by giving him a thigh job.
Andy Barber
Andy would most likely be in your shared bed when he’s masturbating, not expecting you to turn up early home. You would accidentally walk in on him as he usually closes the bedroom door behind him out of habit and he tends to moan and grunt discreetly, so you wouldn’t know what he was doing before entering.
He’ll be surprised to see you, but have lust drawn back to him as he sees the way your thighs clench at the sight. “Welcome home, honey. You’re just in time. Come sit on my fat cock and help me finish, like a good whore I know you are.”
——————————————————————————
Note from author: thank you for the prompt sweet anon. <3 Hope I have granted only thirst in the name of voyeurism.
Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! •v•
#anon <3#cevans characters#chris evans character fanfiction#ransom drysdale#johnny storm#steve rogers#andy barber#jake jensen#ari levinson#cevans characters hcs#chris evans x reader#chris evans
347 notes
·
View notes
Text
Info about my DC OCs
Benjamin Williams
Ally of Batman
Good
Night Edwards
Ally of Nightwing
Good
Tootsie Jingles
Aids Joker (originally they were gonna be adopted by him)
Inspired by Fizzarolli from Helluva Boss
Clowncore
Neo demon
Evil
Jamie Quinzel
Adopted daughter of Harley Quinn
Younger cousin of Blade Quinzel
Evil
Blossom Isley
Adopted daughter of Poison Ivy
Friends with Jamie Quinzel
Younger sister of Vince Isley
Evil
Ray Nygma
Adopted son of The Riddler
Friends with Trace Dent
Evil
Trace Dent
Adopted daughter of Two Face
Looks exactly like him but she hates when anyone says it to her
Friends with Ray Nygma, Meredith Miranda and Evelyn Wesker
Evil
Kraig Jones
Adopted son of Killer Croc
Very aggressive
Has anger issues, tends to get angered easily
Evil
Shows a soft side to his allies, especially Fangs Langstrom
Allies with Lucian, Kaleb and Fangs
Talon Cobblepot
Adopted son of Penguin
Bird lover
Younger brother of Feather Cobblepot
Evil
Katherine Kyle-Angela
Adopted daughter of Catwoman
Cat lover
Youngest child of Mr Angela and Mrs Angela (formerly)
Younger sister of Katelyn Kyle
Neutral
Katelyn Kyle-Angela
Adopted daughter of Catwoman
Oldest child of Mr Angela and Mrs Angela (formerly)
Older sister of Katherine Kyle
Cat lover
Neutral
Toffee Karlo
Created by Clayface
Clay demon
Evil
Can morph her limbs but unable to shapeshift into others
Berg Fries
Oldest child of Mr Freeze and Nora Fries
Older brother of Snow Fries
Cousin of North
His body was frostbitten when he was sprayed liquid nitrogen
His goggles were given by Mr Freeze to use
Evil
Evelyn "Evie" Wesker
Evil
Adopted daughter of Ventriloquist
Cousin of Michele and Michelle
She is aided along with her ventriloquist dummy Stitcher. The two share a positive to eachother
Stitcher
Ventriloquist dummy
Created by Evie's cousin Michele
Evil
He is shown to have a soft side to Evie
Hallow Crane
Evil
Youngest adopted child of Scarecrow
Younger brother of Lauren and Laurent
Cousin of Craven and Lunar
Is a living scarecrow (he originally was gonna be a human in a scarecrow costume
Friends with Meredith, Echo and Spook
Shade Miranda
Neutral but mostly on the evil
Ally of Scarecrow
Foster mother of Meredith and Myers
Shows respect for the Wayne family but only does it if Scarecrow isn't around with her
Acts as a mentor to Hallow's studies on fear
Wife of Nathaniel
Meredith Miranda
Foster daughter of Shade and Nathaniel
Sister of Myers
Friends with Hallow, Evelyn, Trace, Flakes, Echo and Spook
Evil
Refers to Scarecrow as 'Dr. Crane'
Scotch Tetch
Youngest adopted son of Mad Hatter
Younger brother of Bowie Tetch
Evil
Kaleb Langstrom
Oldest child of Man-Bat and She-Bat
Older brother of Fangs Langstrom
Evil
Became a bat after he had the same serum his father had
Fangs Langstrom
Youngest child of Man-Bat and She-Bat
Younger sister of Kaleb
Neutral but mostly on the evil
Provided as an emotional support companion for Kraig Jones' anger issues
Feather Cobblepot
Adopted daughter of Penguin
Older sister of Talon
Mean towards anyone except her younger brother Talon(she cares for him) and her adopted dad(she is loyal to)
Evil
Coona Walker
Adopted by Killer Moth
Moth
Evil
Torch Lynns
Adopted son of Firefly
Twin brother of Ember
Evil
Spook
'Experiment' of Scarecrow (they were originally was made to be his creation)
Living scarecrow
Mostly hides in his hat
Evil
Friends with Hallow and Meredith
Echo
Evil
Allies with Hallow, Meredith, Spook and Flakes
Adopted by Scream Queen
Tanny
Trans MTF
Adopted by Mrs Manface and Babyface
Evil
Leader Scorch
Inspired by Father from Kids Next Door
Runs an academy for young rogues
Evil
Harrison, Carrie and Misty
Inspired by the Delightful Children From Down The Lane from Kids Next Door
They speak by unison
Claimed by Leader Scorch as his creations
Evil
Betty The Blob Caretaker
Takes care thousands of blob creatures
Female
Good
Lucian Dorrance
Adopted son of Bane
Wears a mask on his face to hide his scars
Speaks in a thick Spanish accent
Evil
Metro
Young ally of Superman
Good
Volt
Young ally of The Flash
Good
Emerald
Young ally of Green Lantern
Good
Blank
Young ally of Question
Good
Bullet
Adopted by Deathstroke
Evil
Allies with Torch and Ember
Topher
Aids Deacon Blackfire
Possesses demon transformation by his rage
Evil
Swirl
Aids Professor Pyg
Italian-American
Evil
Cheryl
Topher's ally/servant
Obeys to what Topher says to her
Neutral but mostly on the evil
Dust Edwards
He is shown to not get along with Hallow, the two would argue on who is a better friend to Meredith
Evil
Friends with Meredith
Colton Snart
Adopted by Captain Cold
Evil
Friends with Berg, Snow and Toffee
Scorch
Aids Heatwave
Evil
Cloudy
Aids Weather Wizard
Really calm
Evil
Has an ability involving their emotions being the weather; sunny - happy, rain - sad and thunder - angry
Stormer
Aids Weather Wizard
Chaotic
Evil
Ability to unleash thunderstorms
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
Na'vi toes be so powerful... canonically the Reason their big toes are Like That is bc they use them to grip the ground and propel themselves through the denser air on Pandora. We don't see it much in the movies bc its one of those details that would Negatively impact the film if it was focused on by seeming Frivolous, but i believe one of the art books mentions that, to a human, running on pandora feels like trying to run against a really strong wind bc of how dense it is! Na'vi Need those powerful tootsies to Live Effectively be NICE to them 🦶🦶🦶!!! ( not a foot fetishist, just Very autistic about Avatar 😎 )
Side note: given that fact just imagine how fuckin toned and powerful all of their Legs must be as a result, too..... like yes they always look good but how much strength is hiding under there... ough... thighs..........
I’d love to get crushed by Na’vi thighs fr
I’m also very autistic about Avatar 😂
22 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
sadlykpopobsessed
hey baby, you and me
ohhalefire
What kind of, uh... murder, exactly?
reallyhere
Is this how you do it?
yvtro
moving to @boyfridged!
catradorascult
gay shit