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#man i’d be salty too

explicit-tae · 7 months

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Ungodly Hour (1)

That time you - a broke college student - were willing to do just about anything for a hulu account after your brother kicks you off of his - (and Jungkook would do anything to have you).

Series Masterlist

Word count: 1.687

Warning: idk yall, i was bored, smut, college au, jungkook is thirsty, reader is somewhat slutty but with good reasons, dirty talking, swallowing, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, riding, cumming,

Your mouth wrapped around the tip of Jungkook’s cock, twirling the head in your mouth. You only slightly (maybe more than you want to admit) the way the salty pre-cum drips into your mouth as you suck. Even better were his moans - so soft and velvety; melodic.

if anyone was to blame it had to be your brother - he was the nuisance in your life. It was as if he intended on making your life a complete mess.

You were a good person, daughter and sister. You did what you had to do - attend classes everyday. You went to work and then home without a care. You worked at a grocery store part time and made enough to pay your half of the rent. Sure, with the price of groceries now you couldn’t be bothered to buy any. But that’s where your parents came in. You craved independence from them but only for privacy. You made sure you were there every night for dinner and sometimes if you had time, breakfast in the mornings.

Your brother was just upset that you accidentally bought an add-on on his hulu account - but how else were you supposed to watch what you wanted if he was too cheap to pay for anything further? It was bad enough you had to sit through 2 minute ads - it was the least he could do.

This is how you now found yourself sucking Jungkook off - the same man you had been dodging ever since the pair of you met. He gave off fuck boy vibes and the last thing you needed was that in your life - until you actually did need Jungkook. The irony.

Jungkook watches with hooded eyes at the beautiful sight of you. You had now grasped the length of his cock and began to pump him, focusing more on the tip of his head. He was glad the two of you were alone - seeing as you didn’t even have the decency to take him to your room and insisted on doing this on the couch. But Jungkook wasn’t a picky person - he prayed for times such as this. You were the play hard to get type and one thing he enjoyed was the chase.

Jungkook places a hand on the back of your head and thrusts lighty into your mouth, groaning as he does so. You allowed it. You laid your tongue flat, eyes flickering up to watch his expression. Satisfaction bubbled deep inside of you at the sight of his lust-filled expression. Dark hooded eyes, gasping lips.

“I waited, fuck…so long for this.” Jungkook groans, pumping inside of your mouth a little faster. His thumb caresses your cheek. “I told you that I’d have you one day, didn’t I?” he says smugly.

You groan a response, throat vibrating against his cock. That bastard, you thought. Jungkook did - he told you that one day your “play hard to get” act would crumble and when it did, he’d be there. But this couldn’t count - right? You were doing this for the greater good, after all. You had shows to watch and Jungkook just so happened to be the one that had a premium account.

You feel the tip of Jungkook’s cock tickling the back of your throat, testing to see how far you’d let him go. There’s a trail of saliva dripping from the corner of your lips and it drips slowly down your chin. Your mouth was heavy - wet and warm and inviting. You were determined to make him cum and he was determined to do just that.

Jungkook’s hand grips your hair - you moan at the sensation. He pumps just a little faster, your slurps and gagging hitting his ears and he moans at just how filthy you were for him.

“I’m about to cum.” Jungkook groans. His free hand wipes away a lone tear that releases from your eye. “You okay?” he asks, slowing his thrusts.

Your response was to bring him deeper into your mouth, blinking up at him. You slap his thigh harshly and that was all the permission he needed to fuck your throat. He shudders, feeling his toes curl. It didn’t help that your teary eyes watched his every move - and Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Even now while he took control, you remain just as stubborn; challenging him. “F-Fuck…” Jungkook grunts. “W-Where do I cum?”

Jungkook wants to slap himself, forgetting that you can’t exactly respond to him. But he’s unsure if cumming inside of your mouth would be too intimate - but then again, you could always spit it out and he would be fine with that.

You gag, feeling your throat swell with the warm, salty substance. You inhale through your nose and moan. “L-Let me find-” Jungkook watches as you swallow and lick your lips - he feels his cheeks redden and his heart thump.

You wipe your eyes of the pathetic tears and hum. “Don’t get big headed.” you hiss.

Jungkook smirks and bats his eyelashes. “Never.” he says. “I already made you a profile on my hulu account.”

You watch as Jungkook takes out his phone to show you the account and like state, he did make you your own profile. You snort at the name - stargirl. “I’ll text you the information to get into it.”

You place your hands onto his thighs. Your eyes lower to his cock - it wasn’t completely erect, but it wasn’t softening, either.

“I was told I would get peacock and hbo max.” you say to him. You didn’t want to tell him that you were wet and wanted to ride him, his head was already big enough.

“I have hbo max as an add on with hulu.” Jungkook responds, eyes darkening at the thought of feeling you.

“Hm. That’s too bad.” you tilt your head. “I wanted to ride you.”

“I can add disney.” Jungkook responds far too quickly, mentally cursing at how desperate he appeared.

Smirking, you nod your head. “Deal.”

Jungkook’s eyes are wide when you lift from your knees and kick off your shorts, panties flying with them. He’s erect once more at the sight of your slick trailing down your thighs. Your thighs trap him beneath you as you center yourself on him. “I’m not on any birth control.”

Jungkook gulps. His hands place themselves firmly on your hips. “I can pull out.” he nods. “Unless you want another streaming service as payment for me cumming inside of you.” he jokes - unless…

Jungkook smirks at you and you could only glare. You sit down on him completely and wipe the smirk from his lips. Your hands grip his shoulders as you begin to pound on him. It doesn’t take time for the entire sitting room is filled with your moans mixed with Jungkooks as well as skin slapping.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” Jungkook murmurs, inching closer to capture your lips with his own. You never said anything against kissing is his defense.

You deepen the kiss, grinding against him. “Says the man who hasn’t stopped moaning since we started.”

Jungkook chuckles and does just that. His hands trail from your hips, to your thighs and upwards towards your breast. He grips both of your clothed breasts into his palms. “Pussy feels so good, I can’t help myself.”

You swallow your own moan back. You can’t let him know his words turn you on - he would never let you live it down. It’s bad enough you were fucking him for streaming services.

You shifted yourself, your feet firmly against the couch. You looked into his eyes as you began to bounce on him once more, satisfied that the man below you was a moaning mess - and broke eye contact first. His eyes begin to roll at the new found pleasure.

You decided that you wouldn’t hide your own pleasure anymore. Jungkook was big and this position only meant that his cock was hitting the right spot each time.

“I know it feels good, baby.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality - and so does his thumb upon your clit. His thumb rubs hastily on it, enjoying the way your pussy tightens around his cock.

“It does.” Maybe you were growing weak - but only because it did feel good. That, and the way Jungkook’s voice grows deeper and more sultry as he speaks is an added turn on.

“What happened to the playing hard to get girl I know?” Jungkook’s now thrusting upwards inside of you to meet you halfway.

You clench around him. “Fuck you.” you murmur.

“I intend to.” Jungkook manages to laugh, his thumb leaving your clit to hook beneath your thighs. He continues where you left off, stamina unmatched. He pounds into you with such need - as if this was what he had been waiting for for who knows how long.

Your arms wrap around his neck and allow him the control - just this once. Jungkook’s reveling in your submission, murmuring dirty words in your ears as he fucks you. You were so wet - slick gripping out of you and onto his thighs - that he knew neither of you would last long.

You bite your lip when you feel Jungkook’s hands on your ass. He squeezes it with such need, moaning beautifully in your ears as his thrusts turn sloppy. “Where do I cum?” he asks suddenly.

“Anywhere.” was your response.

Jungkook took your lack of direction as a sign. His fingers lean down from your ass to find your clit once more. He toys with it as he thrusts, hellbent on making sure you cum right along with him. He wasn’t going to last - not with the way you were squeezing his cock right now.

“S-Shit!” you hiss, feeling yourself come undone right as Jungkook pulls out of you, cum leaking on your ass.

Jungkook leans against the couch and pants. There was no way he was going to leave you alone after this - but that’s okay because he knows you’ll close up once more and play that game you’ve been playing. Jungkook loved the chase and deep down, so do you.

Series Masterlist

#bts college au #college au #bangtanwritershq #bts smut #btsmasterlist2022 #btswritersclub #bangtan smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #fake tweets #explicit-tae #bangtanwriters net #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #jungkook college au #ungodly hour #jungkook friends with benefits #bts fwb

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lovedazai · 4 days

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WORST BEHAVIOR . . . dazai gets turned on watching you fight and just can’t help himself.

ft. pm!dazai + f!reader, pm!reader, possessive behavior, physical fighting, dazai is a little pervy, one use of ‘good girl’, semi-public & unprotected sex, choking (m!receiving), 2.5k w.c…mdni !!

p.s.! ⊹ ࣪ ˖ i know i’ve been promising this one for a while :< thank you for being patient with me !!

dazai already knows you indulge him; you let him get away with more than anyone else ever would. even outside of work, when he’s stripped of the authority that comes from being the youngest port mafia executive, the unspoken next in line for the throne of yokohama’s underworld, you always give into his whines of five more minutes or just one more kiss, i swear.

if you asked him, it was your own fault that he liked you so much; you were addicting. if the port mafia was a black hole where all light escaped, you were a twinkling star, falling from the sky right into dazai’s blood-soaked hands, and he loves you more than he ever thought he could. you weren’t quite an executive yet, but you were good at what you didー fighting.

there were only a few things in his meaningless life that made him less than bored: drinking with odasaku after work, harassing chuuya to tears, and watching you train, or better yet, getting to see you on a mission. his favorite part was that you always looked so, so hot while you were doing it.

he tries to act surprised when you’re both sent to take care of some low-level group, threatening to leak information that they definitely didn’t have. he didn’t really have to come with you on this assignment, it was below his level as an executive, after all, but he went through all of the trouble of leaking the address to one of the mafia’s “hideouts”, ensuring they’d show up at the dingy warehouse. it looms before the two of you, weathered from the salty air of the port, glass windows splintered and broken.

his coat flutters behind him with every giddy step, happily following after you and your little black skirt; maybe if he was lucky enough, he’d get a peek beneath it.

“are you sure you don’t have somewhere else to be right now?” you turn to look over your shoulder, reaching your hand out for him and intertwining your fingers loosely.

“there’s nowhere else i’d rather be.” he swings your arms between the two of you loosely. you only drop his hand to pull the rusty door open, greeted by three men, all expectantly waiting for you.

“my, my,” he whispers against the curve of your ear. “looks like we’ve been caught.”

“what do we have here? a little girl…” one of the men grins, looking at you in a way that made dazai want to kill him himself. the way his eyes drag up your body stirs an instinct to pull you behind him. “…and her guard dog?”

of course, he’d never put you in any real danger. this group was pathetic, and even at three to one, they didn’t stand a chance against you. dazai can predict all of their moves flawlessly anyway, and you have a implicit understanding that he never gives you more than he knows you can handle. his gun remains heavy against his side, always within his reachー just in case.

his fingers instinctively twitch towards the grip as one of the men reaches to grab you, but you don’t let him, seizing him by the forearm, leg sweeping him from behind and tossing him onto the ground. he falls to the concrete with a groan, looking up at you with a dazed scowl. the heel of your foot connects with his jaw before he can make another move, and he falls still against the ground.

one of the other men comes from the side, but you’re still too quick, catching him out of the corner of your eye and dodging with ease. you hit him hard enough for him to stumble, and you take the opportunity to grab him by the throat, knocking him backward. dazai’s eyes widen, the hair rising against the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck; he was almost jealous. the man chokes as you slam his back against the wall hard enough for his eyes to roll back and his body to crumple to the ground.

there’s only one man left, and your lip splits when his fist connects with your face. dazai’s eyes narrow, and the man’s glaze over in frustration as you recover quick enough to dodge his next hit, crouching low. you curl your leg around his waist from behind, pulling him down to the ground by the back of his shirt until he’s pinned beneath you.

you’re quick to get up, and when you’re far enough away for dazai’s comfort, he aims his gun and fires once, twice, then again before the man falls still.

the only thing heavier than dazai’s presence is his gaze, and you feel it prickle against your skin like the sharp edge of a knife from where he’s still standing in the doorway. when you meet his eyes, they’re red and glowing, and locked onto you.

he walks towards you, only the heavy sound of his shoes against the cement and your quiet breaths filling the warehouse. you swipe your thumb across your lip, breaking his gaze to look at the blood smeared into the crevices of your fingertip before dazai grabs your chin, tilting it upward. his tongue is warm as it traces along the cut before he presses it past your lips. your noise of surprise is muffled as he kisses you, the taste of your own blood permeating your mouth.

he walks you backward until the back of your heels hit the edge of the cold, concrete wall. his mouth never leaves yours, tracing the roof of your mouth and the edge of your teeth as if he doesn’t already have every part of you committed to memory. his cock strains against the fabric of his trousers, poking against your thigh as he presses himself flush against you.

“dazai,” you try to warn, but it isn’t very convincing, breathed out like a hymn; god, his name has never sounded so sweet. he sings your name back with a smile, groping you through your shirt with one hand as the other unbuckles his belt. he slides his fingers down your stomach until he pulls your shirt out from where it’s tucked into your waistband, flipping the hem of your skirt upward to expose those cute little panties. “we’re still…we’re here. in a dirty warehouse.”

“what’s wrong? there’s no one else around. you made sure of that, didn’t you?” he cups your chin between his fingers again and turns your head towards the enemies, bloodied and unconscious, chests heaving shallowly. he presses a kiss to your jaw, trailing up until his lips rest against the curve of your ear. “did you already forget? when their bloodstains haven’t even set into your clothes yet? i didn’t know you could be so cold.”

he unbuttons your shirt with the flick of his thumb, just enough to expose the curve of your tits, sitting oh so prettily in your bra. he skims his fingers against your panties, stroking the soft fabric where your most sensitive spot is covered. he pulls them aside, giggling against your ear when you’re already wet as he slips his middle and pointer fingers inside of you. your frown falters as he curls them with expert precision, eyelids fluttering in bliss as something achingly sweet ignites in your stomach.

“you know what i was thinking while i was watching you?” he drops his voice low, watching the way you sink your teeth into your bottom lip when he finds your clit, grinding the heel of his palm against it in pressured circles. “‘i wonder how it’d feel for her to choke me like that…to wrap these pretty little fingers around my neck and squeeze’.”

the lingering adrenaline of a fight and dazai’s body pressed so close to yours makes you feel dizzy. you part your lips to reply, but his hand is back on your jaw before you can respond, brushing his mouth over yours teasingly.

“do you have any idea what you do to me?” the pad of his thumb is cold against your warm cheek. he strokes himself with the slick collected on his fingers, pressing into you with the tip of his cock. his bangs fall over his eyes as he hangs his head and watches you stretch around the shape of him, disappearing inside your warm cunt inch by inch.

your nails dig into his arms, feeling his lithe muscles tense through the expensive fabric of his coat. he pries your hands off, fingers wrapping around your wrists as he pins them against the wall, holding them in place with one hand. his grin bites against your neck as you throw your head back and arch your hips instinctively.

“my good girl,” he breathes, sucking the skin beneath your ear between his teeth, soothing it with a kiss when you whine. “my sweet, perfect girl.”

“mhm,” you exhale, your own breath getting caught in your throat. your back is pressed against the cool cement behind you, with dazai’s firm chest flush against your front. the broken window above you pools sunlight over your half-dressed bodies. “yours.”

you feel his uneven breathing against your skin as he presses his lips against your jaw. his cock rubs against you deliciously, velvet walls fluttering and clinging to him each time he pulls his hips back. it’s so easy to melt into him like this, with the security of his hands against your skin, his soft hair tickling your neck, and his cock filling you perfectly, like you were made for him to take.

he lifts your leg, fingers squeezing the plush of your thigh and supporting your weight. he thrusts inside you at a new angle, hitting the slightest bit deeper, but it’s just enough to make you gasp as your belly flutters and your knees nearly buckle beneath his palm as he holds you up. your hands clench around nothing, nails digging into your palms in a desperate need to hold onto something.

“the way you threw that man and pinned him to the ground,” he whispers. “would you do that to me?”

“no,” you’re breathless, words lost on you as your mind clouds over with pleasure. his hips grind against yours, the head of his cock kissing the deepest part of you as your eyes roll backward. “i don’tー i’d never hurt you.”

“but i’d let you,” he rasps. “you could do whatever you want to me.”

he lets go of your wrists, and you bend your leg around his waist, trying to press him even deeper. you balance on your tip toes as he thrusts into you harshly, curling your arms around his shoulders, as if his cock nestled inside you wasn’t close enough; it was never enough when it came to dazai.

“fuck,” your voice is breathy and broken, and it echoes throughout the gutted warehouse. the heat building in your stomach is already overwhelming, rushing to your head until you feel drunk on it. your muscles are taut, toes curled as you feel him throb inside you, his hips stuttering. “osamu.”

his grip on you tightens, and he whines; it’s just barely audible, and you would’ve missed it if he wasn’t right next to your ear. your eyes are hazy, half open as you look at him through your lashes as he watches the way your tits bounce against the fabric of your bra in time with his movements.

your hand trembles as you lift it, closing your fingers loosely around his neck and pulling his gaze back to yours. you can’t help but grin, lips curving up into a drunken smile as you watch his cheeks flush a pretty pink and his eyebrows furrow in pleasure. dazai rarely expresses his emotions so openly, and you commit it to memory as best you can through the fuzzy feelings of bliss blurring the edges of your mind. he lets out the prettiest noise, something between a moan and a cry vibrating against your palm, his cock throbbing inside you as you squeeze his bandaged neck.

his thrusts grow sporadic, breathy moans growing in volume. his nails dig into your hips, and you rub your clit desperately, quivering in his grip as you feel him stall and cum, warm and deep inside you.

everything fades to static as the sweetness in your belly burns brighter and brighter until it finally explodes into white, hot, sparkling pieces that pierce your vision. dazai pants and hangs his head, but his eyes snap to yours as you mumble something close to “cummingー”, always so desperate to take in the pretty way you fall apart for him, because of him.

he whimpers when you draw your hand from his throat to his face, brushing his bangs away from his eyes. you cup his cheek, smoothing your thumb against the tape holding his small patch of gauze in place as you breathe in one another.

your legs ache, tensed muscles finally relaxing as you lower your foot back to the ground unsteadily. your head falls against the wall with a final sigh, chest heaving. dazai is beaming at you when you peek your eyes open after a few moments, looking irritatingly adorable with his messy hair and crooked tie.

“i can’t believe we did that here,” you glance towards the pieces of shattered glass that litter the ground.

“you loved it,” he smiles, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “you love me〜”

he pulls out of you carefully, snapping your underwear back into place. you grip his tie, wrapping it around your hand and pulling him in to press your mouth to his before straightening it and sliding the knot back into place.

he pouts as he watches you start to button your shirt back up, squeezing your waist softly.

“can’t you leave some open?”

your glare is weak, and he meets it with a smile. he slides his coat off his shoulders, draping it over your own to hide your wrinkled clothes.

“i’ll call a car to get us,” he hums, slipping his hand into your own as he guides you outside the warehouse. “i’ll even give you the rest of the day off for a good performance!”

you rest your head on his shoulder, sleepy and sated. the breeze is cool on your warm skin, carrying the scent of the sea as it gently brushes through your hair.

“you know,” he starts, typing away at his phone, still as happy as ever. “you still owe me lunch from losing that bet last week.”

he has another tease on the tip of his tongue, but he falters when he sees the red splotch of blood staining your pouted lips. he slips his hand beneath your chin and tilts your face towards him. he frowns at the cut, visible eye narrowing as he brushes his thumb against the corner of your mouth.

you wrap your hand around his wrist loosely, pulling it back to press your lips to his palmー i’m okay. he sees one of the mafia’s black cars pulling in from the corner of his eye, and presses a lingering kiss to your foreheadー i know. he pulls the lapels of his jacket tighter around your shoulders before he slips his hand back into yours, and when he walks you to the car, his coat flutters behind you.

BSD MASTERLIST

#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖#dazai x reader #dazai x you #bsd x you #bsd x reader #dazai smut #bsd smut #dazai imagines #bsd imagines #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #ʚ shhh ɞ

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slut4daviii · 11 months

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character(s): g.tomioka

pt(s): 01/02

cw: cheating, cum-eating, masturbation

summary: idk but giyuus husband is cheating and giyuu is fantasying about his neighbor. one thing will lead to another and you’ll find that forgetting an anniversary will never end will for the forgetting party

a/n: hi. | minors and non-male aligning DNI

title: anniversary sex

wc: 1250+

────────────────────────

scandalous.

he knew his thoughts were everything but pure.

scandalous.

he knew his thoughts should only pertain to his own husband and the life they’d built together.

scandalous

but… he couldn’t. he couldn’t keep his eyes from the widow. couldn’t keep his thoughts from wandering; forming indecent images and scenarios.

his thighs pressed inwards at the situations created by his imagination. each one a different position, different pose; exploring each other’s bodies, igniting new passion into one another.

“haa— hah! [n—name]…!” he’d moan into your chest, dragging his fingers down your back in such a crude, indecent manner.

you’d groan into his neck, inhaling the fresh scent of his shower, the fruity scent still lingering from the perfume he spent seventy dollars on. just for you.

you’d press yourself deeper into him, embedding your tip into his womb. “ahh!” a high-pitched yelp. he would put his hand on your v-line, trying to stop your movements.

you’d only go harder, dismissing his mindless mumbles of “ngh!! t—too… too de—ep! s—sl—slow d..d—down!!”

he would know.

you would know.

his husband would know.

everyone would know.

that he wanted it. just how you gave it to him; slow, deep, mind-breaking stokes that left him breathless at every thrust.

“you wanted this, right? watched me from your widow. rubbing yourself to my form, hoping I’d come and sweep you away from your husband.”

he’d choke on his words, clawing at you for any sort of support. his eyes would roll backwards, an orgasm rippling between the two of you, staining your chests in a sticky white substance.

“Gi—“

you’d move your fingers to his chest, lifting his legs to his shoulders in the process. your fingers would slid along his abs, soaking up his spewed semen and bringing it to his—

“Giyuu”

—mouth, forcing him to taste his own—

“Giyuu!”

—seed. he’d moan around your fingers, the salty taste of himself pushing him over—

“GIYUU!!”

Giyuu pulled back from the sink, dropping the cup he held in his hand, shattering it.

his husband stood across the short kitchen distance with a briefcase in hand. he adjusted his tie, tugging on the fabric to adhere to his neck.

“Giyuu, where was your mind? I’ve been calling your name for five minutes.” the man chuckled

Giyuu smiled, glancing back to the window before snapping his vision back to his husband. “J…just thinking of our anniversary.”

his husband hummed, closing the buttons of his suit. “anniversary?” he chuckled, burning a hole into Giyuu’s chest. “our anniversary was two months ago.”

Giyuu glanced at the calendar on his refrigerator, looking at the heart over today’s date.

His husband followed the look, panic rushing through his body. “Uh—uhm I mean, I, I was thinking of your birthday..!”

‘my birthday was two days ago.’ he thought

Giyuu looked back to the window, no longer seeing the picture of his fantasies. ‘where’d [name] go?’

his husband came behind him, palming his ass and resting his chin on Giyuu’s shoulder, disregarding his obvious discomfort. “are you mad at me?” his husband moaned into his ear, harshly rubbing his front against Giyuu’s back.

Giyuu remained silent, earning a harsh thrust “oh, I’m sorry Giyuu, I’ve just been so busy. but, I promise, when I get back, we’ll celebrate all you want.”

“Get back? where are you going?” Giyuu asked softly, not surprised by his husband’s actions.

“I have a business meeting with Rengoku. It’ll last a week. I’m sorry!”

Giyuu nodded, moving away from the man to pick up a banana from the table. “Well, you better go now, I forgive you.”

his husband smiled, placing a quick peck on his forehead. “I swear, I’ll make it up to you when I get back.”

Giyuu nodded, undoing his apron to take a shower.

“oh! I called [name] over to fix the sink, he should be over later.”

Giyuu stopped his movements, feeling heat rush to his face. “ok, love you.”

as fast as his husband had entered the kitchen, he was gone, leaving with only a distracted “mhm.”

Giyuu continued to his room, removing the rest of his clothing to begin his showering process. he pulled a basket from under his sink labeled ‘[name]’ and continued on his way, reliving his fantasy from earlier.

he felt a smile etch its way onto his face, burning into his features

“I’ll see [name] soon…

#dom male reader #gay #seme male reader #top male reader #gay smut #demon slayer x male reader #demon slayer x top male reader #demon slayer #giyuu tomioka #giyuu x male reader

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himbofan4444 · 5 months

Text

“Another day…” I say to myself as I walk through the parking garage. The is air still damp from the rainstorm yesterday. I look around. The garage is oddly vacant. Perhaps I’d come in when the buildings closed again. Determined to finish the day and get home quickly, I trudge past the puddles and cigarette butts. “God it’s freezing,” I say to myself, shivering.

I look around again. I’m used to a long walk to the stairs but today’s feels… really long. I can’t see my car but that’s all thanks to the thick fog that has been settled in town for a few days. I can’t see the stairwell either. The only thing I can see is the fog surrounding me. I sigh and continue my trek forwards, unsure if I’m even moving forwards anymore.

After a few more minutes of walking, I stumble upon an odd sight. In front of me is a shopping booth, something I’ve never seen the liking of before here. A faint concoction of aromas reach my nose: a strange mix of perfume, wood, leather, and some other implacable scents. At the booth stands a broad man. On the table, there are a variety of brightly colored liquids contained in erlenmeyer flasks. The man waves me over, a toothy grin across his dark, bearded face.

“Well hello there fine fellow! How can I help ya?” the man asks. His voice is gravelly and deep, the kind of voice that makes you weak in the knees.

“Oh, I’m not interested in buying anything, sir. I’m just trying to find the stairs,” I respond.

The man lets out a hearty laugh, “Please, call me Rohan! And I insist. I’ll even give you a hefty discount.”

I eye the flasks, taking in the colorful liquids. Each is bubbling and emanates an odd warmth, much preferable over the freezing air of the rest of the parking garage. “So, what are they?” I ask.

“Oh, just some herbal remedies. They’re very common in holistic medicine,” Rohan says, lifting up to of the flasks. “Would you like one, sir?”

“Oh I’m not sure if I should. I’ve tried these things before and they haven’t… agreed with me,” I say, letting out a small chuckle.

“Don’t you worry about that, sir. These are all natural. I insist, try one. Here,” Rohan picks up a pink one and holds it out for me. I reluctantly grab it and give him a half-smile. “That’ll be $5, sir,” Rohan says as he holds out his large palm. I search through my wallet and find a crumpled up $5 bill and hand it to him. He smiles and says with a certain satisfaction, “Have a lovely day, sir!”

I walk off with the flask in hand, still unsure of where the stairs are. I check my phone for the time. Shit! I’m late! I briskly walk through the parking garage but to no avail. I’m still lost. At least until I see my car. Damnit! I just walked in a big circle! Exhausted and angry, I get in my car and sit down. The car is almost as cold as outside, a small remnant of the heating still present. I start the car, deciding to head home.

Before I can put my foot on the gas pedal, my gaze drifts down to the flask in the passenger’s seat. “I should probably drink that…” I say to myself. I reach down and grab it, bringing the beverage to my lips. It smells like perfume. I lift the flask, the contents of which pouring into my mouth and down my throat. It’s almost unbearably sweet. So much so that it’s almost bitter. There’s also a strange salty aftertaste. I cough and drink from my water bottle, the flavor lingering in my mouth.

I drive home in silence, allowing myself to be bitter about today’s events as of now. As I drive home, I notice an odd, unfamiliar tingling in my butt. I itch it but it doesn’t help. “Maybe I just worked legs a little too hard yesterday,” I say with a shrug. Soon, my whole body feels tingly, almost numb. My work clothes begin to feel a bit tight on my body, specifically my pants. I’m sure I grabbed the larger size I have but maybe I didn’t. This morning was quite hectic after all. I shrug off the odd occurrence and continue my drive home.

On the way home, I pass a Starbucks and turn into the parking lot. I usually don’t buy such frivolous things, but I’d already bought that horrible drink so why not? As I walk inside, I notice a strange quality to my walking. Usually I have a quite confident strut but that has been replaced by something almost like a waddle. Odd.

Once inside, I’m finally warm. The warmth of the store is so refreshing. Before ordering, I sit at a table by the window. Sitting here feels weird. I’m not used to this amount of cushioning on these chairs but maybe I misjudged them. I take off my winter coat, setting it on the high top table in front of me. I catch a glimpse of my arms in my tight dress shirt sleeves. Jesus! I’ve always been in shape but I’ve NEVER been this big. I flex a small bit, blushing at my public flexing session. Damn, the gym’s been doing me good recently.

A short blonde barista walks over to me. She’s very cute but my still bitter attitude puts a damper on my lustful looks. She pulls out a notepad and a pencil, “Would you like anything sir?”

“Oh no-“ I clear my throat. My voice sounds less deep than normal for some reason. “I mean, sure. Could I have a vanilla latte?” Why did I order that? I always order black coffee, never that girl shit. The barista smiles and nods, writing my order down, “Got it. Is that all?”

“Yes ma’am,” I respond. Handing her the money for the beverage.

She walks off, immediately going to make my drink. I rub my throat. Why do I still sound so weird? She comes back over, my drink in hand. “Here you go sir,” she says, “Oh and by the way, I love your hair. Blonde is so your color. You look fabulous.” She walks away to serve other customers.

What? Blonde? I’m not blonde. I’ve always had brown hair. And… fabulous? Who does she think I am? One of those queers? Does my hair really look blonde to her? I pull out my phone and look at myself in the selfie camera. Jesus! My hair IS blonde! And it looks… curly. What the hell happened?! And my face… It looks off. Something is uncanny about it. I look like myself but also not… Like my lips look bigger and so do my eyes. My eyebrows look a bit neater than they should and my stubble is shorter than normal.

I get down from the stool, ready to leave and deal with this weird stuff at home. As I walk out, I feel a strange jiggling in my rear. I crane my neck around my shoulder to see what was going on with my butt. Holy shit! My ass is huge! I run out to my car, my big fat ass jiggling like crazy as I run. I quickly drive home.

Once inside, I strip off my damp clothes to assess the damage. My muscles do look bigger than normal, especially my pecs. They look like fucking tits. Jesus, they’re huge. My ass is enormous, any movement causing it to jiggle wildly. And that tingling in my ass still hasn’t gone away. I look like a poster fag. Like the dictionary definition of a faggot. Fuck…

I go up to my room and find a cardboard box on my bed. After opening it, I see a huge pink dildo and a pink jockstrap, both the same color as the drink. The dildo is easily a foot long. I shiver in disgust looking at the items. An odd feeling comes from my ass. My ass is tingling worse than before, specifically directly in my asshole. God I just wanna shove that dildo up my ass… No! I can’t be thinking like a fag! Looking like one is bad enough!

I shove the grotesque items back into the box and chuck the box across the room. I look at myself in the mirror, hesitantly touching my pouty lips. They feel almost numb, as if they aren’t real. Come to think of it… I feel my pecs and my ass, both having the same numb tingling. Oh my god…

My body stiffens up, my back arched, showing off my large muscle tits and fake fuckable ass. Goddamn why am I thinking like that? Against my will, my buff arms reach up and turn my baseball cap, which had gone from a cream color to a black and pink one, backwards. It’s like a switch got flipped. My brain goes from active and agile to slow and dull. MY thoughts become more lustful and… gay.

Damn, I wish Rohan fucked me earlier. He like totally has a huge dick. I pout, crossing my arms across my inflated chest. My heads turns, facing the discarded box. My body prances over to the box and extracts the faggy… I mean sexy things. I pull the pink jockstrap over my big round ass, doing a few hops to see my bubble butt bounce in the elastic material. I snatch up the massive dildo and lay in my bed, my thick beefy legs spread out. My body instinctively shoves the dildo as far up my ass as it can.

My hole feels oddly loose despite the lack of penetration it’s received. My brain pushes those thoughts into the garbage, conjuring up new memories of me being fucked by hoards of men, each hung like a horse and concerningly aggressive. I let out shrill, feminine moans with each thrust of the toy. Each thrust causes my room and house to become more pink and slutty looking. My wardrobe emptying of my work clothes and instead having pink slutty outfits. My bed begins vibrating, my old bed replaced with a vibrating one.

I cum out of my shrunken cock, my small load leaving me gasping for air. I’ve never felt this much pleasure in my whole life! I sit on my knees in front of the full length mirror in my room and take a picture for my Daddies.

This is me now, a stupid, horny, bouncy slut for any man who’ll take me in for the night.

#straight to gay #top to bottom #gay tf #gay #tf #transformation #dumber tf #dumber #himbo tf #himbo #musclegrowth #muscle growth tf

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mokulule · 7 months

Text

A Pinch of Salt - snippet 2

Okay, so I have been reminded by @clockwayswrites that I could post some things instead of just hoarding them like the dragon in my icon. So here ya go. Maybe I'll even get around to updating Catnip in the coming days who knows. Previous

Fuck, Danny cursed internally as he struggled to keep up with the long-legged stride of Trenchcoat. Whatever had happened to that ghost to make it into something like that was not good, he needed to do something! But as long as Trenchcoat was here he couldn’t exactly do as he usually would: transform and punch it. The man had seemed very ready to do something to Danny and the unspeakable soul situation going on had Danny extremely leery of finding out what that something was.

At least getting eaten seemed unlikely from the man’s earlier horrified response.

So running.

They went down a hallway, up a staircase, down another hallway and into a would have been shop. They stopped for a moment in the square space catching their breath. Trenchcoat let go of him to go peek back around the corner. Finally Trenchcoat’s shoulders relaxed.

“We lost it for now.” Actually it was more like the ghost lost interest in them; as they’d gotten further and further away from the central plaza of the mall the ghost had stopped following them. Not that Danny was going to tell Trenchcoat that. He had no idea how he’d explain it in a way that didn’t make him extremely suspicious. His hair was dripping salty water making it hard to forget he’d already been assaulted twice - he did not wanna know what else the man stored up his sleeves.

Preferably, somehow he’d get Trenchcoat to leave.

The moment of inattention cost him as he was grabbed once again by Trenchcoat and towed through the would-maybe-someday be a store to a door in the back. This led to a store room and a door to the outside. It was unlocked it turned out and Danny realized this was probably how the man had gotten in.

“Alright, kiddo, time to leave.”

Trenchcoat opened the door and pushed at Danny’s back.

“No way!” Danny exclaimed digging his heels in.

“Yes way,” Trenchcoat mocked, “go home kid, I’m a professional.”

   There was no way Danny was leaving, not at this point. Ghosts were his area of expertise - or well, Danny couldn’t really claim to be an expert, but they were his responsibility at least! He had a unique skillset and no matter what Trenchcoat claimed, he did not look any sort of professional. He made his opinion of his claim known by giving the man his most dubious look.  -  John hated teenagers and this teenager in particular.

He didn’t know what it was about teenagers, but they were just merciless in their judgment in a way adults were probably usually too polite to be. In any case that little up and down there, with the slightly raised eyebrow made him feel like he’d worn a clown costume to an accounting job.

“Bloody Hell, will you just leave before I decide to feed you to the specter!”

The boy crossed his arms, standing his ground. “You can try.”

John dragged a hand down his face, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“What are you even doing here?” “I’m here for the ghost.” Plain, even, said with not a smidge of hesitation. “You’re here for the-“ John cut himself off, hands opening and closing, inwardly cursing children and their stupid dares. “And what pray tell where ya gonna do when you found the ghost?”“I figured I’d try talking to them.”“You what?!” John spluttered. He’d expected him to say he hadn’t expected to find a ghost, there went his theory of this being a dare.

“There is no talking to that!” He pointed vaguely in the direction they’d lost the spectral storm. “Of all the sodden-“

“Them.”

John’s thoughts screeched to a halt. “What?” “Them. They are a them, not an it or a that.”

John opened and closed his mouth. Was he really getting a lecture on pronouns?

“It is a spectral storm. Whatever poor spirit it used to be, is not there anymore. There’s no mind there, it’s pure emotion out of control. There’s no way back from that.”

The boy scowled at him, clearly disagreeing. It didn’t matter.  John pointed at the door.

“Leave.” “No.” They stared at each other neither giving an inch.

Urgh, this had to be why Batman was so grumpy all the time. John could not do this. He threw up his hands and turned around. He worked around things, not through them and here he was engaging in the folly of arguing with a bloody teenager.

“Suit yourself.”

Gods, he needed a smoke. He’d hardly finished the thought before he was pulling the package of smokes out of its pocket with practiced ease. He was lighting the smoke by the time he noticed the unimpressed look he was getting. Satisfied, he took a deep drag and slowly breathed out the smoke. The kid grimaced and John smirked.

“Those are gonna kill you.” “As opposed to the rest of my lifestyle?” He returned with a nod in the direction of the Storm that probably couldn’t kill him, but the kid didn’t know that. Satisfied at the way the kid’s nose scrunched, he walked back the way they came from.

“And what are you supposed to be?” Kid asked falling in step with him, and John just knew he was being annoying on purpose with that tone of voice. He was not gonna bite. He was an adult. He kept his gaze straight ahead as the kid started guessing.

“Excorcist? Ghostbusters wannabe?”  There was a pause, then a flash of a sly smirk John only caught because he’d stopped to look down the hallway.

“Ectologist?” The suggestion hit John like a metaphysical sledgehammer and he recoiled in disgust.

“Fuck. No.” He shuddered an extra time as if that would remove the oily feeling. “I’m an occult detective. You happy now? Shit kid, you don’t pull your punches do you?”

“So what’s the plan, Trenchcoat?”

“Trenchcoat,” John mouthed to himself before shaking his head. “The plan is you keep out of the way and I deal with the raging ghostie.”

“Yeah, no, you’re gonna do better than that. This is not my first time dealing with a ghost. But I don’t know what occult detectives do.”

John pondered the statement about this not being the first time he’d dealt with a ghost, and maybe there was something to the death magics he gave off after all. He groaned internally, why was he doing this?

“Standard practice, kid. Contain and banish.” He held up first one finger then two.

Danny rolled his eyes. It didn’t sound too different from his approach to ghosts, he caught them and sent them back to the ghost zone, but Mr Occult Detective didn’t exactly carry around a Fenton thermos.

“And how do you contain? No,” he offset the clearly sarcastic response. “I mean what are your requirements?”

Trenchcoat rolled his eyes, but humored him.

“I need a large enough open space and a small moment of preparation, then just gotta lure it in and do a binding spell.”

Danny narrowed his eyes and looked towards where he felt the raging storm of ghost energy. “Like the plaza.”

“Ideally yes.”

“So you need a distraction.” Danny started walking. A hand fell on his shoulder.

“Where do you think you’re going? If you’re so insistent to stay, you’re not leaving my sight.”

Danny shrugged off the hand and turned around.

“The plaza is the center of the their power. You need someone to lure them away.” Danny watched the emotions flash across the man’s face with a small bit of amusement. He really didn’t want Danny involved if he could help it. Finally the man’s face settled on exasperation.

“I will figure something out.”

Danny smiled, taking a step backwards.

“No, you will give me a ten minutes headstart to lure our ghost friend far enough away they won’t immediately notice your stench so close to the heart of their haunt.”

As if sensing his intentions Trenchcoat made another grab for him which he dodged. And then he ran. He was sure it was only the threat of the ghost that prevented the man from yelling after him.

He just hoped he’d listened, because Danny was about to go piss off an already raging spirit. Trenchcoat better be ready.

Fun times.

#A pinch of salt #Salt in the bones #Danny and Constantine #dysfunctional found family ftw

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misctf · 7 months

Text

The Haunted House

Jake didn’t really understand why his girlfriend was obsessed with their university’s haunted fall fair. But he loved her, and so when she wanted to go, he begged his boss at the firm to give him the day off. Given his success at the company, his boss obliged, and that’s how Jake found himself back on campus. And while work was stressful, being back and walking around with his girlfriend was nice. They spent the day walking by their old dorm room, reflecting on where they met. They walked past all the new construction sites where the campus was expanding, joking that the only constant on this campus was construction. And when they got to the haunted fair, Jake couldn’t help but smile at his girlfriend’s excitement. Just like every year, there were plenty of attractions. But what caught their eye was a large wooden haunted house.

“Scariest experience you’ll ever have.” Jake read the small plaque next to the entrance. He smirked at his girlfriend and said, “You wanna give it a try?”

Sarah shook her head, “No way, let’s just go paint some pumpkins or something.”

Jake chuckled, “C’mon, it’s a haunted fair. Can’t come all the way here and not get a little spooked.”

“You’re more than welcome to show off what a big brave man you are.” Sarah teased, “I’m happy waiting.”

“Yeah, well if you insist.” The brunette replied, taking note of the rowdy construction workers making their way through the fair, “But I’d rather be in there than listen to them.”

Sarah frowned, “They’re just having fun. Now hurry up... or are you just stalling? Afraid, maybe?”

Jake grinned- he wasn’t about to let himself be teased like that. He gave her a nod and without another word, he made his way up the ramp and into the haunted house. Once inside, Jake scrunched his nose at the smell. It smelled like his great grandmother’s house. But so far, nothing scary. He walked through the dark corridors slowly, the wood beneath him creaking with each step. And just as he was feeling reassured that this was lame, Jake jumped when the candles on the walls ignited and he came face to face with a full-body mirror.

“Nothing scary about that.” Jake reassured himself, grinning at his own reflection.

He made a turn and found himself in a new room. A room filled with full-body mirrors. Still nothing too scary. As he made his way through the maze of mirrors, he couldn’t help but notice something off about his reflections. As he passed a mirror, he noticed that it had him wearing a flannel top, workpants, and work boots- items of clothing he never possessed. He chuckled, writing it off as some type of fun mirrors. But as he kept going, he couldn’t help but notice his reflection changing—becoming a bit chubbier, a bit hairier—almost looking like the men on the construction site. Jake chuckled. He had to admit that that was a scary thought. He liked his office job and the idea of moving from construction site to construction site and never settling down was something he couldn’t imagine. As he continued though, the images in the mirror were becoming even stranger. In one image, his altered form received a failing grade on a test- then another, and another. Then he dropped out of college entirely, finding a job at the local construction site. And as he walked down the hall of mirrors, each seemed to reflect a story of a life Jake would dread. But it got even stranger. As Jake looked into another mirror, he saw his altered form on his knees, vigorously sucking off another man.

“What the fuck?” Jake said, raising an eyebrow. Sure, he had to admit that the visual effects were impressive, but this image was too much. As Jake went to turn though, he noticed that the figure in the mirror, seemed to turn towards him, smirking. And to Jake’s confusion, he could taste something salty in the back of his throat- and for a split second it became difficult to breath.

Jake shuddered and turned away from the mirror. He ran through the hall of mirrors, feeling his way through the increasingly more complex maze. And suddenly, Jake found himself trapped in an opening- surrounded by mirrors on all sides. He pounded on them, trying to get out- to find a way out of the maze. But there was none. He stood in the center of the mirrors, feeling defeated. And suddenly, he saw it. In the mirror was the man, staring at him with a smirk on his bearded face. The man was naked, his body on full display. Jake could appreciate the muscles the man had, albeit less toned and mixed with fat. And before Jake could do anything, the man flew from the mirror and towards the unsuspecting Jake.

Jake tried to yell, but was unable to as the man slammed into him. The ghostly form smirked and moaned as he sunk into Jake’s body. And Jake couldn’t help but moan too, falling to the ground and shaking as the ghostly form vanished into him. The young man ripped away his shirt, and his toned body began to shift and change. Jake’s body began to grow and expand, his muscles growing while also filling with fat. His toned pecs jiggled slightly, and his abs were now gone, with a slight pudge layered over them. His pits grew damp and thick with hair, causing him to scrunch his nose at the stench. He moaned more as hair sprouted from his abdomen and chest, which were growing more pale in comparison to his arms and head, as his skin took on a classic farmer’s tan.

“Gosh darn it!” Jake shouted in a heavy southern drawl as he felt an intense burning in his left forearm. He watched as an intricate ink pattern formed and a tattoo proudly carved itself into his skin.

It was at this point that Jake looked up at the mirror, watching in terror as his head and face changed. The hair on his face thickened into a nice beard, while his eyebrows grew thicker. His nose began to change, and suddenly the stench from his pits bothered him less—in fact, he thought it smelled pretty good. Jake shook his head, trying to rid himself of these thoughts, barely noticing that his brunette locks fell from his head. Soon enough, he was sporting a buzz cut, which was quickly covered by a gray cap. In fact, his black sweatpants also shifted and changed into a pair of jeans. Jake forced himself to stand up, looking around wildly in the mirrors and down at his changed body.

“Whut happened tuh may?” He whispered in shock.

He stumbled forward, finding that the mirrors that surrounded him had opened up. An exit sign was shining brightly and Jake desperately moved towards it. He needed to find Sarah and find out what to do. But even now he was scared she wouldn’t even recognize him. He for sure barely even recognized himself. But as he got closer to the exit, he noticed a strange sign.

“Scariest experience you'll evur hav; now overcome it.” Jake read aloud, before walking forward and through the exit.

But as he walked through the exit, he froze. The images from the mirror- failing his exams, dropping out of college, going from construction site to site- all of these images flashed through his mind. And as they continued to flash, the images became memories. Jake remembered never being successful in school, giving college a try but failing even the most basic of subjects. But it was okay- he quickly became friends with the men on the construction site here, who were more than happy to offer him a job when he dropped out. Even his memories of Sarah seemed to alter- instead he remembered a man named Trevor, who seemed to take a liking to him on the site. And Jake took a liking to him as well- the memories of late night BJs and fuck sessions becoming very real in Jake’s mind. And when word spread around the construction site about Jake’s talented ass and mouth... well Jake rarely spent a night without either filled. And that was all Jake remembered now- this was his life. Jake tumbled out the exit and fell to the ground, shaking his head.

“What the hell Jackson?”

“Jackson?” Jake whispered, even his name becoming altered in his mind. He looked up to see a group of his friends from the construction site.

“Damn son, what’re you doing out here? You get a good scare in?”

Jackson smiled, not a thought behind his vacant eyes, “Ah guess it wasn't too scary. Ah had uh lottuh fun.” Jackson said, standing up. Suddenly he heard a notification on his phone- the all too familiar sound of a Grindr notification, “Mah bayud!” Jackson said quickly as the rest of the guys started to laugh.

“We aren’t judgin’, but make sure you don’t tire yourself out too much.” One of the men said with a wink.

And Jackson certainly didn’t tire out. Later that night, as he expertly worked the dick in his mouth, he could hear a voice in the back of his head congratulating him on overcoming his fear. But Jackson didn’t have the darndest clue what that even meant.

#male tf #male transformation #straight to gay #mental change

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wheresarizona · 3 months

Text

Learning to Live Part 28

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

With his dick.

In the bar bathroom.

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

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 21.5k+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The kissing stopped, and his nose nudged yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm gonna do some laps."

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

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

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

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

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

He kissed your cheek again. "Okay."

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

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

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

"It looks fun."

She was close to you now.

"You wanna try it?"

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

"I'd rather watch you."

"Okay!"

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

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

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

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

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

His merriment had you scowling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He leaned in to kiss you sweetly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled. "I'd like that."

"I'd like that, too."

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

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

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

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

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

"Having fun, babe?" you asked.

"Yeah."

"Do you want your sunglasses?"

"I don't wanna move."

"I can go grab them."

"I don't want you to move."

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

"I'll stay right here."

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

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

"I could go for some watermelon. Javi?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighed again in defeat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi hungry, I’m Cielito.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a great weekend.

She loved it.

A lot.

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

This trip was different.

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

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

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

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

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

This was torture.

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyebrows pulled together, and his palms slowed.

"Why wouldn't you wanna know?"

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

Hearing her say it had sparks dancing down his spine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, but I have a question."

"Yeah?"

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

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

"That definitely sounds like your kind of place."

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

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

"Because he needs to get laid?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kiss me.”

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

She was frowning when he pulled back.

“Javier, kiss me.”

“Steve will yell at us.”

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

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

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

She was his everything and forever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, here you were watching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And if you weren't married?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It looked painful.

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

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

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

He was too tired to be happy he won.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Barely."

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

He kissed her hair.

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

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

"You're not mad at me?"

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

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

"How was I showing off?"

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

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

"Uh-huh. Sure, Javi."

"Knew I had a chance of beating him."

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

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

"Jesus."

His eyelids were heavy, his words slurring a little.

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

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

He smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

He breathed out a sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you, too."

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

—★—

He didn't know how long he slept.

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

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

His wif-fiancée was still snuggled in his arms.

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

"Home."

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

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

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

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

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

Moose was his floppy-eared, stuffed dog.

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

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

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

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

"Thank you, tío!"

"You're welcome."

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

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

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

"That's fucking dark."

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

"Too much?"

After what he was thinking about before he passed out?

"Today? Yes."

She frowned. "Are you okay?"

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

"Do you want to talk about it?"

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

"Okay. Guess it's time to get up."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His hand cupped your cheek as he softly smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you," your voice was small.

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

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

"Strawberries."

Your eyebrows creased. "What?"

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

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

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

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

"No... You're not..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your arms crossed over your chest, hmphing.

"Well, I don't like it."

His head tilted to look at you.

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

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

He scooted over.

The front door opened, and Steve came out.

"What are y'all doing out here?"

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

Steve moved to stand next to you.

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

Javi flipped him off.

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

"We're happy to help," you replied.

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

"Yeah?"

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

"She'd have your balls."

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

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

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

"No."

That wasn't the full context of the question.

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

He completely stopped moving and was silent for some seconds.

"Javi?" you said. "Are you okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A special day for them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are you pouting?" Cielito asked.

"I'm not pouting."

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

"No..."

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

"But not the right shade."

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

He deflated as he sighed.

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

His face scrunched up.

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

"Oh."

He glanced over at her.

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

She was looking at her lap.

"The place we're going is fine."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's different." She slumped.

"How is it different...?"

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

"What are you talking about?"

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

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

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

"Um, Jennifer Aniston."

"I have no fucking clue who that is."

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

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

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

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

He took a deep breath and let it out.

"Cielito?" His head turned toward her.

"Yes?" She met his gaze.

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

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

"Really?"

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

That made him feel really good about himself.

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

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

"Good."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her head quickly turned toward him.

"What woman?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he loved her.

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

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

He broke the kiss, turning to glare at Steve.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I sure hope we do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What happened?"

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

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

"Then what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She deserves to be more than talked to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Buzzed—I didn't want to get drunk."

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

"Sounds good."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You will be quiet, or I stop."

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

"What?"

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

He huffed out an amused breath.

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

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

"King of dirty talk?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’d told him as much on many occasions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She pouted, and it made him chuckle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘M not, jus need a sec,” he mumbled.

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

He sighed. “It happ’n’d one time.”

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

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

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

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

This sigh was long, and he visibly deflated.

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

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

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

“We have our floor mattress.”

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

“But isn’t that fun?”

“The first time, yes.”

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

He looked confused. “What?”

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

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

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

“Wait.”

“Yes?”

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

“I love you, too.”

“I’m gonna say some sappy bullshit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We are!” you replied.

“Are you feeling better?” she asked.

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

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

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

“That’s good.”

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

“What happened?” you asked.

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

“It’s what she deserved.”

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

“Okay.”

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

Thank god.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve seemed to be thinking it over.

“There was no way of getting her home?”

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

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

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

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

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

The other couple were whispering amongst themselves.

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

He looked horrified, his head snapping in their direction.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His forehead pressed to yours, and your eyes closed.

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

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

He pulled back to meet your gaze.

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re sure?”

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

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too.”

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atlabeth · 9 months

Text

bad luck - nikolai lantsov

summary: you have little hope after being captured by slavers in the depths of ravka. but then your ship is commandeered, and you get a little more than you bargained for with your privateer savior.

a/n: sorry that it has been a while since ive posted anything on here and sorry about my neglect for my other series but i am a nikolai lover first a writer second and a person third!!! apparently i cannot write a normal length one shot with this man but i hope you enjoy

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): fem!reader, sturmhond!nikolai, reader is captured by slavers but there is no detail, mentions of fighting and killing, mentions of arranged marriages, reader is highkey annoyed by sturmhond lmao, but a fluffy (and lowkey steamy) ending

At first, you’d thought you were hallucinating.

You couldn’t remember the last time your captors had given you, given anyone in the brig, water, and the beginning of a spiral into insanity wouldn’t have exactly surprised you.

Explosions, gunshots, the screams of dying men. You’d imagined the entire crew dropping dead many times so it wasn’t a shock that this was where your madness would begin. You just closed your eyes, tried to pretend you weren’t in chains, and reveled in the sound.

And then the door to the brig was broken down, and your eyes shot open. You moved to the front of your cell, gripping the cold bars as you looked to see what sort of new danger had been brought upon you.

Instead, you were met with a cocky-looking man—though he hardly appeared old enough to be called a man—a pistol in his relaxed grip and another hanging by his side. His bright teal frock coat didn’t belong in a dingy place such as this.

“Hello, all,” he said pleasantly. “I am happy to say this ship has been commandeered.”

Your grip slackened. “What?”

Your question was drowned out by immediate rioting by all the other prisoners, and the man glanced at the woman by his side. She took one of her two axes from its place at her hip and walked over to your cell. Her golden eyes gleamed, and her axe moved in a barely visible flash. She’d chopped the lock clean off, and the cell door creaked open. The whole brig had fallen silent.

You took another step back, eyes still wide. The man walked up next to her, peering inside your cell at all the prisoners bunched in together, but when his eyes met yours, they widened. His entire body went rigid for a moment, so imperceptible that you thought you’d imagined it when he looked away.

“I have no desire to keep you all here against your will,” he said. “Call me your liberator, call me your savior, call me a captain who just hates slavers—it doesn’t matter to me right now. The only thing that matters to me right now is that this is my ship.”

“Are we free?” you asked.

Again, the captain’s expression changed ever so slightly when he looked at you—this time, you knew you hadn’t imagined it.

“Yes,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a slight smile. “You’re free.”

You couldn’t help but smile yourself, and the chains around your wrists felt lighter knowing they would be off soon.

The captain cleared his throat as he turned away, looking at the rest of the prisoners. “Now, do any of you know where they keep the keys on this ship? If we can’t find them, Tamar here will use those handy axes on your shackles.”

Someone spoke up and the captain sent one of his men off to retrieve them, then he looked at the golden-eyed woman. Shu, no doubt. “Tamar, get the rest of these cells open then bring them above deck. I’d like to make a speech.”

She nodded and got to work. Soon enough, you were breathing in salty air and reveling in the wind on your face. You’d been below deck for far too long, and the feeling of sunlight on your skin was glorious. You allowed yourself a moment to close your eyes and just enjoy it. Your mind blocked out the spilled blood and dead bodies of the crew that you had to walk through. You wouldn’t shed any tears for them, but you weren’t accustomed to the brutality that your parents sheltered you from.

“I’d like to introduce myself to you all.” You opened your eyes and the captain was speaking, standing in front of the orderly line you’d all formed. The Shu woman from before—Tamar, he called her—stood at his left, and a similarly golden-eyed man had just joined them. Between his size and her axes, you were quite thankful they were—at least for now—on your side.

“You can call me Sturmhond,” he said. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me, perhaps you haven’t. I don’t particularly care. As you likely saw, each and every man and woman previously aboard this ship is dead, in case you doubted my promises to your freedom. That is what I care about.”

The thought would have normally made bile rise in your throat. You may not have been accustomed, but you liked to believe you weren’t wholly naive.

“But I want to be clear,” the captain said, “this is not a rescue. This is an opportunity.”

Sturmhond gestured with his head and a woman stepped forward, lithe with wispy hair divided into two braids. She moved her hands apart and concentrated, and with a few concise movements, the cuffs around your wrists broke apart and fell to the ground. Your eyes widened, and the exacerbated clatter made you glance down the line, same as some of the others—she removed everyone’s shackles at once.

Sturmhond kept company with Grisha. You knew the captain was Ravkan from his accent, but any connection to the Grand Palace and the King sent unease trickling down your spine. The chances were small, what with how much time Grisha spent in the Little Palace—Saints, the Fabrikator might not even be Ravkan—but there was still a chance. The last thing you needed was to be recognized.

“We didn’t really need the keys,” Sturmhond said with a boyish smile. Again, you were struck by how out of place he looked—he should have been in university, not heading operations like this. “I just wanted to make you all squirm a little. Tamar’s axes are quite terrifying.”

“Who says we want any part of your opportunities?” asked a man from down the line.

“Because I’m allowing you the choice,” the captain said. “Those of you who wish to be free of the sea and her constraints, we are by the Zemeni border. You will be dropped at the nearest harbor, and your fate will be back in your control.”

There were grumblings throughout your fellow prisoners and you glanced at them. It was a better offer than any of you would have gotten, a chance for freedom that you thought was long past you. Novyi Zem had no grief with Ravka, so you would be safe enough there. You could get a job working the fields or in a factory, and once you had enough you could book passage back to Ravka. You could find your family again.

Your throat tightened. You ran from them—that was why you were here in the first place. Maybe it would be better to try and start a new life all together, nameless in Novyi Zem. No one would ask questions, you were sure of it. You would be in control of your fate again.

And then the captain got a glint in his eye. Your spine straightened almost on instinct.

“As for those of you who want revenge,” he tilted his head, “you can earn a place in my crew.”

“Why would we work for you?” a woman from across the brig shouted. “We’ve got our freedom!”

“Because there is little more satisfying than causing the destruction of those who tried to destroy you,” Sturmhond said. “And because the sea is rather lovely when you’re not a captive.”

“That is my opportunity to you all.” He clasped his hands together, the wind ruffling his red hair. “A chance to help those like you, and put slavers at the bottom of the ocean where they belong.”

“Why would we want to work with pirates?” you spoke up. “We have lives to get back to. And half of us aren’t fighters.”

You didn’t know what it was about you that made Sturmhond’s expression shift just so each time he looked at you, but it was beginning to irk you.

“Privateer, actually,” he corrected. His voice was annoyingly smooth, and his unyielding confidence even more irritating. “As I said, it’s your choice. And it will take us three days to reach Novyi Zem, so you will have time to decide.”

You huffed a laugh, but decided to stay silent. You’d dealt with too many men like him, but it wasn’t a bother—in three days, you would be back in the same position you were in before your bad luck struck.

“Now,” the captain said with an equally smooth smile, folding his hands behind his back, “any questions?”

Nobody spoke up. Whether it was out of fear or simple ambivalence you didn’t know, but you didn’t feel like getting on the captain’s bad side. You planned to keep your head down for three days and figure it all out in Novyi Zem.

“Wonderful. We’ll divide our forces between this ship and the Volkvolny,” he said. “Any of you who wish to transfer ships will be allowed.” His lip curled as he looked around the dingy conditions of the slaver ship. “I doubt you want to spend much more time on board this wreck.”

“Some of my crew will get you situated as we prepare to set sail,” Sturmhond continued. “If you find you have any burning questions later, save them or direct them to Tolya here.” He gestured to the Shu man as tall as a tree standing by him, and he only looked slightly irritated to be given up like that.

“I suppose the only thing left to do is officially welcome you aboard.” Sturmhond swept an arm through the air. “I hope you’ve all earned your sea legs.”

He walked off, Tolya and Tamar following him. They must’ve been his first mates—you were immensely glad they weren’t against you, what with his size and her axes.

But as he did, you couldn’t help but stare. The strangest feeling had come over you during his speech, one that was exacerbated every time he passed the slightest glance at you, every time his expression changed. He was just… unnatural. Unsettling.

You allowed yourself a deep breath and shook your head, trying to focus on the crewmember that was speaking to you all. You didn’t care if he was unnatural or unsettling—you would be gone in three days.

All you had to do was keep your head down.

Sleep wasn’t easy after the day you’d had, but your tired limbs won out after an hour or so of staring at the ceiling. The cot you’d been assigned wasn’t much for comfort, but it might as well have been the plushest mattress you’d ever felt after what you’d been sleeping on before.

You slowly opened your eyes, your grogginess fighting against you at every step, because you had the dimmest feeling that something was wrong. When you saw golden eyes above you, you nearly screamed.

You thankfully held it in, but you could feel your heart hammering in your chest.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered.

“Sturmhond wishes to speak to you,” Tamar said, wholly unfazed as if she did this all the time. She probably did.

“Why?”

“My job isn’t to ask questions,” Tamar said. She left it at that, and you sighed as you pulled yourself out of the hammock. You followed her, squinting in an attempt not to bump into anything in the darkness. The Volkvolny wasn’t familiar to you yet, but it was easier once you were above deck. You rubbed the grogginess out of your eyes when she opened the door to the captain’s quarters for you.

She didn’t follow you in, and you didn’t know whether it was a relief or not.

“Ah. You’re here.” Sturmhond turned around from a cabinet, holding a bottle of kvas, a slight smile on his lips. “Drink?”

“You didn’t just invite me here for a nightcap,” you said placidly, “did you?”

“Of course not,” he said. “I thought it would remind you of home.”

You frowned. “You’re Ravkan. Who’s to say I am too?”

“How did you know I was Ravkan?”

“Your accent.”

“Then how do you think I knew you were Ravkan?”

“Maybe I will need a drink,” you said bitterly. “It’s the only way I think I can keep dealing with you.”

Sturmhond sighed as he poured a fair amount into two cups. “Such harsh words for a noble girl. Quite a stroke of bad luck for the daughter of a duke to end up on a slaver’s ship.”

“Who’s to say I’m the daughter of a duke?” you asked.

He arched an eyebrow. “Do you really want to keep playing this game?”

You crossed your arms in response, and he shook his head with a chuckle.

“An accent gives quite a bit away,” Sturmhond said. “It’s also obvious to anyone that looks at you—and I assume you have quite a few admirers. You speak Ravkan like a princess, like you were taught in schools rather than the streets. You have a gleam in your eye that says you still have hope. And,” he looked you up and down, “you carry yourself with confidence despite your position. Not the attitude of a girl on the other side of the ditch.”

Your lip curled. “How astute of you.”

“Thank you,” he said with a smile.

“Born and raised in Os Alta,” you acquiesced. You offered a thin smile of your own back. “And I suppose you’re correct. Bad luck seems to follow me as of late.”

“You wound me,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest. “Are you claiming that my rescuing you is a continuation of your bad luck?”

“I thought you said this wasn’t a rescue, captain.”

“Sturmhond,” he said.

Your lips twitched in a momentary smile. “I thought you said this wasn’t a rescue, Sturmhond.”

“It isn’t,” he agreed, taking a sip of kvas, “it’s an opportunity. I’m just curious of what drove your choice.”

You crossed your arms. “Strange of a pirate to be so curious about a prisoner.”

“Privateer,” Sturmhond corrected, “and you’re no longer a prisoner.”

“My point still stands,” you said wryly.

“Is it wrong of me to be curious?” he asked.

“It’s pointless,” you said. “And if you’re done with your little interrogation, I’d like to get back to sleep.”

“I’m not here to be your enemy.” He sat up, taking another sip of his drink. “Surely you understand that.”

“I understand it perfectly well,” you said. “I just don’t see why you care.”

“Fine,” he amended, “I’ll let you be. Just one more question.” Sturmhond sat up in his chair, leaning forward as he looked you straight in the eye. His were the strangest shade of green. “Why did you run?”

You actually recoiled at his question, your reflex winning over any desire to hold back your emotions. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t waver. “I thought my question was quite clear.”

You picked up the cup he’d poured for you and threw it back. The kvas burned your throat—your tolerance never was all that—but it didn’t make much difference with the scowl already on your face.

“You don’t get to ask me questions, pirate.”

“Privateer,” you heard him correct, and it only made you slam the door harder on your way out.

Three days of keeping your head down should have been easy. Sturmhond, however, appeared to have a different agenda.

He ignored you for the entire next day, but that night, Tamar was waiting for you before you could even get to the barracks.

“Seriously?” you asked. “Did he not get my message clearly enough last night?”

She shrugged. “He just asked to see you again. I don’t know why.”

You sighed and made an offhanded gesture. “Fine. Let’s go.”

You opened the door yourself this time when she got you there, not even bothering to shut it as you stared at Sturmhond.

“What are you playing at?” you demanded.

“Good evening to you as well,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

“What are you playing at,” you repeated flatly.

“I’m not playing at anything,” he said. “Is it a crime to enjoy your company?”

Your jaw ticked, and your hands clenched into fists. “If you’re after what I—”

“I’m not after anything,” he assured with a frown, “and certainly not what you’re thinking.”

His interruption peeved you, but you found that you actually believed him. The tension eased from your shoulders ever so slightly.

“…Good,” you said after a moment. “But I still don’t understand the need for these meetings. I plan to be gone by tomorrow.”

“Because I know you,” he said. “You may not know me, but I consider myself generally knowledgeable of Ravka and its upper class.”

“What,” you said wryly, “do you want my advice on how best to rob them?”

“Of course not,” Sturmhond said. “I wouldn’t need your advice for that.”

You huffed a laugh. “So what do you want?”

“I’ve been at sea for quite some time,” he said, “and you’ve only just left Ravka. I’d very much appreciate it if you could share some of your insider knowledge on the Lantsovs.”

“You assume I have any.”

“I assume that the woman who used to be Nikolai Lantsov’s betrothed would have some,” Sturmhond replied smoothly.

Your heart stuttered for a beat at the mention of Nikolai. Any doubt Sturmhond might have had over his claim had to have dissolved with your expression.

He arched an eyebrow. “Well?”

You allowed yourself a deep breath before you finally took the seat across from him.

“Fine,” you said. “You’ve got me. I’m the daughter of a Ravkan duke and I used to be engaged to a Lantsov prince. Did you just want to prove your knowledge?”

“Not at all.” Sturmhond wisely poured an additional glass—brandy rather than kvas, thankfully. You needed something stronger if you were to deal with this. “I want your knowledge.”

“My being betrothed to Nikolai is why I don’t know as much as you think,” you said. You downed half the glass at once and your chest burned less than the memory. “Nikolai and I were to be wed when we were of age, yes, but he disappeared before I got the chance.”

“Disappeared?”

You nodded. “He was meant to come back after his service so we could prepare for the wedding. Instead,” your lips curled in a disdainful smile, “he up and left. The king broke off our engagement and I haven’t heard a word from Nikolai since.”

Sturmhond frowned. “My deepest apologies.”

You shrugged. “He made his choice. Apparently he’s in Ketterdam studying, but I very much doubt that. He was never good at sitting still. But wherever he is, I hope he’s still alive.” You huffed a laugh. “I cannot imagine Vasily taking the throne.”

“I’m sure he is still alive,” Sturmhond said. “And I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten you.”

“How kind of you,” you said dryly.

He was silent for a long moment before he spoke again. “You say you plan to be gone by tomorrow. Does your plan include returning to Ravka?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I ran from my family and my fate, and that’s why I ended up here. I don’t think I can go back just yet.”

“And what fate did you run from?” Sturmhond asked.

“A marriage I didn’t want,” you said plainly.

“As opposed to the marriage you did want.”

“Are we done here?” you asked. “Because I don’t think you need to know more of my personal life.”

Sturmhond smiled after a moment and nodded. “Yes. But I’d like to see you one more time tomorrow, before we officially part ways.”

“You’re not going to change my mind,” you said.

“And I don’t intend to. There’s just one last thing I wish to share with you.”

“And you can’t do that now?” you asked wryly.

“Patience is a virtue, darling.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He held up his hands. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You’re very strange for a pirate,” you said.

“I’m quite normal for a privateer,” Sturmhond said.

You huffed a laugh and shook your head as you stood. “Enjoy the rest of your night, privateer.”

You felt his eyes on you as you left, and now more than ever you couldn’t shake that feeling. You looked at Tamar as you shut the door.

“How long have you been part of his crew?”

“A few years,” she said.

“Do you ever get used to him?”

Her lips quirked into a smile. “No.”

You sighed as the two of you started to walk. “What a surprise.”

You were at Sturmhond’s door the next afternoon, Tamar by your side. She hadn’t come to deliver you, but on your way there she told you she would be joining you. You certainly weren’t going to refuse her.

As usual, you didn’t bother to knock. As usual, Sturmhond was sitting at his desk. Tamar followed you in and shut the door, not as usual. Your brows knit together slightly.

“You actually came,” he said.

“Consider me intrigued,” you said. “I couldn’t just walk off and never know what you wanted to ‘share with me’.”

The corner of his mouth curled up into an achingly familiar smile. “You’re just as fiery as I remember.”

“We just met,” you said dryly.

“On the contrary.” Sturmhond sat up, and he removed his jacket. A metal pin glinted on his vest, a crowned double eagle. The Lantsov coat of arms. Your frown deepened. “You spent the other day describing our lost time together.”

“I’m…” you blinked and shook your head. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m Nikolai Lantsov,” he said. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make me say all my titles, though.”

For a moment, you just stared at him. And then you laughed in complete disbelief.

“Is that what this is? You consider me a fool?”

“On the contrary,” he repeated. “It is because of your intelligence that I deigned to reveal myself.” He offered a wry smile. “And because you don’t hate me the way you should.”

“You cannot just say something so absurd and expect to believe it,” you said. “Anyone can rummage up a coat of arms. I have not heard and or received a single word from Nikolai, and now I am supposed to believe that he is right in front of me?”

“It sounds absurd when you put it like that,” Sturmhond said with a frown.

“Because it is absurd,” you enunciated. “I actually thank you for this, because now I know I’m making the correct choice. You may be a good captain, but you are a complete blackguard.”

You turned and offered a tight smile to Tamar. “Please move. I’d like to leave.”

“He speaks the truth,” Tamar said. “I promise you. He’s Nikolai Lantsov. My brother tailored him into Sturmhond at the beginning of all this, when we joined his crew. ”

You paused and looked back at the pirate claiming to be the man you loved. “What?”

“Nikolai Lantsov is much more valuable as a hostage on the seas,” he said. “No one spares a second glance at Sturmhond.”

“Then change him back,” you said, looking back at Tamar. “Get your brother and make him change him back if you want even the slightest chance of me believing these lies.”

“They are not lies,” she insisted. “And I’m not the best tailor.”

“You’re both Grisha,” you said flatly.

“Heartrenders,” Sturmhond (Nikolai?) supplied. “My most trusted crew. Come on, Tamar— I believe in you. Work your magic.”

She rolled her eyes as she walked over to him, and though your immediate instinct was to take the exit you’d been given, you crossed your arms and waited as she did her work. It didn’t take long for his muddy green eyes to change to hazel, his red hair to blonde. A slightly less broken nose.

He… he looked like the Nikolai you knew. It was staggering to just be standing across from him—or at least a mirror image of him—after so long apart. Older, more weathered, but with the same glint in his eye. The same glint that you looked forward to with each day, the glint that you remembered when you didn’t have him anymore.

“That doesn’t mean much,” you finally said, glancing away. “If you can tailor him into Sturmhond, surely you can tailor him into a Lantsov.”

“You overestimate my tailoring abilities,” Tamar said dryly.

“I still don’t trust it,” you said, and you started again for the door.

“When we were seven, I convinced you to sneak out of our etiquette lessons and go down to the river,” he suddenly said. Your hand froze on the door. “You scraped yourself on a particularly sharp rock while we were traversing the waters—you still have the scar on your ankle.”

You turned around. “How do you know that?”

“My father held a party and your family attended,” he continued. “We were ten and it was the most boring night possible. We evaded our parents’ attention and snuck off to the kitchens.” He smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever had so many pastries in my life.”

A smile of your own, almost subconscious, began to form on your lips. You hadn’t thought of that party in years.

“And when I was fifteen, the year before I enlisted, I did the worst thing I could have done to your father.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I took one of his prized swords and did all sorts of moves trying to impress you—I only managed to dent it and get banned from your home for months.”

“I can’t believe you remember that,” you murmured.

“And…” he sighed and opened his drawer, rummaging around for a moment. He held a ring between his fingers when he emerged, and your heart stopped beating for a second. “I still have this.”

Your hand was shaking when you reached beneath your collar and took hold of the string around your neck. You pulled it into view, and the ring hanging on the bottom glinted in the light.

Your engagement rings still matched perfectly.

Nikolai’s smile was bright as you remembered as the realization hit. “And you still have yours.”

“Of course I do,” you said. “It was a lot of work to keep it in my possession.”

“I’m glad you went through it, then.”

“It really is you,” you whispered, letting your makeshift necklace fall back against your skin. “I— I just don’t understand. Why are you here? Why are you playing pretend as a pirate?”

“Privateer,” he corrected. He glanced over at Tamar, still holding her post. “Could you give us a moment alone?”

She nodded and left, shutting the door behind her. The room felt smaller with just you and Nikolai in it, with the man you were meant to marry who left you in the past.

“I do this because I can do much more to help Ravka from the seas as Sturmhond than gallivanting around court as a second son—a bastard son at that. My parents appreciate Sturmhond much more than they would Prince Nikolai.”

“I appreciated Prince Nikolai,” you said. “I appreciated just Nikolai. You could have at least sent a letter.”

“I know,” Nikolai said. To his credit, he did look mournful. “If there is one thing I regret about all of this, it is how I left you. I said what I said the other day because it’s true—I have not forgotten you. I never did.”

“Then why go through all of this with me?” you asked. “Why annoy me into spending time with you?”

“Because I’ve always been quite good at annoying you,” Nikolai said wryly, then his expression sobered. “And because… I didn’t know how you would feel about me after all this time. Everything you said yesterday was true—I did leave you, and I haven’t said a word to you since. I wouldn’t be surprised if you hated me, and if you did, I didn’t want to force myself back into your life.” He managed another small smile. “Fortunately for me, you did not hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Nikolai,” you murmured. “I— I loved you. For a long time, and I think I still might.”

“Even more fortunate for me,” he said softly.

“So why didn’t you come back?” you asked.

“I…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Still cut in a military style. “You talked about how you despised your parents for forcing you into a marriage at such a young age. I didn’t want to force you into a life with me. If I had known you—” he chuckled, a boyish smile on his lips— “if I had known you loved me, I don’t know if Sturmhond would have ever come into fruition.”

“You are the reason I was here,” you said. “My parents thought they struck gold when the king agreed to a marriage between us. I thought I had struck gold as well, in you—a marriage my parents wanted couldn’t have been all bad if you were meant to be my husband. But you left that in the dust, and they still wanted a husband for me.”

“A marriage you didn’t want,” he echoed, his eyes soft.

You nodded. “They did all the work behind the scenes—I was going to meet him on our wedding day, some Kerch banker’s son. And I just… couldn’t face a life like that. So I ran. And with all the luck in the world—” you gestured lazily— “I ended up here.”

“Then I suppose it’s only fair that I ended up rescuing you,” Nikolai said.

“I thought this wasn’t a rescue,” you said wryly.

He chuckled and shook his head. “No. It’s still an opportunity— one I think you’ll like much more.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I plan to go back and take the throne someday,” Nikolai said, moving around his desk to be closer to you. “But I don’t want to miss another moment with you, not now. So until then,” he took your hand, encasing it between his own, and the warmth it provided was something you’d sorely missed, “will you do me the honor of sailing by my side?”

“I’m not a sailor,” you said with a breathy laugh.

“I can teach you,” he said eagerly. “I can teach you everything I know until you’re a better privateer than me. And you can teach me everything I’ve missed while being at sea—all the noble things I ought to know for when I return home.”

Your lips quirked in a smile, hardly able to contain the giddiness bursting in your chest. Your life went from destruction at the hands of slavers to renewal with Nikolai Lantsov by your side once more.

“How can I refuse?”

Nikolai grinned, and he tugged on your intertwined hands to pull you into a kiss. It wasn’t the first one you’d shared, but it was surely the best. It felt like a promise of something new—the promise that he wouldn’t let you go like he did before.

You were breathless when you pulled away, and the sight of Nikolai, blonde hair slightly ruffled because of you, his lips slightly red because of you, made you kiss him even harder the second time.

Your back hit the side of his desk and Nikolai was practically on top of you, seven years of lost love pouring through him all at once.

“And if it wasn’t clear,” Nikolai murmured between kisses, “I never stopped loving you for one moment.”

You groaned and pulled him even closer, your hands clenched tight around the fabric of his jacket. “You wear too many clothes.”

“Then fix it.” His voice was sultry in your ear and you didn’t know how you went seven years without him.

You were very thankful that he asked Tamar to leave.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov angst #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fic #grishaverse x reader #sadie writes

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theweasleytwinsownmyjuicyass · 5 months

Text

Love of my life | D.R.

Daniel Ricciardo x younger!reader

Summary: What happens when you confess your profound love to the person whose heart you broke? How fragile is the hope of reconciliation?

Warnings: comforting angst??? (idk even im in my feels)

Word count: ~1.2K

“Hiding from me?” the velvety voice behind you felt more familiar than you’d like it to.

“Should I?” you turned your eyes away from the dark ocean before you and met his eyes. Gosh he looked handsome and you could feel your body react to him, still the same as it was, gentle shock waves weaving through your fingertips.

“God I hope not…” he sat down beside you on the straw beach furniture. You were trying to keep your gaze on the horizon of the ocean where water seemed to bleed into the dark night sky and become one.

You could hear him take a deep breath, it was shaky and an uncomfortable feeling settled in your gut as if foreseeing that his following words would remind you of something you had been trying to keep buried for the last 5 months.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here tonight…” he spoke out softly, his eyes on your silhouette, encaged by the silver glory of the full moon you looked untouchable. And he knew that you were untouchable to him, no matter how much his palms seemed to have thoughts of their own and wished to just reach out to you, and relish in the touch of your silky skin just like he’d done months ago.

“Why not? You know I didn’t attend all those parties just because of you,” you held your stare stoic, letting yourself get lost in the starry night sky, counting the stars only so you’d hold yourself back from latching on the man sitting beside you.

Nothing could have you forget the day you’d met him. Ironically it was a party that you had only attended because you were dying to catch a glimpse of the charming man that he was. Luckily, at least that’s what you thought at that very moment, you had caught his eye and soon enough you were carrying his heart in your hands and he was carrying yours. Although now after everything, you believe you might have been wrong about the later…

“Y/n… I just want to say-”

“Please don’t say it, don’t apologize again,” you turned to him almost instantly which left him speechless, your eyes sparkling in the moonlight reminiscent of the various jewels he used to clasp around your neck and the supple kisses he’d leave there throughout the day, but the jewels that adorned your eyes now weren’t a consequence of a blissful time together, “I will not hear it again… I do not need to be reminded of that… time”, you lowered your head trying to catch your breath and the lonely tears from falling.

“Baby,” he kept his hands secured in tight fists, too easy to lose control now that he could see tears escaping out of your eyes and cascading down your cheeks. He still remembers the salty streaks from the last time he’d been this close to you. How could he ever forget when the pain he’s been carrying in his chest for so long never denied itself. You had given his heart back to him, but you sure took a piece of it for yourself before that, though how could he blame you when he had done the same… to have the smallest part of you and suffer rather than have no memory of you was and would always be Daniel’s first and only choice.

“Daniel,” your eyes traveled back to his warm eyes, the same one’s that had made you all the promises of a perfect tomorrow. One that never came. One that you still let yourself dream about whenever the air smelled like the cologne you’d gifted him, the one he was still wearing now…

Looking at him you wished you could hate him, you wished to be physically repulsed by the man in front of you, maybe that would help you walk away now and continue living as you once had. Striving for the brightest most delightful future, without looking back at the old dark days, but he has possessed your mind, you can no longer make a step without seeing him there, what if’s about the past clouding your future. How could he sit there and give you those eyes… those gorgeous sad eyes. You bit back your lip. You could no longer kiss his sad eyes and see them light back up after.

“Y/n… you were the love of my life,” he accepts the torture that is to come his way, he knows he deserves it for the crime he just committed. Tears were fully running down your cheeks now, large droplets falling into the sand beneath your feet and disappearing right away, like they were never there…

“Why are you doing this to me, Daniel?” you instinctively covered your face with your palms as sobs made your shoulders tremble, hiding the tears from him even if he’s seen them already. You hated nothing more than for him to see you cry.

“I just… I felt that you had to know, because I never told you how much I actually loved you. I treated you so wrong for a very long time and I am to blame for that… I was the shitty older guy who took advantage of someone who didn’t know what she was doing…”

“That was the problem, Daniel. You always viewed me as a child…I am young, but I am not a kid and I can make decisions for myself. You might regret me, but I know the choices I made and I have no remorse over them,” your heart ached. How unfortunate is it to meet the love of your life and understand that they never truly saw you as their equal.

“The only thing I regret is not doing more to get to know you and… leaving you behind… I was in the wrong, so please do not cry darling…” his voice sounded so different, he was breaking from the inside out seeing you this way. He leaned closer to you, his warm palms encompassing your wrists to reveal your face to him.

Two pairs of teary eyes stared into one another.

The both of you took in a shaky breath in, which finally broke the suffocating tension and helped your lips ease into a simple smile. Daniel wiped at your cheeks, his touch ghostly light, removing the salty puddles, before gracing your forehead with an effortless kiss.

“I’m sorry too, Daniel,” you leaned back just so you could once again let yourself go and drown in his warm eyes, completely forgetting your morals and bringing back the buried feelings you couldn’t not tell him, “You were also the love of my life…”

Now it was Daniel’s turn to let the tears flow. And he did. He wished he had you, all of you, he wished to cry on your shoulder whenever a race went wrong, he wished to have your attentive hands run through his curls and soothe him when the air seemed to get too heavy. Most importantly he wished he had said it sooner, the short ‘L’ word, because if he had, you’d be home, tangled in bed together with big tranquil smiles on your faces.

Instead you two were crying on a beach together, reminiscing on what would have been if it could have been. But it was enough for Daniel, even if he was crying, at the very least he was crying with you… the love of his life…

A.N. loving older men is not a hobby, it's a lifestyle<3

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xianyoon · 2 months

Text

body & soul.

alhaitham x gn!reader. inspired off that pride & prejudice scene. 0.7k words.

the dense morning fog is quite the sight to see, you think to yourself, trudging through the grounds of the estate. you barely make out anything apart from the white fence that had been your guiding light for the past quarter hour, muddied boots making embedded footprints in the steps you take. it is frighteningly cold, but there seems to be a particular kind of coldness within you this sombre morning. it feels almost–

empty.

as if you soul was longing for something. you know very well what it misses, but how is it that you can miss something– no, someone, so dearly – if they had never been yours at all? he was never yours, he could never be; although you wished quite the opposite. as if you'd ever make those intentions known to him.

speak of the devil, alhaitham. you could vaguely make out his broad silhouette, shadows in the fog becoming larger as he walked towards you. your boots seemed to refuse to move – frozen in the very presence of this man. alhaitham now stood before you, his towering stance seemingly softening at the sight of how cold you were.

the unspoken question hung in the air as he stared at you, not unkindly. why were you out here, at such an unfathomable time of the morning?

”i couldn't sleep.” you exhale. the air feels a little colder, an obvious sign of the coolness the two of you shared.

“nor i.” he lets a small smile grace his features before taking a quiet breath. ”my aunt–”

”yes, she was here.” you nod. there was no need for trivialities.

the silence seems to only amplify after your four words, slowly filling in the crevices of the conversation – until alhaitham steps forward.

“how can i ever make amends for such behaviour?” he whispers, addressing the elephant in the room. a brave step – one you couldn’t have bore to take. what amends, alhaitham? how do you dare to speak of amends you could make when you have done nothing wrong in my eyes?

“after what you've done for kaveh, and i suspect, for nahida also, it is i who should be making amends.” you look back up at him, almost uncertainly. you wonder if you should revert your gaze back to the earth.

you see him sigh softly. gather yourself together, alhaitham is something you can glimpse at, by the weary look on his face.

“you must know, surely you must know, it was all for you. you are too generous to trifle with me. i believe you spoke with my aunt last night and it has taught me to hope as i’d scarcely allowed myself before.”

hot, salty tears gather, threatening to spill over. please, don’t you dare to betray me. you've betrayed me once.

“if your feelings are still what they were last april, tell me so at once.” alhaitham continues. he straightens his back, looking at you straight on now. he looks … glowingly different. almost empowered. “my affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever, i promise.”

no, alhaitham – how foolish it would be to think that it would have changed. do you not see it? how the light returns to me the second i hear you speak, how i stop to listen to you even when my soul remains obstinate – my affections will never allow themselves to be changed, they belong to you, and you alone.

“if however, your feelings have changed – i would have to tell you, you have bewitched me body and soul, and i love... i love...”

”i love you.”

oh.

“i never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

oh, alhaitham. there is no doubt about it now – salty tears have won their freedom, flowing down your cheeks only to be caught and thumbed away by his hands. he holds you so gently; do you deserve this kindness, little bird? do you deserve to be held so dearly?

you look at the spark of light in his eyes – it is warm, inviting, loving. he loves you. there is no doubting it anymore. you whisper those three special words into his chest, burying your head into him when you feel him nod and rest his head atop yours in acknowledgement. he feels ... safe.

i love you.

“well, then. your hands are cold.” you chuckle wetly, holding his hands tightly in yours. and maybe, just maybe –

he squeezes your hand back tighter.

"it's quite alright. i trust that your touch is enough to warm them."

#long post #― latest brew.#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x gn reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham fluff #pride and prejudice #genshin drabbles #genshin fluff #astronetwrk

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fan-goddess · 8 months

Text

A Mutual Feeling Of Hate

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Strong!reader

Summary: As Aemond Targaryen rounds up the male Strongs, he realises one man is missing, and in his hunt for him, he finds you…

Warnings: Explicit talk, p in v smut, breeding kink, murder, talk of SA, oral f receiving, praise in Valyrian, riding, sadism and masochism, jealously sex, exhibitionism, marking, let me know if I’ve missed anything

Taglist: @valeskafics, @arcielee, @blue-serendipity,

Authors note: I’m not as happy as I’d like to be, but still here we go hope you guys like it. It was my first time writing on Google docs 😅

Harrenhal had never truly been your home. Throughout the years you were forced to live there, in your eyes it had always been your husbands. Although according to him and, in the more recent years to come it would soon become the home of yours and his children too..

Your husband, Geralt Strong, had been merely a second son when the two of you first married. Yet after the tragedies that struck Lord Lyonel Strong and his eldest son and heir Harwin, it soon hit you that your husband was only an accident away from being appointed the supposed honour of representing his house as its Lord. However, you were not the only one who noticed this predicament, as soon after Larys was appointed with no wife or children of his own, your husband decreed it was time for you to fulfil your wifely duties, and provide him with heirs of his own.

He’d been drunk every time that he tried to force himself onto you, but apparently he was too weak-souled to do it while sober. The man would become so incapacitated, that he’d pass out from overindulgence before he could even properly get off his breeches. For the first time in your life, you were grateful to be married to such a weak minded man.

Although, to play your role in the supposedly ever so slowly closing in win of his succession, you would force yourself to finish taking off his breaches, and stroke him till he burst in your hand, to make it seem like he’d actually completed his part. When he eventually spilled, you would always feel disgusted, wanting nothing more than to wash it all off and clean your whole body of his filth, and yet you found a strange joy in it. Thinking that whenever you were forced to lick the salty taste off of your hands, you were practically eating his children, and his legacy from your very hands. In a strange way, you found honour as you played one of the gods…

Still, when your husband was not drunk, and managed to have his way with you, you still requested moon tea. A wet nurse that you surprisingly found yourself becoming close confidants with named Alys, would somehow always come to you whenever you need it, a small vial in her hand in preparation.

However, when the banners of war were officially brought out of hiding, and calls for soldiers and blood broke out amongst the land, your husband became much too preoccupied by the impending doom of Harrenhal to bother you. You can remember clearly in your mind the day Daemon and his men came for you all. It was something everyone present would remember. Ser Simon, the man who led House Strong while Larys was in kings Landing, was not a man in your eyes that day, as he surrendered easily during the assault of Daemon's attack. It was not difficult to spot Daemon Targaryen amongst the many of his men from your window, the colouring of his hair making him stand out when his helmet was shrugged off, and the wish that your husband could’ve been more like him stood out to you whenever you saw the man. You could not help but feel envious of the usurped queen whenever you saw him standing valiantly and without fear.

That however, was why It was strange, when the prince and all of his men left all of sudden in the night. All pondered over the reason, but then came the sound of a dragon's wings, and the distinctive noise of a dragon's roar, the sound of it echoed and vibrated through the air. It was not Daemon coming back, no. It was the colour green of their banners that told you who they were, and what this meant for you. It was time for you to shed yourself of that ‘Strong’ husband of yours.

Your husband in question has pushed past you to look on in horror as the men in green and gold marched closer. And while he was gawking down below at the sight, you yourself took hold of the intricately carved dagger that was gifted to you by your mother. There was no real need for you to be quiet, as Geralt's eyes remained solely on the now revealed Targaryen below, and when you stood behind Geralt silent to also get a glimpse of the sight, you were most definitely not disappointed.

It was not hard to decipher that it was Aemond Targaryen who stood there, and demanded that a sword be given to Simon Strong. The eyepatch that hung over his disfigured left eye made it easy to realise which Targaryen stood there. He uttered something to the trembling man, but sadly you were unable to hear what it was he spoke.

You were surprised though, when Simon Strong it seemed had finally grown a backbone, as he fought the prince in what was seemingly a trial by combat. However, it seemed he grew it too early, as the sound of clashing of swords was soon over, and instead the sound of a dragon's cry echoed soon after. It wasn’t until you heard the screams till you realised that the prince had fed the mangled corpse of the man to his dragon Vhagar. He made the man, who to you was undeserving of his own blood, into something as meaningless to his dragon as a common sheep. If you weren’t occupied with standing a few paces back from Geralt ready to strike him down, you most likely would’ve gone down to the prince and given him your utter devotion and loyalty, if he didnt make you into food for his dragon too that is.

The voice of Aemond Targaryen rings again, as you yourself twirl the dagger in your hand in preparation, and it booms loud enough for all to hear throughout the castle. “Bring me the rest of the men who possess the blood of House Strong!” You cannot help but feel excited at the tone the prince holds. Madness, and a type of pure unrelenting rage. It’s not hard to tell what the intention of his demand is, even the dumbest of men would be able figure out what he wants to do.

You almost miss your opportunity as you get swept up in your own excitement. Still, you make a noise similar to a yelp in an attempt to draw Geralt's attention from the spectacle below, and when he responds just how you had planned for him to act, with his body and neck turning swiftly to you in sudden alarm, you waste no time in plunging the dagger deep into the flesh of Geralt's neck. You can feel the warm specks of his blood as it splatters onto your face as you withdraw the blade, and as he staggers towards you while clutching the profusely bleeding wound in a poor attempt to stop it, you cannot help but find yourself smiling at the utterly pathetic sight. Thanks to the one-eyed prince and his hatred, there will be no more ‘Strong’ men left to stand in your way to freedom, and no so called ‘respected’ witnesses to your crime.

There’s a small series of grunts that manage to make their way from your husband's blood gargling throat. Although, soon his stumbles become too weak, and he collapses onto the hard stone floor. His movements are weak, as he seems to use all of his energy so he could look up and stare up at you. If you were honest with yourself, the sight before you feels like the greatest honour you could ever think of, to watch the life leaving Geralt's eyes. You feel like you are playing one of the Gods, because thanks to you, they are now forever immortalised with a permanent look of confusion and betrayal.

It hits you though, a thought of realisation that makes your very spine shiver in annoyance. The thought being, that there is no doubt about it, that the prince already has a list of names of those that he needs to kill in his rampage, in order to properly eradicate the house Strong once and for all. If he didn’t… Well then, the prince is more of an idiot than you took him for. Your husband was the man set to inherit everything if and when Larys Strong is to pass. So there is no doubt in your mind that he’ll be one that the prince will wish to make sure is dead at his feet.

There is a sudden knock at the door that drives you away from your thoughts, and you just know that it is the prince's men who have come to fulfil their orders. You take a moment to prepare yourself to play the role of the already mourning wife. The tears you feel drop from your eyes are fake, and yet as you open the door a fraction, the men who look at you see no difference. They’re young, only a couple name days older than you, and you thank the gods because of it, as with their inexperience they will be unable to decipher your tricks. In their eyes, you have already seen the taking of your husband, and by the blood on your face, he was taken not so long ago with some force.

They say no real words to you, other than a small grunt you presume is a type of apology, and leave you to your supposed mourning of your husband in solitude. Though as soon as you shut the door, you grab a chair and manoeuvre it to the window to watch the show below go on.

The sight of the one eyed prince successfully slaying an entire house brings a small smile to your face. He makes the man or boy say their name, and what makes them a Strong. The first to be slaughtered was Ser Simon, and soon after it was clear to all that not even the unclear bastards, with blood muddled and unknown origin, were even safe. None were spared from the Kinslayers blade.

From the balcony soon after the full-blooded men were slaughtered, you watched the beheading of an eleven name day old child. From your understanding of Harrenhal, the only reason that boy was here was because his mother was forced upon by the wrong man, and he refused to allow her the opportunity to rid herself of the child. It’s a sad sight, even you must admit, but there is truly nothing you can do other than let the show below go on.

It’s not long until the pile of corpses stops being enlarged, as the prince's men are forced to halt in their duty in bringing the men. The sounds of bloodshed are soon broken by the many sounds of high pitched women crying for their loves and their families. When you turn your head to look back at your own husband, still laying there in his own blood and filth, you can’t help but let out a scuff of disgust and disbelief, before turning back to continue to watch the prince.

You cannot help but ponder when it’ll happen. What will happen when the prince will eventually realise that no man has come forward to be slaughtered bearing the name of your husbands. Though it appears as soon as you begin to question it, the prince questions it too. “WHERE IS THE MAN THEY CALL GERALT STRONG?” He shouts. His voice somehow managed to echo over the sounds of the crying wives and daughters that resonated from their windows.

One guard steps forward, possibly one of the two who had visited your chambers earlier, but he’s too far to tell or not. He leans to whisper something into the prince's ear, and when the guard leans away, the prince looks somewhere in your direction. You can almost swear that you lock eyes with him, though he soon quickly looks away, before whispering some words to a knight, and beginning to walk towards the part of Harrenhal you reside in.

He disappears from your line of sight, and you begin to wonder if he’ll be searching all the rooms for Geralt. Though once again, It’s not long before you hear the sound of your chamber door being opened, with a loud creak of the handle. There is a sound of footsteps, although they seem to halt quickly. If you had to guess, they must have spotted the corpse. When you turn your head slightly, your eyes once more meet the single lilac eye of the princes. Although he does not make the contact last long as he breaks it to stare at the pitiful view of Ser Geralt Strong, still laying there in the pool of his own blood.

His face gives no indication of any particular emotion other than annoyance. Though you can’t help but notice an unfamiliar glint in his eyes as he looks back at you. “I thought I had ordered my men to bring me every living male strong.” It is not a question, as there is not a single inch of confusion in his tone. This was a statement.

“I know…” It's a strange feeling that resonates within you the longer the prince looks at you. One that makes your entire body strangely burn in a pleasurable sense. Not that you’d ever know what that would even feel like… “Your men followed their orders as they were told, my prince. As he was not alive before your men rounded them all to be apart of your genocide.”

You see that glint once more in his eye. It looks almost similar to admiration?

“I presume you are Geralt Strong's lady wife. Did you truly hate the man that much for you to risk your safety to kill him?” Again, this was not a real question. This was another statement and a demand directed for you. From the look in his eye, he already knew the answer.

“You are correct.” You say no more, and you don’t even need to, as the now dried blood that is still present on your face, slightly sticky to the touch you figured, and your eyes that have managed to remain bone dry with a matching expressionless face. They seem to say more than you ever could. Plus if anything, it seems the prince is the more emotional one in the room between the two of you. His own face holds in its possession a small smile, which looks much more akin to a prideful smirk, while your own is hellbent in an attempt to stay blank.

The two of you stay silent, him standing there not taking his eye of you, while you yourself continue to sit in your chair unmoving. It was strangely peaceful, until the prince began to walk towards you and took your throat in his hand, holding it firmly to not allow you head to move, but not too hard that you couldn’t breath.

“I suppose I must thank you…” He seems to muse, taking in your face as he presents it to himself. “Although-” He cuts himself off, peering down at your stomach with an almost pondering look. “How do I not know that you are currently hiding a Strong inside of your womb from me at this very moment?”

“Because I drink moon tea of course, my prince. Why would I wish to potentially burden my future children with the tainted blood that ran through my husband's veins, when there are hundreds of men throughout the seven kingdoms who easily possess blood ten times purer than his ever did?”

“And who are these men then my lady? Could you name a few so I may have an idea of your idea of pure blood?” He’s playing with you. Testing you even. And yet you must admit that it’s honestly the most fun you’ve had in Harrenhal the entire time you’ve been held practically as a captive there.

“Well there’s your brother of course, the king of the seven kingdoms…” The trail was unintentional, but you couldn’t help but let the next words die on your tongue just so you could admire the thundering glare on the prince's face at the mention of the king. You had heard about the disputes between the two, but you had no idea that this supposed brotherly hate ran so deep between them.

“Tell me who else,” He growls. The sound of it mixed with the feeling of his hand tightening around your neck sending the pure feeling of electricity straight to your already wet core.

“Why there’s many men, my prince! It wasn't like it was hard to possess purer blood than that of a Strong! There’s Dalton Greyjoy… Cregan Stark… Joffrey Arryn… I would even count your own Uncle Daemon to be possessing purer blood than my husband. He is probably one of the few men I would allow to give me my pure children…” With each man you list, the prince's face darkens more and more. You intended to play with the prince at first by making sure to name the men who appeared to side with his half-sister in regards to the throne. Similarly to how he had been teasing you moments ago. However, it seems you played too close to the flames. As when the name of his uncle, and now the name of a man seen as a sworn enemy of the crown, is mentioned from your lips, the prince pulls your face towards his own by the grip on your neck, and claims you with a fiery kiss. The warmth of him spread throughout you, and It truly at that moment felt like you were playing with a true dragon…

“What about me, sweet girl? Am I of purer blood than that of your dead tainted husbands? Am I worthy enough to overflow your womb with my seed and show the kingdoms of how worthy I am?” His whispers make your whole body burn up, as if the blood of the dragon was running through your veins.

“I cannot say my prince… I think you’ll have to show me if you truly think you are worthy enough…” It is the feral-like sound from which the prince releases from deep within, that reminds you once more who it is who is about to claim both you and your body. A dragon. That is what stands before you, and is ready to claim you and change your life forever.

The feeling of the prince's body forcibly overpowering your own as he drags you from the chair you were previously on to the bed, brings a feeling throughout you that Geralt could never have ever achieved.

“Present yourself fully to your prince.” The words drip with lust and desire, as he does not even wait for you to properly respond. Instead, he just tears the weak material straight from your body, leaving you left in only your small clothes before him. His single eye roams over your body greedily to take all of your nude self in. However, you can see it stop at the sight of your heaving chest, your shallow breaths leaving your chest to stutter slightly.

“Gevie…” He mutters before taking a hardened nipple in his mouth and sucking hard, no doubt forcing deep coloured marks to form soon after this is over. His mouth wanders even lower though, sucking and biting gently in his wake, before stopping at the skin of your inner thighs, biting softly at the flesh. The sensations make small whines to leave your mouth whenever his teeth seemingly went deep enough to leave indents of his teeth.

The prince does not appear to be in a hurry. As instead of acting like a true dragon would and just taking you, he just stares at the fabric concealing your dripping core from him with a hooded eye. He does not even attempt to move it, as a lone hand of his simply brushes over the fabric lightly. Your head tilts back at the pleasure, so you are unable to see him grinning proudly at the sound of your whines for him when he does this again, and again. Maybe this is your punishment for mentioning his traitorous uncle? Or maybe he is just simply teasing you again…

“Please my prince… show me how I deserve to be blessed with your seed…” You whine, the words must have driven some part of him, as the next thing you know, your smallclothes are being torn off you like the rest of your clothes, and a warm wet tongue is feasting on your cunt giving you the best pleasure you’ve felt in your whole life.

“Oh fuck!” You shout. There is no real need to be quiet, as who is there to hear you? While you yourself are moaning loud enough for the seven to hear, you almost miss the sounds of the prince's own groans, seemingly already addicted to the taste of your arousal that all but leaks from your quivering body onto his awaiting and eager tongue.

“Ao sylutegon se sȳrje … kesan brōzagon ao ñuha mērī ābra sir till se mōris…” He groans into the depth of your cunt, the vibrations adding that extra arousal needed to begin your push over the edge. The words themselves mean nothing to you, and you find that you don’t really care, as you feel the coil deep within you begin to tighten more and more. “Please my prince let me cum!” You shout, “Please my prince!” You try to stop yourself from releasing, you really do, but at the sight of the prince's head seemingly nodding in allowance, you feel yourself releasing on the prince's talented tongue harshly, leaving you breathless and lightheaded.

While you attempt to try and recover from your peak, you can still feel his tongue inside of you, the wet sounds reaching your ears. He acts as if he was trying to claim and taste the last remnants of your peak and arousal, before he no doubt soon rips another from your quivering body.

As the prince lifts his body up to take off his own clothing, you get the glimpse of his arousal covered face. In the current light, you can see his mouth and his chin shining, and it spreads an entire new feeling of arousal within you you didn’t even know was possible. It only worsens though, as you watch him collect some of your juices from his chin with his finger, before sucking on it with an appreciative sound as the taste glides over his tongue.

“Do not call me your prince, call me by my name. Call me Aemond.” He mutters, before he silences your response as he bends to your level to claim your lips with his own.

It’s the combined taste of your arousal on his lips, and the feeling of his erect cock touching the skin of your inner leg, that makes a pathetic whine leave your lips. You almost release another, when the prince, no Aemond, backs away for a moment to look at you with a hooded expression. He truly looks like a dragon about to devour you…

The prince's hands trail over your sweat layered skin with the kind savagery only seen belonging to a man in war. Because by technicality, he is. Aemond Targaryen has no idea when he will die in this Targaryen bloodshed, so he makes sure that he acts on his desires and takes all that you will give to him with great pleasure.

He pumps his cock a few times, to which you watch with eager eyes at the sight of beads of his pleasure coming from the tip of his cock. Much to your surprise and gratitude though, he inserts himself slowly inside of you, and the mixed sounds of his and yours groans of pleasure echo in the room, mixing as one.

Soon, the feeling of the prince's careful and precise thrusts whilst pleasurable, becomes not enough for you. Your legs hook around the prince's waist, and you take Aemond by surprise as you turn the two of you over and take no time in beginning to bounce harshly on his cock.

The deep groans that the prince lets out at the new position are easily one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever heard in your entire life. “Qogralbar… Konir sagon ziry… sȳz līve gūrogon aōha pleasure hen aōha dārilaros…” Again, the strange words' ,most likely to be that of Valyrian, are lost on you. But the way they sound coming from his tongue specifically, spark something almost primal deep inside. The grip that Aemond has on the skin of your thighs, will no doubt leave harsh and deep coloured bruises, and yet when you feel the sparks of pain from his actions, equally arousing sparks of pleasure get sent all the way up your spine.

Your hands grasp at Aemonds skin for some kind of stability, and your nails dig into his skin so harshly as you try to ground yourself, that you can see small droplets of blood beginning to mark the surrounding flesh. The very sight of it though does not deter you, and if anything it makes you harsher in your efforts for another peak to wash over you.

Although, Aemond surprises you by gripping at your hips and beginning to harshly thrust himself upwards into your wet heat. His cock reached the rough patch deep inside of you that you never knew existed. You were so invested in this new pleasure though, that you had no idea that at this development you had begun to practically shout your pleasures loudly and clearly into the room.

As his cock head bullies that spot inside you, one of his hands reaches to take hold of your neck similarly to earlier. But the grip he holds you now is harsher and less careful, and it makes you breathless. “Oh fuck…” You murmur as your head begins to fill with a strange fuzziness sensation. You feel like you could honestly die there and then. You’ve never felt this type of pleasure before. Never with your husband, and not even with yourself whenever you tried exploring your body as a young girl. The feelings that Aemond was giving you, made the entire world numb, and your body fucking electric.

“Will you let me shoot my seed deep inside you?” Finally, he speaks some words you can understand, other than his deep groans he was serenading you with moments ago. “Will you allow me to show the seven kingdoms the woman who carries my babe in her belly?”

The whine you let out is involuntary, as well as the imagery that comes to mind of you walking eagerly with the prince, a swelling belly officially holding the babe of a man worthy of possessing his blood inside of your womb.

“Yes my prince… show me exactly how worthy you are of me…” A devious idea comes to mind, and a smirk is present on your face as you next speak. “Show me if you truly are better than my husband, the Strong…”

Aemonds face visibly darkens with anger, and the grip that he holds your skin with tightens. His thrusts are harsh as he forcibly brings you to your peak, the feeling of it all rushing through your body at speeds you had no idea was imaginable.

Even when you feel yourself try to recover, the overstimulation begins to set in as Aemond continues to thrust up into you, even as you begin to go numb all over. Still, you’re thankful at the sound of Aemonds deep growl as you feel the warmth of his cum fill you to your brim.

As you gaze down at the heaving body of Aemond, your eyes drink him all in. The blood that you had caused to be brought up from his chest, ran in small delicate trails down his skin, and it excited you all over again to see it.

A knock rings from the door, and to your surprise, Aemond merely sits up to hold you in his arms and tells the person to enter.

It is not a man who enters, but a boy who looks as if he was already scarred by the war he has joined. It is a pity to even look at, but it certainly looks up as you see the shock on the boy's face when he observes the room and spots the body of your former husband, now stiff and pale on the floor.

“What is it you need?” Aemond snaps, his tone making the boy's eyes snap to look at him, only for the boy's eyes to wander to you, and takes over you unashamedly. He is only able to see the nude form of your back, and yet your body still burns with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal at the situation.

“Ser Cole said that when we are sure all the male Strongs were dead, we were to await your orders my prince.”

“Now that the males are dead, I command you to tell the others to make sure that they leave no Strong alive, except this one… this one will be of great use to me…” Aemond murmurs, a single finger tracing the skin of your face to look only at him, as he gazes at you deeply.

You can hear the door shut behind you, and while the silence overcomes the room you cannot help but question Aemonds previous command. “What of the women like me?” The prince raises a single brow, as if he is confused. Yet he is Aemond Targaryen, the man who has near successfully committed a whole genocide on a single house in one day. You cannot allow him to dodge a question on the basis of fake confusion. “Women born not of house Strong, and yet sold to them to be wedded and bedded for their blood to be spread?”

“Why little one they too must die, for they have had the seed of a strong taint their womb forever more. While you on the other hand my lady, knew of the tainted blood of House Strong, and rightfully rid yourself of any opportunity to taint yourself. House Strong must die, my darling, and not only by blood, but by name as well. Surely you must understand, given out shared hatred moments ago?”

“Is my name not Strong currently, my prince?” You tease. Your face widening in a content smile as Aemond dots wet and no doubt marking kisses on the skin of your neck, high enough so your collars may not cover them, so all could see who has done this to you.

“Soon my darling… soon it shall be Targaryen. And it shall also be the name of my son who is currently sleeping in your belly…”

His hand traces your skin, and you hope he does not raise it higher in fear that he will hear the sound of your heart racing at his words. You cannot find yourself able to reply to him, as the words seem to die in your throat. Instead, you simply lay your head on his shoulder, and try to blank out the high feminine screams of your fellow women as they begin to echo on the cold castle walls. The single tear that begins to roll from your eye could easily have been from the emotional turmoil you have faced, or it could easily be sadness and regret of what you have just done. You will never know…

High Valyrian Translates Part:

• Gevie - beautiful

• Ao sylutegon se sȳrje… kesan brōzagon ao ñuha mērī ābra sir till se mōris - You taste the best… I will call you my only woman now till the end

• Qogralbar… Konir sagon ziry… sȳz līve gūrogon aōha pleasure hen aōha dārilaros - fuck… thats it… good whore take your pleasure from your prince

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 3 months

Text

Sex on The Beach (What a Treat)

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Reader

Description: You love being a part of the Dagger Squad, but you're well aware there isn't a lot going for you as a woman. You go out on dates - often. But none of those men every meet the mark. Can one drunken night on the beach and one gorgeously bespectacled WSO change your mind? Only the ocean and its waves and your own beating heart can say.

Themes: Virginity, First time, Dirty Talk, Jake has a surprisingly terrible sex story (it's right in the beginning)

Warnings: Bob Fucks!

Word Count: 3291

A/N: This fic is wholly self-indulgent and came to me in an ovulating daydream right in time for @attapullman's International Bob Floyd Fucks Month! I hope you all enjoy it! I'm proud enough to say that yes indeed, Bob Floyd fucks!

Thanks to @horseshoegirl for beta reading this fic for me and telling me that I wasn't writing Bob terribly.

My Masterlist

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

The night is cool and clear. A salty breeze rifles through your hair and dampens your face in soft gusts. It’s late, but on the other side of the bonfire, the other Daggers are continuing the party. A part of you is sure the party will still be going when the sun rises. You’re drunk, inhabiting that state of being between tipsy and drunk off your ass. Your cheeks feel hot, and your tongue is uncooperative. You’re not sure when the conversation veered right into a discussion of sex, but it did. You’re also not sure why you’re helplessly giggling about sex with Phoenix and Hangman, of all people.

“And then she bit me!”

You and Nat take one look at each other and cackle. You inhale a little and giggle out, “D-did she really bite your…?”

Jake nods ruefully, a blush rising on his chest as Nat falls back with another delighted peal of laughter. You’re not sure you can look at the man when he looks like he’s still in pain just at the memory of what happened. His blush seems to intensify the more your delighted laughter rings out, and every time you look at Nat, it sets you off again and again. You feel like you can barely breathe; you’re laughing so hard.

When you gasp for breath and sip your drink, your cheeks feel hot, and you can feel the sweat on your temples. You hold the frosty bottle up to your face in a futile attempt to cool off a little. It’s not like you’re wearing too many clothes, choosing to sling on an unbuttoned shirt and a pair of cutoffs over your bikini when the night cooled.

“You know, you’re laughing awfully hard for a girl who hasn’t said a word. We’ve heard from Tash. You’ve obviously heard from me. It’s your turn.”

All of a sudden, your mirth dies off, instead turning into a cold sweat prickling across your exposed skin. You’re trapped in their gazes, Nat’s whiskey eyes staring you down coolly amused while Jake’s absinthe-colored orbs seem to glare right through you.

“Come on, Artemis.”

When Nat begins to plead along with Jake, you cover your face with your fingers and collapse until you can hide your face in your knees.

“Seriously, Artie. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. After all, I’d love to know if you can top getting bitten on the dick mid-blowjob!”

“Seeing as how I don’t have a dick, that would be kind of hard, Bagman!” You deadpan.

But neither of them is pleased with your only input to the conversation so far. They keep needling you, poking and prying. Jake keeps calling you Artie, too, like only he ever has. Ultimately, that’s what has you lifting your head and glaring right at him.

“Don’t call me Artie!” You point at the grinning blond and wag your index finger.

“There she is!” When your glare narrows, he mimes, zipping his lips closed.

You can’t make eye contact as you spit out in a low hiss barely audible over the hissing fire, “I-I’ve never had sex before. I’m a virgin.”

But they heard you, if the wide-eyed glances they share are any indication.

“How is that possible?”

Nat wraps an arm around your shoulders. You shrug, staring into the distance behind Jake’s head. Unconsciously, the three of you have gravitated to the spokes of a triangle, your legs tangled in the center of the blanket in a pile of sand-encrusted limbs. You’re pretty sure you’ve got Jake’s foot poking into your shin, and one of Nat’s legs is slung across yours.

“I’m always going out on dates, so that can’t possibly be true, right?”

But, you have to snort just remembering those dates. “Those guys have always just fallen flat. They’re perfectly nice, decent guys. But we never seem to click. There’s no spark when they kiss me clumsily goodnight outside my front door.”

“Maybe you need to look a little bit closer to home for that kind of intimacy?”

Your head snaps up at the sudden loud, obnoxious tone in Jake’s voice.

“C’mon Tash. Our Artie is a little boring right now. What do you say we go grab a few more drinks?”

You’re too drunk for this shit, and you’re grumbling that fact as you watch Jake and Nat trip and lean over each other as they walk toward the other Daggers. In truth, it would probably make sense if something was going on between the two of them, though you wouldn’t bet on it.

“Y-you’re a virgin?”

The words are said so quietly you half think they’re a figment of your imagination. But you know that voice too well to think you're dreaming.

“But you’re so pretty, Artemis. Those men didn’t deserve you, not at all.”

You smile and pat the blanket with your hand. Bob sits gingerly on the edge of the blanket with his back to the Daggers.

“It’s nice of you to say so, Bob.” His cheeks are pink, and his blue eyes are dark and deep as they stare into your own.

“I’m serious. If it were me, I’d have kissed you until your head was spinning, and those pretty lips were all swollen for me.” You can’t breathe for a completely different reason in comparison to all those minutes ago. You can smell whiskey on his breath, coupled with the smokey sweetness of the bonfire and the floral notes from his cologne.

“Why haven’t you, Bob?”

“I’ve seen the guys you go out with, Sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you can see stars reflect in his lenses, refracting over navy eyes, as he tips his dark blonde head back. “They’re sexy, suave, and debonaire. Why would you pick me over one of them?”

The self-deprecation in his voice has your mood sobering unexpectedly fast.

“You’re just as sexy, suave, and debonaire as they are, Bob.” He snickers gently at your phrasing.

“You don’t really believe that.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Unconsciously, you lean forward, needing to get closer to him. One of his hands rises to cup your cheek, and your eyes flutter.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” you muse.

He hums, and his big thumb swipes gently across your cheek.

“Maybe it’s because I haven’t trusted any of the men I go out with.”

“And you trust me?”

“Yes.”

The moment feels electric, like sparks skittering across your skin. Bob’s eyes keep glancing over your lips. The alcohol flowing through your veins frees your inhibitions as you stand and brush sand off of the back of your shorts. Bob blinks at your sudden movement, mouth parted sweetly as you reach for his hands. When he’s standing, he runs his hands through his hair, leaving minute grains interspersed through the golden threads. You can feel his gaze on your skin as you bunch the blanket over your forearm.

“Come here.” You take his hand in yours, gently tugging him away from the bonfire and your friends. Nobody notices your disappearance, which suits you just fine. You make for the little lifeguard shack a couple hundred feet down the beach and lay the blanket out in its shadow.

“What're we doing all the way out here?”

Instead of responding, you fist your hands in his shirt and tug his mouth down until it meets yours. The kiss starts clumsy and bumbling, just a brush of skin to skin. It feels like Bob is trying to figure out how genuine you are, so you keep the pressure light. Already, this tender, fumbling kiss is a million times better for you than those first kisses with those other guys. When Bob gasps and his big hands curl around your hips, you moan.

That small sound leaving your mouth makes Bob wild. His hand wraps around the base of your skull as he licks into your mouth. It feels like you're burning up, skin bursting fever hot just at his touch. His hands divest you of your button-down and your shorts; his fingers are studied and quick as he whispers filth into your ears. His tongue traces hot over your pulse, sucking and nibbling and teasing. You chase after his mouth when he pulls away, whimpering as you rub your thighs together.

“You’re so beautiful for me, my lovely Ari.” His eyes are dark now, just a thin rim of blue wrapped around his pupils as he presses you down onto the blanket.

You’re keening, babbling his name as you straighten his glasses. There's a fond, tender look in Bob's eyes as he dips down to kiss you again.

“Shhh, darling.” His mouth drags wet over your collarbones. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

When his calloused fingers drag your bikini top away, you shiver. Your nipples are peaked and hard as he gazes down at you. It should feel weird being so exposed to a colleague and friend, but all you want is to feel the hard length in his swim shorts pressed up against you.

It's not a choice at all as you mewl, “Please.”

You could fall in love with Bob Floyd's smile, the smirk covering his face when he's feeling confident. When he wraps his lips around the peak of your breast, licking at the swollen flesh with his hot, wet tongue, you’re sure you could fall in love with his mouth, too. You feel like you’re drowning as Bob Floyd kisses over your stomach, placing tender kisses across the stretch marks slicing silver over your skin, as he kneads at your ass with big hands before undoing the knots of your bikini bottoms with his teeth. When the fabric falls away, you exhale, unsure when you started to hold your breath when you know you will need it. You can feel the heat of his breath against that most intimate of places, making you squirm.

“I've got you, Ari.” Even the endearment he's chosen, based on your unfortunate callsign, makes you ache for him. “Mmmm, you're so wet for me.”

His fingers dip gently through your folds, the slow, languid motions making something simmer in your veins. His fingers already feel different from your own, filling your sopping cunt in ways that your own can’t. The brush of his tongue over your clit has your hands burying in his hair, tugging at the soft strands. But his mouth doesn't stay there, nipping at your hips, the tender skin between your thighs, at the soft skin where your pelvis meets your legs. You lose yourself in the feeling of his mouth, babbling his name in whispers and moans. The buildup of your orgasm is already different from when you use your fingers; it is more intense and more fulfilling. When he traces figure eights over your clit with his tongue, you come hard, thighs shaking at the effort of holding them open around his head.

“So beautiful when you come,” he rasps. His glasses are fogged, and his lips are slicked with your release as he settles in between your parted legs. You tug Bob into a kiss, sliding your arms around his neck until his weight rests on you. You can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you slowly and sweetly.

“Are you sure you want me to do this for you, sweetheart?” His cheeks are pink, his hair falling onto his forehead as he growls the words out.

“All you have to do is tell me, beautiful.” When he nuzzles your breasts and lays an open-mouthed kiss over the peaks, you’re more sure than ever. “We can stop the minute you’re not comfortable anymore. This is about you, after all.”

“Come here, Bobby.”

He looks almost startled as you pull him back into a kiss, sliding your hands under the fitted shirt he’s been wearing all day. His skin is warm and silky smooth, lean muscles flexing under your curious touch.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” You’re whining as you drag the shirt up, and you have to moan when he finally yanks it off. His hair is standing up on end, and his glasses are askew, but right now, you're not sure there is a sexier man on the planet.

“Fuck, you’re hot, Bob.”

His blush deepens, eyes wide at your horny declaration.

“I mean it.”

You tug at the knot of your bikini, wrestling with the strings with clumsy fingers.

“Come here, sweetheart. I’ll get the knot for you.”

You should feel ashamed, naked out on the beach where anyone could happen to see you. But you’re not ashamed at all. His hands gently pushing your hair over your shoulder and his mouth kissing the nape of your neck are why. When the triangles of fabric fall from your skin, you turn and kiss Bob again. You could get drunk off of the feeling of his lips against yours, off the way he licks into your mouth. Emboldened by the look in his eyes, you let your hands trail down until they dip below the waistband of his swim shorts.

“God, sweetheart. There you go.” He’s grunting and gasping against your mouth as you wrap your hands around him. For the first time since you kissed Bob, you feel a little out of your depths. He’s big, so big that you need both hands to hold him, big enough you’re not sure he’ll fit. When you voice your worries in a quiet, gasping whisper, he chuckles.

“It’ll fit in that pretty pussy, baby. Just gotta work you up good, and it’ll slide right on in.”

You squeak as he lays you down again because, for the first time, you can hear his accent as he drawls out the words. From this angle, your mouth parts in shock at the sight of him. Bob’s biting at his lip as he rolls a condom on, and that sight makes you giggle a little.

“Of course, you have a condom on you.”

When he snickers, you know you’re going to want more of this with him. “I, um… Jake gave it to me.”

You cover your face with your hands and squeal a little more.

“He’s been trying to get me to ask you out for months now, darling. I wish I’d known a few shots of tequila and a conversation about sex would be all it would take.”

“Are you calling me easy, Bob Floyd?” You’re pouting, but it doesn’t last for long as he seems to blanche at your teasing. When you laugh, he dips down to kiss you, and you hum at how good it feels.

“I think we’re both a little easy for each other. All we needed was a little push.”

He runs his hands up your thighs, smoothing over the flesh as he parts your legs a little more.

“It’s your last chance to stop this, Ari. You just have to tell me.” You can feel him hard against you as he kisses you again. “We can get dressed and just walk back to the bonfire. Maybe we can try again later.”

“We’re not stopping, not now, Bob.”

Your voice isn’t exactly firm, more breathy than anything, but it makes Bob smile. He guides himself into you, and from the first press, you’re sure you’ve never felt so full. It doesn’t hurt, but it does feel uncomfortable.

“Fuck, you’re tight, sweetheart.” There’s sweat beading up on his temples, and his jaw is tight as he growls out the words. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

“Relax for me, baby.” You melt when he kisses you, shivering at the feeling of his bare skin pressing into yours. He rubs gently at your sides, calloused fingers gentle as they pluck at your nipples. It’s when he kisses you again that you relax. Inch by slow, incremental inch, Bob fills you. He kisses you when you tense around his length, a WSO’s patience and talent filling each heavy moment.

When he bottoms out in you, you feel like a live wire. The sparks floating across your skin are back, arcing through your veins until they’re molten with lust. The first few times he pulls out of you and presses in again, it feels just as uncomfortable as that first slow slide. When his fingers find your clit and massage it in counter rhythm to the push-pull of his cock, you gasp, open-mouthed and silent. All of a sudden, it feels so good; you couldn’t describe it if you tried.

“Fuck,” Bob’s vocal in bed. You wouldn’t think it, looking at him. It’s also incredibly flattering. “You’re so tight for me, Ari. Fuck, baby girl. Your pussy’s perfect. I’m so lucky.”

You’re gasping and moaning, trying desperately to quell the feral sounds spilling out of your mouth. Each thrust has your fingers scrabbling for purchase in the beach blanket under you, knuckles whitening under the pressure. Unbidden, you can feel your orgasm cresting, stronger than the last.

“Bob,” You’re nearly sobbing because everything you feel is nearly too much to handle. “Please, Bobby. Gonna cum!”

When those talented fingers find their way to your swollen clit and massage it, you come. His hips stutter even as your legs wrap around his waist, and he roars against your chest as he comes after you. You feel like you’ve been stunned. If this is what sex feels like, you’re not sure why you waited as long as you did. Or maybe it’s not just the sex that was mind-blowing, but the man you just had sex with? He’s blushing again, sweat dripping down his chest as he helps you dress with slow deliberate motions. You steal kisses whenever you can, because, yeah, you're falling in love with his mouth and his tongue and his voice.

“Got to get you cleaned up before we head back to the bonfire. C’mon, Ari.”

After everything you’ve done with Robert Floyd, holding hands shouldn’t make you giggle so much. But you need his helping hand in more ways than one. There’s already a dull ache at the base of your spine, but you refuse to let that feeling beat you.

Unfortunately, Bob leads you back toward the parking lot, squeezing your fingers and smiling softly at you as you lean onto him. But everything is dark and silent the closer you get. The bonfire is glowing embers in the sand, and all of the cars are gone from the parking lot. Your bag is sitting in the tailgate of Bob’s truck, and you have text messages on the device explaining how everyone has headed out. They’re from at least an hour ago.

He better be good to you, Artie.

Jake’s message is the only one in which your friends allude to knowing what happened between you and Bob. When you turn back around, Bob’s biting at his bottom lip, worrying the flesh with his teeth. His hands are in his pockets, and for the first time, he seems anxious.

“Can I take you home, Ari?”

You hum, tugging his mouth down to yours for another kiss.

“Take me home, Bob.” Your voice is a whisper as you let Bob crowd you against his truck.

“I can do that, Ari. But, can I also take you to dinner sometime, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please.” You shiver as he kisses your pulse. “But only if I get your big dick again, Bobby.”

He swats your ass as he helps you into the cab of the truck.

“Everything I am is yours, baby girl.”

This sounds like the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Though, given the chance, you’re going to avoid having sex on the beach again. Sand rubbing you raw isn't quite so fun when you'd rather have Bob do that for you.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@shanimallina87 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob x reader #robert floyd x reader #bob fucks #international bob floyd fucks month

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matchadobo · 9 months

Text

KIDD; kidd being sweet

wc: 1653 summary: just wholesome shit warnings: afab reader, none

silently humming to yourself, you scrubbed the dishes with the sponge coated with foamy soap as it enveloped your hands with its froth. it was a normal day around the victoria, most of the crew had stayed in the dining hall to play cards, drink with the others, or just chat with everyone. it was your turn to do the dishes, you almost bribed others to do it but decided to get on with it. you really were looking forward to going to bed early, but that’s too bad.

to everyone’s surprise, including you, the door slammed open. you met your lover’s eyes as he had his usual scowl plastered on his pale ass face. you furrowed your brows, waiting for an explanation. he stood there for a while before giving everybody a glare and a grumble. it was an unspoken order to get the fuck out of the room so he can be alone with you. you sighed to yourself in endearment, shutting your eyes and letting a sigh out from your smiling lips.

soon enough, the hall cleared and he stomped his way towards you as his heels clicked under the woody floors. he met your eyes before making his way behind you and snaking his flesh arm around your waist. “’m tired.” he meekly greeted, a sigh following afterward when you felt him lean half of his weight to you as he placed his chin atop your head.

you chuckled softly, continuing on with your chore. “a little busy here, captain. mind letting me go?” you sardonically remarked despite leaning into his touch. he let you go with a grumble, leaning by the countertops beside you as he crossed his arms. “should’ve let the others do it, you’re the captain’s wife for fuck’s sake.” he clicked his tongue.

“that’s just childish now, isn’t it?” you finally finished as you dried your hands off with the towel hanging on the cabinet handle under the sink. “i’m done now, don’t get too pouty about it.” you teased, poking at his nose as he let out a huff of annoyance despite his flushed cheeks. “besides, i like doing it for the crew. it’s nice seeing them relax for a while.”

“thought being the mom was killer’s job.” he shifted his legs where you can fit between them as he pulled you closer by your hips. he leveled himself with you as the counter supported his weight.

“he doesn’t get enough credit for it, though.” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck. “did you miss me that much?” you tilted your head, raising a brow.

“you have no idea.” he buried his face on the crook of your neck, reveling in your perfume. “i’d fuck you in here if i wanted to,” he whispered in your ear. despite being married for years, his low voice never fails to raise goosebumps across your skin. “but i don’t really need that right now.”

you jolted lightly in shock, looking down at his red mane of hair. “come with me to the bow.” he placed a kiss on your shoulder before letting you go and walking out of the room.

you heed to his request and followed him, the bright sunset almost blinded you as the breezy dusk of winter welcomed you. the salty scent of the sea wafted across your nose, a refreshing feeling that always puts you at ease.

he sat at the edge of his ship, feet hanging loosely as it submerged in the sea from time to time. you sat beside him, almost falling if it weren’t for his hand on your side. “is there something wrong, love?” you looked up at him, but all he did was lay his head down on your lap.

“don’t overthink it.” he brushed you off, “i just miss you.” he looked at you through his half-lidded eyes.

your face almost exploded from being too flushed, and you looked away with both of your palms hiding your face. “why’re you acting weird?” your sentence was muffled but it was enough to send him laughing.

you peeked behind your fingers at the joyous man before you, the reason behind his laughter was none other than you. “ah, fuckin’ hell. we’ve been married for years and you still can’t wipe that stupid flush in your cheeks when i’m around.” he said in between little laughs. “makes me wonder why i’m the goddamn same.”

you finally put your hands down and combed them through his relaxed crimson locks while the other was drawing shapes on his chest with your fingers. “just remember how you confessed like a mess back then, then you’ll know.” you teased.

he looked away, clicking his tongue again as he tried to hide the blush on his snowy cheeks. “yeah, and your cheeks were red as hell when i did. all you replied was random shit and then you started kissing me, right?”

“shut up.” you pressed your lips together, flicking his forehead. “we were both pretty dumb about each other back then, mostly you though.”

he grumbled as a reply, nuzzling himself closer to you. “i was like that cuz you’re making my goddamn head spin each time you look at me, it’s just fuckin’ different when you do.” he sincerely replied, covering the upper half of his face with his arm as it became immensely red. the golden ring on his finger that he made himself shone against the glistening shine of the setting sun.

“how’d it go again? you’re too fuckin’ pretty it’s pissin’ me off that all i wanted to do is kiss you and fuckin’ touch you and fuckin’ lo-”

before you could finish your sentence he pinned you to the ground. it all happened too fast but now, he was above you with that arrogant fucking grin you fell in love with. how he has complete power over you and how you are willing to heed all his commands. how his eyes shone as he studied how the red in your cheeks never disappeared but got more prominent at his actions.

“yeah? you were sayin’?” he leaned closer.

“-and you fuckin’ love me it makes you so crazy you’re choking on your saliva.” you finished, “the hell does that even mean?” you added while laughing and wiping the tears off your eyes, covering your face once more.

“dumb way of saying i love you, i guess.” he placed a kiss at the corner of your eyes where tears formed earlier.

“you were so cute then, god.” you smiled, holding his face between your hands.

“calling the pirate king cute ain’t cuttin’ it, lovely.” he got off you, sitting back as he gazed . “for the record, you were the one who was stutterin’ and shit, it’s goddamn adorable.”

kidd became more open when you two got married. maybe because of the ring, or maybe because he finally got serious with you. that fateful day where he finally had the balls to face you and tell you how he truly feels even though it’s still a puzzle to him how much you fucked him up. not in a bad way of course, if anything, you fucked him up so much he’d wanna change the world for you, much more his self. he wanted to make you know that he loves you, that he’d do anything for you. he’d want to let you hear his praises and insults, he’d want to let you hear how much you deserve the world, he’d want to say i love you to you and he’d always look forward to how your eyes brim with so much love the same way his does each time he looks at you. it sometimes catches you off guard when he just blurts out things about how he loves you.

“hm? that why you married me?” you sat up, leaning on his shoulder and brushing your fingers by his veiny arms.

“if there’s one brat i’d be more than willing to be stuck with for the rest of my life, it’d be you.”

“ah you’re making it hard for me to stop feeling hot.” you placed both of your hands on either side of your cheeks.

“ain’t my problem i turn you on.” he grinned over his shoulder, arrogantly looking down at you.

“it’s not even that!” you shuffled in your seat trying to regulate the heat in your cheeks. “have i ever told you that i’m very proud of you now that you’ve learned to say how you feel?”

“well, pretty stuff.” he tucked a hair behind your ear, flicking your forehead afterward. “you teach me some pretty things like that all the time, you been rubbin’ too much off of me.”

“i gotta get used to you being sappy, this is catching me off guard way too much.” you leaned back by your arms, looking at the sky.

“you gotta do better than that then.” he snarked, pulling himself up and walking towards your shared quarters. “i’m going to bed, come if you want to snuggle or some shit.”

you chased after him almost tripping over yourself. “what did you eat today, kidd? you’re so generous!”

“other than you, nothin’ out of the ordinary.” he said with a grin, letting you enter the room before him as he held the door wide open and watched you flush from head to toe. “i just enjoy seeing you all hung up on me.” he stared you down, pinning you against the door. “wanna take this to the bed?”

“i miss the sweet kidd, bring him back!”

“too bad he wants a quickie right now.”

and so the night went on loudly, filled with screams and moans of laughter and pleasure. your days were either filled with him being sweet or him being horny, one or the other, or maybe a combination. either way, you’d be in bliss with the love that is him.

wrote this half asleep, i miss him :(

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nanaminsmoon · 10 months

Text

𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭.

a/n: this is the quickest piece of writing i’ve ever done and it’s because it was meant to be a joke because i just think this audio is mad funny...but it’s not too bad. i didn’t even think i’d upload anything today but this happened so enjoy i guess:))

cw: oral (m receiving), ony is just overstimulated, ony calls reader ‘baby’, n word usage.

wc: 922 + i only reread this once

‘don’t you know i will make you nut until you fucking cry? d’you hear me? you’ll be nuttin’ and cryin’ at the same damn time.’

watching a lot of tiktok meant that you often annoyed ony with random videos in his messages, and phrases you found funny. although he told you to stop, you knew he loved it really. so you didn’t stop. something you found particularly hilarious was the audio of that one guy saying ‘don’t you know i will make you nut until you fucking cry. d’you hear me? you’ll be nuttin’ and cryin’ at the same damn time’. so that phrase had graced ony’s ears multiple times. a day. he didn’t use tiktok as much as you—the only reason he even had it was so you could send him videos you liked. so the first time he had heard it, his ears had perked up in curiosity; he didn’t know you were referencing something else, so he just thought you were threatening him with some lifechanging head. but you clarified, and he slumped into the couch as he played 2k.

seeing that reaction, you decided to just give the man what he wanted, and now he had nutted three times; the first in your mouth, the remnants of the second were on your chin and his thighs, and the third was on your chest. your actions had been true of your words—albeit playful, and not necessarily your own, they hadn’t been shy of your true intentions. the headset, that had once been atop ony’s head, had been taken off, and sat next to him. it had been the only audience member observing the sloppily lewd noises coming from the place your mouth and his dick met. all assisted by the hands that paid great attention to the places your mouth couldn’t reach. his midsection was covered in a heedless mixture of his nut, your spit, and his sweat. his beautiful brown skin shining like honey covered chocolate, melting under immense heat. and there’s nothing you wanted more than to taste the sweetness on your tongue; transferring onto you to settle on your tastebuds.

pearly whites held his white tank top as his eyes were painfully closed. his attempt to look down at you was delayed by eyelashes sticking together, salty murmurs of overstimulation acting as an adhesive to keep them united. keeping his eyes shut was the only thing he could control; his hips moved on their own, following the wetness between your plump lips to get another release. it was relief ony wasn’t sure he wanted, he didn’t think he could handle it. and his neck made sure to warn him of that—whipping his head from side to side as he searched for an avenue of relief that wouldn’t leave him shooting blanks.

if the sounds in the room hadn’t been overshadowed by amplified suction noises, you would’ve heard the quiet cracking noises produced as a result of how hard he was curling his toes. you had long snatched that nigga’s soul, and now you were just cleaning up the crumbs, making sure his chest would now hold a you shaped hole.

maybe that hole would be reminiscent of the one at the back of your mouth, wrapping itself around his tip as you swallowed around him.

“y/n, b-baby, n-no more” , his shaky hand lifted to softly push your forehead back. but his hips couldn’t help fucking your mouth more, pushing himself further inside you, and whining every time you gagged. the volume of ony’s whimpers was the highest it had ever been—his vocal cords could not find it in themselves to move in a way low enough to duplicate his usual growls, and groans. so they remained stagnant at high-pitched whimpers and whines, loud cries filling the living space.

ultimately, you kept to your promise, and ony’s eyes brimmed with salty streams of overstimulation, before the streams merged into a waterfall that fell down his soft cheeks.

“y-y/n, nnghh—ffffuckk”, his voice felt like it was going hoarse with how hard he was pushing his voice to form intelligible words and sounds. and his chest heaved deeply as he tried to stabilise himself again. the first step of said process being a firm palm pushing you back, causing you to fall back onto the rug. giggling at the mess you had made of the man you loved. his fourth, and final, nut came out in small specks. and you saw the visceral juxtaposition of delightful agony painted all over face; his lips had parted but all they could muster was heavy breaths. this man was fucking drooling onto the couch cushions, and you just giggled again.

“you asked for it”, you chortled, getting up to make your way to the bathroom to get some warm towels to clean you both up.

as delicate as your hands were, ony still winced at your gestures of kindness. sorry hands still felt tainted by lust as you cleaned off the fruits of your slobbery labour. you wanted your own relief, but you knew ony wasn’t in the headspace to give it to you so you just continued wiping him down. you could’ve sworn the overstimulation had knocked him out, but then you heard faint grumbles through unstable, and snotty sniffles,

“stay off that fucking app.”

#nanaminsmooninc #aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black reader #ony x black y/n #onyankopon smut

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neoarchipelago · 9 months

Note

I’m not sure if you’re still doing the sex pollen stories butttt I just read the one for Price (holy shit🔥)and I thought I’d ask for a Graves one🫠

Ah yes... GRAVES. First time writing for him... Damn ... Hope you'll like it...

Philip Graves on Sex Pollen (GN!reader)

Graves would be cocky. Probably would brush aside any worry you threw his way. He'd joke about it, saying he'll have a great night or something. You'd eye him suspiciously, keeping an eye from far away. That man is proud. So when the symptoms start to truly break him, he has to step away from his shadows. You know him. It's been a long time and you know every little manners of this man. You dart behind him.

You walk amongst the dark base hallways until you hear a muffled curse. You slowly peek around the corner just to feel a wave of heat crash over you. The sight of graves, pants and boxers around his thighs as one of his hands holds his shirt up, perfect abs clenching with every stroke of his other hand around his hard member. You feel yourself lick your lips as you watch him pump himself, drops of precum glistening.

You look behind you before finally stepping to him. You watch his eyes widen immediately as you come into view. He should have asked for help. He should have said something. Proud bastard. You drop to your knees in front of him as he lets out a choke of your name.

The salty taste makes you hum as he hissed, throwing his head back. His hands meet your hair, helping you move your warm mouth on his shaft.

Between curses and hisses you can practicality hear the smirk on his face as he mumbles a few words.

"fuck... You just wanted this huh?" He chuckles. "Didn't have to follow me... Could have just asked..." He teased again.

Your tongue circled his tip making him gasp in between words, a silent reminder that right now, you were the one in a position of strength, whether you were the one on your knees or not.

His first release was quick, warm salty at the back of your throat, little 'thanks' and praises falling from his lips.

Eventually, and you don't know by what miracle, you found yourselves in his bed, his hips ramming into you harshly. You were glad you had managed to find some place more private because the pornographic noises from you, him and your pussy made could have fallen in unwanted ears.

"shit... You feel so fucking good... Damn... Should have done this sooner..." He grinned while his cock buried itself faster into your pretty hole.

You could only whine at his taunts, the exhaustion and overwhelming feeling of your previous orgasms making your mind buzz.

"do you think they can hear us?? Fuck... I hope they do..." He teased, his hips faltering.

You threw your head back, another orgasm hitting you harshly as he released himself inside you.

He was more than desperate. It was complicated to keep his strong facade, cocky and proud, he was too lost on you. Lost in the pretty sounds you made and the way your body reacted to him. The way you clenched around his cock perfectly. He'd be embarrassed in the morning, fuck... But right now, he had his face hidden in your neck, kisses and bites muffling moans and begs for you to let him cum inside you again.

If you'd tap out and you'd give him consent to keep fucking you, he would. No hesitation. His large hands on your hips as his eyes wouldn't look away from where the two of you connected. The view only sending him to the edge again.

You'd blink your eyes open, the feeling of his thick cock twitching inside you as he looked down at you with something in between need and appreciation.

In the morning, he'd be gentle for you, in the secrets of his room, soft aftercare. However he'd gloat about you being his now, even though you hadn't even talked about it. Wouldn't deny anything to the shadows talking to each other about strange noises.

#fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #philip graves x reader #philip graves x you #philip graves #graves cod #phillip graves #philip graves smut

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