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wheresarizona · 3 months

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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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kryptid-writes · 10 months

Text

Sabotage

After one too many failed dates, Y/N finds out the real reason Gabriel has sabotaged her love life.

(3.5k)

Warnings: Smutty smut

“Check please,” you politely ask the waitress as she passes by.

She nods and digs the checkbook out of her apron pocket and leaves it at the edge of the table, next to your empty plates and half finished glasses of red wine.

You were lucky enough to get a reservation at one of the nicest restaurants in the city that’s typically booked out months in advance, accompanied by your lovely date.

You were skeptical about trying dating apps, claiming “they’re for losers who don’t go outside.” But the Winchester brothers had convinced you to give it a try after the countless dates before that had ended in disaster, to say the least. Dean even helped you set up your profile, choosing the best photos on your camera roll, limited to the ones without the blood and weapons.

You had almost given up in total, on the verge of deleting the app, when you matched with a nice man named Daryll. He’s a few years older with a steady job as a physician and a luxury car. Not to mention that he’s tall and clean shaven, with rich umber skin, and a smile that could light up a room. He’s dreamy, to say the least.

“So…” He trails off with a suggestive smile, taking a meticulous sip of his drink.

“So,” you repeat, your gaze getting lost in his dazzling amber eyes. The tension hangs in the air, cutting through the sound of plates and drinks clinking, and muffled chatter from the other patrons.

“I had a really nice time tonight, we should do this again sometime.” He reaches his hand across the table, resting it on top of yours.

You blush and nod your head. “Yes, I would really like that.”

After a short debate on who will pay, Daryll insists and grabs the check, slipping his sleek metal credit card into the folder.

The waiter whisks it away and returns shortly, thanking us with a polite smile.

You exit the restaurant with Daryll, the smell of extravagant food fading from your senses as the door shuts behind you. You stop to admire the twinkling stars in the dark summer night sky, a light breeze blowing your hair back in the wind.

There’s an unspoken debate, as you stand shoulder to shoulder in silence. It’s been a long time since you’ve gotten this far on a date and you're left feeling rather nervous.

You bite down your nerves and decide to speak, choosing not to waste this opportunity. “You know, I have an unopened bottle of Italian Riesling back at my apartment,” you say, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. “It would be a shame for it to go to waste.”

“Riesling?” He chuckles, “Count me in.”

------------------------------------------------------------

You fish out your keys from the bottom of your purse and shove it in the lock, with a light jingle, the door opens, revealing the tiny apartment that you call home. “So, this is it,” you say, inviting him in and gesturing for him to sit on the gray loveseat in the living room.

You hope he doesn’t mind the organized clutter of your apartment. Books, paintings, and houseplants tastefully strewn throughout the rooms. Of course you had hidden away your hunting gear in a small closet, given the small chance the night ending at your place

“It’s nice. Cozy.” He takes off his jacket, hanging it on the coat rack. He takes a seat in front of the roaring fireplace, the warm orange glow illuminating the room and the burning wood giving off a pleasant aroma.

You hastily search your cabinet through the countless bottles of wine until you find the Italian Riesling you have been saving for special occasions. It must’ve been sitting there for god knows how long, but wine gets better with age, right?

You pour the wine into two of your fanciest glasses, careful not to spill a single drop over the edge. Clicking the button on your stereo that sits on the kitchen counter, the soft sound of classical music fills the room. You pick up the glasses and take a seat next to Daryll, handing him the other one with grace.

“To us,” he says in his smooth voice, lifting his glass in the air.

“To us,” you repeat, clinking your glass in a toast and taking a sip of the wine. The semi-sweet liquid flows down your throat, leaving a dry aftertaste of peaches and grapes.

Daryll scooches closer, placing a hand on your thigh, sending a shiver up your spine. His thumb rubs teasing circles along your skin, your flesh heating up at his touch.

It’s been a long time since anyone has touched you, let alone someone as attractive as Daryll. Your breathing becomes heavier as you try to quell your growing excitement.

“Tell me, Y/N, do you usually lure men back to your apartment with fancy wine?” He says with a flirty smile, lightly squeezing your thigh.

“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure before. Why, is it working?” You giggle.

“You know,” he says, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, “I think it is.” He leans in close, his lips just inches from yours, the sexual tension growing by the second.

You close your eyes and lean in, desire burning in the pit of your stomach. Just before you can break the distance, you’re interrupted by the sound of blaring music and flashing lights.

You both jump back at the surprise, looking around at the once calm room turned chaotic. The swirling rainbow lights and reflections from the sizable disco ball dropped from the ceiling dances across the walls. The stereo that previously played peaceful classical music, now plays the best of 70’s disco at the highest volume, so loud that it sounds distorted and rings in your ears.

“What. The. Fuck,” Daryll yells over the music, his face scrunches up in a mixture of confusion and anger.

“I- I can explain!” You yell back, covering your ears as you desperately try to think of a reasonable explanation for the sudden madness. You’re interrupted by the feeling of something small and furry scurrying past your feet, making you gasp and tuck your feet onto the couch cushions.

A mouse dashes across the floor, barreling directly towards Daryll, catching you both off guard as you’ve never had a rodent problem before.

Despite carrying himself as a strong, fearless man, he runs for the door in a panicked hurry. “Look, I'm out!” he shouts with a disgusted look and slams the door behind him.

Anger surges through your body as you witness the one successful date you’ve had in months storm out the door, and you know damn well who’s to blame. You grab the stereo, ripping the plug out of the wall and smash it on the ground, the pieces scattering across the floor, halting the music mid track.

“GABRIEL, GET YOUR FEATHERY ASS DOWN HERE!” You yell, shaking with anger, and looking to the ceiling.

“Hey sugar, you called?” The familiar voice of the mischievous archangel says from behind you.

You turn on your heels to face him. Of course he’s dressed for the occasion, wearing a stupid dress shirt with an obnoxiously loud pattern, the first few buttons undone, exposing the skin of his chest, and black bell bottom pants, with slicked back hair, and a fake mustache. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he’d fallen right out of the 70’s.

The way he stands nonchalantly with an amused smile on his face, leaves you fuming. “What is wrong with you! You ruin everything!” You yell, your face heating up.

He stares back at you, seemingly amused with your little outburst, conjuring a lollipop in his hand and sucking on it.

“All I want is one successful date! One!” You point at him angrily, taking a step closer. “First it was the nice girl from the bar that you sent to some alternate reality that definitely scarred her for life, then it was the cute mechanic that took me to the movies who, may I remind you, you released a dozen snakes on him.”

Gabriel snickers, recalling the antics that he found so enjoyable.

“And now, this!” You snap, walking forward til you’re all but a few feet away. You take a deep breath, collecting your emotions. “I get that I'm a hunter, but maybe I don’t want to die alone,” your voice takes on a melancholy tone.

His face softens, his signature cocky smile melting into a frown.

“It’s like you don’t want me to be happy,” you whisper, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill.

“Hey! That’s not true!” Gabriel snaps in an offended tone, suddenly taking this very seriously.

“Then why, Gabriel? Cause I don’t find this funny! At all!” You look up at him with pleading eyes, desperate for some kind of an answer to all this torment. What did you do to deserve this?

He stays silent, but his soft, bashful eyes says it all.

“Oh,” you whisper, something inside of you clicking, finally connecting the dots that should have been so obvious. “Are you… Jealous?”

He scoffs, looking away, but doesn’t deny it.

“You are! You’re jealous!” You say in disbelief with a shameless smile.

“No! I just… I just don’t think they deserve you,” he replies, trying to keep his cool demeanor he’s worked so hard to curate. “You deserve someone capable, someone who’s gonna treat you right and take care of you.” He straightens his posture and subtly puffs out his chest, which might have been effective at impressing you, if he wasn’t dressed like the long lost member of the Bee Gees.

“Someone like you?” You say, lifting a brow and stepping closer, now invading his personal space, not that he seems to mind.

“I didn’t say that.” He furrows his brows, taking a daring step forward, nearly closing the distance between the two of you.

“You didn’t deny it either,” you say with a cocky smile.

He stares at you intently, his longing eyes falling to your pink lips.

Feeling a rush of boldness, you lean in close, placing a hand on his chest and whispering in his ear, “If you want to take me on a date, you could just ask.” You pull back smiling.

His face flushes a light pink, his lips curling into a grin. “The night is still young, cupcake, how about we fix this?” He says, ushering to the chaotic room, lights still spinning and remains of the stereo scattered across the apartment.

He snaps his fingers and your apartment is restored to its former glory, this time covered in candles that illuminate the room in romantic lighting. The repaired stereo sits on your counter, soft jazz music playing. Gabriel playfully dances to the music, taking your hands and encouraging you to join him.

You smile, admiring his work and casually sway with him. He always did know a thing or two about style.

He leads you to the loveseat, skillfully pulling you into his lap. With another snap of his fingers, a tray of chocolate covered strawberries appears in front of you, as well as two glasses of strawberry champagne.

Gabriel is notorious for his love of sugar, always snacking on some kind of candy, even in less than appropriate settings. Lucky for you, you’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth, and being with Gabe certainly promises more of where this came from in the future.

You take a sip of your drink, the sweet taste of strawberries dancing on your tongue. You smile, maintaining playful eye contact as you swallow. “This is nice Gabe, you should’ve started with this.” You chuckle.

He laughs and rests one hand on your hip, the other grabbing a strawberry. “Now where's the fun in that?” He teases. “Open wide, sugar.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

You blush at the innuendo, but do as he says, chuckling as he guides the tip of the strawberry in your mouth. “Mmm,” you hum in satisfaction as the dark chocolate melts in your mouth, mixing with the sweet flavor of the fresh strawberry, much sweeter than any strawberry you can buy from the supermarket.

Gabriel smirks at your reaction, taking the rest of the strawberry in his mouth, his eyes lighting up as he savors the flavor, tossing the stem aside. “You have a little something here, cupcake,” Gabriel says flirtatiously. He places his thumb on the corner of your lips, swiping a smidge of chocolate off, his finger lingering on your lips for a moment before he sucks the chocolate off his thumb, never breaking eye contact.

“Th-thanks,” you stutter, suddenly feeling hot and flustered.

“Don’t sweat it.” His eyes fixate on your lips, studying every curve. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?” He asks in a soft, caring tone.

You stare at him in shock, his genuine compliment feeling out of character from his usually sarcastic, dickhead self. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply.

He grins like a cheshire cat and pulls you into a kiss, catching you by surprise.

You quickly melt into the kiss, all of your frustration from your failed date melting away. All that matters right now is Gabriel, and God does it feel so right.

He pushes his tongue in your mouth, tangling with yours. The sweet flavors of lingering chocolate and strawberry mix together in the most pleasant way, eliciting a moan from you that only spurs him on.

You tangle your fingers through his golden locks, lightly tugging on the ends, earning a groan from him. You grind down onto his lap as you deepen the kiss.

He reluctantly pulls away for air, both of you out of breath. “You taste so good, sweetstuff,” he purrs, letting his hands roam from your hip and down to your thighs. “But I want to taste you elsewhere,” he whispers seductively, sending a shiver of arousal down your spine.

“Please Gabe,” you beg, desperate for more.

Pleased with your reaction, he lightly peppers kisses from your jaw, down to your throat, licking and nipping as he goes.

You lean back, giving him access to every inch of your skin.

When he reaches your collarbone, he furrows his brows in frustration at the constriction clothes that hide your body from him. With a snap of his fingers, they’re gone.

You gasp, feeling completely exposed to him, but don’t protest.

He pulls you off his lap and kneels on the floor in front of you, sitting back on his heels. He drinks in your form, completely entranced in your beauty. “Like I said, Gorgeous.” He smiles like a kid on Christmas.

You blush profusely, but before you can respond, he kisses down your chest and takes your nipple into his mouth. You throw your head back and bite your lip to stifle a moan, the sensation sending arousal straight to your core.

He sucks and bites, lightly rolling the bud between his teeth and tongue. Once he’s satisfied with leaving you a quivering mess, he moves his way down. He kisses from your sternum, to your stomach, and down to your hips.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he places his hands on your thighs and spreads them apart, revealing your aching pussy to him.

“There’s the good stuff,” he says with a stupid smile that just screams ‘Gabriel’.

“You’re such a dork,” you retort playfully.

He gives you a flirtatious smirk, before placing kisses on your knee and working his way up your thighs, painfully slow, taking his time to tease you. He maintains deep eye contact with you as he inches ever closer to exactly where you need him most.

You tremble with anticipation, your body aching with arousal, craving him in every way possible.

He kisses to the crook of your thigh, biting down playfully, surely leaving a mark where his teeth dig into your flesh. He kisses right next to your pussy, painfully close, yet not close enough at all.

“Gaaabe,” you whine, tired of his teasing. You run your fingers through his hair and lightly pull, silently egging him on.

He smirks, enjoying keeping you on edge, desperate for him. “You gotta beg for it, sugar. Tell me how much you need it,” he says in a mischievous voice

You clench your jaw. He’s the trickster, of course he would enjoy teasing you. “Please, gabe,” you plead.

He raises his eyebrow, not satisfied with your feeble attempt.

You swallow your pride, the need to feel Gabriel, taking priority over your ego. “Please Gabe, I need you so bad. Please touch me!” You beg him, pulling on his hair.

“Much better,” he purrs. He uses his grace to pin your hands to your side and spread your legs wider, keeping you in place.

You whine in anticipation, trying to grind your hips forward, but you’re completely immobilized by his grace.

He laughs, enjoying watching you helplessly struggle. Deciding to give in, he licks a long stripe up your pussy and swirls tight circles around your clit.

“Oh, Gabe,” you moan, shocks of pleasure send through your every nerve.

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking with the perfect amount of pressure to drive you crazy. The movements of his tongue goes from planned and strategic to sloppy and passionate, lapping up all your wetness like he’s a man starved.

A string of expletives fall from your mouth as your brain goes foggy, reality and pleasure mixing together and becoming one.

“Mm… sugar, you taste amazing, better than any candy I've tried, and I've tried them all.” He winks.

“God Gabe, are you trying to kill me?” You pant, your eyes meeting his, pupils blown wide with lust.

He scowls at the mention of his fathers name, but his expression quickly morphs into a cocky grin as an idea dawns on him. He presses his finger against your entrance, teasingly circling it, but never pushing in like you need.

“Please, no more teasing,” you pout, trying to grind down onto his fingers.

He scoffs, looking rather amused. “You have no idea how long you’ve been teasing me, sweetstuff. Seeing you going on dates with other humans, flirting with them right in front of me. This is just a taste of what you’ve put me through,” he says in a low, seductive voice. He pushes in the tip of his finger ever so slightly.

You bite down on your lip. You should feel bad about putting him through that, but all you can focus on right now is the way he’s teasing your aching cunt.

He slowly pushes his finger in to the first knuckle, before pulling out completely.

“No! Please!.. I need you,” you confess with wide eyes.

He smirks, getting exactly what he was looking for and pushes his finger all the way in, eliciting a deep moan from you. He starts slowly fucking you with his finger, building up pace until you’re a writhing, moaning mess.

You fight against his grace, desperately wanting to run your fingers through his hair and kiss him, but the struggle is ultimately useless against the overwhelming power of an archangel.

He pulls his finger out, and you whine in disappointment that’s quickly cut off by him shoving two fingers into you, fucking you relentlessly.

His fingers feel like heaven as that burning feeling builds in your stomach, the muscles in your body slowly tightening, reaching the point of no return. His name spills from your mouth over and over like a prayer, as your brain drowns in pleasure

He smiles, knowing just how close you are, and curls his fingers forward, pressing up against your sweet spot.

It’s all over as the coil in your stomach snaps and you cum harder than you ever have in your entire life. “Fuck! Gabe!” You moan loud enough for your neighbors to hear, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Every nerve in your body lights up, your walls spasming around his fingers as you ride out your high.

“There you go, sugar,” he coo’s, his eyes tracing over every inch of your body, thoroughly enjoying the show. Once you’ve come down from your orgasm, a panting and sweating mess, he releases you from his grace and sucks his fingers into his mouth, his tongue licking off all your cum. “Mm, I could get used to that,” he says with a cocky smile.

“Me too,” you reply, leaning your head back against the couch.

He shuffles onto the couch next to you, pulling you into his arms. He feels a sense of peace and happiness as he finally gets to be with the human he had fallen for long ago.

Bathing in the afterglow, you feel his hard cock pressing against your ass, giving you a sense of pride and a new pang of arousal. You palm him through his jeans and he groans at your touch.

“Woah, sugar,” he says, removing your hand. “We’ll get to that later. Trust me, tonight is far from over. But for now, you should relax. I’m here to take care of you, and if you let me, I'd like to be with you full time,” he admits, scared of being rejected.

“An archangel boyfriend? Count me in.” You smile, nuzzling your head against his chest.

He pulls you closer and hums in content.

Maybe the happiness you were searching for, has been here all along.

Masterlist

#gabriel x reader #gabriel supernatural #gabriel #Smut #fluff #supernatural #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #gabriel fanfic

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aquafire2008 · 3 months

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haii there so uh. uhm. my buddy made me read a legend of zelda book and i can feel the hyperfixation loading. what other legend of zelda stuff do u recommend for me

Hello, Tikycuki! Thanks for the ask!

Not sure what you've read from the LoZ fandom but I will give you a complete list of everything that I know of in this fandom to help with the brainrot! There are Mangas, AU's on Tumblr, and many, many games. List under the cut.

You can find a list of the games on my profile, but this list may be missing a few games.

Mangas:

Twilight Princess

A Link to the Past

Four Swords (Parts 1 and 2)

Oracle of Seasons and Oracle of Ages

Phantom Hourglass

Minish Cap

Majoras Mask?

Ocarina of Time?

Then Zelda AU's:

@linkeduniverse

@linked-maze

@linkedkeysau-official (Looking for voice actors)

@bonus-links

@minas-linkverse

@magikandmayhem

@link-rejoin

@limited-hero

@heroesspirit

@linkbetweenlinksau

@zelda-the-sacred-realm

@recalled11

@sea-salt-lemon-sugar (Splatoon AU of LU)

@thatbrokenpromise

@jhoca (Time, Twilight, Tears)

@its-roachii (Tears of the Kingdom, roll swap)

@modlinkeduniverse (Modern ask-the-nine-links)

@tentimesthecourage (Introducing Wild's brother)

@houseofheroesau

Other Zelda Blogs That I Recommend:

@breannasfluff (Amazing AU's. THE place to go if you want Ravioli content (not the pasta). Mainly LU content)

@ask-the-nine-links (LU incorrect quotes)

@ikaishere (Mainly LU content)

@arecaceae175 (LU Sky content + others)

@linkfollower (LU content)

@triforce-of-mischief (LU and TBP content)

@kaenith (Four Swords content)

@nyxsbotwtapestry (Recreating the BOTW tapestry irl)

@zarvasace (Four Swords and vidow content)

#aqua speaks #tikycuki #rant post /pos #legend of zelda #tloz #the legend of zelda #Sorry! I messed up on Tumblr mechanics again.

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randomfanner · 7 days

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Runaway (Stone x OC/Reader)

Hello! This is my first Ramshackle fic. I might end up doing more but I really hope I don’t because I have another fic to finish! Anyway content warnings: past abuse, drug use, anxiety. summary: Anastasia’s cruel subconscious rudely snapped her from sleep. She could feel the cold sweat rolling itself down her back and her breathing was heavier. Reality set in quickly as she realized she was in a tent rather than her old bedroom. She looked at the three Scraps who peacefully slept beside her.

‘Worthless Brat! How come you can’t do anything right?!”

Anastasia’s cruel subconscious rudely snapped her from sleep. She could feel the cold sweat rolling itself down her back and her breathing was heavier. Reality set in quickly as she realized she was in a tent rather than her old bedroom. She looked at the three Scraps who peacefully slept beside her.

Her eyes shifted away from them. It felt wrong to still think of them as Scraps when they were kind enough to accept her into their group. She reached down next to where she slept and picked up her glasses. She fumbled around her bag and the limited amount of her possessions, zipping a secret pocket she pulled out a journal.

Careful shifting the blanket off of her, She slinked out of the tent, doing everything she could not to wake the others. Her foot got caught on something in the tent and she tumbled into the alley way, a hand covering her mouth to make sure she didn’t make any noise as she found herself facing the cool night air. She turned to look back at them, going still as she waited for any signs that one had been woken up.

When she figured she was in the clear, she finally made herself out of the alleyway and pressed up against the building. She settled her back up against the wall and laid there. Anastasia stared out at the empty street in front of the alley before tilting her head back, she could hear the quiet thunk as the back of her skull touched the coarse brick.

Some things never do change, whether it be in the ‘cushy’ walls of one of the manors or it be out on the desolate streets. Anastasia had foolishly believed simply leaving that hellhole would stop the nightmares from plaguing herâ€¦ She flipped open the leather journal and spun the pencil around as she landed on a fresh blanket page, tapping the eraser to her chin.

“What are yae doing out ‘ere?”

Anastasia clapped the book shut and shoved it behind her, almost jumping out of her skin to see who had spoken to her. She rested a hand on her chest. “Stoneâ€¦ I am sorry, did-did I wake you?”

“Naw,” he walked over to the other side of her, pressing his back against the wall before spreading out his legs as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out his box of mismatched cigarettes and pulled one out. “Are yae going to answer my question?”

“It’s nothing.”

His cigarette dipped down from a moment before he flicked it up. “Then why have yae been sneaking out for the last few nights?”

Anastasia tensed up. “I am sorryâ€¦”

“I am not askin’ for an apology,” Stone looked at her took a long drag of his cigarette. “I am tryin’ to make sure yer alright, alright?” the gray smoke poured from his mouth as he looked at the sky. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I am not gonna force you.”

Anatasia looked at his profile for a bit, it took her a moment to long to realize she had been staring at him. “â€¦ It really is nothing,” Anastasia shifted her head to look at the gray road. “Justâ€¦ bad dreams.”

“It isn’t nothing if it is keeping you up all night,” Stone grinded the nub into the ground. “You are a Scrap now, if something is distressing you, we are all going to want to help youâ€¦”

“You all have already helped me so muchâ€¦. I don’t want to bother you. A-and besides, there isn’t much that can be doneâ€¦”

Stone rolled his eyes. “It isn’t fuckin’ botherin’ us,” Stone pulled out his vodka bottle and took a swig from it before placing it down in the dirt, grinding it into the dirt and stone. “Trustin’ might not come naturally, it might even be terrifyin’, but yer a scrap nowâ€¦” he looked to the side and shrugged, thinking of Vinnie’s words. “Scraps have each other’s back.“

“... I will tryâ€¦.” Anatasia meant it in earnest.

Stone grabbed his package of cigarettes again and went towards the corner, pulling out a cigarette that looked different from the others. It was thicker and she could clearly see where it had been rolled. He lit it and took a long drag before holding it out to her. “Here, this might help.”

“Oh, I-I don’t-”

“I know you don’t smoke, it isn’t a cig. It’s pot.”

“Oh-” It wasn’t something she had access to directly, but Anastasia had actually read about some of the medical benefits of Marijuana. One of them was helping with sleep. She carefully took it and held it like he had, trying to take an equal as long drag. Not that she got very far before she was hacking. She shoved a hand over her mouth

Stone carefully took the joint from her fingers, putting his other hand on her back, helping to steady her. “Don’t worry about ‘em, those two can sleep through anything.” After she managed to breathe a bit Stone moved away, taking another hit before offering it back.

Anastasia took a few deep breaths before she picked it up again, taking a smaller hit this time. She began to cough as she offered it back to Stone. He took one more hit and offered it back for the last time. After she had taken her last hit he put it out and back into the box. “That’s enough for your first time.”

“Thank youâ€¦” she said. She turned back to looking at the road and after a few seconds her entire body went slack, staring up at the sky.

Stone watched her and a tiny, tiny grin came to his face. “Are you still in there?”

“Huh?” Anastasia snapped out of it and looked at him. “Sorryâ€¦” her eyes fell and she began to stare at his chest, beginning to completely space out again.

“Got anything in particular on yer mind?” he asked.

“... I really wanna cuddle with youâ€¦”

Stone tensed up a bit and cleared his throat. He looked to the side before his irises rolled back over to her. “Fine. Ya get five minutes.”

With a bit more excitement than she would have expected from herself, she clung to his waist. Her head fell into his chest and she closed her eyes. After only about two minutes of resting on top of him, she was out.

Stone held his arms out before his body slowly relaxed. He took her glasses off and carefully folded them up, putting them on top of the journal. After a few minutes he huffed, his arms relaxing to her waist. “Fineâ€¦. Guess you can stay a little longer than five minutesâ€¦”

Skipp sat up in bed and looked around. Something was missing, he knew it. After a second it clicked. “Vinnie! Vinnie! Stone and Anastasia are missing!”

Vinnie immediately sat up and went out of the tent. Her eyes scanned around and she rounded the corner. Both of her feet planted into the ground and the expression of concern shifted to a stupidly big grin. “Oooohhh- I know why they were sneakin’ off-”

“What happened are the-” Skipp stopped as he rounded the corner and he let out a loud gasp. Stone opened one eye and glared.

“What is it?” he grumbled. His hand on Anastasia’s waist tapped her and he looked down. Both of his hands flew off and Anastasia remained knocked out.

“Stone- don't tell me you got a crush on Anastasia-” Skipp whisper-yelled.

Stone’s cheeks turned bright pink. “I don’t have a damn crush.”

“Oohhhhhhh you dooooon’t?” Vinnie had a tease in her tone as she showed off all of her teeth. “Whatcha doing then?”

“She wasn’t sleepin’ well, nothing more than that,” Stone shook Anastasia’s shoulders which jolted her awake. She looked at him and immediately flung herself off of his body.

“Good morning! I am sorry!”

“Yer fine, it’s just morning-” Stone grumbled as he got up. “Come on, we got better things to do than just being in awe.”

“Stone! I think it is a good thing!”

“It’s alright you know,” Vinnie continued to tease.

Anya took a breath and put a hand on her bright red cheeks. She reached down and opened her glasses before sliding them on with one hand.

That was one way to start a the morning, but she couldn’t deny she did feel a lot better.

#ramshackle vinnie #ramshackle stone #stone ramshackle #stone x reader #stone x oc #fluffy #angst #hurt/comfort #nightmares #Stone is a not so secret softie #vinnie ramshackle #skipp ramshackle

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theresattrpgforthat · 11 months

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hi! this might be odd but im flirting with this nerd -- do you have any recommendations for 2 players ttrpgs that we can turn romantic?

THEME: Two-Player Flirty Games

Hello friend. There are so many great 2-player games out there that I wanted to recommend but I did my best to cultivate a list with an appreciable amount of variety. Some of these games are designed to be romantic, while others simply have the potential. Some games are slightly more serious, while others have room for goofiness. Enjoy!

Over the Moon, by Speak the Sky.

Over the Moon is a 2-player role-playing dating game of dark lunar obsession, awkward online dating Q&A, and tantalizingly limited information that's designed for play via online messaging apps!

Each of you plays a moon cultist, witch, or other dark creature who loves the moon a little too much, and whose comrades decided to ‘fix’ this by online dating with ‘normal’ people… but you’ve just been matched with each other instead, and it’s up to you to see if you can make this work. Is the moon your one true love, a third wheel in the sky, or the ultimate wingmoon? Play to find out!

This is a wholeheartedly goofy game that uses romance without expecting the players to take the story seriously. Players will create dating profiles complete with likes, dislikes, and personal qualities. They will also create hidden personal preferences based on moon sign. The game itself progresses over the course of a moon’s cycle, starting on the new moon. You will take turns sending questions to each-other, replacing some words “moon” or other moon-related terms, reacting to messages using exclusively moon emojis. The game even comes with (optional) spicy questions, if you want to progress past flirting, and into something a bit more overtly sexual.

Perihelion, by Meghan Cross.

Perihelion is a prompt based storytelling game about the Sun and the Moon and the relationship that they share. It can be played two different ways - either as a new and developing relationship or an established and changing relationship.

Play out the phases of a lunar cycle, making your way through the prompts and treasuring every fleeting moment you have to spend together.

Perihelion has the capacity to be as romantic or non-romantic as you like, with the focus directed instead to the type of relationship being depicted. Whether the relationship is new or established, the Sun and the Moon don’t get to see each-other very much. Their relationship is one of trading places, reading the marks of what the other has left behind. I’d recommend this game if you don’t mind a bit of a more serious tone, but want some ambiguity about your characters’ relationships.

Alone Together in this Vast Space, by Junk Food Games.

Alone Together in this Vast Space is a 2-player one-page ttrpg meant to be played in a single session.

To play, you need the game sheet, one 12-sided die and access to music.

It is about a lone passenger aboard a spaceship whose only company is the ship's AI. Using music, you will find out what you want to do on this interstellar journey, face threats, and connect more with the only other being with you.

Despite being only one page, I think this game has a lot of potential to create intimacy, romantic or non-romantic. It’s a great chance to introduce your potential partner to the kind of music you like to listen to, and therefore learn more about each-other in the process.

From the Sea to the Sky, by somewhere with stories.

A two player game about writing to a loved one while you are apart.

One player resides at the bottom of the sea, having made a home in sunken stone ruins. The second player takes their residence on the moon, observing the stars and the world below from the endless skies.

As a letter-writing game, From the Sea to the Sky provides another option for players who want a nebulous definition of the relationship between the characters. You could be good friends, siblings, former comrades, or lovers. The game is simple, providing a series of prompts that you can use to fuel your initial letter, and the author expects the players to pick up from there and find many things to write about. If you are long-distance, or if you want an opportunity to flex your creative muscles, this game might be worth taking a look at.

Eyes on the Prize, by ira prince.

Eyes on the Prize is a court intrigue game for 2 or 4 players (1 or 2 pairs) in which you dream up a fake-married couple, then attempt to wield their fraudulent union to achieve their shared goals. Perform badly, and nobody will buy it, tripping up your attempts to advance your plots; perform too well, and you might start fooling even yourselves.

Use a deck of playing cards, a d8, some tokens and a timer to role-play two people doing their best to keep up fake appearances for the purpose of satisfying court society. If you liked the first season of Bridgerton, you’ll probably like this game. If you like fanfic tropes like “only one bed” or “fake partner to bring to the wedding”, you’ll probably also love this game. The outcome is up to the players - do you go your separate ways once the crisis is averted? Do you achieve a satisfying friendship? Do you actually fall in love? It’s up to you!

Ships That Pass, by Ash Can Games.

A game for two players about queer spaceships with crushes on each other, the biological allies they make along the way, and the Powers That Be threatening to separate them all.

Players design their spaceships and then role play scenes between ships, between ship and pilot, and -- if their anomalies are detected -- between pilots and agents of The MAN (Monitors of Artificial Norms), a privatized organization that deals with aberrant tech.

This game leads you step by step through a session of Ships that Pass, going through each step of the game in chronological order. You’ll learn about relevant parts of the fiction as they become necessary to the game. This includes ship design, pilot creation, your first meeting, etc. All the while, any anomalous activity has a risk of tripping the radar of The MAN, who your pilots will try to protect you from but may not always succeed.

I like the way this game frames romance as between ships; it allows you to role-play romance in new and creative ways, and might also provide a bit of a buffer between two parties who aren’t entirely sure if their relationship is romantic or not. You don’t just play as the ships, you also play as the pilots who are responsible for them. If you want a game with suspense, romance, and a balance of romantic and platonic connections, you should definitely check this game out.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

I Have the High Ground, by Jess Levine.

Anyone Can Wear the Mask, by Jeff Stormer.

The Serpent and the Spider, by Junk Food Games.

#dnd #asks #game recommendations #indie ttrpgs #tabletop games #romance #duet

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mycupofrum · 6 months

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Sunday snippet

Thanks for the tag @lovelymasks! 💖 Here's some fairytale Prongsfoot:

"Have you found your future spouse yet?" James changed the topic. Sirius's throat tightened as he became more serious. No one had sparked his interest that night – except James. "I don't know." "Oh?" James asked, but Sirius did not respond. They remained silent for a while, gazing up at the starry sky that opened above them, the full moon lighting up the night. Finally, James broke the silence. "It's so beautiful here. Enchanting." Sirius turned to look at James, studying his side profile. Straight nose, long eyelashes, inviting lips. "Yeah, enchanting," he sighed. This was all useless. Sirius would never truly get to decide his partner; he only had tonight to choose a spouse from a limited and select group of people, someone with whom he would rule the kingdom and have offspring in the future.

Tagging @siriuslyasorceress, @plecotusauritus and @in-flvx if you're up for it, no pressure. :)

#sirius black #james potter #bambibelle #prongsfoot #look at me starting a new wip #'not gonna be long'#'just a microfic'#i told myself #and then it's +2k currently #it's me hi i'm the problem it's me #snippets #tag game

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sephesisweek · 4 months

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Sephesis Week 2024 is Officially DONE!

Posts will continue to be reblogged to the main account until this Sunday, so it's fine if you're running a little behind! The Archive collection will also remain open for submissions until that time, so make sure your work is added before it closes on January 14th.

Sephesis Week will return January 1st of 2025, with the prompt list to be revealed November 13th, 2024. Here's to doing it all again next year!

As a special thank-you to everyone who took part, Sephesis Week organizer @getvalentined has created a set of "badges" for all participants to use in profiles, to print off for personal use, and to repost on your own social media to let everyone know about your contribution to the event!

I Participated in Sephesis Week 2024 ▏ For anyone who filled at least one prompt over the course of the event. This event literally wouldn't have happened without you!

I Completed Sephesis Week 2024 ▏ For anyone who filled seven prompts total over the course of the event. You did it! You climbed the whole mountain!

I Did Sephesis Week 2024 (and I was super spicy about it) ▏ This one is specifically for creators whose prompt fills were on the adult side, whether truly explicit or otherwise. Sugar is nice, but we all love some spice!

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#sephesis week 2024 #sephesis week #sephesis #sephgen #genseph #sephiroth #genesis rhapsodos #final fantasy 7 #FF7 #crisis core #CCFF7 #crisis core reunion #CCFF7R #2024 #sephesis week badges

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ariadne-mouse · 24 days

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Tagged by @saturdaysky and @essektheylyss! If we cannot boop, we shall tag meme.

Last song/piece I listened to: Scavengers Reign soundtrack (ethereal, spooky, moving. watch itttttt)

Last book I read: I am in the middle of a comfort re-read of Joust by Mercedes Lackey. I didn't get into her whole set of extended universes but I liked the dragon jouster series as a kid. The sequels are (imo) of declining enjoyment quality vs the original, so that's the one I kept.

Last film I watched: Watched Howl’s Moving Castle with a friend a few days ago. :)

Last TV series: I'm partway through Station Eleven, a pre/mid/post-apocalyptic limited series on Max about - among other things - and a troupe of Shakespearean actors who keep the art of stagecraft alive after the world goes to shit due to a mutated flu (yes, I know). Gripping, emotional, earnest, and has made me weep real human tears in almost every episode. Some Scavengers Reign vibes in a meta sense (no literal scifi), bit of Walking Dead, some comedy in that "absurdism in the face of calamity" kind of way, very thoughtfully weaves together storylines at different points in time and reveals connections between rich, complicated characters. Delicious, beautiful, and full of anguish. Highly recommend.

Last thing I googled: “ionar” which is a piece of traditional Irish clothing a bit like a jacket

Last thing I ate: popcorn while watching Station Eleven last night

Sweet, Savory or Spicy: Agree with Sky re: all three! And I shan't pick one. My ideal flavor profile remains shrouded in mystery (the limit does not exist).

Amount of sleep: less than I should! I am trying to be better about it, but lately even when I get in bed at a reasonable time I wake up multiple times having rotated like a rotisserie chicken

Currently reading: Hmm I already put Joust above, so instead I'm going to plug a fun set of geography guessing games

Tagging a handful of folks if you so desire! @fireryn @mllekurtz @the-kaedageist @kmackatie @tarydarrington

#tag memes #op

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turtle-babe83 · 1 year

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All 4-1 Challenge

Hosted by: @post-apocalyptic-daydream @thelaundrybitch @leosgirl82 @tmnt-tychou @nittleboo and @turtle-babe83

Welcome to the TMNT prompt list exercise!

Where we (All 4-1) invite fellow TMNT tumblrina fans to write a fic - long or short - including or about the prompt. We also invite you to draw, paint, or sketch using one or all of the prompts! ✍🏻🎨🖌️

Whatever inspires you!

It can be about any character within the TMNT realm!

Make it Fluffy! Make it NSFW! There really are no limits! Use one prompt or more! Sky’s the limit!

We thought it would be exciting to see what everyone would come up with! If there's enough interaction, we are going to try and continue this little writing exercise at least once a month!

January had a great turnout!! Thank you to everyone who participated and we hope you join in again for February!!!

This month’s theme is: Romance

💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

Blind date scenario: Any character from TMNT sets the reader/OC up with any character of choice

“You’re gonna pretend like you have no idea how I’ve felt about you, since the first day we met?”

Splinter asks one of the boys to help him set up a dating profile

Pocky Game

💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

Please use the hashtags:

#TMNT All 4-1 Challenge or #TMNT All 4-1

So that we can find your art/writing easier, and enjoy what you bring to the challenge! Also, we will be making a master list for each month with all the submissions on it so make sure you tag a host so we can add your contribution to the list!

We look forward to everyone’s unique renditions 😍😍😍

#tmnt #tmnt bayverse #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt fandom #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2003 #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 1987 #tmnt imagine #tmnt all 4 1 #tmnt all 4 1 challenge #tmnt all 4 1 challenge fic #tmnt all 4 1 #tmnt fanfiction

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jades-typurriter · 1 month

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Filling In for the Boss

Something I wrote for my bestie Bowsiosaurus involving my own cast of OCs. Vee enjoys the scenario of finding verself having simply REPLACED an existing character, and experiencing reality catching up with the change and making ver "fit" into that character's spot. This time vee replaced one of my characters! I hope you enjoy that process, as well as getting to see more of the Lapras Lounge =^w^=

CW: Big Lady TF

Here's a little art vee did, as an eye-catch for ny'all <3

Bowsie, not for the first time, and likely not for the last, awoke in a room that wasn’t vers.

An unfamiliar alarm clock was what roused the little sea serpent from ver slumber; the second giveaway was just how dark it was. Usually, in ver own room, there was at least some light leaking in through the window. As vee slithered out from under the covers—the mattress was a lot stiffer than vee was used to, vee noticed—and felt around the room, vee followed a tiny sliver of sunlight that traced the edge of a large windowsill. Pulling back the thick, heavy crushed-velvet curtains, vee found verself looking out at the skyline of a large city: skyscrapers in the distance, a busy street a few stories beneath ver feet, and the sun hanging low in the sky, casting a hazy yellow glow over the world.

Well, vee thought to verself, I guess that’s one clue as to whose life I’ve stumbled into this time. They must be well-off to afford a place like this. Ver eyes swept across the now-illuminated room—it wasn’t opulent, but it was spacious, and in a high-rise in what looked like a downright metropolis. The covers were thin, but quite soft, and embroidered with tasteful geometric designs that reminded Bowsie of the sorts of fabrics vee saw in movies from the 1920’s. That told them something about the owner’s tastes, but…

What kind of person sets an alarm for six o’clock in the afternoon? Vee wondered. At least vee woke up on time for whatever this person’s schedule looked like. Now the only question was, what did vee have to go and do on their behalf?

Vee decided vee would start looking for clues in the closet. Vee jittered slightly as vee approached what looked like a walk-in—yet another sign that this was somebody with a bit of money, and one who cared about looking respectable, at that. This part was always something of a thrill; it wasn’t so much that vee was invading somebody’s privacy, doing something that should’ve been “off-limits”. After all, it’s not like there was anybody around whose privacy could be violated. Once Bowsie showed up, it was only a matter of time before it was ver personal spaces, anyway!

No, more than that, it was the suspense of getting an idea of who vee was about to become. It didn’t help that vee had a knack for being transported into the lives of older… larger… very, very attractive women. The thought that vee would cease to be verself in as quickly as a few hours, and be someone much more experienced, much more confident instead… it never failed to send butterflies fluttering through ver light-scaled tummy.

Vee reached ver stubby paw toward the handle—one of the last times vee would be seeing it, vee faintly registered—and slid the door open to find a large, neatly-organized collection of professional wear. Pantsuits, blazers, pencil skirts, a handful of nightgowns—all, as vee had hoped predicted, several sizes too big for ver as vee was now. Was she some kind of executive? A politician? This was certainly modest housing for ver idea of a CEO, and not quite as secure as vee would expect for someone in a high-profile position, so vee didn’t quite think that was it. Still, it was clear that she was the boss of something, and that she not only had the cash to amass a collection of formalwear like this, but good reason for it to see frequent use. Vee was really going to have to fake it till vee made it, this time around…

Vee reached up again and unhooked one of the simpler, more modest outfits from the rack: a blouse, a straight skirt, and a pair of pumps. While most of the time, vee didn’t need to cover much to stay modest, that didn’t tend to stay true as a day like this progressed, and vee could tell by the size of this woman that there would be a lot for vee to cover. Laying it out on the bed and closing the door behind ver, vee ambled out of the room in search of something a bit more actionable as far as what vee’d be responsible for this evening.

The entryway to the apartment had a number of prominently-displayed pieces of memorabilia along the walls, as well as a few upholstered seats. Whoever owned the place, it was apparently where she hosted guests, or at least was the first thing she wanted them to see if they ever stopped briefly in. Most of them were autographed photographs of a number of people that Bowsie didn’t recognize: a stout Purugly who oozed self-confidence even from the faded glossy paper on which she was pictured; a slender, graceful Altaria featured on a framed piece of instant-development film; a Floatzel, in full color rather than the sepiatone or yellowed paper from the 60’s or 80’s, whose headshot looked like it could’ve been printed yesterday. A further look around confirmed this—their debut posters were mounted in mock marquis frames, like the advertisements outside a movie theater, and the Floatzel’s first performance was someplace called the “Lapras Lounge” just a couple years ago.

Was this woman some kind of… talent agent? It’d make sense for someone like that to live in the middle of the city, and vee supposed it would make decent money. If the Lounge belonged to her, it would also explain the scale of her wardrobe—a Lapras could get up to five hundred pounds! Though, Bowsie had dealt with enough older women to know never to bring up a fact like that to one of their faces (even if vee did find the fact to be very fun). In any case, now all vee had to do was figure out where the Lounge was! Or at least, how to get in touch with one of the employees… The Floatzel seemed like a safe bet.

A small table near the door held most of her day-to-day necessities: a purse, her cell phone (plugged in somewhere apart from her room—she must have had some firm boundaries between her personal life and her “day” job), a pair of reading glasses, so on and so forth. Vee unlocked the phone, pausing as vee realized that certain, habitual things were already slipping into ver mind. Vee really didn’t have much time to get everything in order, did vee? Of course, once everything went through and they fully took over for this woman, vee would just handle everything exactly as she would, but the both of them would be late if vee didn’t get the show on the road now. Collecting verself, vee began scrolling through the phone’s contacts until vee saw one that matched the name on the poster: Eleanor Ángeline. The phone rang a few times, then clicked through to the other end.

“Donna?” came a silky voice on the other end. “You don’t usually call last-minute like this. Is the program different tonight?”

“H-hi, um, Eleanor,” the serpent haltingly replied, struggling to keep ver voice from coming out with the tone of a question. Vee cleared ver throat and tried again: “I just wanted to ask, how were you planning on getting to, to w-work? Tonight?”

“I was just going to drive. What, did so many VIPs decide to drop in on a moment’s notice that I won’t be able to fit?”

“Oh, no! I just—” vee fumbled around for an excuse, and spotted a way to kill two birds with one stone. “I just, was wondering! Would you be able to drive me tonight?”

“Are you feeling sick or something, Donna? You sound a bit different. Your voice keeps catching.”

“Uh—yes! Yes, I’m a little… under the weather, tonight,” vee said, craning ver neck up at the ceilings that were clearly built for someone at least twice ver height.

“Well, it’s not like you to ask for help, either, so it must be pretty bad. Are you sure you’re alright to open at eight?”

“Theeeeee… show must go on?”

“Ha! Now that sounds like you. Let me know if you want me to pick up some cold medicine or something on my way over.” The connection went quiet, and Bowsie’s shoulders relaxed. Either vee was changing a bit quicker than vee thought vee would, or vee was getting better at guessing how ver “host” usually acted. Either way, vee knew vee had to be ready within the hour—city traffic was never fun, and for all vee knew, Eleanor would try to pick ver up early for whatever pre-show preparation she and Donna—her name was Donna! Vee’d have to keep that in mind—usually did. Wait, she had asked whether vee could “open”... vee dearly hoped vee hadn’t gotten it backwards, and that Eleanor was the headliner to ver opening act. Too late now, though. Hopefully, if vee had to go onstage, it’d be after Donna had fully returned.

Bowsie’s confidence in ver Donna act faltered when Eleanor finally arrived. The poster didn’t do her justice—the way her dress and her fluffy tails flowed as she walked her self-assured walk made her seem as though she was always gliding through the water, right at home anywhere she went. She was pretty, too, and her voice was much nicer to listen to when it wasn’t filtered through the tinny grain of a phone line. It didn’t help that she was a head taller than Bowsie—any woman vee had to tilt ver head up to speak to was enough to kick ver heart rate up at least a notch.

The ride itself was mostly uneventful. Thankfully, Eleanor already knew the way, else Bowsie would’ve had to scramble around trying to figure out Donna’s address. Luckier still, the car was clearly made for someone Eleanor’s size. Her brow furrowed as she watched Bowsie climb into the seat—it was a comfortable fit for the little sea dragon, but surely couldn’t have accommodated Donna’s typical form. When vee was all buckled in, though, she seemed to put the thought aside, and sat down herself to start the car. The one exception to the calm ride—as calm as Bowsie could keep verself, silently hoping that Eleanor wouldn’t as her maybe-boss anything too important that Bowsie hadn’t figured out yet—was when she spoke up a few minutes away from their destination.

“Hey, Donna,” she hazarded, apparently unsure of herself. It was a strange look on her, even for someone who had only known her for a half an hour.

“Y-yes?”

“I’m gonna be honest with you: I know you said it wasn't happening, but I psyched myself out a little bit thinking about a crowd full of big names, earlier. I don’t think I’d freeze up or anything, but it’d sure be a lot more stressful to go out in front of them. Do you… do you think I’m ready for that sort of thing? Talent scouts and other artists?”

Bowsie froze. Mercifully, Eleanor could only bring herself to glance over in ver direction—it was as though she was as afraid of the answer as Bowsie was of getting it wrong. That, and she had to keep her eyes on the road. It gave the dragon a little breathing room, but it still wasn’t much time to think. Vee would have to word this very carefully.

“How much have you practiced, Eleanor?” Eleanor took it as rhetorical, but Bowsie was honestly relieved just to be able to ASK a question at this point.

“Years.”

“So wouldn’t you say you’ve prepared a whole lot?”

“Yeah, I know I have. You know I have,” she said, wrongly. “But it still feels like I don’t have it down. Sometimes I feel more like an actor than a singer, ahah.” Bowsie chuckled too, trying to sound more reassuring than awkward.

“Well, if it helps at all, I know how it feels to pretend you’re somebody you’re not.”

“Really? You? Donna?”

“Mhm,” said Bowsie. “Eventually, it’ll just… It’ll just come to you. Like you knew it all along. It’ll just click into place and you’ll feel like a whole new person, but you’ll still be the same one you’ve always been. You’ll just know who that person is.”

“You make it sound so simple. I guess you’re right, though, that it’s almost like muscle memory… Eventually, you practice so much, it’s like you can’t not have the skills you need. Like riding a bike, right? And you just gotta… have faith that it’ll be there when you need it. It’s not like it’ll go anywhere, right? Just gotta… get used to the feeling.”

“You won’t even second-guess it, soon enough!”

“Ha!” Eleanor barked another little laugh. “I sure hope not. I’m gonna have to really put my game face on tonight, I think. But thank you, Donna.”

Bowsie nodded, then turned to face the window, hoping that Eleanor didn’t notice how much ver shoulders relaxed as soon as the attention was off ver. That was certainly one of the closer calls; it was rare vee had to outright guess ver way through a conversation, let alone such a sensitive one!

When they finally pulled up to the Lounge, Eleanor circled around to the back and parked her car in the rear. They only had about 45 minutes before opening, and Eleanor had to get ready; she got out of the car and walked up a few steps into a backdoor. Through it, Bowsie could see what looked like the trappings of a dressing room: a mirror, a dresser, some clothes, and curtains along one of the walls. Best not to follow her in there, then. Thankfully, she was already gone, and didn’t see ver turning a darker shade of blue at the thought.

Instead, vee tried the other door; one of the keys in Donna’s purse opened it for ver, leading ver into an office full of chic furniture and slightly-more-dated fixtures. Several pads of paper sat beside a dusty computer monitor; a rolodex sat on the corner of the desk. Before vee could get too good of a look around, though, vee heard a distant thumping, and left to investigate. Passing through a wide-open restaurant floor, a bar to ver left and the stage and a few rows of tables to ver right, vee approached the source of the sound: an agitated-looking Snubbull woman pounding on the tall, glass double-doors.

“Excuse me,” she cried as Bowsie unlocked the door to speak to her, “are you the manager? I’ve got a flier here that says you all open at 7 PM. I’ve been waiting here for over FIFTEEN MINUTES!”

Bowsie blinked at her, still poking ver head out from halfway behind the door. Given that Donna had the keys to the place, vee assumed that she was the manager—that vee was the manager, now—but vee wasn’t quite sure what this woman wanted from ver? Vee was pretty sure she was wrong about the opening time, too. Maybe it was the wrong day of the week, or maybe the flier was just outdated, but vee was pretty sure that Eleanor knew more about the schedule than this lady did. At the very least, she knew more than Bowsie!

“Mmmmmay I see the flier?” vee asked, forcing a polite tone.

“Oh, you need the flier now? It’s your restaurant, don’t you know when it’s supposed to open?!”

“I just, thought there might have been a mistake—”

“So you’re calling me ILLITERATE now. What WONDERFUL service!” Okay, what was her problem? Bowsie couldn’t tell whether this was genuinely about the time—she seemed entitled enough or that to be the case—or if she was just looking for a problem. Vee rubbed the bridge of ver nose, trying not to show too much frustration.

“I, okay, I’m very sorry, ma’am.” She huffed and crossed her arms. Apparently, the customer service voice was what she wanted to hear, but she didn’t seem satisfied. “We still don’t open until 8 PM, but can we offer you a drink once we do open?” She opened her mouth, probably to say something about how she should HOPE a bar would offer her a drink. “On the house! Uh, of course.”

Her lip curled, showing off one of her stubby little teeth in an obstinate snarl. After a moment scowling that way, though, it seemed to be enough to placate her. She threatened to “ask for the manager again” if she wasn’t served promptly when she came back, then stormed off down the street. Bowsie pitied whoever’s business she was going to patronize—be patronizing in, really—but was glad vee didn’t have to deal with her anymore. Vee groaned under ver breath, shuffling ver way back inside and toward the office; vee still wasn’t quite sure what it was vee was supposed to be doing at the Lounge.

Across from the door to Donna’s office was a wall of shelves, capped with a file cabinet adjacent to her desk. Given the state of the PC, and the organized but intimidatingly-large piles of paper surrounding it, Bowsie figured that any indication as to recent business would be more likely written down by hand than typed out into a text file or a spreadsheet. Vee sighed; that would make it much more of a pain to track down… Vee understood why someone older would want to do things with pen and paper, between old habits and the difficulty of keeping up with the nuances of ever-changing software menus, but honestly, just having a search function makes it more than worth it compared to all this!

Still, as vee shuffled through papers, poking ver nose over the edge of one of the drawers and rifling through sheets of paper with their fingertips, vee couldn’t deny the appeal. There was something satisfying about having the fruits of your organizational work in ver fins, and sometimes it felt like ver brain latched onto things better if vee had a physical location to attach to them. Plus, something about the system Donna used just… clicked! It made it easy to find the sorts of things they were wondering about—inventory, schedules, order forms for food and drinks. Luckily, the Lounge was probably stocked for at least tonight, so vee wouldn’t have to figure all this out right away. Vee had plenty of time to keep sifting through all this and familiarizing themself with it.

Well, vee would have, if vee wasn’t interrupted by an airy voice from over ver shoulder.

“Pardon the intrusion—” she began.

“GRAWAWA!” The poor sea critter jumped, whirling around as papers fluttered from ver fins.

“Ah. Sorry to startle you.” Before ver was… something in the shape of a Gardevoir, with skin the color of the night sky, arrayed in shimmering skirts that twinkled as brightly as its smokey, wispy tiara.

“How, um! How did you get in here? I thought I was the only one who was supposed to have the keys.”

“Are you supposed to have those keys?” She asked. Her tone wasn’t accusatory; more matter-of-fact than anything. “You don’t seem like you’re from around here, little one.”

“O-oh! You can tell?” Vee paused. “Um, how?”

“Well… I’m not from around here, either. I don’t think it’s quite the same, but I can see things most people can’t.” She glided across the floor, leaning down toward Bowsie. “You happened to catch my eye.” Those eyes, burning like stars, scanned Bowsie up and down; it wasn’t the same look of confusion as had crossed Eleanor’s face earlier, but more like the way somebody appraises a painting, or ponders a puzzle. “Where’s Donna?”

“I… Hm. I haven’t really thought about that.” When the Gardevoir cocked an eyebrow at ver, vee put ver fins up defensively. “GRAWAWI didn’t DO anything to her! Just to be clear! I think I technically am her, now? Or at least, I’m in her spot. So to speak.” She squinted; one of her hands went from where it rested, crossed in front of her chest, and rubbed her chin instead.

“...That does seem to be the case,” she finally concluded. “Interesting! I haven’t seen anything like that before.”

“Do you see other strange things often?”

“Well, I don’t mean to boast, but I might be the strangest thing you run into here. I’m something of a… bedtime story. A local legend,” she giggled. “The biggest clue that you’re from somewhere else was that you weren’t immediately shocked to see me in the flesh. So to speak.”

“Who are you, then?”

“Polaris! It’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise!” vee answered, reaching up to shake her hand. “You can call me Bowties.”

“I’ll try to keep it in mind. I have a feeling you won’t be using it very much, soon.”

“Wait, how do you know about that part?”

“I’m watching space shifting around you as we speak,” the Gardevoir smirked. “Your snout didn’t have that curve to it when I came in. Your fins have gotten curlier, too!”

“GRAWAWA?!” Vee whirled around again and started digging through Donna’s purse, looking for a makeup compact or a pocket mirror or even the black screen of her cell phone. Sure enough, ver face had less of its usual roundness, now closer to the draconic shapes of a Lapras. Vee looked back at the file cabinet, and realized that vee could now comfortably see down into the drawer vee had been rummaging through. “Th… this part usually happens all at once!”

“Is that so? Well, maybe you’ll be able to enjoy the journey a bit more, this time around,” Polaris replied, a knowing tone in her voice. “I promise I’ll give you more privacy than you have so far. Evolving is a delicate matter, from what I understand! I’ll still be around, though—any Donna is a friend of mine.” With that, she simply floated out of sight. Not through a door, or even passing through a wall—she simply stepped into thin air as though there was a passageway Bowsie couldn’t see, and then she was gone, leaving ver blushing and stammering and trying to collect verself.

Maybe Polaris was right; that had been the first time anybody had been able to tell what was going on during a swap like this, and vee worried it would upset—or at the very least confuse, like with Eleanor—somebody if they saw the changes progressing more slowly than usual, too. Vee waited for a while (it was already nearly 8 PM), listening to the noise of the Lounge rising and falling. People slowly filled the restaurant—vee could hear somebody, probably one of the other employees, open the double doors properly, and the sounds of chatter, utensils clinking against porcelain, bottles being popped and drinks being poured, all drifted through the closed office door. Eventually, a hush fell over the establishment, which piqued a mixture of curiosity and concern in the sea critter.

Vee stepped quietly out of ver office and walked along the back wall. Thankfully, all eyes were on the stage; the lights had been dimmed and a spotlight had been set over a microphone in the center, drawing them all away. Vee found a place to stand by the bar, where a Shinx girl (a fair bit shorter than vee was, but vee was certain that wouldn’t have been the case a few hours ago) watched intently, patiently waiting. When Eleanor stepped out from the wings, vee watched ver eyes light up, not just metaphorically, but with every sparkle in her sequined dress reflecting in her wide, admiring eyes.

Bowsie couldn’t blame her, either: she was already a beautiful woman, but seeing her all adorned in her stagewear and moving in time with music elevated her to something that rivaled even the otherworldly Gardevoir who had just bullied ver until vee was blue in the face. Vee forgot verself more than vee already would in this situation, lost in her performance, following the flowing motions of her dress and rising with the crescendos of her voice and the house band. Vee was only shaken out of ver trans when it was the Shinx’s turn to notice how enraptured vee was.

“You all wrapped up in pride over there, Donna?”

“Oh! Well,” vee stalled, seeing how enamored the Shinx clearly was with Eleanor, not wanting to admit that vee was also admiring her. Still, a spark of familiar, maternal emotions toward the Floatzel colored ver thoughts, making it a bit easier to come up with something else to say. “Of course I am. She’s followed my advice well, don’t you think?” See? And it wasn’t even a lie! It came so naturally to ver lips.

“She really is something… I wish I had as much confidence as she did. Maybe that’d make it easier to talk to her.”

“You wanna know what I told her?” vee asked, neglecting, for Eleanor’s sake, to mention how recently it was.

“What’s that?”

“I told her,” vee began, another kernel of recollection popping inside ver brain, “you have to just make a leap of faith and go for it, trusting that you have what it takes to back it up. That’s the only way you’re ever gonna get past the ‘am I good enough’ hurdle, and once you’re over it, the doubt is never gonna slow you down again.” Of course, it wasn’t exactly what vee had told Eleanor—vee knew that Ceri needed a different kind of confidence boost entirely. Vee watched the gears turn in Ceri’s head as she mulled over the dragon’s advice, and it slowly dawned on ver that vee hadn’t found out her name secondhand, and that vee shouldn’t have any way of knowing about the Shinx’s anxieties. Whatever change was going to happen it was getting closer and closer.

“Anyway, I-I have to get back to my office and take care of a few things. You, uh, keep up the good work. I know you have what it takes every bit as much as she does!”

“Thanks, Donna,” she sighed, wistfully resting her cheek on her paw, looking back toward the stage. With the attention once again off of ver, vee scuttled back to the office as quick as vee could. It was definitely gonna cause some problems if vee finished ver changes without getting Donna’s proper clothes on!

Taking a moment to lean against the inside of the door and catch ver breath, Bowsie took stock of what was available to ver. The makeup wouldn’t really be an option; vee didn’t know how to apply it properly, let alone how Donna usually wore it. The clothes would at least be easy enough, even if vee expected them not to fit at all. Of course, vee was once again surprised by how much closer the clothes seemed to be to ver own size than they had been earlier in the evening. The sleeves were several inches too long; the skirt refused to sit snugly around ver waistline, having neither the hips nor the tummy to support the waistband; the blouse hung loosely over ver shoulders, and the chest in particular was baggy as all get-out. And yet, a mere few hours ago, none of it would have fit at all. The skirt would’ve fallen clean off, and the blouse would have felt more like a robe.

“BOSS!” came a shrill voice from the bar, interrupting Bowsie bemusedly (and more than a little bit flustered) examining verself in the mirror. With that, something in Bowsie’s mind kicked into action. Someone needed setting straight. Someone in the crew needed a problem dealt with. The only person for the job, the one with the force of personality, with the authority, necessary to run this ship, was Donna, and Donna was going to march out there and see what the emergency was.

That is, after she fixed herself in the mirror. She pulled the cuffs of her blazer down so they sat properly at the ends of her wrists. She tucked her blouse into her skirt. She adjusted her blouse, smoothing out the wrinkles and straining to get one of the buttons in place around her chest—had she accidentally grabbed one of her older, smaller tops? What a pain. She exhaled as much as she could (not that it made a major difference, with the rigidity of her shell), and pulled firmly to fasten the damn shirt. She wasn’t gonna seem very authoritative if she went out there and her buttons started flying open, now was she? She finally turned, threw open the door and marched toward the bar in the direction of Gina’s voice, the booming clack, clack, clack of her pumps heralding her approach..

“Boss,” she began, now that she didn’t have to yell across the restaurant, “this lady said she wanted to—”

“Oh,” Donna steamed. “You again.”

“I beg your pardon?” growled the Snubbull.

“Listen, miss,” Donna pushed right through her uppity routine to lay down the law. “I dunno what came over me earlier—I must’ve been feeling real generous—but if I give you an inch, that does not mean that you get to walk into my restaurant and take a mile from my staff, do you understand me?”

“The only thing I’m taking is the free drink you offered me for your incompetence—”

“What you are TAKING is an ATTITUDE, lady.” She loomed over the Snubbull, leaning down far enough that she was nearly doubled over, utterly unaware that she had had to tilt her head up to make eye contact with the bratty woman before opening earlier. “Now listen, and listen good. You can either TAKE yourself OUTSIDE, or I will TAKE you there MYSELF. Do I make myself clear?”

The Snubbull gritted her teeth, crossing her arms with so much force that Donna could see her claws digging into her shoulders through her clothes. After a staredown that lasted a good ten seconds, the woman finally buckled. She hmphed, just as she had earlier, and huffed her way right out the double doors. Derrick offered her a sarcastic nod as she passed by the two of them; Rhodney remained as stoic as ever.

“Thanks for calling me over, Gi. I had half a mind to find the bitch myself just to take the drink back from her. Glad she gave me an excuse.”

“You know I live to tell the customers to go fuck themselves, boss!” the Maractus chirped, sashaying away to tend to the next happy patron at the bar.

“Oh, Donna!” Ceri said, emerging from the kitchen. “Did you, uh, change clothes?”

“Yeah, I was feeling sick earlier, don’t remember most of this morning. I must’ve shown up in my at-home clothes, but I was handling things around here basically since the moment I got in, so I didn’t have time to slip into something nicer before Eleanor’s show. Don’t mention that to her, though, hey?”

The Shinx mimed zipping her snout shut and throwing away the key before carrying the order in her other paw out to a table. Donna turned and walked along the edges of the main room again, this time making for the entry to the backstage area rather than to her office. She knocked twice as she gently opened the door.

“Eleanor!” she cheered, spreading her arms. “Look at you, you little starlet, what did I tell you?”

“You told me to trust myself, Donna,” she said, sighing and getting up from her seat in front of the vanity to give her mentor a hug. “Trusting you made it a bit easier.”

“Well, you’re not quite there, then,” she joked, “but you’ll learn soon enough. One of these days you’ll impress yourself as much as you impress me.”

“Thank you,” the Floatzel said, stepping back again. “I mean it.”

“I mean it! Now, listen,” Donna continued, “I really hate to pat you on the back and leave, but I think I’m calling it early tonight. My head’s still a bit foggy from earlier, and I don’t think my car is in the lot. I’m not sure how I got in, but I’m gonna have to call a taxi to get out.”

“Oh, I—” Eleanor began, before abruptly stopping, her train of thought seemingly derailed. “Huh. I’m not sure, either.”

“Well, no harm, no foul, huh? You drive safe tonight, sweetheart. Tell the boys they’re in charge—no mercy!”

“You got it,” Eleanor chuckled.

“Oh, and if you know anybody who needs some 4XL women’s clothes, let me know! I gotta get rid of these,” she said, tugging very carefully on her blouse, taut like a spring. “It’s like I forgot how to dress myself today. Imagine—a girl my size forgetting just how much she grows!”

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itchyeye · 2 months

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I don't remember if they went into this but does Elias have social media? I could see him not having an account / having a blank account. Or maybe he'd be one of those people who just have 5 pics of cityscapes and the sky.

i don't think the show ever touched on socials for any of the main characters. they didn't even mention socials in any concrete way for melanie and georgie, both of whom have full time jobs doing social media.

i think actually that elias has no social media at all, not even blank profiles. any profile og!elias might have had before he got his eyes melon ballered out has been deleted and scrubbed. but then again didn't he get event horizoned in like. the 90s? so he wouldn't have had any social media anyway, not in the modern sense of individual profiles on established sites/services.

i think the institute itself does have a website with some limited staff bios. very few of them have photos. the main page has an etching of the isntitute scanned from art made of the building when it was first completed in 1818. you may get in touch with the institue by email, phone, or fax, or you may contact our front desk to take advantage of our extensive library catalog during business hours. in general, our collection is available to students, researchers, and university staff. you are welcome to contact us directly to discuss individual access.

#[💌] asks and replies #anonymous

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hellavile · 2 years

Text

‍ PART FIVE.

‍ warnings .ᐟ . . . smut, f oral, fingering, stalking, vulgar language.

previous chapter. masterlist. next chapter.

tags .ᐟ @dejwrites @sailewhoremoon @massivelynervousprincess @tojibreedingme @megumischubbycheeks @bootlegroach

dangerously in love by beyoncé is the peaceful start to your morning, the pretty baby blue vinyl spinning on your record player sitting on the windowsill by your garden of plants and smokey lavender scented incense. there's a cucumber mask on your face as the sunlight from the sky shunned through your kitchen windows cascade over your skin, moaning in delight. since you've woken up, you realized that you haven't had a self care day in such a long time.

constantly working, binge eating . . . unhealthily. too much stress on your body and you were barely thirty. today you planned on doing the better for your health, currently blending a strawberry, raspberry, kiwi, and blackberry smoothie before you headed to the gym with vina. the two of you usually ran a track field apart of a high school not far from you every sunday. the limit was always ten laps, then a few crutches and squats before ending the workout. but since the weather was a little cloudy, and there was a seventy percent chance of rain, you might have to tone it down to five laps.

you made sure to eat small that way your stomach didn't feel heavy; a simple cheese omelette with spinach, green peppers, and bacon. attired in a dark purple sports bra with matching shorts, you grab your gym bag and slip on a pair of running shoes, heading out the door and walking five blocks to meet vina. she recently came back from vacation in jamaica, so when you saw her complexion as you approached her you smiled so wide, saying how beautiful she looked since her skin darkened during the trip. her skin was usually a medium tone brown, so seeing her darker was new since it didn't get that scorching in japan for people's skin to tan. yours either.

she hugged you tight after, saying how much she misses you and the shop. it's been about two weeks since you gave her extra time off, so beatrix has been on a roll handling orders and hiring three extra people in the process, one you've met who was a sweet college girl like beatrix was, in school for baking and pastry arts. less weight on your shoulders, especially with the whole 'capturing toji' situation. it's been a day or two since you've seen him, keeping a low profile in case he was stalking you, although he was, not to your knowledge that is. you needed to proceed with the mission, gather more information so this could be over with. it's better him in jail than dead.

as much as you wished it wasn't a death sentence, japan didn't play games. this man has done far too much and pissed off way too many authorities to just sit behind bars and rot away his youth. they wanted him executed. it pained you a little to know that this would all be your fault, your doing. but what were you supposed to tell them? that he was someone you loved when you were younger? that you didn't want him to die because you're hoping that some part of him still has a human soul? in their eyes he's nothing but a menace, a criminal, a murderer. you couldn't back out, no matter how much you wanted to. if this is fate, than you were meant to find him again to end his suffering, because he is suffering . . . he just won't show it.

"hey, i have a question," you say after taking a sip of ice cold water, controlling your breathing and wiping the sweat off your forehead, running only five laps so far.

"what's up?" vina plops a seat on the ground, zipping open her lunch back and fishing for her tuna sandwich.

"say you have this friend that you haven't seen since you were a teenager, the two of you were really close, and there may have been—romantic feelings there," you pause. "and you bump into him now but he's not the same."

"as in?" she raises her brow.

"let's just say he puts himself in danger a lot, doing illegal things—not really caring. he's lying to you about it, but you clearly know. you've spent some time catching up and those emotions for him are slowly coming back. would you stay in contact with him?"

vina hums, scrunching up her face. "well the things he's doing are illegal, therefore there's a high chance of him going to jail, ending up dead, or putting you in danger as well. so, no, i wouldn't stay in contact. i wouldn’t even waste my time trying to rebuild a relationship, because at the end of the day, he's going to choose what he wants. maybe that's money, maybe that's power, maybe that's you. it's his choice if he really needs you or not. but it's your choice if you need him or not."

"i don't think i need him, i mean—" you swallow. "i want him. need is a stretch."

"you miss him, so you want him. nothing wrong with that. just be aware of his actions and what he's willing to do to get what he wants. if you decide you want to take the risk and be with him, know that there's no turning back. prepare yourself for the heartbreak, because there will be one. in the moment it'll seem like the happiest you've been in a while, but being in his shadow will make you just that."

a shadow.

you never thought of it like that. sometimes, people become what follows them. whether it be pain, happiness, guilt . . . it's all attached to you like a shadow. you'd never become like toji, though. but then again, we all can do fucked up things to protect those we love. who says you wouldn't risk it for him? to save his life? this was definitely driving you crazy. you had to set boundaries with yourself. if anything were to happen, which you're sure it will regarding intimacy, there had to be a distance between him and you, the mission and toji, and the mission and you. this was by far one of the most difficult decisions you had to make.

"i have a lot to think about," you sigh, scratching your head.

"should i be worried? seriously."

"not at all," you reassure with a giggle. "i just needed some advice. he's not all that bad. i'm just trying to understand him right now. i'm not entirely involved."

"yet," vina mumbles, and for some reason that makes your gut flip. "i'm burned out, wanna head home?"

"yeah."

you didn't drive and vina's car was in the repair shop, so you took an extra hike walking her to the sub station, vina cheating her diet by running towards a taco truck and getting a few quesabirrias. after this you had plans to take a nap and once you woke up you'd get some work done by documenting things about toji the agency needed information on. that's right, you definitely forgot to report back to agent uzui. he was probably cursing you out in his head every day. you haven't spoken to him since the other day, giving him half-assed answers because you were still in shock about everything. you'll call him later.

a familiar black suv is parked on the sidewalk by a creepy abandoned building that's been sitting there for years, covered in graffiti with shattered windows and probably infested with rodents. the windows are blacked out, but your eyes widened once you saw the driver up front . . . toji's bodyguard. the six foot whatever man with light blue hair and red eyes you assumed were contacts. always in an all black suit. that only meant toji was in the backseat, probably looking at you right now. sudden panic washes over you, glancing at vina who's too busy complementing her food to notice your nervous stare.

no. he couldn't see her. one thing about working for the cia, especially being undercover, is never allowing the perpetrator to see those close to you. they could gain information on them and have them kidnapped, threatened, or killed. you still didn't know this new toji fully, so you had no idea what his true intentions were, or what he'd do to make you suffer.

"vina—"

"cloud," of course, he's got your attention the moment he speaks. turning your head to face the person belonging to a raspy voice.

god, you hated him. the level of attraction he had raised your standards so high it's insane. this man was like no other. this is the first time you're seeing him wear normal every day clothes. only in dark wash jeans and a black tee. suede black timberlands on his feet. of course, the accessories were there, he could never forget them, from a chain to watches and rings shaped like dragons or skulls. as he stepped out the car and approached you, vina's attention flys back, eyes wide as she watches the beautiful man wrap his arms around you, holding you close to his chest while rubbing your back. his cologne was strong.

"hey," you say shyly, voice muffled. you pull away. "what are you doing down here?"

"trying to see if i can flip this ugly ass building that's been abandoned for years. i need ownership first, so i found out that this old geezer had a downfall in his thirties and couldn't afford to keep it up. he might give it to me with a little persuasion."

"money, you mean," you say bluntly.

"it's the key to everything," he nods, eyes trailing to your friend. "who's this?"

"i'm vina," she smiles sweetly, extracting her hand for a polite greeting.

"i'm supposed to do that," he tsks, taking her hand anyways. vina laughs nervously.

"she works for me at the bakery," there was no point in lying, he knows her name and face, there was no avoiding anything now.

"cool," toji clears his throat. "can i steal her from you? we have things to talk about if that's okay."

"why—" you splutter.

"she's been distant so i need some time with her."

vina shrugs innocently, for sure aware that this must be the man you were talking about earlier. you were a grown woman, so you could handle yourself. she just hopes you'd take her words into consideration. "i mean, if she doesn't want to go, she won't. if she does, she will. i was just heading home anyways."

"i will," you interrupt, anything to get him away from her. "i'll be fine, i'll text you later?"

"better," vina gives you a quick hug, hearing her train come. "take care of her."

toji laughs at her hard stare. "oh, i will. trust me."

there was more behind that statement, you could tell by the way he looked at you when he said it, poking at his inner cheek with his tongue. the two of you watch as vina departs, giving her one last wave before you're startled by a brick of chest colliding with your back, toji's chin digging into your shoulder blade as he stared ahead with a hand around your waist. your face heats up.

"get in the car," he says rather coldly, you swear the hairs on your neck stood up. shit. did he fucking find out?

your feet drags on their own, approaching the vehicle with nerves radiating through your body. this was it. you were going to die. toji pulls open the door and you climb inside without another command, jumping when he slams the door and strolls to the other side. he sits still, rubbing his chin with a deep sigh. it's dead silent as you stare ahead, avoiding eye contact.

"drive."

you're not bound by rope, there's no duct-tape on your mouth, neither does he have any weapons pointed at you. either he was being soft with you or you were going to get scolded.

"avoiding me isn't going to solve anything."

stress? ceased.

relief covers you as you relax your shoulders and fix your posture so it didn't look like you were handcuffed in the back of police car. still, you kept yourself aware. "huh?"

"don't look at me like i'm stupid," toji scoots closer to you, and you flinch, back pressed against the door. the car was driving unnervingly quick. his hand is on your thigh now, gripping and dragging you closer so you're face to face.

"i'm confused—" you swallow when his wide palm wraps around your waist. his eyes are dark, slowly licking his lips and scoffing with annoyance. he was frustrated. clearly so. only in a way that had him pressing a kiss just under the curve of your jaw. you're stunned, frozen. his unoccupied hand wraps around your neck, gently tilting your head up as he breathed calmly, brushing his soft lips over your own.

what the fuck. what the fuck. what the fuck?!

"the man i am with you is merely an ounce of who's really buried inside," is what he says, his touch hot like fire, tone low and guttural. what the hell was he talking about? he wasn't making sense. was he confessing to something? your thoughts pause when those gorgeous jade eyes of his flicker back on you, toji clenching his jaw before saying, "the insanity you give me only makes me crave you more."

he didn't give you the chance to curse him out over his stupid ideology, those plush lips of his finally against yours after the longest time, and you allowed it. it's not like you pushed him away or slapped him across his face, instead, you melted like butter underneath his fingertips, like fucking nothing. gasping when his tongue slips into your mouth and he's holding the back of your neck while maintaining a slow, sloppy kiss. trying not to rush it. trying to relish in the moment while it was here. as pissed off as he was that you lied to him, he couldn't withhold the burning want for you. it wouldn't disappear. you haunted his dreams, taunting and teasing him. edging him.

days passed since he's seen you, and he's woken up in the middle of every night to relieve the filthy erection peaking underneath his blanket. he even had hallucinations of you. so vivid that for a moment he believed you climbed into his window and leaned your empress figure over him while you called to him. this fixation on you wasn't normal. how is it that you are the only woman who's ever made him feel this way? witch, he thinks. must be it.

blindly, you're gliding your lips with his, not aware of it until the car brakes hard on the road, tires screeching, and toji is gripping the back of the passenger seat while holding your body close to his chest for safety as horns furiously honk. his chest is so warm, like a cozy fireplace during snowy winters. you've hugged him plenty of times, so why did it feel so different now?

"watch it, ban. she could've cracked her fucking neck, and i could've been toothless. want me handling business with a wisp?" toji hisses angrily, your eyes wide, mind completely floating out of your limp body.

"sorry boss, some dipshit crossed me without turn signals."

"mhm," toji is sitting back now, and you gain enough courage to release his arms from you, although not having enough to look him in the eye. toji feels a pang at his heart, as if maybe he shouldn't have done that. the car stays silent as you glue yourself to one side of the car and kept your eyes out the window. he doesn't bother you, but you can feel his glare on you still.

admit it, you liked it. stop thinking. even if for a few seconds, maybe fifteen, he knew he had you the second you moaned after his tongue slipped inside, and most likely when you kissed him back and shifted your hips in your seat once his hand trailed down your backside to grip your ass.

you shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut and screaming internally. twenty awkward minutes past until you're finally standing in the familiar living room of toji's home, arms wrapped around yourself as you wait for him to step inside after talking to his chauffeur, who you finally knew as ban, you were in need of a shower, wanting to get out of these gym clothes.

toji locks the door behind him and leans against it, clearing his throat. you speak first.

"is it cool if i take a shower?"

"of course.

then you nod, turning and walking away without another word. please kill me at this point. as if the man didn't give you enough anxiety, now he had this shit hovering over you making your mind spin in loops. we're straying too far from the plot. you're engaging in activities that are not apart of the plan. you strip from your clothes and take a long hot shower, lathering every inch of yourself he touched as if trying to wash away your sins. so delusional, you scrub your lips, accidentally getting soap in your mouth and coughing.

"stupid fucking—" you gargle your mouth with water, wiping your face and taking a seat in the claw-foot tub after turning the faucet to the bath setting. you pull your knees to your chest and rest your forehead, groaning and tapping your thigh. how the hell are you going to confront him?

too late, he does it for you. your skin leaps off your body when you hear a knock at the door, your head turning in that direction. he doesn't ask if he can come in, he just does. he's ruffling the black strands on his head, cocking his head to the side as he repeatedly flicks open the silver lighter he has in his hand. it's eye to eye, still silent. you wished one of you would speak already.

"are you upset that i kissed you?"

"no." you answer almost immediately. goddamnit.

toji grins knowingly, walking closer to you while you remain seated.

"then why the grouchy face? hmm?" he's crouching to your level now, and you grip your thigh harder out of anxiousness when he cups the underside of your chin and gently pulls you close. "i want an answer."

"i liked it, alright?" you yank your face away, keeping your eyes on the streaming water. still mumbling.

toji can barely hear you, but he's sure of what you said. he reaches over to turn off the nozzle, pulling down the lever to drain the tub of hot water you literally just filled up. you glare at him with annoyance, not even on the fact that you're naked in front of him now as the water evaporates. you were comfortable, that asshole.

"you said you want more?" he teases, inching his face closer and you can smell the mint on his breath. was he nervously chewing gum while he waited or something?

"stop," you close your eyes, trying to pull your face away. don't persuade me.

"look at me," he says more sternly now, and you swear your thighs squeeze together out of reflex. those damned eyes of his, so alluring. it's like you're out into a trance each time you stare too long. he was done with games. if he wanted you, he would take you. the both of you were in too deep now. "open your legs."

not even hesitant, your legs are opening almost immediately after he says so, throbbing from the proud smirk he gave you. his hand is around the back of your neck again, a noticeable hold, keeping your face leveled.

"slide down, right there," christ. if you had a recording of his voice, you'd keep it forever. your legs are spread, and your pussy is leveled just beneath the leaking faucet. what he does next truly weakens you, and the moan escaping your lips by now a clear signal saying he could do whatever the fuck he wanted in the meantime.

toji leans over, the butterflies in your stomach swarming as he lewdly spits on your clit, the string of saliva and the vein on the side of his neck making your face heat up. your mouth hangs open as he takes his fingers and slowly spreads it over, grumbling, "want me all over you," before rubbing your clit in smooth circles, groaning at the weak noises you made.

you had no answer for your sudden behavior, nor did you care to question it. you were needy, and he had this lust looming over you, a desire you couldn't refuse no matter how hard you tried to avoid it. right now, you just wanted to be pleased. scolding could come later. your hips twitch and hike midair, and you're positive you've made your lip bleed by how hard you bit into it, doe eyes hazily watching his face. brows furrowed as he tentatively paced his fingers, easing them into a faster pace to where it has you whimpering and squirming.

"right there?" toji hums, dauntingly slicking his tongue out and flattening it on your lower lip as you moan a tiny 'yes' before he's deepening the kiss, sliding his tongue in your mouth and grunting as he listened to you moan between breaths. roughly smoothing his hand down your side and gripping at the flesh of your ass. he bit his lip and cocked his head to the side.

"you taste good on my tongue," he chuckled, and you laugh weakly, still trying to hold on to your sanity. "can't wait to have every part of you on it."

toji gets an idea, and you watch him cautiously as he reaches for the faucet and turns the water on warm, the heavy flow beating on your clit hard. he's holding you there so you won't move, throwing your head back and humming low in your throat.

"how'd you know about this?" is what you say, and he could almost laugh, especially with how hard you were struggling not to lose complete control. voice shaky.

"women will hump anything that applies pressure to their clit, doesn't take a mad scientist."

attentive, right. what woman gave him the secret? the waters been running for a minute now, toji enjoying looming over you as you shift your hips and shudder. it's such a pleasing sight seeing you like this, a state he's never seen you in before. he'd capture it in a photograph if he could right now. for now, his mind will have to be partial storage. he's giving you all the pleasure, but you want to do the same for him. being said, you turn your head and reach for his belt, the bulge in his jeans evident as ever. he had it bad.

"no, i just wanna watch—and touch," a gentleman. it's all for you. he was putting your needs before his own. the bare minimum, but still, it's attractive. your droopy eyes are staring up at him, his attention focused on and only on your pussy. he wonders what you felt like. how warm and slick you were, how tight. he tests it out, sliding his slender fingers down your belly, preparing two of his fingers, the middle and index by closing them together and dipping his fingers in gently. "such a pretty thing."

fuck, this was new. your lack of liking for being fingered quickly prevailed once his were deep inside you, your eyes rolling back into your head as you lift your legs midair and grip his arm for balance. his thumb is to your clit, adding on the pressure while he fucks you with his fat fingers, slamming into you like he wanted to do with his dick. by now you're a goddamn mess, glad you couldn't witness yourself or else you'd break a mirror from embarrassment. this felt too good. he felt too good.

"you fuckin' like that don't you?" curling his fingers again, he's hitting the perfect spot, and you're seeing dots from impaired vision. just as he thought, you were tight as fuck. slick and warm like he dreamt of.

"yesyesyes," babbling incoherently, slurring your words and forming crescent moons into his skin from how hard you clutched him. fuck, she's killing me, he thinks.

he makes it worse by kissing your neck sensually, your toes curling as you near your orgasm, spasming when he licks and sucks at the side of your neck, whispering, "give it to me, i want it, baby. cum," in your ear before tugging at your earlobe with his teeth, breathing on your skin and it's enough to do it as you cum hard, reaching at his hand as you hold your own on top of his. he pulls his fingers out, rubbing your clit hard as you scream into his chest and ride his fingers, twitching and clamping your thighs around his arm to trap him as you cool down from your high.

and even though your relieved, he isn't. you squeal as he stands and lifts you out the tub bridal style, laying you directly on the floor mat before getting on his knees, breath hitching once the attention set right on your bare chest, soft skin and nipples perk, coaxing him into running his tongue over them. but, he waits, wanting the full experience later. for now, he craved your taste. wanted to see if you could cum for him one more time.

his hands locked under the bend of your knees, holding them up so he could have the perfect view of you, slipping his tongue out his mouth and lowering his head to slick it from your entrance to the hood of her clit. your mouth drops open, hair flailing around your face and shoulders as you held yourself up, looking down at him with shock as he slowly repeated the method before keeping the point of his tongue on your clit and wriggling it quickly, your thighs twitching.

you could barely move, toji slow kissing your cunt, sweet juices evaporating on the surface of his tongue as he shook his head, causing his tongue to move with it. crying out as he rocked your legs up and down just so he could make you fuck his face, feet instantaneously digging into his shoulder blades. toji detaches his mouth for a moment, breathlessly praising you with a, "this shit is fucking good, baby"

you whined, stomach coiling, on the verge of climaxing again. he was practically overstimulating you since you just came only a few minutes ago. maybe you were just that fucking needy. it has been a while anyways. you where truly an empress. from where toji laid, you were even more beautiful than usual. this sexual aura around you swimming inside of him now. so entranced by you, hungrily studying every emotion you made, stomach rolling inwardly from how sensitive he was to your embrace, your touch on his scalp as your dainty fingers thread through to blindly tug at the roots.

his tongue flicks faster, puffy lips suctioning your clit dangerously until you’re arching your back off the floor and nearing your orgasm once again. it only took three minutes. another shock. toji notices that you can’t stop gasping, or breathing heavily, leaning over you to clutch your jaw, strictly muttering, “breathe, baby. you’ll choke.”

tears are in your eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure as you intake air, shakily pressing your lips to his again. a soft huff blows past toji’s cherry lips, pupils thoroughly dilated to express how turned on he was. immensely.

"there's so much i wanna do to you baby," he breathes. "gonna fuck you so hard."

this fucking man was going to kill you.

"so do it," you plead, grabbing at his shoulders to pull him close. needy.

his jaw clenches, hating that he had to restrain himself. "i can't, i have to go. business shit."

"noo," you whine childishly, wrapping your legs around his waist and grinding onto the erection in his jeans. toji halts your hips with his large hands, shaking his head.

"stop, i'll be back later."

"don't go, please. please don't go," if only you could see yourself now, pleading and whimpering like you lost your mind. it couldn't be helped, unfortunately. this lock he had on you was jammed. you were trapped.

toji is silent for a while, fighting with himself. what he had to do was too important, needing to meet with people he didn’t feel like threatening to get what they stole from him back. he wanted to stay here with you, in your arms, sheathed deep inside that pretty pussy of yours. such a hard decision.

“give me two hours. i swear i’ll run the fucking streets like a tiger. and i’ll bring you food. sound good?”

there’s nothing else you could do but nod, upset, but the tone in his voice assured you that he’d keep his promise. tonight.

#paranoid series .ᐟ #toji x black reader #toji x you #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro fic #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro smut #toji smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #˖ ࣪ 🖇◞ 𝖆𝖗𝖙.

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