#*feeds him chocolate from the palm of my hand*

[avida-heidia-5]

A wild twink has appeared on your dash!

Peekaboo!

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do poly!marauders with a clumsy s/o? Thank you!

Thanks for requesting love!

cw: blood

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

“I’m going to purchase one of those leashes for unruly toddlers,” James says, thick lashes nearly touching as he squints down at your hand. “And I’m going to keep it around my wrist at all times.” 

“It won’t be as good at catching me as you are,” you point out. You do your best not to wince as he picks a piece of gravel out of your palm, but his eyes flick up to you anyway, an apology in them. 

“No, but at least I’ll be able to keep you close.” 

You laugh a little. “I trip whether you’re nearby or not.” 

“Beg to differ.” He sounds bitter, but James has always had a terrible poker face and the uptilt of his lips betrays him. He spreads ointment over the cuts on your hand before bandaging it. “If I was with you, this would’ve never happened. Guaranteed.” 

“Yes, it’s all your fault.” Remus comes in from the kitchen, maneuvering carefully so as not to get the hot mug he’s carrying anywhere near James. He sets it next to your thigh on the bathroom counter. “Jamie,” his tone is chiding, a bit tired, “why have you started with her hands? She’s bleeding down to her ankles.” 

“It’s nearly dried anyway,” you say, looking down at your shredded knees. Remus feels too bad for you to give you one of his worse reprimanding looks, but his eyes convey tremendous exasperation nonetheless. 

“Because I knew she’d need her hands to hold her tea,” James replies, bumping Remus’ hip lightly with his. “Ease up, I’ve got it. Did you make yourself some tea too?” 

Remus glances towards the kitchen the way an old captain might gaze at the sea. “I thought about it…” 

“Do that,” James says. He finishes up with your other hand, bandaging it carefully. “Actually, would you mind just putting a kettle on? I’ll have a cup, and Sirius might want one too.” 

You frown at that, but neither of your boyfriends see, Remus going into the kitchen with renewed purpose and James smiling slightly to himself as he finishes wrapping your hand. 

“One of these days,” he whispers, backing up a bit so he can work on your knees, “you’re going to have to sit on the couch and feed Remus chocolates for all you put his heart through. We’ll be lucky if the next time you fall he doesn’t have an attack.” 

“What’s Sirius coming here for?” you ask. 

“Well, he does live here.” 

You give him a look, but he doesn’t glance up from cleaning the blood off your shin. “He’s supposed to be shopping with Marlene.” Accusation and betrayal lines your words. “You texted him?” 

James looks up at you now, sympathetic if not quite sorry. “You know I had to. He would’ve murdered me if he’d come home and seen you all bandaged up and nobody had told him.” 

“You could take him,” you grumble. 

He laughs. “I don’t know, sweetheart. He fights dirty.” 

You laugh too, though it’s more a humorous huff. “He can’t come home every time I trip,” you say, twisting the string of your tea bag around your index finger. “It’s not like I need to go to the hospital.” 

James works a larger piece of gravel out of your knee, eyebrows knit together by compassion. “He worries,” he says simply. “He wants to come home every time you hurt yourself, though if you recall, I didn’t tell anyone about you banging your head on the microwave door yesterday, or about when you fell on the stairs last week.” He looks up, grinning when you shrink, abashed. “But when you fall this bad, it’s a bit harder to hide. Sorry, lovie.” 

It’s a double apology, for ratting you out and for the sting of the ointment he smears over your knee. You hiss through your teeth. “Fair enough,” you say. James smooths a large band-aid over the series of shallow cuts, kissing the skin just above it for good measure. “I just don’t like to worry him. Any of you, if I can help it.” 

He shrugs. “I don’t think you can,” he says. You get what he means. Remus is a worrier, Sirius even more so, protective by nature and nurture. And each of your boyfriends cares about you too much to ignore how often you hurt yourself, even if you really think they should be desensitized to it and annoyed with you by now. “But I’m trying to get you cleaned up before he sees you, so hopefully that’ll help.” 

Like James has just issued a summons, the rumble of Sirius’ bike comes from outside. James grimaces as it slows to a stop. 

“I hate that fucking thing,” Remus growls from the kitchen. 

James shoots a sad smile in that direction. You think that you might not single-handedly cause Remus’ heart attack if Sirius gets there first. 

“Where is she?” Sirius calls as soon as he comes in the door. “I assume there’s a blood trail for me to follow?” 

James chuckles. “I told you it wasn’t that grim,” he shouts down the hall, and a second later there are heavy footsteps coming toward you. You brace yourself. 

“Fucking hell.” He halts just in the threshold of the bathroom, then seems to change his mind, striding over to you. His eyes are glued to the bloody mess of your uncovered knee. “Darling, what did you do?” 

You knew what to expect from him, and still your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to. “I missed the curb going out to get the mail,” you say. 

Sirius’ eyes lift to yours, widening. “You fell into the road?” You nod. “You could’ve been hit by a car!”

“There weren’t any cars.” There are almost never any cars on your street, and he knows that. 

“You’re lucky there weren’t,” he says anyway, holding his hand out. You place one of yours in it obediently, palm up. There’s a bit of blood marring the beige bandage, and Sirius makes a terribly soft pitying sound. “Your poor, lovely hands.” He runs a careful finger over the covering. “How bad was it?” he asks James.

“I told you, not horrific,” James says, finishing with getting the debris out of your knee and twisting the cap off the ointment. He looks up to be sure you’re ready before he starts smoothing it on.

“Stitches?” 

“Oh, tons. She’s held together more by thread than skin at this point.” 

You roll your eyes, but Sirius coos, “My poor sweetheart,” and grabs hold of your face to plant a kiss on your lips. You must look as pleasantly surprised as you feel, because he does it again, bending forward to avoid bumping his hip into your knee. 

His thumb sweeps across your cheek as he pulls away, brows furrowed. “Does it hurt?” he asks, and now the mirth has disappeared from his tone. You don’t know how Sirius does that, going from teasing to not in a blink. 

“Not so badly,” you tell him. 

He hums, stroking your face again. “Would you tell me if it did?” 

You feel your lips twitch, and Sirius’ eyes narrow like he knows your answer before you’ve spoken. “Probably not,” you admit, “but it really doesn’t.” 

He stares you down for a minute, murky eyes scanning yours for traces of untruth, his dark brows lowered. You reach up to slot a piece of hair behind his ear, and he cracks, mouth kicking up at the corner. 

“Alright, drink your tea before it gets cold.” 

“I’ve actually made tea for everyone,” Remus calls, not from the kitchen this time but from the living room. “And snacks, so please come eat them.” 

James grins, touch moving up the back of your knee to your thigh as he stands. “Excellent,” he says eagerly. “You’re all fixed up, m’love. Let’s go take care of Rem now.” 

You start to hop down from the counter, but Sirius says, “Wait, wait!” and grabs you by the hips, keeping you in place. “Can you walk?” 

You nod, because duh, your legs are scraped, not broken, but Sirius looks to James, the both of them frowning thoughtfully. 

“Best not to risk reopening them,” James decides, scooping you up off the counter. 

You huff a laugh, rolling your eyes. “Thank you,” you say, rather than this is deeply unnecessary and you’re being ridiculous. James seems to hear both anyway, planting a sloppy, smiley kiss on your cheek. Sirius, satisfied, follows you down the hall. “I didn’t mean to make you my manservant, I swear.” 

“Happy to do it,” he says. “Now drink your tea, it’ll make Rem feel better.”

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

you know what's delicious? yn who started wearing flavored lip balm/lip tint because of suguru — so that every time suguru ate a curse, he could just easily pull the man into a kiss to get rid of the disgusting taste suguru hates so much ((bonus points if yn also pops in a candy/sweet/chocolate in his mouth before feeding it to suguru through a kiss — anything to help suguru forget the taste of curses)) yeah... just... suguruyn for the win man 😋🫶

((even more bonus points when satoru finds out later and he gets all jelly because 1. he doesn't know the lip balm/lip tint can come with a flavor so he felt blindsided and of course, he humphs and puffs because of it and 2. he wanted a chocolatey sweetness kissies too!!!! and of course lastly, 3. he felt left out because he never knows that suguruyn always makes out every single time suguru ate a curse so he's all pouty about it — ask him to join in next time!!!))

❝ He's just like candy, he's so sweet ❞

polycule (Satoru x r! x Suguru)) | alternate universes (Suguru is not a cult-reader), fluff, NSFW | vers. bottom. reader (AMAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 3.6k

warnings: foodplay, threesomes, pouty satoru & smug suguru, semi-public sex, d/s dynamics

masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's

author's note: in this au, they slayed the links that made me lose my mind (thank you @xuxitheii for making me squeal and kick my feet): geto suguru : gojo satoru : gojo satoru being a big baby

Curses. Ugly as sin and tastes just as foul. Suguru remembers the first time he discovered he could devour them; how awful it felt as it went down his throat, bulging out and staying there — blocking his airway as he struggled to find it in himself to swallow.

The way his teeth ached. His throat convulsed and his instincts forced it back up but his fingers blocked it from doing so. It warbled in the back of his mouth, begging to be let out and 7-year-old Suguru just knew he couldn’t bear for it to disturb him again. He couldn’t handle it speaking nonsensically into his ear, slinking under his bed or even staring right at him as it grinned so wide Suguru swore he could see his reflection in its yellow, wicked-sharp, teeth.

The pills his parents (his poor, non-sorcerer, parents) had given him to help with his “hallucinations” made him feel as though a thick fog was obscuring his brain. His thoughts faded and his movement groggy, his emotions caged while his body still felt the anxious tremors that ran through him when he saw them.

The curses made him feel like he was constantly in a deep pit of despair. Everything wrong in the world, the depravity and impulses of humanity that manifested into these grotesque creatures in the palm of his hands made his nose sting, till this day, as an 18-year-old; it made his eyes well with tears.

Suguru can't describe it in a way people could understand. But if asked, he’d used the viscera of a vomit rag being forced down your throat.

But the strong protect the weak. While your lips protect them from his ire. This one goes down with a loud gulp, his fingers blocking his lips as he tosses his head back. The worst is almost over, the aftertaste will linger but not for long. Because then, he feels your weight on his chest and Suguru is pliant as you gently pry his fingers away.

“You did a good job, baby.” Suguru flutters his eyes open and he can’t help the way his lips twitch eagerly. Your lips are glossier than usual, he can smell the cherry flavour on them. His hands wrap themselves around your waist. It’s a firm grip.

Mine, he says without speaking, mine — all mine.

He pulls and a huff of air escapes you in a series of chuckles. “I know we haven’t been out in a while, but did you miss me that much, Su-Su?” Suguru frowns at your jest. It’s rare for him to pout. That role is often delegated to your boyfriend, Satoru. So this must truly upset him.

Because, yes, he did.

You’d been called overseas to complete a mission. It was the norm for sorcerers considering the population of sorcerers in Japan; outsourcing they called it. Your curse technique was needed for this mission and truly, it didn’t take long but Suguru had done solo missions and he missed you.

Three solo missions. Three disgusting, dog-shit, vomit-stained rags, down his throat. Three days without you by his side.

He hated it.

“Don’t ask a silly question like that ever again,” he mumbles. Silly. The way he scolds you always makes you smile. Never crass or rude — his voice reminds you of the symphony of leaves singing with the wind as they danced and speckled light onto the forest floors and cool water bubbling over rocks.

“Why? Why can’t I ask silly questions?” You tease, placing your elbows on his shoulder and hanging your hands behind him. Purposefully lax despite the coquettish smile on your face.

“You already know the answer.” He speaks with such sincerity. Every word is heavy with nothing but candour and adoration. It makes your eyes soften and Suguru squeezes you closer.

“I do?” He nods at your words, the tip of his nose brushing over yours and his tan skin so flushed on the apples of his cheeks.

“Kiss me like you miss me, baby.”

Suguru’s lips land on yours like a feather. Supple as always he begins it with a long-lasting peck. Pouty lip against pouty lip. His hands climb up your back and he presses between your shoulder blades to somehow hold you closer; his jaw opens and yours does the same. There it is — that heaven that’s your mouth. Suguru groans and you feel his tongue sneaking in, devouring you like a starved man.

The cherry flavour on your lips, the sweetness of the candy you let melt on your tongue, the way your fingers grip his hair, the way he can feel your breath on his cheek as you try to breathe. He wishes that the two of you never needed air. Suguru wants nothing more than to kiss you forever and ever and ever —

“Hey!”

You part with a gasp, cheeks warm and lips almost bruised as the line of spit between the two of you breaks. At the mouth of the alleyway was your boyfriend; Gojo Satoru.

His arms are crossed and he taps his foot in a cartoonish fashion. Despite that, both of you know that the frown on his face is very much real. “What gives? I exorcised the other curses and I came back to the two of you making out. So unfair!”

Suguru parts with a sigh, rolling his eyes to the side and pouting his lips to the side as he muttered about Satoru having FOMO. It makes you giggle and he smiles when you lean forward to place your face right under his jaw.

“S’toru, you’re being a baby. Suguru did a lot of work and I was just thanking him.” Satoru unfolds his arms and flaps them around in protest.

“I did work too!”

And it has begun — Satoru’s famous little tantrums. Oh, he could go for a full hour if he was really worked up but there is a saving grace in him having them. He closes his eyes when he’s yappering. Suguru is listening to his huffy boyfriend but then you kiss his chin and he tilts his face down to look at you.

“Hm?” your teeth brush over his lower lips, then plant firmly on his. “Baby?” he smiles in the lip-locking and you whine about it because his lips should not stretch into that handsome smile, they should be pursed outward and part to let you in.

He tastes chocolate on your tongue. The creaminess of the chocolate makes him groan along with the citrusy notes. That combined with the fruitiness of the cherry tint on your lips makes the taste of the curses he’d ingested (exorcised) all but disappear. Your hands climb to the lobe of his ears and his breath hitches when your fingers trail the curve of it, he protests a bit as you undo his bun; then you whisper his name and Suguru tightens his grip on your waist.

“Hey!”

Satoru is whining again but this time he’s closer. Close enough for Suguru to grab a fistful of Satoru’s white button-up and pull him in. As his face turns you giggle, wiping away some smeared gloss as you watch Satoru turn red from Suguru’s heated kiss.

Satoru groans with his eyebrows twitching. Listless in his attempt to remain angry at Suguru. He pounds his fist against Suguru’s shoulder and attempts to crane his neck away. When he turns, he gasps as you steal his breath.

Satoru’s graceful legs tumble over themselves as his boyfriends press him to the rough wall of the alleyway. There’s a constant hum of an A/C machine and the noises from the pipes keep the intimate noises between the three of you contained. Suguru’s blunt nails drag onto the faded plastered-on advertisements — yours grip onto the bars of the window that had been covered up by old newspapers.

Satoru’s grip onto the front of both of your shirts. His glasses go askew as he struggles to keep up with his boyfriends. Suguru misses Satoru so much. He’d been away too, the Higher Ups sending him overseas at the same time as you and Shoko had to deal with a depressed Suguru for those 3 days.

“Mah, Satoru,” you drag your lips to Satoru’s sensitive neck. His hands don’t seem to know what to do with themselves. It grips and pushes and stutters. “I always give Suguru special kisses after a job well done, you’ve just always been too busy to notice.”

“S’not fair,” Satoru retorts with no real venom in his words. “I deserve special kisses too, don’t I?” Suguru chuckles, forcing Satoru to look his way and shut him up. Satoru glares over the rim of his crooked glasses as Suguru’s thumb presses down on his canines.

“What a jealous brat.”

“Can’t even handle a little teasing.”

Satoru would heavily disagree with that. A little teasing? You called being pushed to a wall, groped, kissed, and bitten by your handsome and powerful boyfriends a little teasing?

Satoru was a sign of change, his birth instantly tipped the scales of the sorcerer world, but he was still human!

Suguru grins that irritatingly pleased grin when Satoru’s protests die out thanks to your hands slipping down his pants. “Oh shit,” he hisses. His speech is odd with Suguru’s thumb in his mouth, casually inspecting it. But you laugh anyway.

“You know, since he has been away too, maybe he does deserve a bit of sugar from you, (Y/N).” You glance at Suguru, your cock chubbing up in your pants as he pointedly motions his gaze to the ground. You kneel in front of Satoru and drool slips down his chin as his pupils chase after you. Suguru chuckles, wiping it away and wiping it off on Satoru’s shirt — to which he hears no complaint. Suguru stands behind you, bending at his waist to peer down. It’s unfair how pretty he is from any angle. The Gods took their time making him. Of that, you are certain.

“Ready, sweetheart?” you nod, opening your saccharine-sweet mouth; Suguru pats your cheek as praise and undoes Satoru’s pants for you. His cock springs out, nearly bumping into your nose as it strains and twitches in the open air. When Suguru holds it, Satoru grunts and raises his hips. Fucking into his fist like a dog in heat. Suguru regards this with a shake of his head and guides Satoru to your mouth. You form a fist around your thumb, looking up at Satoru through your lashes as you wrap your lips around him.

Suguru straightens his composure. He takes in the sight.

Satoru and you know better than to be handsy. The pale-haired man grabs onto the bars of the window behind him, breathing through his nose as the toe of his shoes dig into the floors. You slip your eyelids close and languish in the taste of Satoru’s cock — breathing through your nose as well as you bob your head.

Fuck, Suguru missed this. He really did. He could get off on this alone. Just watched as both of you enjoyed the other. His darling boyfriends, who so obediently listen to his whims even if he didn’t say it out loud.

Who could ask for more?

Suguru strokes over your eyebrow and barely stifles a laugh when you tilt your head so Satoru’s tip pokes your cheeks.

“Good boy. My sweet boy.”

His voice alone makes you want to give in to whatever it is he asks of you — it’s insane how much power and sway he has. Your charming Suguru.

Satoru moans, swiftly reaching out and gripping onto the collar of Suguru’s top. They kiss. Fighting for dominance because Satoru needs to be pushed into submission. He relishes being put in his place — smacked around a little.

You could pinpoint this kink originating from his frivolous childhood and naturally talented self needing some sort of edge to sink down into a more fuzzy headspace.

Or perhaps Satoru was just a brat and he trusted his lovers enough to relinquish that control. Both theories worked.

Suguru grunts as Satoru tugs at his hair, the pleasant tinge of pain making his dick strain against his loose pants. You spot it from the corner of your eyes, an obscene slurping sound coming from you as you attempt to not make this blowjob too messy. An impossible task, really. But a worthy effort.

“Your lips taste like cherry, why?” Satoru’s question catches Suguru off-guard. He expected Satoru’s usual quips and huffiness. He indulges.

“(Y/N) wore cherry-flavoured lipgloss.”

The proof is in the coloured streaks on his dick. You feel it twitch on your tongue and pull away, your hot breath on his cockhead making precum leak out of his blushing tip. You rest it on your velvet tongue, unabashedly pouting to kiss the tip and then taking him inside again. Those slightly shimmery streaks made Satoru grit his teeth.

“I didn’t know those came in flavours,” Satoru moans. “How come you don’t wear that for me too?”

“Because it’s for me, you little shithead,” Suguru growls lowly. Their foreheads touch as he tightens his grip on Satoru’s neck, the pressure making Satoru’s eyelids flutter for a second. “It’s my prize for exorcising curses.”

“You jealous?” you wonder out loud. The answer was clear but there was a rush to make Satoru admit it.

“Yes, I am!” He curses for a moment as you descend further down to lick at his balls, looking up at him still as if this conversation was taking place over a dinner table and not in an alleyway with society just a few meters away. As if his dick wasn't on your face while you feel his balls tightening up on your tongue.

Seriously, if somebody peered down long enough they would most definitely catch sight of the three of you here.

“I just – just...fuck, I missed the two of you too. It’s completely unfair you’ve been keeping this from me too! I’ll never forgive you.”

Suguru grabs the back of your neck and pulls you backward. His large hands effectively push your head down further and further until your nose is at the neat patch of pubic hair Satoru has. You relax your throat and jaw, eyes watering while you brace your hands on Satoru’s thighs.

“So why didn’t you just tell us that, darling?" Suguru purrs. "Instead, you chose to be a brat and stomp around. You’re better than that, Satoru. Aren’t you? Hm?”

You gag but Suguru holds you in place. His hand barely has any real strength behind it. If you jerked backward, he would not hold you in place. No, no. Suguru’s power comes from the lack of strength he needs to exhibit. His dominance is in the ease Suguru commands it.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You needed him inside of you.

“Screw you, Suguru,” Satoru chokes out.

He pulls you off. You cough, spit staining your chin as you smile loosely at them. Suguru then pulls you onto your feet, pushes you to the wall, and undoes your pants. You bite down on your lower lip, staring at Satoru as you brace your hands onto the wall just next to him. Satoru watches on, trying to keep himself strong by pretending he isn’t affected by the sight before him.

Suguru gathers spit in his mouth but pauses as he feels the candy wrapper in your pockets. The chocolate brand makes his brows raise. It’s expensive. No doubt Satoru’s influence had rubbed off on you. Only one company in the world made this chocolate, its pink colour is a dead giveaway. No wonder your cherry-flavoured gloss tasted so strong, it was complimented nicely by the leftover taste of this ruby chocolate.

He lets your pants pool around your ankles while he takes a bite. It wasn’t disgustingly soft, but your body heat made it melt quickly on his tongue. He spreads your ass apart and spits a thick glob of his spit and pink chocolate. The sensation sends shivers up your back and you arch your back further, unsure about the new sensation.

“Suguru, that was expensive — ngh!”

Your eyes widen as he presses his cock inside. You were thankful for your morning romp with them. It loosened you up enough that Suguru’s impatience didn’t cause pain and only mild discomfort — he reaches forward to jerk your cock off to ebb it away and you moan out his name.

“Shh, shh, not so loud. We’re still outside, baby.”

Satoru groans, reaching to toss his glasses away as he turns his back to the entrance and gives you his full attention. He’s craving touch. To taste or to mark you up. To do anything, really. He is goddamn hypnotized by the way Suguru’s dick thrusts in and out of you. Suguru gives you a good fucking for too short of a time — pounding into you like a jackhammer and making you nearly bite your tongue off in an attempt to keep quiet before he pulls out.

Your knees buckle, thighs twitching as you try to keep yourself upright. Satoru’s knees thud onto the floor and he greedily laps at Suguru’s cock, moaning at the creamy taste. The same flavour leaks out of you while you catch your breath. The mouth of the alleyway is quiet but there are still the faint noises of the city just there. A few big strides away. But there. It excites you. You imagine it’s exciting your equally perverted boyfriends too.

"Satoru," Suguru groans at the sight of him. You peel yourself from the wall. Shoulders thudding onto the hard surface while your pants drop to your ankles. Shakily, you use your feet to push it all the way off, eyes trained on Satoru savouring the flavour of Suguru and the ruby chocolate. He pulls away with a breathy 'pwah!' and strokes Suguru's creamy dick.

You're tempted to join Satoru. Just sharing Suguru's cock, kissing Satoru with his cockhead between your lips. Fuck, just the thought has your dick slapping lightly against your navel. Suguru plants a hand near your head, turning his head to kiss you while the other is tugging on the roots of Satoru's head. a

"Both of my boys are being so obedient," he says after a deliciously deep groan of Satoru's name. "We missed you," you reply in a whiny whisper.

"Missed you so much, S'guru..."

Satoru moans, pulling away as he catches his breath and shares a heated gaze.

"Fuck, I missed you so badly. Missed this dick too," Satoru turns to your crotch and kisses the underside of your dick. It makes your breath hitch, hips jerking forward. The wetness of your precum smears on Satoru's cheek a bit but he doesn't even mind. Nor does he seem to notice.

"These cocks are the only ones that make me this hungry."

Suguru glances at the alleyway. You're not loud enough to draw attention. Still, better safe than sorry.

"Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure." You throw your head back to laugh. A veil was meant to conceal, protect those outside of it, and maintain secrecy. To use it so improperly.

The three of you were truly perverted.

"What's got you all giggly?" Suguru speaks against your lips. Tilting your chin upwards then squeezing the sides of your neck just to relish in the way you bare your neck to him.

"You used a veil," Satoru speaks for you. He raises, ignoring Suguru's pointed glance in favour of unbuttoning your shirt and kissing down your chest. His lips are sticky, smears of pink tainting you but you find it hard to care. "He's laughing because he thinks we're perverts."

"What are you? A mind reader now, Satoru?" You huff.

"I might as well be, huh?" Satoru smirks. He's so handsome that it makes your chest hurt sometimes. You're against the wall, exits blocked by Suguru and Satoru and you wouldn't have it any other way. "You know, I missed you too. It's been weeks — "

"Three days," Suguru and you corrected.

"Weeks. And this morning wasn't enough. We did such a good job, those wrinkle bags can't complain if we just so happened to work overtime, right?"

Ijichi can't stop his cheek from heating up. It's painfully, painfully, obvious why the three of you took your time for this mission. He had waited in the car for the first hour, then occupied himself with some coffee at a nearby cafe but by the third hour, Ijichi almost called Principal Yaga.

Three Special Grade Sorcerers took that long to exorcise an abandoned building. Surely, something must have happened!

Yet, seeing you sleeping on Suguru's lap with your legs across Satoru's lap confirms the real reason why it took the three of you that long.

Satoru has a weighted eye mask, head tossed back as he recuperates. This gives Ijichi a clear sight of his marked-up neck. Your shirt is wrinkled, hitched up from the bend of your waist, and giving him the whispers of handmarks. Suguru met his gaze from the rearview and Ijichi whispered out an apology.

"No, please. We're sorry for keeping you waiting." Suguru is brushing your bangs back, gently wiping down some residual stickiness on your cheeks with wet wipes (that Ijichi had made a point to stock up on in the car after earlier missions involving you three).

"No, I understand," he says with a shaky voice. Sighing a little he laughed awkwardly from the driver's seat.

"You must've been missing them a lot for those three days they've been gone, Mr Geto."

Suguru's expression softens, leaning one shoulder down when Satoru leans to place his head on his shoulders.

"It's hard not to. I love them."

[luveline]

dad!steve eek!!! maybe some for kbd!? no rush, anyway love you!! <3

kisses before dinner au —mom!reader, 1.1k

Bethie squirms uncomfortably in your lap. “I’m sorry, mommy,” she says. 

“Well don’t be,” you say, hand to her forehead and holding her back so she can see your face, how you’re not angry. “It’s okay. You don’t like it?” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

You don’t get it. Bethie hasn’t eaten anything all day. She refused breakfast, snacks, smoothies, and hot chocolate. The plate in front of her repulses her, no matter how gently you plead with her to try it. “Honey, I don’t see how that can be true.”

She’s in your lap because you’d been hoping helping her eat might make it easier for her. She was thrilled to sit in your lap, but not even slightly inclined to eat her mac and cheese, or any sides. You offer her a slim carrot baton shining with honey, wiggling it from side to side. 

“Doesn’t that look yummy?” you ask softly. 

She looks down at her hands. 

You drop the carrot. You’re genuinely perturbed. Not easily panicked, this has thrown you off kilter. Beth has been picky ever since she started school, and you don’t mind, you’ll accommodate and feel sorry that she misses out on Steve’s chicken pot pie, but there’s a difference between being picky and having a total aversion to food she used to enjoy. 

Avery tries to pretend she’s not watching. Steve doesn’t bother, frowning deeply despite the baby in the high chair beside him and Dove on his thigh, the two girls giggling about something. The rest of them have cheeks covered in cheese sauce and sticky lips, but your Beth…

Maybe it’s too much to have everyone watching, you think. 

“Okay. Okay, let’s leave it for later, yeah? Will you help mommy with something? Is that okay?” 

Beth nods emphatically. “Yes!” 

You help her down off of your lap and take her little hand. “We’ll be back in a minute.” 

Steve shakes his head, at a loss. “Sure,” he says, though his face says something different. What are we going to do? “Take your drink.”

You grab the glass if only to appease your worrier. 

You and Beth leave the kitchen and the living room to sit on the stairs. There isn’t much privacy to be made in the house, but this will do. You put her on the step above you to sit eye to eye, and you take her little hand, rubbing circles slowly into the soft palm of it. 

“Is there something mommy can get you?” you whisper. “Anything at all. Because you’re so big now, you know you need to keep yourself nice and strong with dinner. Yeah? You need to eat so you can have lots of energy. I know,” —you smile at her startled frown— “you said you’re not hungry, but it’s okay. We don’t have to eat all of something. Me and you could go have McDonald’s, or pizza! We could have something special. We could go get donuts. Anything you want, even if it’s only one bite.” 

“I don’t know, mom…” 

“Anything you want, baby. Even if we get there and you don’t want it anymore, or it’s not what you thought.” 

Bethie decides in whispers that she’d like McDonald’s ice cream. You could cry. You almost do when you con her into eating half of ‘your’ cheeseburger on the drive home, her little feet swinging in the footwell as she licks ketchup off of her fingers. 

You show Steve the wrapper when you get home proudly. 

“Good job, mom,” Steve says, reaching for you in the doorway. 

Bethie brandishes the cup tray of ice creams to her sisters in delight. They scramble in screeches to get there first. 

“Wren!” Bethie cheers, wiggling an ice cream at her baby sister where she lays in a bouncer. “Mom, can I feed Wren?” 

“Only the plain one, baby.”

“Yeah, I know. Wren, look! I have ice cream. You want ice cream?” 

“Little spoonfuls,” Avery says, reaching for her own ice cream, big sister instincts quelled by excitement. “Oh my gosh, there’s fudge.” 

Steve nudges your hip with his hand. “Hey, you okay?” 

“That was a bit scary.” 

“It’s just a bad day for her. She’s okay. Did you eat anything?” he asks, curling an arm behind your back. 

“No. I got you a strawberry-kiwi smoothie, though.” 

“Anything for yourself?” 

You shake your head. “I knew Beth would only eat if I was eating it, so I had a bite.” 

“You’re a genius,” he says, hugging you to his side. His shirt smells like detergent under your nose. “I kept your dinner in the oven. Only take a minute to heat back up.” 

“Did you eat yours?” 

He puts his lips to your cheek and doesn’t answer. 

“This is nice,” you murmur. 

“I know.” He rubs your back. You’ve never had to ask him to do it, he just grabs you up and sets about soothing an ache you don’t have. He’s always been like this. 

“I can’t believe I had to sweet talk my six year old into eating fast food,” you say, watching Beth over the curve of his shoulder. She swallows a spoonful of ice cream and crinkles her eyes at the cold. “I never could’ve imagined this.”

“Thank god. You never would’ve let me date you if you did.”

You laugh and angle your head up for a kiss. “That’s not true,” you murmur. 

He kisses you but seems more eager for a hug, hooking his arm higher up behind your back and cuddling you into his neck. “I’m not sure what we’re going to do,” he confesses, “but if you keep being that gentle? She’s going to be fine.” 

You brim with a weird pride. Steve knows intimately the kind of parent that you are, and how hard you try, so if he thinks you’re doing a good job, you must be. “Dinner was great,” you promise. 

Steve laughs. “I know. It was fucking bomb. Honey roasted broccoli? These kids don’t get how good I am. I could go pro.” 

Dove wanders over with clumsy footsteps but better pronunciation. “Smoothie, daddy,” she says, holding his pink smoothie up to him with an urgent look. 

“Oh, thank you.” He pats your arm and breaks away to bend down. “Thank you, gorgeous,” he says, taking the drink and smiling huge at her. She says something in garbled kid talk and leans in to give him a hug, and then she runs back to her ice cream. 

Steve looks at you adoringly. 

“How’d you give me four perfect girls?” he asks, knowing he’s cheesy, his smile turning teasing. 

“A lot of hard work.” 

“I can tell.” 

[aisnextdoor]

love language- leehan x reader

talk to me in your love language, show me, how to connect to you

PAIRING: leehan x reader GENRE: established relationship, fluff | WORDCOUNT: 0.6 k WARNINGS: nothing i think

“Even full grown, the green pufferfish will only be around six inches long so we’ll need a thirty gallon tank at least.” 

“Thirty?” you laugh incredulously, your fingers halting where they had been carding through Leehan’s soft locks, “I feel like you’re undermining just how big this tank will be, you don’t exactly have much dorm space to begin with Hani.” 

He looks up from his phone screen, transfixing you with a petulant look, “if the guys just shifted some stuff around a little it would easily fit on the upper floor. Aren’t you supposed to be on my side anyways,” Leehan huffs. You smile at the slight pout that decorates his lips, and he shifts slightly from where his head lays in your lap, leaning insistently into your hand for you to resume the ministrations against his scalp. 

You oblige, sweeping his bangs away from his forehead, watching as he melts happily into your touch. “You’re so spoiled, you know that?” you muse gently tugging at his strands. Leehan’s eyes flutter open and you’re trapped in pools of warm chocolate, unable to look away from his half lidded gaze. 

A crooked smirk tugs at his lips at the sight of the warm flush that crawls up your neck, he reaches up to grasp your wrist, gently bringing it down until it’s level with his face. You watch silently, your breath catching in your throat as his lips brush against the curve of your palm, trailing feathery kisses down the expanse of your fingers.

By now you know him well enough to understand it’s a wordless assent, that he knows for him you’d do anything. His reply comes in the form of kisses, the traces leaving an unspoken promise that the feeling was very much appreciated and reciprocated. 

Leehan enjoys this, seeing you at his mercy, knowing that no matter how many days go by, your heart still stutters at even the simplest of actions. Even when you try your best to act unaffected, a stray compliment or touch will have your eyes widening, a pretty red blooming across your cheeks. 

It takes you a second to regain your bearings, to hide your fluster with a gentle push to his head. “You’re such a flirt,” you scoff, sighing in relief when your eye contact is finally broken. 

His eyes crinkle at that, dimple winking at you impishly, “Only for you baby.” 

That draws a snort from you, and you flick his forehead lightly, “I’ve seen enough fansign clips to know that’s not true. Who do you think you’re fooling?” You break into an exaggerated rendition of Leehan’s aegyo and buttery lines you had seen plastered all over your twitter feed. 

Leehan gets up with an affronted gasp, you mock him louder, drowning out his playful warnings to stop. “My eyes are red because I cried alllll of last night because you didn’t say you loved me,” you whimper dramatically, splaying your hand across your forehead. 

“Alright, I think that's enough out of you,” Leehan grumbles half heartedly, his fingers finding the sides of your torso to tickle you, cutting off your performance. A squeal escapes you, and you jolt away from him but he’s much too quick, using the momentum to pull you firmly into his lap. Your back is pressed flush against his torso, arms wrapping around you and his chin finding purchase on your shoulder. 

“You know I really only mean it when it comes to you,” Leehan mumbles quietly into the nape of your neck and you hum amusedly in assent. Regardless of the honey that seems to drip so indiscriminately from his words and eyes, you know moments like these are reserved just for you.

Leehan speaks in a love language that only you are fluent in. Flattery pales in comparison to the sentiments communicated by the way his eyes search for you in every room, the three rhythmic squeezes of his hand around yours, and the warmth of his embrace.

a/n: very hastily written and unedited drabble for my bbs,,, hope yall enjoy :)

taglist: will make a form soon zzzz

[wheresarizona]

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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[jilixthinker]

Lee Know with aphrodisiacs. THATS ALL I'M ASKING FOR. LEE KNOW + APHRODISIACS.

anon 💖 this has been sitting in my requests for the longest time! 🤧 but such an honest concept, i have been thinking about this a lot.

=͟͟͞♡ lee know × fem!reader

=͟͟͞♡ chocolate aphrodisiacs (hard thought)

Minho who is usually the brattiest of brats, always teasing and answering back before giving you what you asked him, until the day you try feeding him special christmas chocolate pralines and he just melts in your embrace while you are watching home alone on your sofa.

You are splayed on the couch, Minho squirming on top of you, straddling your laps and softly nibbling at your earlobe, quiet moans directly on your skin while you caress his plush tighs.

"Uhm... b-baby... I am so hot -ah- why does it f-feel so hot?"

You turn your head to kiss his jaw. His face is flushed and red, and his skin feels very warm against your lips.

"Oh kitty... you knew the chocolate was going to work. but you said you could resist, don't you? Mh... did you change your mind already?"

Minho moves from your ear to start licking at your neck. His tongue is soft and wet and he sucks tiny kisses near your collarbones.

"Uh- mh. Wan' to..."

He stutters while moving a bit above you, his body is feverish, semi-hard cock already forming a tent, the underline of it looking delicious. You move your hand to play with the head over the fabric of his pants, feeling the way it twitches under your touch.

"Want to what, princess? Tell me, I might give it to you since you are so nice and good today."

Minho sighs and looks at you from his spot, nuzzled on the crook of your neck. His lips are still stained with the remains of the chocolate his ate before, collected in the corner of his lips.

You grab his chin with your fingers and you slowly start to lick all over his parted mouth, the sweet taste of the chocolate invading your taste buds together with a little bit of his saliva.

Minho moans directly in your mouth, your hand still teasing the tip of his clothed cock.

"W-wan' to suck, please, please, let me... ah-"

You bite his lower lip and you slide your tongue against it, shoving your hand into his pants and palming him before grabbing his heavy balls and squish them softly.

"Kitty wants to suck but he's so lost than cannot tell me what? Aw, baby..."

You coo condescendingly and you keep rolling one warm ball on your hand, the weight so nice on your fingers.

"W-whatever.. please, I need it - ah."

You crush your lips against his, finally grabbing his cock fully and starting to jerk him off, the squelching sounds so dirty in the room.

"Kitty, you're so wet.. mh- so wet like a girl. My dirty baby."

You circle your wrist against his head, precum gushing out of his slit while minho lets out the most loving sighs on your lips. You start to rub on the sensitive spot under his tip and his tongue lolls out of his mouths.

"I'm gonna decide for you, pretty. Suck on my tongue while I get my filthy princess off, mh?"

Minho nods frantically and takes your wet muscle in between his swollen lips, starting to suck on it messily, spit soaking both of your chins.

When he comes, he lets out the most desperate moan, all shivering and trembling while spurting all of his release inside his underwear.

"Good kitty, so cute and obedient for me."

You kiss his temple and Minho crashes on your body. The smell of chocolate is still in the air.

Oh, you definitively have to do this more often.

[sukunaslilmuffin]

How JJK Men react when you're sad.

Sukuna, Megumi, Yuji, Gojo, and Toji. Fluffy =)

Yuji: He'll immediately run over and hold your face gently in the palms of his hands. He'll rub small circles into your cheeks while asking you what's wrong. He'll wrap you in a blanket like a little burrito while putting on your favorite comfort movie. He'll gather snacks from the pantry and feed them to you while you watch the movie. He'll wrap his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. placing light kisses on your forehead. "I love you okay? I've got you, my love."

Toji: Despite his tough exterior this man would drop everything to comfort you. He'd hug you in his strong arms while rubbing your back. He'd wipe your tears away with his thumbs and kiss your cheeks gently. He'd rest his forehead on yours while rubbing your shoulders. He's not great with words so he'd hold you in silence, slowly caressing your sides while you cry into his chest. "You're okay baby, I'm here."

Gojo: You are this man's princess. He will hold you in his arms and kiss your face all over, whispering to you all the things he loves about you. From your small smile, to your laugh, and the way you make him feel. He'd turn on your favorite show to watch together while he runs off to the store to buy you chocolates and flowers. When he returns he'll make you dinner and tea. He'll lay down on the couch with you between his legs as he plays with your hair and kisses the top of your head. "I'm sorry you're sad baby, what can I do to make it better?" "There's that smile I love so much."

Megumi: Will frown and kiss your lips softly. He'll scan your body for any physical injuries before gently holding you against him. He'll rub his nose slowly against yours while holding your face. He'll summon his dogs so they can lick your face and jump all over you. He knows how much you love playing with the pups and he'll let you do it for hours. He'll tuck you into bed, snuggling up close to you while your head rests on his chest, rubbing soothing circles on your hip. He'll ask if you're ready to talk about it, and if not he'll keep holding you until you are. "Whenever you're ready love, I'm here to listen. Take your time, I'm here."

Sukuna: He'll lift your arms and move your face around to check for injuries. He'll ask you a hundred times who it was and if you want him to go ruin their life. When you shake your head no he'll pull you into his chest and whisper how he'll find them anyways while petting your head. He'll sit you down on his lap while you watch your comfort movie, giving you light kisses on your neck while resting his chin on your shoulder. He'll wrap his arms around your waist holding you closely to him. He'll nuzzle into your neck every so often as he leans you back against his broad chest. Once you're asleep, he'll tuck you into bed and place a kiss on your forehead before he leaves the apartment. "Don't worry hun, they'll never hurt you again, I'll make sure of it."

[nikitunez]

ζ  ゜✿ 。𝙀𝙉𝙃𝙔𝙋𝙀𝙉'𝙎 𝙁𝘼𝙑𝙊𝙍𝙄𝙏𝙀 𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙈𝙎 𝙊𝙁 𝘼𝙁𝙁𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 𖥧 𓂃  ᨒ  ୫

ຊ pairing : enhypen x gn!reader ຊ genre : fluff, headcanon ຊ words : 434 ຊ contains : hugging, kissing, mentions of food ຊ maya's notes : thank you anon for requesting this! i loved writing it! it kinda did turn into a preferred love langues thingy in the middle but i wanted to make each member's hc as unique as possible lol 😭 please leave feedback and reblog if you enjoyed it! i would really love to know how everyone found it hehe ❤ if you would like to read more from me, my taglist and requests are open as well! but that's all for now, enjoy reading :)

𝙃𝙀𝙀𝙎𝙀𝙐𝙉𝙂 : honestly, he loves literally any kind of physical affection. but to name a few, there is running your fingers through his hair, giving him tight hugs as well as cheek and forehead kisses, saying i love you, and finally complimenting him for little successes like winning a game or making some good ramen.

𝙅𝘼𝙔 : he's kinda a high maintenance boyfriend and loves when you buy him gifts. it doesn't matter if they're cheap or expensive because for him, everything you gift him is priceless. the gifts could be anything from clothes to food to a short little trip to some nearby town.

𝙅𝘼𝙆𝙀 : if jay is a materialistically high maintenance boyfriend, this boy is high maintenance in every other department. i'm talking words of affirmation and physical affection and kind gestures. give him everything and he's a happy boy. but more specifically just remember to kiss his lips and tell him that you love him every thirty minutes if you can.

𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉 : more than cuddling with him or giving him kisses just make him a large cup of delicious hot chocolate and i promise you he will get down on one knee and ask you to marry him right then and there. but he also really likes when you offer to wash his hair for him for no reason because it's such a silly yet soothing thing to do.

𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙊𝙊 : who needs a massage chair when you exist? he loves when you sense that he's tense and wordlessly start soothing his muscles. for starters, it feels so amazing and relaxing. but also, he realizes how much you care about him and how intuitive you are when it comes to him and all of those emotions just make him feel so grateful to have you.

𝙅𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙒𝙊𝙉 : just hold his hand and watch as his eyes fill with love. he likes the way your hands fit together so perfectly, and you don't have to be walking somewhere for him to want you to hold his hand. that and whenever you poke or kiss his cheeks. he swears he hates it but deep down it makes him all warm and fuzzy inside.

𝙉𝙄-𝙆𝙄 : back hugs. make him feel like he's in a kdrama and he will cherish you for life. also whenever you push his hair out of his eyes for him. the way you smile at him when he meets your eye makes his heart skip a beat. he also likes when you feed him. whenever you're eating together, you construct the perfect bite for him and hold your palm under his cheek while asking him to open wide. he loves it.

© nikitunez

[sariahsue]

Wherefore Art Thou My(stery) Lady

When a failed attempt to let Chat Noir down easy ends with Ladybug learning his name, she does what any lovesick teenager would do: teases him mercilessly. (Season 2/3 era.)

Chapter One

It figures, Adrien thought, as Ladybug carried him to safety. It figured it would be a dog-themed akuma. And that it would find the only cat-themed superhero in the city, even though he wasn’t currently transformed. It figured he would have to be rescued, cradled bridal style, and that Ladybug would hug him so tightly that--

Nope. Akuma. Focus on the akuma that was currently tearing through the streets, barking at people until they literally froze in terror, digging holes a hundred feet deep, and probably chasing his own tail. Focus on the lurch in his stomach as they jumped from building to building, the honking of the cars stuck in traffic, the flash of the sun reflecting off skyscraper windows. Focus on anything except for how warm she was, how firmly she held him, how her lips--

Nope, nope, nope. The wind in his hair. Birds chirping in the distance. Anything.

Ladybug bounded gracefully over the Agreste mansion's protective outer wall and landed on the grass, held him for a few seconds longer than was necessary (he noticed with elation), and then carefully set him down. 

“Well,” she said, her smile wide and bright. “Stay safe! I wouldn't want anything to happen to you!” 

Adrien watched her until she was nothing more than a red speck, then raced out through the gate, so he could find somewhere to transform. Ladybug needed her partner.

---

The akuma was easy to defeat, after Ladybug called her Lucky Charm. It was a box of caramel chocolates. No, they didn't feed any to the dog. Caramels made a wonderful, sticky trap when they were all melted together. Who knew? His genius partner, naturally.

Chat Noir picked up the (sadly not heart-shaped, just plain old rectangular) empty box and brought it over to her. “Look at what I fetched for you.”

“Thanks, Dog Noir,” she said, reaching out a hand for it. 

He stuck out his tongue, preparing to toss the red and black box back to her, before realizing he could get one more pun out of it. He held it with both hands and gently placed it into her outstretched palm. He didn't let go until he'd caught her eye and said, in very serious tones, “For you, My Lady. And may I say, you look very fetching.” The box slid out of his hands, and Ladybug's expression morphed into a frown.

Within moments, the victim was back to normal, the holes had been removed from the street, and Ladybug was staring him down. 

“I've told you,” she said.

“You've told me lots of things, Bug. You're going to have to be more specific.” Though he was fairly certain he knew what she wanted to say. Another rejection. 

“You aren't going to win me over.” 

Being prepared didn’t soothe the disappointment. “Would you mind if I kept trying anyway?”

Ladybug's face softened, and her hand went to her earrings as they beeped a warning. Two more minutes. “Thank you for the compliment, but it's not going to work.” She didn't sound exasperated, just sad. “I have to go.”

“See you at patrol later?” he asked as she threw her yoyo. 

“Of course,” she said. “Keep in mind what I said, though.”

How could he not? Chat Noir sighed loudly once she was out of sight. 

He still had three and a half minutes before he transformed back. Enough time to get poor dog-man home before anyone noticed Adrien was missing. 

---

Patrol that night started out more formally than it usually did, and he knew it was due to his earlier declarations. Ladybug kept her distance from him physically and emotionally, only speaking when it was necessary and staying two or three rooftops ahead of him. He wasn’t getting the feeling that she was mad. Her tone was kind. And she always checked to make sure he was keeping up, even stopping to wait when she needed to. 

Maybe she just didn’t want to give him any false hope.

Over the course of the hour, he steadily creeped closer to her. By the time they had reached the Louvre, they were side by side like they normally were. So naturally, Chat Noir let his curiosity get the better of him and asked a question that had plagued him for months. “So what's my rival like?” he asked. “Is he as funny and as handsome as me?”

“How should I know?” she said. “I can hardly see your face.”

Surprised by her sudden teasing, he quickly offered, “I could change that.” Which of course, he realized as soon as the words were out of his mouth, was about the most unhelpful thing he could have said.

Ladybug scoffed and took off, leaving Chat Noir to figure out how to fix his latest mess-up. She didn't seem too averse to answering questions, so maybe all he had to do was try again? 

He stayed level with her, but gave her some space, choosing to run across the rooftops on the other side of the street. Headlights created a glow beneath them, a river of light that cast her in a warm haze. 

After a few minutes of silence, he tried again. “I'm very handsome,” he said, trying to play it off. “Would you believe me if I said I was a superhero by day and a supermodel by night?”

“Pfft. No.” She stopped on a wide balcony and smiled at him. 

He leaned over the edge of the roof to look down at her. “Maybe I just play one on TV then.” 

“Unlikely.” She threw her yoyo and zipped away.

“No, really, what's he look like?” he called after her. “You can tell me that much.” They usually ended their patrol near Collège Françoise Dupont, which was convenient for him. And ever since Alya had discovered the little tidbit about Ladybug's history textbook, he’d started to suspect that the ending location was more than just a convenience for her, too. She probably lived nearby. They landed on the school's roof at the same time, and he thought she would just take off after that question, but for the second time, she surprised him. She sat down and leaned back on the flat top of the building. To the civilians below, only her feet would be visible, dangling over the edge. Chat Noir stayed as close to her as he dared, sitting by her knees, close enough to touch her if he reached, and stared down at the school’s stairs beneath them.

Ladybug chewed her lip like she was thinking. Did that mean she was figuring out her answer? Or was she figuring out how to say no nicely? 

“He looks... a little bit like you,” she said, letting her feet kick against the side of the building. 

“What if he is me?” Chat Noir asked. He hesitated before scooting closer, not wanting to push her. If she ran off again, she'd probably just go home.

“But the chances of you being the same person are really slim.”

“So what does he look like then? White kid? Blonde?”

“Green eyes, too,” she said.

“So he’s probably me.”

“Will you stop?” She held both arms straight up above her and then let them fall wide to either side of her. “There’s thousands of people in Paris that fit that description. He’s not you.”

“You said it yourself. The chances are slim. But that implies there’s still a chance.”

Chat Noir was trying really hard to convince himself that he was just teasing her. There was no way he was lucky enough to really be the guy she liked, but his mind drifted back to earlier that afternoon. The way she had held him when he wasn’t transformed, smiled at him, made sure that he stayed safe. What if the boy she liked was Adrien Agreste? 

What would it be like to walk hand-in-hand with her at school? Or have plans together on the weekend?

It would hurt more to hope if he turned out to be wrong, but he couldn't help himself. She made him hope like nothing and no one else in his life could.

“Would it be bad if we were the same person?” he asked after it was clear she wasn’t going to answer his last comment.

“Not bad,” she said. “Just weird. You’re really different.” 

“I thought you said we were both devilishly handsome, amazing, with perfect comedic timing–” 

Ladybug laughed and shoved him. “Perfect comedic timing? You?”

“As evidenced by your laughter right now.” He gestured to her. She looked over at him from where she was lying down. 

Her smile was glowing, brighter than the cars passing them on the street. Brighter than the moon. “You’re both wonderful people, I’ll give you that. Sometimes dorky, but I’m happy to know both of you.” 

Chat Noir felt his face going hot at the unexpected praise.

“And sure, you look kind of similar. There. Are you satisfied?” 

“We go to the same school,” he blurted out. “What are my chances now?”

“Chat!” She bolted upright to face him, eyes wide. “You can't just give away information like that!”

“I didn't-”

“We go to the same school?” she shrieked.

“I don't know!”

“So what made you say that?”

“Well, I thought maybe–” There was no way out of the mess he’d just created. Ladybug was on her knees, both hands on the roof of his - probably their - school. “I... the textbook?” he finished timidly. Even if that had been a false lead, he’d effectively just told her which school he attended, and he wasn’t sure how she would take it.

“Alya!” Ladybug growled, rubbing the heel of her hand into her forehead. When she faced him again, there was a big red spot. 

“So... you really do go to my school?” he asked, patting a patch of roof next to him. 

“You... you've known this... Alya released that video ages ago. You knew we went to school together, and you haven't come looking for me?”

The fragility in her tone caught him off guard. “Of course not,'' he reassured. “What kind of privacy invader do you take me for? I ought to be offended!” (The irony of the statement wasn’t lost on him.)

Ladybug didn't laugh, just quietly said, “Thank you. We go to the same school. Huh.”

The crisis he’d unintentionally created seemed to have passed. Hope bubbled up again. Most kids their age had crushes on people from school. “My chances?” 

“Are slightly increased, but I'm fairly certain you're two different people. In fact, I'm not even sure we've met at school. I would have remembered meeting someone as loud and obnoxious as you.”

“Unlikely,” he muttered, but it was quiet enough that she hadn't heard him. “So this guy, that may or not be me...”

“He's not you.”

“What do you like about him?” He acted so differently at school. He didn’t think she would recognize him. Would he recognize her description of him? Maybe she would let it slip that the boy she was crushing on was a celebrity or famous or something. 

It was hard to ignore the niggling doubt that said raising his hopes would only hurt more later.

“You really want to do this to yourself?” she asked, echoing his thoughts.

At the very least, he’d learn more about his Lady. What had won her over so soundly? (Maybe he would have a better shot with her if he knew that.)  “Sure.” 

“He's kind,” she said immediately. “He's the type of person who would help someone out even if they hated him. When we first met he went out of his way to apologize to me for something that was my fault. And he has the most amazing amount of patience I've ever seen.” She smiled while Chat Noir frowned. That didn’t sound like him. 

“I mean,” she continued, “he has enough patience to deal with C-- this student that no one likes. And he's just so gentle and sweet and... yeah.” She sighed. “That's why I like him.”

She stared out over the lights of the city, but he was certain that she wasn't seeing a single building. Her face was peaceful and shining. It was a good look for her.

“Even if it turns out he's not me, he sounds like a nice guy.” He wasn't as great as Ladybug described, not nearly as kind or the well of unending patience, though that's what he tried to be like. 

Then again, how many blond, green-eyed, white boys were there in the school? His chances had to be pretty good, didn't they? 

“What makes you think he's not me? The personality difference?”

“I've seen you two in the same place at the same time.”

Chat Noir's heart sank. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. He knew he shouldn't have. And yet he had anyway. His ears drooped, and he grabbed his tail and started weaving it through his fingers, just to have something to do. 

“Oh, Kitty.” Ladybug looked over at him. “I'm so sorry.”

“Maybe... maybe you just thought that you--”

“Please don't,” she said. “Please stop doing this.”

“But maybe you just thought--”

“Chat Noir!” 

He turned to face her, slowly, deliberately. “I'm not giving up. If he's not me, I'm going to keep trying to win you away from him until you ask me to stop.”

Ladybug shut her eyes in defeat. “I should.” 

But she didn’t, the hopeful piece of his heart whispered. He really wished it would shut up right now.

“Would it be easier for you if I did?”

“I–” What did he want? He felt at war with himself. Determination to keep going. But giving up might eventually make the pain of rejection stop. 

She was looking at him with so much compassion and caring. The constant declarations annoyed her sometimes. He knew that. But she didn’t hold it against him and still asked if he was okay. Despite everything, he loved her. That was that. “I’d rather be able to express myself. But only if it doesn’t bother you.” 

She shook her head, eyes down. “It’s fine.”

“Who is he?” he asked.

“I already told you, I can't tell you,” Ladybug said. “We can't know anything about each other. It's--”

“Then we can’t know for certain that he’s not me.” It was false hope at this point, but it was the only hope he had, so he clung to it. She'd seen them together. Maybe he had saved this guy’s life.

She stood. “I'm sorry, Chaton.” She zipped away without another word, up and over Marinette’s bakery and out of sight.

Chat Noir didn't feel much like being a superhero right now, but he didn't feel like going home so early either. He slowly climbed down the walls, detransformed, and trudged his way back to the mansion on foot, his hands in his pockets.

---

The next time he saw her was two nights later, their next patrol. She had arrived first, which was unusual, and was pacing at the top of Le Grand Paris, waiting for him. The sting of her rejection had been his companion for the past 48 hours, and it flared up a little when she turned her bright, blue eyes on him.

“Evening, My Lady,” he said, bowing elegantly. “I hope you've--”

“I have an idea.”

Chat Noir was still bent at the waist, and the grandeur of his gesture was broken by his sudden jerk upright. That sounded urgent. “What kind of idea?”

“Uh...” Ladybug didn't usually hesitate like that, and he realized that it probably hadn't been urgency in her voice, just anxiety. Ladybug kept going. “How I can prove you two aren't the same person without revealing anybody's name.”

“Oh.” Stellar way to start a patrol. 

“Here's my plan. So after I went home the other day, I felt bad that you felt bad and then I had to figure something out, so that you could be happy again, and I promise I won't go looking for you.” Her words tumbled and tripped over themselves. “And I thought that it would probably be best if you could just stop thinking the way you were thinking, but no one’s identity will be compromised, and this is kind of dangerous if I’m wrong, but I’m not wrong, so if you don't want to do this it's fine, and of course you couldn't be the same two people, and--”

“Ladybug.” He hadn’t heard her babble like that for at least three months. Whatever her plan was, she was obviously presenting it to him against her better judgment. Her arms curled around herself, like she was terrified. Her hands were tight balls.

“I went through all of last year's yearbook. Are you in there?”

He nodded slowly, uncomprehending. “Yes?”

“I checked everyone, well, all the boys who look like the two of you. There's a bunch of people who match your general description, and none of them have the same initials. And no one has the same first initial as him, so I thought-- you could tell me what your first name starts with, and...”

And she could crush his heart once and for all when it didn’t match. 

Or, his traitorous heart whispered. Or maybe…

“Don't worry about me,” he said, resigned. It was a silly hope. He would just go back to his original plan of winning her over.

Ladybug hugged herself tighter, fists clenched, staring at his shoulder. “Are you sure? Because we don't have to do this.”

He squared his shoulders to brace himself. “A.”

“A?”

He nodded. 

“Your last name?”

“What do you need it for? You said no one else has the same first letter.” She didn't answer, and he couldn't tell if this was a good sign or a bad sign.

“Another A,” he said.

Aside from her fists loosening slightly, she gave no visible reaction, though he thought he heard her breathing pick up a little.

“Ladybug?”

“Ladybug has to go home now,” she whispered.

He blinked. “What about patrol?”

Without so much as a backward glance, she slipped over the side of the hotel. He watched as she skittered away over the rooftops and toward the direction of the school. What was that reaction? It looked bad. Those were bad feelings she was having. Did she leave so she wouldn’t have to hurt him again? Or some other reason?

Chat Noir finished the patrol route on his own, not sure if he should feel hopeful or despairing.

Ch 2

---

Author's note: Hello! Welcome to my Big Bang contribution! This story has seven chapters and will update every Saturday! Thank you to @toadashi who did some great artwork for it! To @cardiac-agreste for beta reading. To @jennagrinsoverml, for being so interested in this half-formed story that I eventually finished it. And to @mlbigbang for hosting this event!

Here is the artwork for this fic! :https://www.instagram.com/p/C1l539rowbO/?igsh=cmloaWRyaWVkdThv

[bowieandqueen11]

Honeymooning With Steven Grant Would Include...

I’m so so sorry to the lovely anon who requested this - I tried to copy this into my drafts and accidentally deleted half of it :( I remember it being for honeymoon headcanons, so I hope this is alright love! 

(I do not own Moon Knight or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @marc-spectorr.)

Warning: nothing too explicit, but NSFW so 18+ please!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Do you have any idea?? How soft I am for this?? I am so soft I am YEARNING you have made me yearn god I love this concept so much

I feel like the two of you would go somewhere sunny: perhaps a couple of weeks in Egypt, staying in a nice resort by the Red Sea, since Steven is so fed up of the dreary London weather. Just a really nice spot, where the two of you can hire out a boat for the day, and he can sit holding you at the back and feed you strawberries. If he’s not too busy trying to taunt you with the fruit, or giggling like bursts of sunlight as you nip at his fingers, he’s leaning awkwardly over your head to give you a sweet upside down kiss. His lips are so plump, so tender as his top lip latches onto your bottom one, that for a moment the two of you are lost in a sweet abyss where the only thing that exists is the tart tang of each other’s mouths. Or, the poor man is holding onto your biceps for dear life, only being drawn away from your lips by the feel of the boat rocking wildly from side to side.

As twilight began to flood in, flitting past your eyes like a gliding moth chasing the last drop of the honey sun with its velvet tail, you and Steven perch up from where you’re entangled on the chaise longue. Underneath the silver flecks of the waves, a few hawksbill turtles languidly glider underneath the navy froth. Steven’s eyes immediately light up, seeming to glow like shining jewels against the strung lights hanging from the masts. ‘Turtles’, he whispers and points towards the water, turning to look at you as if he’d just seen true magic. You grip onto his finger and place his palm flatly against yours, doing your best not to laugh when he squeals and buries his head deeply into your neck. ‘Yes love’, you caress your free hand through his stubborn curls, ‘those are definitely turtles.’

He nearly loses his mind when a dolphin appears above the crest of the water line. He has to lie down for a little bit against your chest, panting like crazy and his heart racing a mile per minute because even though it’s day one, he’s becoming a bit overwhelmed by all of this bless him. You just snuggle down around him, rubbing your nose against the shell of his ear and whispering sweet nothings until he finally calms down. He looks so calm, so peaceful, with his pursed lips rising and falling in time with his chest, that you’re not too surprised when he begins to snore a few minutes later. 

He makes you leave the hotel room before dinner for a couple of minutes while he gets dressed. With an ear pressed up against the door, you ignore the weird looks you’re getting from the elderly vacationers heading down to the dining hall as you listen to the thud of Steven falling across the floor. He seems to be... jumping, probably trying to pull his trousers up quickly, which is followed by the sound of a hanger crashing onto the floor and a squeaky ‘oh, bollocks!’. You’re pressing a finger to your lips to stop yourself erupting when he finally unlatches the door, but it immediately drops down to your side when you take him in. He’s wearing his best polka dot yellow tie and sheepish smile, gazing down in terror at his feet and back up at you. He’s got a squashed box of chocolates in one hand, and a rather pressed bouquet of roses in the other; it almost takes your breath away, since he looks almost identical to the way he arrived at your doorstep for your first date. Even though you’re married now, his arm is still shaking as he offers it to you, and he still sighs a breath of relief when you loop your own through enthusiastically.

‘I’d been dreaming of this moment ever since I first put eyes on you, you know that love?’ He manages to say between shaking words as he leans you downstairs. ‘Every night. All I could blooming think about was how lucky I would be if I could hold your hand every night. You might as well pinch me right now, ‘cause I must be blinking dreaming.’

You spend a lot of your honeymoon down by the sandy strips, sharing a sun lounger and lying together underneath the warm shelter of a beach umbrella. He would read to you, his lips brushing against the tip of each with the pronunciation of each word: hot, tingly, the inside of his lip dragging against your earlobe from time to time. Eventually, when he noticed you were starting to fall asleep from where you were tucked up around his arm, he would become like a big child. He would teasingly shove you with his shoulder with a booming ‘tag, you’re it!’, before giggling as heartily as birdsong and running off across the sand. You finally manage to rugby tackle him down after a solid ten minutes of him skiting around the place, and he looks up at you as if you hung every swinging star in the sky as you hold him in place. Your legs are firm against the taut muscle of his calves, your hands pinning his trembling wrists above his head, and his breath is shaky as you press your weight against his lower abdomen, your bottom resting firmly against his groin.

He feels he’s about to pass out as you let go of his left wrist to run your fingers gingerly across the stubble of his jaw, before cupping his chin to hold in in place. He squirms beneath you, beginning to mewl as you lean down to kiss him. You’re quickly thrown to the side before lips can meet, though, as Steven manages to get you turned and shelters you from the massive wave that comes breaking onto the shore. When he looks down at you, sea water dripping down his wet hair and onto your nose with the most disappointed face in the world, you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut in laughter. 

This man is the BIGGEST softie in the world oml. You come wandering out of the bathroom that night, not expecting to see Steven biting his bottom lip and jutting his chin out. He’s muttering nervously to himself, a quiet ‘oh dear, oh dearie me’ busting out of him as he squats down and runs back and forth across the floorboards like a terrified little crab. He’s grabbing at rose petals he tried to shower across the floor, not realising the cool night breeze would burst in through the French doors and steal them away. When he notices you from the corner of his eye, he quickly straightens up, hiding the woven basket behind his back. He pretends he doesn’t know what’s going on as you walk over to him, but when you drop your towel and grab the back of his head to bring him down for a fervent kiss, the basket is quickly dropped to the floor and the jig is up.

Bro.. bro... oh my god, the body worship this man is hellbent on showing you is beyond crazy on your honeymoon. Like, dear lord, turn it up by a hundred and you might get a little closer to understanding how this emotionally vulnerable, touch starved, drowning in love man might be. I mean, Steven’s always been a giver if you know what I mean, but this is just next level. He’s so nervous though the sweetie pie, that you decide to help him out by loosening his tie. He’s nearly drooling on the floor by the time you throw it off of him, standing there like putty in your hand and just watching with lovesick eyes as you undress him. When his mind finally registers the almost inaudible pop of his shirt buttons though, he’s full on racked by whole body shivers as your palms glide the material apart from his chest. His firm pecs tighten against the feel of your bare skin against his, and behind the breathless inhale he swears he could die quite happily right now as long as you just don’t stop.

When he finally can’t take it anymore, it’s your turn to groan as he grabs onto the back of your thighs and shoves you backwards, pulling your bottom until it’s resting at the edge of the mattress. He slots his frame between your legs, knees coming down onto the floor as he buries himself between your soft flesh in ineffable bliss. Your thighs tighten around his head, and he breathes against your inner thighs as he kisses a path up them, gripping tenderly onto the back of your leg. When a little bit of extra oomph seems to overcome him, and his teeth nips across your panty line as they try to pull the seam of your underwear down, he immediately starts cooing and pressing a delicate brush of his nose against the mark, as if in apology. 

Although he’s far better around you, some nights Steven still doesn’t sleep very well. You do your best to wake him up gently on these days, unlatching him from where his legs have tumbled onto yours during the night to start the kettle going. The smell of peppermint tea always perks him straight out of his dreams, and so he curls the duvet around his head like a hedgehog diving into the soft mound of a giant marshmallow as he goes looking for you. His feet slog around the room until he reaches the kitchenette, and he feels his heart begin to fizzle and pound as if a thousand scarabs were flitting around trying to escape the mortal walls when he spots you bopping around to the static hum of the radio. He immediately scares the pants off you by wrapping his arms around your waist, joining in your dance by swaying your hips side to side in time with his own. He’s impossibly close, his warm breath tingling against your neck as he kisses you. Suddenly, you’re enveloped by darkness, realising Steven’s taking the opportunity to assimilate you into the duvet fortress as well, so he can lean down and kiss every inch of exposed skin on your face and neck as he can, with a billion rushed pecks. You finally manage to push him off by pressing your hand against his mouth, and he relents to go get some tea.

The two of you sit knee to knee, criss crossed on top of the unmade bed. ‘We’re married’, he suddenly says, sitting bolt upright as if he’d been shocked between sips from his cup. ‘Yes, Steven’, you reply as he turns to look at you with a smile of pure wonderment, ‘I remember. I was there too.’

‘But it wasn’t a dream. That actually happened. You married me. This isn’t a joke, is it?’

‘It’s not a joke, Steven. I love you’, you state plainly, grabbing onto the back of his hand.

You can see the tears begin to gather behind his bloodshot eyes, his bottom lip blubbering out as his fingers turn to grip, almost painfully, the ends of your own. ‘I love you more than everything in the universe, Y/n.’

I mean, it’s Steven Grant so you 100% go sightseeing around the place! He so delicately holds your hand on the bus, nearly vibrating out of his seat he’s so excited. He even manages to ignore the side-eyes of fellow passengers as you pass by a really exciting historic site, Steven’s shoulder butting against your own as he points out to everything through the window. He hunches over your side until he’s nearly fully leaning onto you as he begins to rush out a boatload of facts he’s learnt from his books back at home. By the end of the night he’s so exhausted he’s fully lying across both the seats, legs planted in the aisle and his head blissfully cradled in your lap. His content smile is literally beauty incarnate, and you can’t help but disturb him from his sleep by kissing the tip of his nose. He replies by latching onto your top lip when you go to pull away, pressing his tongue tiredly against your own before flopping back against your knee as if he’d just won the lottery.

Steven definitely makes you take silly photographs in front of everything you go to see: the picture he took of you jumping in front of the pyramids past Cairo end up pinned on the wall next to his fish tank. After he kisses you goodbye in the mornings before work, it’s become part of his routine to also press a kiss against your cheek in the picture <3

Although he did manage to come round one of the market stalls holding a stray cat in his arms. With pleading eyes, he sounded like he was about to burst out crying as he looked at you, sniffling.

‘Can we keep him?’

‘Steven, how are we supposed to smuggle a cat back in our suitcase??’

‘He can have my plane seat instead, I don’t mind :(’

He tugs you down back alleys during your last few days in Egypt, running down cobblestoned streets hand in hand, flying across the dusty ground like loose kites free in the breeze. He’s on the hunt for a second hand bookstore: one he gets lost in almost immediately. You finally manage to find him hunched over by a knobbly looking bookshelf in a dusty side crevice near the back of the small shop. You have to literally hitch yourself over a pile of pretty worn, ancient looking encyclopaedias, shimmy past a dusty looking globe, and brush through a gap between two lined oaken bookshelves before you spot him. He doesn’t realise you’re behind him until your arms are squeezing around his soft belly, and you’re kissing the bunched material between his shoulder blades. His hand comes up to squeeze your fingers as he gives you a loving, slightly embarrasssed ‘oh! Hello love! Fancy seeing you here!’

He becomes even more shocked when, after you’ve finished resting your nose against his back and just breathing him in for a moment, you spin him round to face you. His eyes widen as he drops the book he was looking at onto his feet, but the confusion is quickly replaced by his features melting into one of intoxication as you press a lingering kiss against the side of his mouth. His eyes are blinking slowly, trying to shut as he crumples against your chest, his elbow knocking backwards and nearly knocking over a few piles of books domino style.

He literally tells you he loves you at least ten times a day. It just blurts out of him, as if he’s going to burst if he doesn’t get to say it. Baby. Baby boy. He deserves this forever love, and has wished for nothing more since the two of you first met.

[thecuriousquest]

Death by Chocolate

Yan!Karma Akabane x Fem!Reader

TW: Yandere themes, NSFW (mentions of physical/mental abuse), 18+ characters, college setting, poisoning

Master List

—————————————————————————

He holds a chocolate up to your lips for you to take. “Come on. Let’s get some food into you. Your skinny enough as it is. I’m gonna need you to just cooperate, or things can get a little bit rough for you. I know you don’t want that. Come on. Be a good girl for me.”

You part your quivering lip, chaffing your bound wrists behind your back as you shift uncomfortably. A tear slips down your cheek as he places the chocolate treat on your tongue. You resist the urge to bite his fingers, remembering the metallic in your mouth when he backhanded you for something similar.

“That’s a good girl!” he beams at you, acting as if you’re a child who just took her first steps.

You chew it, and you note the rich mocha and milk chocolate flavors infused in the truffle. There’s something else however. Something you can’t quite place. It’s more bitter than the mocha.

You furrow your brow as you swallow it down. What is that strange sensation numbing your tongue?

“Ah, I bet you taste it, huh? You’re making that face like you’re trying to figure out what you just ate. Feeling a little light headed yet? Feeling like your throat’s dry?”

Weary eyes meet his bright ones, his smile never wavering, your lower lip still quivering like a released bow.

“What did you feed me, Karma?”

“Oh, just something I whipped up from home ec. Sensei taught us a lot about making desserts. You know he has a sweet tooth. I might have added a little something just to sweeten the deal, though. What you just ingested, my love, is a fatal poison that will have you dead in…oh, three minutes.”

Your mouth feels parched, and it’s not because of what he just revealed to you.

“Now, here’s the antidote,” he informs you as he holds up the tiny vial. “Tell me you love me, and I’ll give it to you. You wouldn’t rather die than say it, right? I mean, there has to be some form of intelligence in that tiny brain of yours.”

Another tear trails down your cheek. You hate him so much with a burning passion that you’re honestly thinking about letting yourself die, but your self-preservation kicks in, and you at least want some form of control over things if you’re going to end your own life. Death by chocolate isn’t how you want to go out.

Looking down at the floor, you gulp down a slew of vile things to scream at him. “I love you.”

“Look at me and say it again. Tell me who you love.” He rests his elbow on his knee, propping his chin up in the palm of his hand as he looks at you with those soul eating eyes.

“I love you, Karma.” It’s easier to say if you get it over with quickly, but the taste it leaves in your mouth is just as bitter as the poison he fed you.

“That’s a good girl. I love you too.” He reaches out and pets your head.

Uncapping the vial, he lets the antidote fill your mouth, and you cringe at the awful taste.

“Yeah, I know it tastes kind of gross. I could always give you more chocolate to wash it out.”

You give him a scathing look. “That’s not funny.”

He only laughs at you. “Lighten up. You really need to work on your sense of humor.” He lifts you up off the ground and unties your wrists. “Don’t even think about trying to fight me. I’ll win. You know I will.”

What can you do against one of the top martial artists in your class? He’s a skilled assassin, an amazing fighter. Cunning as always. You saw it today. He tried to kill you for all of the things you’ve said to him in the past, he would have let you die if you didn’t give in just this once.

To avoid being hurt, you let yourself give in just one more time as he pulls you into an embrace on the couch.

“I won’t fight you, Karma,” is your curt reply.

But you want to fight him. You want to fight him so badly, but you’re so tired of being hurt physically and emotionally by him. If he’s not pinning you down and verbally assaulting you, emotionally degrading and manipulating you with the cruelest of smiles plastered on his face, then he’s beating you with the same carefree grin.

God, how you hate him. You hate him so much that you can’t help your hands curling around the lapel of his jacket.

If only…if only you were as strong as him or even Nagisa, then maybe things would be okay, maybe things would be different.

[vodika-vibes]

hi again!! i figured since your follower event is almost over i’d request one more thing from you! i was thinking topaz with wrecker please during the early morning like breakfast time if that makes sense?

the reader is kinda like the opposite personality to wrecker (not like totally mean but like they’re quiet and can come off as intimidating to most people), but wrecker is the only one who can make the reader smile and laugh and stuff like that. and can you please make the reader gender neutral?

Syrupy Kisses

Summary: You’re not much of a breakfast person, the most you do is have some caf as you start your day, but Wrecker is.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x GN!Reader

Word Count: 616

Prompt: Topaz - Affectionate Love

Warnings: One suggestive comment

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thank you for your request! I hope this is close to what you wanted. I personally don't like eating breakfast, something I learned from my mom, so the reader is the same way.

“Morning, Mesh’la!” Wrecker says from where he’s digging around the cabinets as you enter the kitchen. “I didn’t wake ya, did I?”

You shake your head, and then, realizing that he can’t see you, you add, “No, you didn’t. No need to worry, Wreck.”

He turns and beams at you over his shoulder, “Good! I’m making breakfast. Want some?”

“Just some caf, Wrecker. There’s no need to go through all that trouble for me.” You reply as you step around the table and slide your arms around his waist.

“It’s no trouble. I’m happy to do it.” He carefully turns in your arms and rests his strong arms on your shoulders, “I’m making waffles,” He tempts, “With chocolate chips.”

“Mm, tempting, but I’ll stick with the caf.”

His hands drop to your waist, and he effortlessly lifts you to sit you on the counter next to where he’s working, “You’re gonna waste away, mesh’la.”

“With as much as you feed me, I highly doubt that.” You lean against the wall and watch him pour you a mug of caf, and prepare it like you prefer, and then he presses it into your hands.

“One caf,”

You gratefully take the mug and set it next to you, before you reach out and lightly press your hand against his cheek, “You’re too sweet to me, Wrecker.”

He leans his hip against the counter, and leans into your touch, “Well now, I’m sure that’s not possible.” Wrecker replies in a quiet rumble. 

You laugh softly, “I got a comm from my sister last night, after you fell asleep.”

“Oh? What’d she say?” He asks as he taps the inside of your knee to make space for him between your legs.

“That it’s not nice of me to intimidate someone as kind as you into dating me.” You reply blandly.

Wrecker laughs, his forehead falling to rest on your shoulder, “Intimidating? Oh, mesh’la, you’re quiet sure. But not intimidating in the least.” He pulls back and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, “Omega is more intimidating than you.”

Your lips curl up into a smile as you press your free hand against his chest, “I’m not sure how I feel about being deemed less intimidating than a thirteen year old girl, but-”

He laughs again, and this time leans in to kiss you properly. 

Like everything else in his life, Wrecker kisses with an enthusiasm that would be overwhelming if you weren’t able to match it. “I think your sister just doesn’t know you well, mesh’la.”

“She’s always thought I was a bit scary.” You admit.

“Quiet. Not scary.” Wrecker kisses you again and again. “I don’t think you’re scary in the slightest. I think you’re perfect. My perfect mesh’la.”

Your face heats, and Wrecker grins at you. “I’m hardly-”

“Mm, the most perfect. When you kiss me. When you cuddle with me. When you do that thing with your tongue that I really like-”

You press your hand over his mouth, your face burning a little hotter, “I thought this was breakfast hours, not praise me until I can’t function hours.” You say.

He kisses the palm of  your hand, “I can do both. I’m a very talented man. And you deserve all of the praise.”

“Please don’t.”

He chuckles and kisses you one more time, “I’ll stop, but only because I love you and because you said please.”

“I love you too,” You whisper, “And, thank you.”

He winks at you and kisses you one more time, before he finally pulls back to start making breakfast properly. And you can’t help but think that you want this forever. Or as long as he’ll have you.

[biteofcherry]

i wonder what mafia!steve would do if she tried to escape? a trip over his knee perhaps? i feel like he was brought up in a very traditional household as well as the mob obvs lol like the men of his family went away and did all their mafia shit and the women waited for them with their kids at home

Steve was raised in a traditional household, but he's also a modern man and knows how to use weak points 😎

So here’s another peek into the Nesting universe

~ * ~

"Now, my little bird, why would you do that?" Steve asked softly, his hold on your wrist firm but not bruising as he pulled you over to sit on his lap.

You were still shaking, your breath ragged from exertion after your failed escape. You managed to run into a park across the building that was now your home, but since you were never a fast runner and the baby's been sucking out your energy, you had no chance outrunning Steve's men.

Bucky's been astonishingly gentle when he caged you in his arms to take you back home, but you feared Steve wouldn't be when they delivered you to him.

But Steve simply kept you over his lap, his arm securing your back as he traced his other hand over your forehead and cheek.

"I can't live locked, Steve," you said quietly, your gaze dropping down.

"Locked?" He quirked a brow, slowly undoing the buttons of your shirt. So slowly you didn’t even notice right away. "You can go wherever you wish."

"But not alone." You protested. "And not everywhere."

"That's for your own protection, honey." Steve reminded you - again, as he’s done for the past weeks since he brought you here. 

“And the baby’s protection,” he added, parting the sides of your shirt and resting his hand on your belly. 

You frowned, suddenly confused how he got you bared to him without you noticing. Then again, you shouldn’t be surprised. Steve was able to make you give in to him without putting up a fight almost every evening. And though you wanted to blame it on fear, Steve didn’t threaten you even once.

Unless promises of filling you over and over again were threats. 

Your stomach growled unexpectedly and while you scrunched your face in embarrassment, Steve chuckled. 

He reached for the bowl with grapes that stood on the table. There were little chocolate bonbons in colorful wrappers scattered around between grapes; he made sure to add them himself since he noticed your sweet tooth. 

He plucked one juicy grape and brought it to your lips. You glared at him, but opened your mouth to swallow. 

He unwrapped a bonbon and fed it to you next. 

“See, sweetheart,” Steve palmed your breast, your nipple instantly erect under his touch, “you need someone to take care of you.”

He pinched your nipple and your moan melted on your tongue along with bonbon’s sweet filling. 

Steve’s hand moved down, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your comfy, stretchy shorts. With a jerk of his knee beneath you he jolted your legs apart, allowing his fingers to dive between your folds.

“If you run away, I can’t protect you,” Steve said, stroking you. 

“If you’re away, I can’t feed you. Can’t watch your sweet mouth take what I give it.” 

You gasped at his words. And at the intrusion of two long digits inside of you.

“What would your lovely, responsive body do without my touch?” Steve pressed a thumb against your clit, drawing tight circles. “Would you deny yourself the pleasure just because you needed to act out and rebel against all reason?” 

“Because it is unreasonable, honey-” he nipped along your jaw then sucked on your earlobe.

“You live in a beautiful apartment. With a loving husband who’d give you anything you ask for. My attention? You have it. My cock? Anytime you wish, honey. My love? Grows stronger every day.” 

Your moans increased, your hands clutching onto Steve’s forearm as he curled his fingers inside you and quickened their pace. He was bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Yet you want to deny yourself all of that.” Steve tutted, shaking his head slightly.  

“If it’s denial that you seek, my sweet wife-” his eyes found yours, blue of his eyes turning icy- 

“Denial you will get.”

He withdrew his fingers, the squelch of your wet cunt resounding in the fallen silence. Gently, but firmly, he put you onto your feet as he stood up. He spared you not another glance as he took the bowl from the table and walked out of the room, leaving you unsatisfied. 

[eddiesbug]

request: eddie doesn't die, but he just barely makes it, and visiting him in the hospital with his favorite music and foods and giving him soft cuddles and yeah

FIX-IT FIC

content warnings: STRANGER THINGS VOL 2 SPOILERS, sum light angst but not rly (just lots of relieved crying), reader is totally emotionally crippled, soft cuddles, just loving on the bestest boy

“Mmph…” Eddie’s little grumble has you stirring from a light doze, face pressed against his warm hand on the hospital bed. “Baby?” he calls, voice rasping. The relief his voice gives you is palpable; you really thought you’d lost him and no one has been able to console you for days. You’ve been planted firmly by his side for the entirety of the time he’s been at the hospital, waiting, praying for him to wake up. It seems your prayers have been answered.

He’s disoriented at first, grappling for purchase against your t-shirt. The hospital gown itches and it’s so bright and you’re the only familiarity in the foreign, clinically sterilised room.

A wet sob looses from your throat and your shaking hands cup his face, tracing the curve of his brow, the dip and bump of his nose, the swell of his lips.

“Hi, gorgeous,” you breathe out, tears from your waterlogged lashes obscuring your view of your boyfriend. You feel you need to commit his features to memory now. Just in case. “Thought you were gone, Eds.”

“What a way to go it would’ve been though, right?” he laughs, though his voice is scratchy and strained. Everything hurts and despite that he’s still cracking jokes. Only your Eddie.

You scoff, grabbing his jaw with no real malice and pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. It makes you ache to even think about him being gone. You don’t think your heart could take it.

“It’s not even funny. I don’t know what I’d do without you. It really looked like you’d died, baby.”

“Couldn’t leave my favourite girl, could I?”

“Better not. I need you, idiot.” You growl playfully, lacing your fingers through his grubby ones and kissing each of his knuckles in turn. He draws your hand up to his face, opening your clenched fingers and pressing his face to your warm palm. You stroke across his cheek soothingly as he seeks your touch.

“Brought you some stuff.”

“Oh, do tell.”

You begrudgingly leave his side to swipe the basket from the floor. You pull out each item in turn: a Walkman, some of his favourite music (Ozzy, of course, Metallica, Iron Maiden), some chocolate, cake, chips, anything you think he’ll eat. He gazes at the pile of items in awe.

“You brought all this for me, baby?”

“‘Course I did,” you murmur, trying to push back the tears brimming behind your eyes. You really can’t help it — you’ve spent the past days wound tight with stress and terror, and now that he’s okay, you’re crumbling.

“Oh, my angel. I’m okay,” he croaks.

“Don’t you ever leave me. Ever.” You kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his hands. Anywhere you can reach. “Never ever.”

“Never.”

“Okay.”

He watches with rapt attention as you pile everything back into the basket bar a few snacks, before toeing your shoes off and shuffling into the bed next to him. You tremble as you move, needing to touch him, to feel him, warm and breathing and alive.

It takes him some effort to manoeuvre into a position where you can cradle him the way he likes, but once his head is resting in the juncture of your neck, he relaxes.

“‘ve got you,” you mumble. “Got you here. Safe.” He nods along, eyes following your hands as you tear open a bag of chips. “Hungry?”

“A little.”

“Okay,” comes your soft acknowledgment. You pinch a small chip out of the bag, placing it into his awaiting mouth. He grins, pointed teeth protruding past his lips. Even his dimples show themselves. Your heart clenches.

“Gonna take care of me? Feed me and nurse me back to health?” he teases.

“You bet I am. Not leaving until you’re better.” Your dead seriousness contrasts greatly with his jovial tone. You can’t leave him ever again.

“Nurse y/n.” He ponders the silly nickname, that spark in his eyes you missed so much finally returning. “Think I know a few ways you could make me feel better.”

You giggle, kissing his temple.

“Perv.”

“You love me.”

“I do. So much.”

[gatorlovebot]

nsfw. mdni. more vampire gaz stuff inspired by this post

cw: major bloodplay, all consensual though! (biting, blood used as lube)

you awoke to a buzz coming from your phone on your night stand. you fell asleep easily after your night spent with kyle, a special night for the both of you. you knew it wasn't the first time he had feed from a human partner, but he still made you feel like it was one of the most important moments of his life.

he talked you through it and held you as you got dizzy after he licked the puncture wounds clean and closed. feed you little morsels of chocolate and held a cup of juice up to your lips until you felt like yourself again. he bundled you up in your bed, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead before seeing himself out of your apartment. you weren't all that happy when he declined to stay the night, but you were nodding off to sleep before he was out the door.

your mind goes back to your phone, screen still bright with a new notification. your eyes squint to adjust to the light in the dark of your room, punching in your pin to unlock the screen. it was a text from kyle. at 4:36 in the morning.

"i'm really sorry if this wakes you up. it's 4:36 and all i can do is think about you"

even in your groggy state you couldn't help but smile down at the bright screen, tapping out a response.

"come back over then"

you were expecting him to decline your offer, as he was so stubborn in giving you time and space to yourself tonight. and yet moments later he's messaging you back, telling you he'll be over soon.

you lie back in the sheets, phone tossed to the side, feeling absolutely giddy with excitement at seeing him again. who cares that it was barely 5am, you wished to be back in his presence than in your bed alone.

you must have started to doze off at some point, being startled awake by the feeling of cold hands against your bare skin and a quick chuckle close to your ear. kyle had come back to you.

you melt against him as he presses himself close to you under the covers, a contented sigh leaving your lips when leaves a kiss against your hair, "i'm sorry i woke you."

you smile with your face tucked up to his chest, "no you aren't, you wouldn't have sent it if you really didn't want to wake me."

you can tell he's smiling when he responds, "you're right, i was hoping you'd be up thinking about me."

you pull away from him just a little bit, so you can see his face in the low light of your bedroom. he was just too fucking pretty sometimes. "hate to break it to you," you can barely contain your smirk, "but your text actually woke me up from a delectable slumber."

he tips himself onto his back, bringing his hand over his heart, dramatically choking out, "you wound me, my love."

you can't help but giggle at him, taking his hand from his chest and turning it over to kiss his palm. "i'm really happy you came back." all he does is quirk his eyebrow in response, a sign for you to keep going, "i didn't want you to leave in the first place." you whine against his skin.

"i know, i know," he sighs, shoulders sagging against your pillows. he looks like he belongs in your bed. "the first time can be very intense for some people, i didn't want you to feel suffocated by me."

kyle garrick was an interesting guy. he could be sweet as sugar, like he was being now, but he knew the hold he could have over people. the way he could easily get people addicted to him. like he got you addicted to him.

“kyle, i could never get sick of you,” you confess, adjusting so your chin was resting against his sternum, looking up into his eyes. “so, maybe we could try it again?”

his eyes go dark at your proposition, the corners of his lips quirking up into a barely there smirk. he reaches down to card his fingers through your hair, “baby, after tonight i don’t have to feed for a few more days.”

that’s what he had told you earlier, that he could go a few days between feeding, especially from a human source. he had explained that he hadn’t had a consistent human food source in years and you had to quell down the little prideful part of yourself that reared up inside of you at his words.

he had explained that he wanted to ease you in to the whole thing, wanted to take it slow so you could get better acclimated to the process. but you were more than willing to be his consistent food source, he could come to you whenever he wanted. "yeah, you mentioned that earlier, but you just seemed to like it so much."

"well of course, a sweet thing like you," he compliments easily, fingers caressing the supple fat of your cheek. you tried not to shiver under his gaze when his eyes flashed red for a moment. "but i could tell how much you liked it, could smell it on you."

the smile on your face drops at his assertion, you can't help but feel self conscious, he could smell it on you? he must have been able to tell you were about to spiral because he's quick to reassure you.

"could smell your pussy the second i brought my fangs out, hottest thing ever, baby, promise." he clarified, sitting up to meet your lips for a hot kiss.

you're no longer completely mortified, but your voice is still small when you confide, "how could i not get wet? everything you do is hot, kyle."

"ahh sweetheart," he chides, flashing his gorgeous smile. "you're gonna give me a big head."

he was trying to be bashful but you knew he fucking loved how easy you were for him. and you weren't going to try to hide your feelings. "come on, kyle, you like, i like it," you say it like it's obvious, because it is. nothing was ever going to make you forget the moan he let out when his fangs finally punctured your flesh and the warmth of your blood filled his mouth. or the way his eyes had looked up at your's, dark and unfocused. "let's do it again."

"baby, i'm sorry, but i'm not going to feed from you twice in one night. it's not goo-"

"ok, i know," you interrupt, "so what if you just bite me a little bit, just enou-"

"just enough to get you messy with your own blood? you want me to fuck you too while i'm at it?" he teases, voice dripping in condescension at how needy you were being. all you could do was nod.

and that's how you end up on your back, sleep shirt pushed up to your neck as kyle bullied his way between your thighs. he leaned down to give your nipple a tug with his teeth before trailing his tongue over the sensitive skin of your breast. he looked up at you as his fangs became more prominent, the tilt of his head clearly looking for your permission. you gave him a nod, letting out a hiss of pain as his sharp fangs nipped at your tender flesh. he pulled back to watch the way the blood beaded at the surface, before finally running down to settle in the valley between your breasts.

his eyes were transfixed on every inch of skin he pierced, at every bit of blood that came to the surface. they were all superficial cuts, nothing for you to worry about, he would lick your wounds clean and closed once this was over.

he made his way down your stomach, nipping and biting at the soft, tender flesh, little rivulets of blood falling this way and that, before sliding himself farther down the bed. he urged your thighs wider a part to accommodate the broad width of his shoulders. he blew cool air across your bare cunt just to chuckle at the way it made you squirm in his grasp, before reaching up one his hands to your stomach. you watched the way he dragged one of thumbs through your blood, bringing it back down to press against your clit, smooth circles making you sigh.

you couldn't take your eyes off of him, couldn't stop your body from burning at the way he looked at you. like he wanted to consume you whole. no one had ever made you feel like that before. he finally leaned down to suck your clit into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you, his eyes slipping shut.

one of his fingers was quick to follow, stroking over your wet folds before plunging inside of your heat. you had marveled at his ability to learn your body so quickly at the beginning of your relationship, constantly paying attention to your reactions and asking if things felt good or not. it didn't mean he had you cumming in seconds, but it did mean that you were cumming.

he sucked on your clit hard like he knew you liked and the digit inside of you was rubbing against that spot inside of you that always had you gripping the sheets. as you got closer you couldn't help but grind your hips against his tongue, his noises encouraging your sloppy movements. with a jolt you were cumming around his finger, clenching around the digit and coating it in your cream.

he lets you catch your breathe for only a moment before he's crawling up your body, tongue swiping through the blood pooling over your tummy and your tits, staining your skin red. when your lips finally meet you taste the tang of your juices and the metallic taste of your own blood, the taste brings you back to reality for a moment. you were really doing this. kyle eventually pulled back and all you could focus on was the wetness of his lips, the wonderful red color to them. you knew your mouth looked the same.

"taste so fucking good, baby." he praised, leaning down to kiss over your cheeks as you blushed. you feel his hand between you, swiping through the pools of blood again, then you hear the slick sounds of his hand jerking his wet cock. "you ready for me, baby?" the red of his lips make his teeth look so white in the moonlight. he had a smile that would make you do anything he said, fangs or not.

all he needs is your nod and then he's guiding the thick head of his cock to your sensitive hole. your wet folds are colored red, blood smearing across his dark shaft as he pushes himself inside of you. you groan at the stretch, his finger nowhere near comparing to the girth of his pretty cock.

when he bottoms out, he nuzzles his head underneath your chin, lips ghosting your skin. it makes you still for a moment. you had told him that you weren't comfortable with him biting your neck, it just felt too risky to your little human brain. he was a man who always honored your wishes, but you couldn't help but feel a flash of fear at his fucked out state.

but all he does is press a tender kiss to your flesh before he's sitting back up, big frame looming over you. his smile is filthy as his thrusts deepen. "you look so fucking pretty like this, skin all red just for me, baby." that's how things usually went between you two, kyle's mouth spewing absolute filth while you just squirmed on the bed, taking everything he gave you.

you shudder and whine as his cock grinds against your spot. "there you go, baby, you've been perfect for me all night. do you think you can cum for me again, sweetheart?"

you nod your head dumbly, barely able to hold eye contact as you approach your high. "that's a good fucking girl." he praises, lowering himself so he can lap his tongue across your breasts, licking up your blood as his thrust turn sloppy. you hold him close as you finally reach your peak, cunt clenching against his cock, tears threatening to spills from your eyes at the intensity.

he almost growls as he empties his balls into your oversensitive cunt, head shoved between your breasts to inhale your scent. you two lie like that for a few long moments before he sits up again, pulling his spent cock from your dripping hole.

he reaches down, fingertips massaging the junctures of your hips, sore from being splayed open for so long. he has a small smile on his face as he looks down at your body. you nudge him to try and get him to talk.

he shakes his head, "i know it's wrong of me, but i don't want to clean you up. i just wanna lie here with you and cover myself in your scent."

you think for a moment at how in a few hours you'll be pissy about being sticky from your blood and his spit, but you can't help but open your arms for him.