#Sorry for not being able to roleplay.

[lunarvioletss]

gods i’m such an aimsey stan it isn’t even funny anymore i just watch him say the most unhinged shit and go “ahahaha they’re so silly :3 that mort impression/fnaf roleplay/aha ur so sexy meme really makes me want to resub :] yippee!!” like it’s just another tuesday

[abyssalpriest]

anyway Im just thankful that ive gone from "thinking their name accidentally is a blasphemous transgression" to. i mean. i would say something about how Leviathan & Storm Mom and I can literally just talk shit out like hey did you mean this in a bad way? No? ok. or talk about how we can poke and prod each other. or about how i finally feel like im not a burden despite all my issues having just left a fucking cult. but like the progression can be symbolically summarised in Leviathan being like "yeah you can call me Lev online you've earned that" last night

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode IV

Seed of Life

This is @zestys-stuff 's OC. All credits to this character goes to this beautiful, talented artist. Thank you again for allowing me to explore and create with him!

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, angst, early pregnancy smut (will be forewarned before it happens), daddy daughter drama, Ralak being little rough because reader won’t stop teasing him, Ralak literally has blue balls, ball play, blowjob, brief thigh fucking, likely incorrect na’vi, teacher/student dynamics/roleplay, p in v, quickie, squirting, masturbation, dirty talk, sexual tension, age gap 

Disclaimer: This chapter entails pregnancy and sexual intimacy during early pregnancy. I include a warning directly before the smut happens in the case that you want to indulge in this chapter but aren’t necessarily up for the pregnancy smut. 

Word Count: 10k sorry

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: thank you guys for always being so patient with me. i love yall too the moon and back <3 happy holidays and a happy new year! also, I’ve realised that I unintentionally decided that Kiri is not involved in this series (i dunno honestly, it’s just occuring to me that I’ve never really mentioned her before and it feels difficult to incorporate her at this point i suppose). It seems like we (reader) have taken her place in this au in regards to being jakes adopted ‘babygirl’ (nothing else though—no superpowers or anything loool).  

Synopsis: After telling Ralak that he's going to be a father, the reality dawns on you that you need to break the news to your own father.

<- Previous -> Next

This pregnancy shouldn’t be much of a surprise to you, honestly. How could you not be? After such a breeding it would be a miracle if you weren’t pregnant. Yet the news wasn’t quite sinking in, even when Tsireya looked at you with wide eyes and spelled it out for you. But now that you’re walking towards the tsahìk, you’re faced with reality and it begins to sink in as you count each step you take. 

Forty-two…  

The words that rolled off the tarsem’s tongue echo in your skull.  

Forty-three…  

Etching themselves into the bone, leaving you with no space to deny the truth. 

Forty-four… 

“You are with child.” 

The ringing in your ears stops as your vision refocuses on the stone cold expression of the Tsahìk. Her voice is unfaltering and clear as it delivers the news to your ears a second time. Bowing to the taller woman, you sweep three fingers away from your forehead and turn your heel to walk away. But before you can take two steps she announces something that makes your ears stand tall.  

“A boy.”  

Her two harshly spoken words strike through your chest, a sinking feeling now brewing in the pit of your stomach. You stop dead in your tracks and lift your head that was once tilted down to your feet. Things become even more real, having you force down a wad of your spit to keep your vision from splitting again. You’re barely able to use your voice—your mouth partially open and your tongue rolling from the churn of your tummy.  

“Thank you, Ronal.” You manage to squeak a decibel or two over a whisper, dropping your head again to lock your stare to your feet before fleeing the now-crowding scene. You overhear the people murmuring the news as you scurry away to your marui pod.  

‘The forest girl expects the firstborn of the village’s best warrior’;  

‘She won’t make it out alive!’; 

‘Did you hear? She will birth the first of a new kind. A kind with demon blood’.  

If your legs could go any quicker, they would.  

A child grows in your womb now. A child for the man you love—Ralak. The man who deserves it most. You’re scared and excited all at once. Proud to bear a son for such a notable and fearsome man. But afraid of how your family will take to the news.  

This was your first month of being a mated pair, and you’ve already succumbed to your most primordial instinct to mate. And with what everyone is already whispering, you’re scared of much more than that. Is what they say true? Is this a risky thing? Will he be teased for being different? Will he be rejected from the clan?  

Does Ralak… even want this?  

You both hadn’t even sat down and spoken about the possible consequences of such a cosmic event—your synced cycles. What if he hadn’t meant all the things he said? Or if he really just couldn’t prevent the things that he did during his rut? How would he react if that were the case?  

Your mind is running at a hundred clicks an hour and your nerves are wringing your stomach that it takes the hot sand spilling through the cracks of your toes to make you realise that you’re already home.  

And there he is, in all his glory.  

Doing nothing other than sharpening his damn spear. Sitting on his knees, leaned back with his flexed abs and gathered brows, concentrating on his task—blissfully unaware of the gossip spreading throughout the clan. The sight brings serenity to the white noise in your head, leaving nothing but the crash of the waves and the splash of the ilus off in the distance. I  

Ralak’s ears twitch as he senses your presence, but he remains focused on the stroke of his whetstone against the blade. He can feel your apprehension from where he sits, and he can already tell what you’re here for. Yet he chooses to keep his appearance no less than stoic, but not enough to be intimidating.  

“Tanhì.” He hums low enough that you strain to hear him.  

“I need to speak with you.” You utter, wetting your dry lips with a quick swipe of your tongue. You stand there fidgeting with your fingers as you await a reply from your husband. It’s almost mortifying how silent this man can actually be. You see the slight tilt of his head and his ear perk up to listen closely. Taking this as your cue to speak, you try to find the words to say.  

How do I say this?  

Ralak is a simple man, perhaps it’s better to give it to him straight. An easy, ‘I carry your unborn son’, would do, right? You begin to gnaw on the dry skin on your bottom lip as you think. But his silence is really getting to you today. How can he sit there so… unbothered? Not even a glance thrown your way or an eyelash batted. Maybe you should just spit it out — ‘you got me pregnant’.  

“Hm?” He lets out a muffled grunt, swiping the whetstone against the spearhead. It sounds innocent. Like he’s just immersed in a task and couldn’t quite bring himself to completely stop. 

“We no longer need to prepare for my heat.” You blurt out, not even knowing where the words came from. You witness his spine straighten and him quickly stilling his movements.  

Little did you know his heart gallops at the speed of a direhorse, thumping wildly between his ribs as he prepares himself to finally hear you utter the words. Oh, how he had been waiting for your sweet voice to sing the news. But he realises that you seem to need an extra push to say them.  

“And why is that?” Ralak husks, still unmoving.  

You wait for him to turn around. To look your way. Something.  

But… nothing.  

“I’m pregnant.” 

Ralaks heart skips a beat and his breath catches in his throat. A grin spreads from ear to ear, so strong and wide that if you were really paying attention you would have caught the way his ears stand at full height.  

But you were too busy fighting the bubble of the blood in your thumping heart, trying to keep your frustration to a minimum. You had expected more. For him to turn around, at the very least. All you could hear was the da-dump and the silence between you two. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

Perhaps it’s all the hushed chatter from earlier or maybe it’s just the new surge of hormones and out-of-whack pheromones but you can’t help the burn of your eyes as they fill with tears.  

“So w-what? Not even a glance my way? You knock me up and have nothing to s-say for it?”  You choke back your heated tears of frustration, Ralak now huffing a vehement sigh. “You’re not even surprised, or—” Your blubbering is cut short by your husband's quick movement.  

Ralak instantaneously brings himself to his feet and storms over to you, towering over your petite frame. Now he’s peering down at you, dark, smouldering eyes holding the most intimidating gaze with you as he closes the distance between your bodies. He’s still damp from seeing to the ilus this morning that when your chest touches his cold, bare stomach, it hardens your nipples into stiff peaks.   

“Surprised?” He rasps, his large hand flying to your lower stomach, gently pressing into it. Heaving shoulders slowing as he steadies his breathing, Ralak lowers his head to brush his lips against the shell of your ear— 

“Do you not think I had every intention of putting this baby inside of you?” 

Hearing this spoken in such an assertive tone sends shivers up your spine—Ralak knows exactly how to handle you and your… sensitivity. He always has. Your tail sways uncontrollably behind you, earning a well concealed smirk from the giant before you. It’s always been one of his favourite parts of you, but now—oh, now he has a new favourite part of you.  

Your soon-to-be swelling belly.  

“I have known.” He admits through a whisper, smoothing his entire palm over your budding womb, planting a quick kiss on your temple. “Your scent… it has changed, tanhì.”  

“What?” You whisper, almost pulling away from his tender touches to look at him. “And you didn’t say anything?”  

“I wanted to hear you say it. I have been waiting… to hear you say it.” He’s the one to pull away this time, looking you deeply in the eyes. His free hand raises, using his thumb to wipe away a tear seeping from the corner of your eye. “Please. Do not cry.”  

You don’t even know what to say. Yet again, Ralak leaves you speechless—with trembling lips and a swelling throat.  

“And you are actually eating the payoang niktsyey [fish wraps] I cook.”  

“What?” You snort, letting loose a sudden, nasally giggle. You drop your smile and try to fix a serious expression on your face. “What do you mean? I always eat your payoang niktsyey [fish wraps]”  

Ralak laughs, his three fingers tucking hair behind your ear, “I see you throw them to the ilus, tanhì. I am no fool.”  

You laugh again, snotty-nosed and teary-eyed, sniffling when the uncontrollable giggling fit ends. “It seems that our son enjoys your cooking, ‘lak.” You bubbler with a wobbly smile, blinking harshly to clear your vision.  

Ralaks eyes bulge as they frantically search yours—a beaming smile spreading across his lips, his pointed teeth on full display. “Son?” He exhales softly, his left brow bone jumping ever so slightly.  

All you can do is nod, letting your wobbly smile morph into a grin. The tears come back like they never left, twice as much and even hotter than before. You swear you see Ralaks eyes gloss over too, glistering in the sunlight.  

Ralak sinks to his knees, coming face to face with your soft tummy. 

“My prrnen [baby]. My ‘evengan [son; boy child]. It is your sempu [daddy].” He whispers, heated lips slightly pressed against your silken skin. Chin tucked to your chest, you watch in awe, straining to listen to his hushed whispers. “I have wanted you for so long.”  

Hearing that—oh, how hearing that makes you feel. You feel warm inside, your heart so full all your earlier fears melt away. Ralak looks up at you, azure blue eyes filled with nothing but love and adoration—gratitude and admiration.  

“My sweet tanhì. You have made me the man I have always wanted to be.” He croons at you, planting a long, soft kiss on your stomach—eyes still locked with yours. “And I thank you for that. Nìt’iluke [forever; never-endingly]”  

And just like that, the butterflies you felt when you first laid eyes on this man come rushing in, flapping their wings at full force.  

“I am your mate.” You sputter out a little, tiny sob. “It’s what I-I am supposed to do.”  

Ralak stands up, holding eye contact with you the entire way.  

“You owe me nothing. It is an honour that you carry my unborn, y/n.” His hand leaves your stomach to grasp your hand, intertwining his thickset fingers with yours. “You will be a nawm [great] mother.” 

“And you will be the best father.” You choke back your sobs, struggling to get your words out. A comfortable silence passes, where you both immerse yourselves into one another’s touch. Until Ralak witnesses your expression morph into something of worry.  

“What is it?” He asks in a hushed voice, keeping his tone calm and cool.  

“Speaking of… fathers.” The column of your throat undulates when you gulp hard, “How will I tell mine?” 

Ralak swallows, too. The thought had crossed his mind a few times over the past week. He saw the answer as simple – tell him. Ralak holds a lot of respect for your father, looking up at him as a superior given his status and skill as a warrior. And although he’s slightly intimidated by your father, Ralak sees this respect as mutual—therefore, it should be returned. Surely, this will go smoothly if you both remain polite.  

Right?  

“We tell him. Together.” Ralak grasps your hand once more, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze, his heavy accent shining through now that he’s high on emotions, “I keep you safe. Both of you.”   

—— 

Both you and Ralak make your way down the shore towards the webbing of overlapping mangrove roots. Though you insisted on breaking the news to your family by yourself, he was adamant that he accompanies you. You couldn’t bear the thought of your father lashing out on Ralak, especially in front of the others. You tried to explain that to him, but he simply shook his head and tightened the clasp of his saya (knife sheath) on his hip.   

You make the trek by foot, wanting a little more time to think about what you were going to say, and he ensured to stay right behind you. Quite literally—looming behind you like some sort of bodyguard. Every na’vi you pass are quick to avert their gaze elsewhere when they see the giant you have as a shadow. They tried not to look to begin with, but it was a rare sight to see you two so close together among the clan.  

Their hushed whispers are kept to an absolute minimum but Ralak hears them nonetheless. It doesn’t bother him. Not anymore, at least. It used to bother him before he had met you—hearing the chatter of the gossip about his voluntary six year celibacy despite being the chief’s right hand man. And now that the murmurs entail nothing but his relationship with you, he could care less.  

But then he hears the indistinct mumble about the babe budding in your womb. It’s something along the lines of ‘it being some demon hybrid’. The comment alone has Ralak screeching to a halt, his head snapping in the direction of a stocky, young warrior in training. One that Tonowari had relentlessly urged Ralak to teach until he begrudgingly gave him a couple combat lessons.  

Ralak’s eyes narrow and sharpen, snapping down to shoot a threatening leer down at him. That's all it took for the stumpy na’vi to drop his head in shame and scurry away with his younger companions.  

Sensing that Ralak is no longer on your tail, you turn around, half-expecting him to be five steps behind. Instead, he’s right where you left him, with a reassuring smile and an extended hand gesturing you to ‘continue’. You return a light hearted smile and spin around, taking another step towards your family marui.  

—— 

“To what do we owe the visit?” Neteyam smiles as he greets you at the marui door, arms splayed out for a hug. You smile and slump into your brother, allowing him to envelope you in a warm embrace. “We haven’t seen you in what feels like weeks, sis.”  

“Because we haven’t.” Lo’ak adds, lurking behind his bigger brother, arms crossed over his chest with a grin on his face.  

“Hey Lo’.” You say in a low voice, smiling at him as you let go of your big brother. Ralak silently stands at the marui door, head awkwardly tilted in an attempt to fit himself in such a tight space. 

“Hey, sissy.” Lo’ak throws an arm around your neck, patting your shoulder a few times as he walks you further inside and away from Ralak. “What’s up with the shadow?” He doesn’t even try to quieten his voice as he nudges his chin in your husband's direction.  

You force a little laugh, unwrapping his arm from around your neck so you can inch away back to your ‘shadow’. You back up until you bump into his solid build, making a muffled thump when you collide. He steadies you by the shoulders, lidded eyes flicking down to check that you’re okay. He can sense your nervousness. 

“I–we… have something to tell you guys.” You begin, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Where’s everyone else?”  

Lo’ak’s eyes squint, brows furrowing as the gears in his brain grind twice as fast to figure out what you could possibly be calling a family meeting for. “No fucking way. Already?” He blurts out when he finally puts two and two together. Your eyes widen when they dart over to him, catching sight of the shit eating grin plastered to his face.   

Fuck, is this skxawng going to spoil it for me? You think to yourself, apparently loud enough for Ralak to hear. He squeezes your shoulders before sliding his hands down the full length of your arms and letting go. “Mawey [calm].” He breathes, his head still hanging low. You look behind you, tilting your head up to meet his comforting gaze.  

“Hey, babygirl.” Jake’s voice snaps your attention back down, having you look your father in the eye. His smile is as wide as his arms as he approaches you for a hug.  

“Dad. Hey.” You whisper, returning the hug and snuggling into his chest. You bask in the moment, lingering onto how things are now—before you drop the bomb on him.  

“I missed ya.” Jake chuckles, rubbing your back. He finally lifts his head and sees your ‘shadow’ hovering a little closer than needed. “Jeez, let her breathe, boy. She’s just huggin’ her old man.” Ralak keeps his head hung and takes a small but noticeable step back. Jake gives you a quick peck on the head as he begins to pull away. “What have ya’ been up—”  

Jake cuts himself short, leaning back in to smell your hair. His eyebrows gather when he recognizes the familiar scent. Neytiri has smelled similarly a few times before. Jake grinds his teeth, scrunched brows and narrow eyes giving away his current state of mind. His hands slide down your arms, gripping then as he looks you dead in the eye. “Y/n. You got somethin’ to tell me?” 

“Dad–” You swallow down the knot in your throat, already getting choked up.  

Jake's lips purse into a thin line as his death-stare immediately averts to Ralak. And for what feels like an eternity, nothing but silence fills the room. The tension in the air is almost suffocating. Jakes eyeing Ralak down whilst Ralaks stare is locked on the way he’s holding you.  

You glance over at your brothers. One’s obviously got it figured out, arms crossed, shaking his head with a smug look on his face. And one is completely clueless—poor thing. You look back at your father who is now seething, leer averted back to you as he exerts all his energy into being patient.  

“What’s going on? Guys?” Neteyam breaks the silence with a worried tone to his voice. His eyes bounce from person to person, until they land on his brother.  

“He knocked her up.” Lo’aks whispers harshly, not even trying to be discreet. Neteyams brows raise and now he is, too, staring at you. You feel all the blood drain from your face and suddenly you’re extremely light in the head.   

Mortified is an understatement.  

Everyone is clearly waiting for you to confirm it. But you’re having such a difficult time saying the two silly little words. The pressure is on now, you could even see Ralak straining to hold his tongue. You finally muster up a cowardly nod, and immediately your fathers grip intensifies, squeezing your arms firm and tight. He’s looking down at you with eyes of disbelief and somewhat disappointment, frantically searching yours to see if this is really the truth. You let loose a low hiss, wincing when you feel the pinch of his grip.  

Not even another second passes when you hear the slap of your husband’s large hands grabbing ahold of your father’s wrists.  

“She is pregnant.”  

A deep, but low growl rips from Ralaks chest. In other words, ‘never lay your hands on a pregnant woman’. Ralak dwarfs Jake as he inches in a little closer, grasping his wrists just firm enough to send this message.  

“Yeah. Got it, bud.” Jake returns a growl through his teeth and tightened lips. He shifts his position slightly, eyes flicking down to acknowledge what his son in law is trying to get across. Nonetheless, Jake stands his ground. “Get your hands off me.”  

Ralak tries to regain his composure, but his protective instincts have just about gone haywire. The urge to protect has never been so intense before. It’s like his soul knows that there’s just more to protect.  

More at stake. 

Ralak looks down at your fathers hands once more, silently making his point clear. He holds eye contact with Toruk makto whilst he remains unmoving.  

“Lak…” You squeak a warning to your husband, who only flutters his jaw as a response. Lo’ak and Neteyam are on edge, both concerned that their father has a grip on you, but even more so that Ralak has a grip on their father. They watch intently, trying to decipher if and when they need to intervene.  

To everyone’s surprise, Jake exhales harshly through his nose and gently pulls away from you, but wrenches his wrists away from Ralak’s grasp. “Sorry, kid.” Jake spits an apology, readjusting his position to be directly in front of Ralak. “Care to explain how this happened so damn quick?” 

“Dad!” You shout in disbelief, wedging yourself back in between the two.  

“You know what? Don’t even answer that.” Jake snaps.   

“You know you are really no one to talk! Where’s mom? Mom!” You go on the tips of your toes, leaning from side to side to look for her behind both the two male na’vi.  

“‘xcuse me?” Jake purposely blocks your view by bobbing his head wherever yours goes. “I am still your father and you will not speak to me that—” Jake steps to the left to avoid Ralak and walk towards you. Ralak quickly adjusts himself to be the wall between you and your father, not allowing Jake the chance to even finish his sentence. Ralak is now looking down at Jake with a stoic expression, trying his best not to come off intimidating or challenging in any way.  

All to no avail.  

“You got a problem with me, boy?” Jake grumbles through his clenched jaw, getting in Ralaks face now.  

“No. Only keeping my word, sir.” Ralak simply responds.  

Jakes brought back to the very moment he made Ralak give him his word. His word that he’d never let a thing happen to his baby girl. The night you completed your iknimaya. The night he granted Ralak the permission to mate with you.  

The night Ralak took your virginity. 

Jake stalls for a few seconds, taken aback by Ralaks behaviour but a little impressed at the same time. Jake's expression softens upon realizing that Ralak is just protecting his mate—just as he does Neytiri, especially during her pregnancies.  

But there’s no way in hell that Jake will be the first one to back down here.  

“Mom!” You call for her once more, hoping that she’ll swoop in and save the day.  

Neytiri rushes in, hand on her hip where she keeps her dagger sheathed—worry and concern etched into her features. She analyses the situation, taking in the scene of her own mate standing face to face with yours. She glances over at you, seeing the panic in your eyes and the hand on your stomach that you didn’t even know you had placed there. Slowly walking up to the two male na’vi, she places a firm hand on her mates chest, pushing him away from Ralak. “Ma’ Jake. What is happening here?”  

Jake’s pressing his lips firmly together, not wanting to say the words. He shakes his head a little, huffing through his nostrils before placing a hand on his hip. His other hand extends in your direction, as if he were pointing out the obvious. Yet he remains choked up and speechless, his hand falling to his thigh as he gives up.  

Finally, he mumbles, “Go on. Tell her.”  

Neytiri looks back at you, eyes trailing back down to your hand that’s mindlessly resting on your stomach as she awaits for your answer. You feel the burn of her eyes, yanking away your hand when it becomes too much. Being the daughter of Mo’at, a tsahik, Neytiri needed nothing more than a quick glance and sniff to know what’s going on. “Is this true?”  

“Yes, mom. It is true. I am.” You say in a defeated tone of voice. Ralak shifts himself, settling close beside you now rather than in front of you. He always had an even greater respect for your mother.  

Neytiri’s expression only grows softer, until there's no trace of concern left in her face. Her smile is downturned but her eyes are bright, glistening with joy as she pulls you in for a warm embrace.  

“It is a blessing from Eywa, my child.”  

She pulls away from you, now looking over to Ralak. Neytiri lays a gentle hand on Ralaks upper bicep, “Seykxel sì nitram [congratulations] .” Ralak signs ‘I see you’ to his mother in law, exchanging a light hearted smile with her.  

It was no secret that Neytiri longed to be a grandmother. Her days of children are over now, although she was expecting her eldest, Neteyam, to give her a grandchild first. But Ralak — Ralak is a remarkable, mighty warrior and hunter. The olo’eyktans right hand man, and undoubtedly the best fisherman in the village.  

In fact, Ralak was one of the first people Neytiri took a liking to after she adjusted to the way of water. She always felt that he was a good suitor for her daughter.  

“Are you kiddin’ me? It’s barely been two months!” Jake scoffs, shaking his head.  

“And a day for us, Jake.” Neytiri tries her best to keep a calm, but firm voice. “They are a mated pair, they are having a family now. It is Eywa’s will.”  

Jake quiets himself, reflecting on his harsh ways. He sighs, loudly. His eyes finally glance down to what everyone in the room has been looking at, now staring at your protective hand that mindlessly lay over your womb once again. He grits his teeth, averting his stare to the ground, eyeing the charred wood of the fire pit. His tongue clicks as he parts his lips, muttering— 

“I know… I know, alright? She’s just—” He looks up at Neytiri, then Ralak, and then you. “She’s my babygirl.”  

It’s his way of saying, ‘I just want to protect my family.’ 

“Dad. I am but—but I’m not your baby anymore. I’m not a kid.” You croak, finding it hard to hold eye contact with him. “Your grandson is the new baby of this family.”  

Jake tries to fight the way his eyebrows scrunch together, it was like hearing about the news of his firstborn son all over again. He exhales slowly, nodding his head and extending his arms to hold you. His warmth envelopes you completely, leaving no room for any cold or harsh thoughts and feelings to linger.  

“You keep ‘em safe.” Jake's chin presses into the crown of your head as he mutters the words to Ralak. Ralak had always had a hard time understanding Jake's native slang, but this he understood— loud and clear.  

“Always.” Ralak answers firmly.  

Your safety has been, is and will always be his number one priority.  

Jake nods once, squeezing you a little tighter before letting go fully. “Seykxel sì nitram [congratulations], you two.” 

“Thank you, dad.” You smile whilst Ralak bows his head. Neteyam and Lo’ak finally come over for their hugs, making a comment of their own as they release you from their grasps.  

“I’m gonna teach him everything I know.” Lo’aks grin is unnerving and a little sinister, giving away the trouble that he’s already trying to get your son into.  

“Please don’t.” You joke back with your brother, even though you’re being dead serious.  

Neteyam jabs an elbow into his brother's rib cage, disciplining him for his mischief. “Agh — do not worry, Uncle TeTe will keep him in check.”  

“Well, that’s a relief.” You say softly with a smile on your face, “‘Uncle TeTe’. I like that.”  

“Hey, don’t forget about ‘Uncle Lo’Lo’.” Lo’ak chimes in.  

“Eh. Doesn’t have the same ring to it, you know? What do you think, lak?” You jester, looking up at him to be met with a slight smirk.  

“Very… hiyìk [strange; funny].” Ralaks smirk pulls at his lips a little more. “But, at least it is not ‘ak’-ak’.”  

You swear you hear a little chuckle from everyone in the room. All except Lo’ak, who is staring at Ralak with a deadpan expression, arms crossed defensively over his chest. It feels like an eternity passes until Lo’ak finally booms with laughter, extending his arm out to Ralak, who gaily reciprocates and meets Lo’aks’ with a smack.  

“I like this bodyguard of yours, y/n. He actually has a sense of humour.”  

You let loose a scoff and roll your eyes, about ready to wrap this whole thing up and lie down in bed. It’s seemingly obvious, seeing that everyone is giving you space as they take note of your restless body language and bowed shoulders.  

“If you are tired, you should rest.” Neytiri advises, just as you feel Ralaks hand tuck under your arm to support your weight. “Your body is working hard right now.” 

“Yeah, mom. I think I need to lie down for a little.” You mumble, leaning into your mate a little more.  

Your family practically ushers you out, encouraging you to get some rest and to get off your feet. Ralak walks close to you on the way home, keeping with the pace you set to the tee — only intervening with a hand to your hip when necessary.  

And when you finally slump into bed, your eyelids flutter shut before Ralak can settle himself beside you.  

——smut warning—— 

You rouse to Ralak drawing the curtain of your marui, blocking out the orange hue of the last eclipse. It dawns on you that you’ve slept out most of the day. You didn’t even realise you were so tired to begin with.  

“You should have woken me earlier. I slept out the day.” You mumble, sitting up in bed and lightly kicking off the sheets.  

Ralak turns around, surprised that you’re awake. He curses himself under his breath; he was hoping to keep you sleeping by drawing the curtains but instead he did the opposite.  

“You needed to rest.” He says, making his way over to sit on the edge of the bed. “You have been more tired recently.”  

“Yeah?” You snort, “…and what else have I been, sir know-it-all?” 

Ralak chuckles, his eyes falling to your stomach. “…a little more hungry.”  

You smile a little, remembering his fish wrap comment from earlier.  

But then you witness his half-lidded eyes glaze over with something of… wanton. It takes a second to realise that they’re no longer staring at your belly. They’re staring at your tewng [loincloth]. More specifically, the mound imprinting it.  

It’s the way your pussy is being so tightly squeezed by the thin cloth covering it. It’s the one thing that Ralak can’t help himself from indulging in admiring. Then his eyes snap away,  unexpectedly meeting yours. The stare he’s giving you has your thighs rubbing together and your lower tummy tingling.  

“…a little more tempting.” His voice is thick like honey, laced with lust and arousal.  

In every way. From the way you fill out your top more, to your scent—you’re becoming more  

irresistible the farther along you progress. Your heart beats a little harder between your ribs as you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth. His lecherous gaze is fixed, blue eyes piercing into yours. It’s been too long since he’s been inside you that it aches.  

But he’s been patient.  

Especially since the day he figured out you were pregnant. With the way you smelt he found it hard to keep his distance at times but nonetheless, he did it. But the truth is that you haven’t had penetrative sex since your cycles synced.  

To be clear, he took care of you just fine.  

Tending to your needs whenever you initiated intimacy with him but he never took it further than his fingers and mouth. After seeing you so battered by his own hands he found it hard to put you in a position that could garner a similar result again.  

For a while, he lost trust within himself.  

That he no longer had the capacity for self control. Not only did he feel like he didn’t deserve it, but he never expected you to return the pleasure either. He had already taken you on his own terms. Repeatedly.  

Ruthlessly.  

So when you ate one to many of his payoang niktsyey [fish wraps] — when the new earthiness of your scent wafted past his nose — he knew. He knew it stuck. He knew your womb swelled with his child as each day passed. And the urge to protect only swelled with it.  

He became even more gentle with you. Handling you with care when your skin softened and your hips became a little fuller. Ensuring he had excess when he cooked. Weaving an extra thick blanket for you to sleep with when he was off on duty with Tonowari.  

It ached most when he’d come home just to see it kicked off onto the floor, with you on your stomach and your leg propped up just right. Your loincloth would always shift to the side, just enough to expose plump folds that innocently peek through the seam of the thin fabric. Fuck, it more than ached. It made him tender. Throbbing in his own tewng.  

Just like now.  

He dares not to break the steady, intent stare. Or else he may steal another glance at the softness between your thighs. But he can see in your eyes that you feel similarly. You always give him that look before doing something ‘troublesome’. You break eye contact first, your eyes now landing on his tewng.  

Fuck. 

Your eyes widen a little when you catch sight of the growing, thick bulge in his loincloth. Your gaze locks onto it, taking in every detail. From the thick stripes on his thighs to the way the twine of his loincloth is cutting into his v-lines. You can even see the outline of the crown of his cock.  

His stomach rises and falls from his uneven breathing, and his abs pop out one by one as he leans further back—supporting his torso with his arms behind his back. He was never shy about his body, and he certainly isn’t now.  

“Then, why do you resist me?” Though it's a question, it doesn’t sound like one when the words drip off your lips. Your voice is soft and feigned with innocence, yet you're shuffling to get on all fours to crawl over to him. You truthfully don’t care for the answer, you knew that it would be the same old song—‘he doesn’t want to hurt you’. 

“I hurt you.” He says coldly—simply, glancing at the fading scar on your shoulder as you settle yourself on your knees beside him. He watches as your hand finds purchase on his knee, and slides up his thigh. “And now that you are with child… I—haah”. He’s cut short with a shaky breath and slight jolt when you cup his bulge with a bit of force. He looks down at your hand, dainty and slender, barely grasping half of what’s under his tewng.  

“You worry about me too much.” You mumble, more focused on the speed at which his cock pulses at. “Yet still, never yourself.” You feel around, sliding your palm up and down its length, earning a rough exhale from Ralak in return. His lidded eyes dart back over to you, taking in the sight of you almost bent over his lap.  

“That so?” His voice is thick and gruff.  

“Mhm. ‘m always telling you that, aren’t I?” You hum softly, slowly moving your hand further down between his legs, firmly cupping his balls. They’re heavy in your hand, hot to the touch and— 

Eywa. 

“They’re swollen.” You whisper breathlessly, your glossy eyes meeting him with concern. They dart back to his crotch, your hand now fumbling with the twine of his tewng, hurriedly trying to unravel the knot to get the suffocating fabric off him. 

“‘tis fine.” He winces as he spits out the words, watching you pinch him a little while struggling with the taut material.  

Ignoring his words, you continue with your task, a bit more gently now. And when the knot comes undone, the twine falls off his hips and the tewng loosens with it. You tug it off him and see that they’re not only puffed up but also darker in colour. They’re firm and pulled close to his body, perfectly round and stripes well-defined.  

Shamefully, it turns you on to see his balls so full.  

Just the thought of them being so swollen with his seed that they’re aching and throbbing to empty themselves inside you—fuck, it’s making your teeth grit. You sit back into the dip of your feet and stare as your breathing becomes heavier. The more you look the more you realize that they’re pulling tighter and tighter towards his core. You look up at him, a little surprised. Your arousal is etched into your features and it’s more than obvious in your body language. You want to know how they’d feel in your mouth. How they’d taste.  

If they’d even fit.  

Without another passing second you bend over his lap, tail high in the air and legs spread—the overpowering scent of your arousal filling the air. You shove your face between his thighs, inhaling deeply his musky scent. You let out a breath of desire, one that sounds nothing short of pleasure and satisfaction. He smells too good. You can’t help yourself but give his firm balls a quick, kitten lick. The giant above you holds back his chuckle, finding your behaviour cute and honestly a little amusing. Feeling like the butt of a joke, you firmly grasp his length and tug it upwards, causing his balls to pull even tighter.  

“Y/n.” He hisses your name, adjusting his legs to rid himself of the strained feeling. You wet your lips with a quick swipe of your tongue, and press your cheek against them. They’re hot—heating up a degree higher the more you tease him. Just as you pull your cheek away and manage to fit one of them into your mouth, his hand flies to the back of your head, balling your hair into his fist.  

“You need not to—” your tail curls and the tip of it tickles against his chest, “—haah…do this.” Ralak huffs out a sigh of frustration it seems, looking down at you with somewhat of a predatory leer. You pop off with a pwah, catching your breath and turning your head.  

You both share an intent stare with one another, one that feels more challenging than anything. He’s insistent that he’s undeserving of this, and you’re insistent that he must be taken care of. His grip loosens on your hair, until he lets you go completely.  

“Shh…shh.” You shush him, eyes narrowing as they remain locked onto him. You slowly slide off the bed one leg at a time, sinking to your knees and settling yourself between his legs—now looking up at him with doe-eyes. The sight before you has your heart palpitating, just like the sight of your face so close to his cock has his jaw clenching.  

Ralak quiets himself by locking his jaw, waiting patiently to see how this unfolds. It’s the first he’s seen you in this position, on your knees, between his. His cock twitches in excitement as clear, thick beads of precum begin to roll down its length. You swallow thickly at the sight, wrapping your dainty fingers around its girth to pull it close to your flushed lips.  

Ralaks ears flutter and his eyelids grow heavy, his chest heaving as he shifts his weight to the palms of his hands—sitting up.  

You open your mouth, strings of your saliva connecting your lips together. They break when you lower your head, taking the mushroomy, glistening head of his cock into your mouth. It’s mostly sweet, and a little salty too. The corners of your mouth sting as you accommodate his thickness, and you struggle to open your jaw wide enough to take him further into your mouth.  

His head dips forward, eyes slamming shut when he feels your wet, warm tongue press against the underside of his cockhead. His hand flies to your head again, gently cupping the back of your skull as he lets out a strained breath.  

Muffled noises vibrate through your nose as you swipe your tongue side to side against his head. It throbs against your tongue each time it hits that sensitive spot right down the middle. You suckle and swipe at the same time, using your hands to pump the rest of his length until you're grunting and snorting for air. You come up, gasping to fill your lungs.  

His hand quickly slides from the back of your head to cup the swell of your cheek. His calloused thumb swipes at a bead of saliva rolling down your chin and pops it back into your mouth. “What are you doing, my tanhì?” He whispers the rhetorical question, ensuring his voice is calm and gentle. It sounds as if he’s given up—given in.  

Without answering, you take him back into your mouth, locking your jaw once you open it as wide as you possibly can. You stick your tongue out as far as it’ll go and look up at him with eyes that begin to water. He looks down at you with a concerned expression, which morphs into one of astonishment. Your head goes lower and lower, taking inch after inch of his cock down your throat.  

The tears in your eyes finally spill over, and your nose begins to burn. Half of his length is down your throat and you can barely breathe, but the more his face grimaces from how good you feel around him, the more of him you urge yourself to take. You hold onto his hips, using them as leverage to shove more of him down your throat.  

“Hnng. Easy.” He groans roughly, pushing back against your shoves. “You are pregnaaah—mmn, you will make yourself sick, tanhì.”  

Lifting your hand from his hip, you smack away his hand and take him full hilt, his cock hitting the back of your throat, making it bulge. You stop for a second, slowly inhaling through your nose to focus on not gagging. You try moving the back of your tongue, slowly stroking the rest of his length with your hand.  

“Ah, shit.” He exhales shakily, his eyes rolling back before squeezing shut. He looks focused, like he’s concentrating on not cumming down your throat right then and there. Lips parted slightly, each breath he takes becomes louder and more raggedy. His thigh muscles tense up and his legs spread a little more, his hand finding its own way to the base of your kuru.  

Chest swelling with pride, you begin to bob your head and coat his cock with your sticky spit. The more slippery it gets the harder he has to fight back his choked grunts. The grip he has on your kuru is tightening, as if he were preparing himself to pry you off his cock before he fills your throat.  

Suddenly, his head sinks back and his jaw clenches—hard. You could feel it. The way his cock twitches. The way it’s heating up. The way it’s swelling in your mouth. Gurgled noises are escaping past his lips, and he purses them tightly together in attempts to keep himself quiet. His core flexes, and his hips start to stutter. His whole body jolts from how sensitive he’s getting, and finally he thrusts into your mouth, the pointed tip of his cock slamming into the back of your throat. 

You silently gag as his hips stammer into you and he’s fucking your throat in frenzied little movements. He’s trying his hardest to be as gentle as he possibly can.m, but your throat is so soft and tight around him. You swallow around his cock as you try to take a breath and suddenly his erratic movements still. 

“Y/n.” He lets loose a dying groan as his head slumps forward and his inebriated eyes struggle to open.  

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

His voice is gravelly and thick with restraint. You love to see him like this—hear him like this. You can’t help the wandering hand that’s making its way down to your soaked tewng. You try to touch yourself through the fabric, but have a hard time finding your clit with it covered like this. Exasperated, you shove your hand under the band of your loincloth and use all four fingers to rub sloppy circles into your puffy clit.  

Ralak is too immersed into this to even take note of your desperation. He’s too desperate himself. And if you don’t stop now, he really won’t be able to help himself. He begins tugging you by your queue, trying to pry you away from him. With each hasty swipe of your fingers you suck a little harder, as if you were trying to match your pleasure with your mates’. He pulls at your kuru even harder but you’re unbudging, firmly holding the base of his cock as you relentlessly suckle on the most sensitive part of his tip.  

“Stop.” He growls out of breath, finally looking down just to be tipped close to the edge by the sight below him. You look dumb and fucked out with his cock stuffed in your mouth, broken moans vibrating against his length as you franticly touch yourself.  

Finally, he yanks you off him with one swift, hard tug, his cock slapping his stomach when it pops out of your mouth. You land on your behind, legs spreading wide open as your fingers work away at your now throbbing clit.  

“Why? Can’t handle it?” You taunt him between pants and breathy, hoarse moans. Rather than answering he looks down at you with a cocked brow, kuru still in hand. Both of you stare at one another, shoulders and chests violently heaving as you both pant for air.  He’s raw and pulsing, twitching from the heartbeat in the crown of his cock.  

It's suspended mid air, jumping from how insanely aroused he’s left himself. Sticky beads of precum constantly roll down his shaft, one after the next and his balls are throbbing too. You get back on your knees and lunge for his cock again, tongue darting out to have another taste. He pulls you back, his hand still having a firm grasp of your kuru.  

“Is this what you are like when you have been bred?” Ralak huffs, a little taken aback by your lewd behaviour. His gaze shifts to your pathetic attempt to make yourself cum, and a smirk spreads across his lips. “So desperate.” Your silence has his brows scrunching together and him yanking your head back so you’re looking up at him. A growl rumbles in his chest as he slowly rises to his feet, bringing you to your knees with him—his hung cock swaying directly in your face.  

A smug little smile pulls at your lips when you realise you’re riling him up. You witness his jawbone flutter, his ears laying flat against his skull. He just wants to stuff his cock back down your throat to teach you a lesson. Instead he shoves your face into his crotch, your nose burying itself into the space between his cock and balls. He holds you there for a few seconds, just long enough that when he finally pulls you away you suck in a tiny gasp of air.  

Ralak sighs a low, lengthy breath, forcing himself to regain his composure. He can’t understand how such a little thing can be so feisty. To act as if he couldn’t pin you down and take you without a scuffle. Truthfully it only makes him even harder. It only further proves that you are really the woman for him.  

Slowly bringing you to your feet, he keeps your face pressed to his body so that your bottom lip drags along his torso as you make your way up. Your hand is still stuffed inside your tewng, slick fingers working hard to find their way back to your clit. With his free hand he grabs a hold of your hip, and steadily backs you up against the wall.  

When your back hits the wall, a shaky breath is expelled from your lungs. He lets go of your kuru and rips your hand from your tewng. He then wedges his knee between your legs, putting pressure on your clit, making it flutter uncontrollably. His movements are quick but gentle, filled with purpose and desire. His eyes dart back and forth between yours as he searches them, his face just inches away from yours.  

“Answer me, little one.” He whispers into your mouth.  

“Yes.” Your answer is breathy and short.  

Ralak heaves a heavy sigh.  

“I am trying to be gentle…” He speaks the words through gritted teeth, using both hands on your hips to spin you around to face the wall. He lowers his head until his lips graze against the tip of your ear. “…but you make it so hard for me.” He growls, using the perfect amount of force to pin you against the wall with his body. His large hand swiftly moves to your lower stomach, cupping it to act as a protective barrier between the wall and your budding womb. 

“No need to be. I can handle you just fine.” Your lips are pressed tight to your teeth, face flush against the smooth surface, making it hard for you to speak clearly. “Pregnant or not.” 

Ralak chuckles.  

“Is that right?” He speaks in an almost condescending tone, hurriedly tugging down your loincloth just enough to get access to your cunt. Without warning, he bends his knees a little to align your pelvises and then shoves his cock between your slickened, warm folds. “Oh tanhì, you are soaked.” His voice quiets down into a hushed whisper, “All from sucking my cock?”   

A mewl splits your lips just as all the blood rushes to your face, staining it a bright pink. Your pussy clenches around nothingness only causing more of your slick to ooze on his cock. Your breath turns shaky, tail swishing wildly behind you. You can’t move even if you wanted to. He’s got you pinned down, quickly reminding you of his strength. And had it not been for his hand on your abdomen you would be completely plastered to the wall and taken on his terms.  

“Tsk-tsk…Have you no shame?” Ralak tuts, holding you still. “Or must I give you a lesson on self-restraint?”  

Despite his cockiness you can sense the urgency in his body language and in his voice. You can feel it in the way his hips stutter, as his cock slides back and forth between your pussy lips. His own desperation. The desire to be inside you. The need for release.  

“Go on then, karyu.” You moan softly, causing his grip on you to loosen for a millisecond. Hearing that name brings a feeling of nostalgia. Of lust. You push back into him, your slippery hole trying to suck him inside with a few quick movements of your pelvis. “But I know you’ve been desperate… desperate to fuck your numeyu.” 

“Oh, little one.” His chuckle is dark and depraved, his protective hand stiffening as if he were preparing it for what's to come. “Yet you are trying your hardest to take me inside you.” He licks your ear lobe to tip, whispering, “so cute.” 

“Fnawe’tu [coward].” You mutter under your breath, steadying your feet to ground yourself.  

Ralaks ears flicker and stand tall, then immediately lay flat to his head—his brow cocking in astonishment. His smirk grows wider, the heat in his chest spreading to his extremities. Now that pushes him over the edge.  

“Say that again, numeyu.” He challenges you in a growl, angling his hips so his weeping cockhead prods at your entrance. He ensures not to let the buck of his hips win, keeping you empty and yearning.  

“Haah… afraid to take what’s yours.” You purr, rising to the tips of your toes to try sink him inside you. “Fnawe’tu—” 

Smack. 

The sound of his swollen balls making contact with your puffy clit is almost as loud as your broken gasp. You smile open mouthed as he holds his position balls deep inside you, firmly pressing the tip of his cock into your cervix. He’s grinding his back teeth, digging his chin into your shoulder to quell the rumble of his chest from how tight you’re squeezing his cock.  

You whine from the fullness of him stuffed inside your cunt, his unmoving hips sending a clear message of dominance. He’s hunched over you, body weight pinning you mercilessly against the wall, hand over your womb to keep your unborn safe—as promised. Still being gentle enough.  

But you want him to lose it.  

To fuck into you like he were in rut again. To use your pussy like a fucktoy to satiate his own greed and self pleasure. He deserves that much, for being such a competent and loving man to you. Yet it seems the only way to bring that out of him is to play dirty.  

“Fnawe’tu [coward].” You repeat shakily. 

Smack. 

Another deep and hard thrust into your sloppy cunt. He lets loose the rumble in his chest this time, bearing his canines and putting most of his weight on you now. Lips pressed tightly together, your whimper is muffled and outright pathetic, pinched brows giving away the pleasure rippling through you. Still, he remains unmoving, undeniably making it clear who has the most leverage here. But that doesn’t really matter to you—you’re getting what you want, one way or another.  

Right?  

“Voìk si, little one [behave].” Ralak hisses, fighting the inner conflict within him.  

“Haa—” Your laugh that follows is a little sinister, open mouthed and smug. Hands pressing into the wall you push off its surface, sinking him deeper inside you. “No.”  

“Alright.” His voice is husky, thick with confidence and temperance.  

With a rough, quick tug, his cock slips out of you with a squelch, hanging freely between his legs. Your slick mixed with his precum slowly dribbling off his tip and onto the floor between your pointed feet. You fall to the flat of your feet, panting and whining from the sudden emptiness.  

“W-Wait.” You squeak, hastily getting back on the tips of your toes to stuff him inside you again. “Please.”  

“What was that?” Ralak asks, voiced feigned with innocence. “A little louder.” 

“Please.” You barely whisper, backing up on him.  

“Come now, tanhì.” His hand slips from your hip to grip his cock. Giving it a few strokes he teases your cunt with his cockhead and you instinctively shimmy down. Hips snapping back to prevent you from taking him inside, he dips his head so his mouth is next to your ear and husks, “You can do better than that.”  

“Please!” You moan loudly in desperation, reaching down to your knees to unfetter yourself from your tewng [loincloth].  

“Please, what?” Ralak spits the last word through pursed lips, ready to give you exactly what you want if you just ask for it nicely.  

“Please put it back inside.” You beg pathetically, finally getting the knot of your tewng undone. “Please, fuck me.” 

“Ahh, there’s my good girl.” Ralak praises you with a grin, sinking his cock into your warmth at a leisurely pace. His breathing stutters for every inch that penetrates you. “Was that so hard?”  

“Fuck.” You moan in relief, spreading your legs wider. He’s tamed you and he knows it. “No.” 

“No…?” Ralak says it like a question, hissing when he bottoms out in your cunt.  

“No, karyu.” You answer coyly, voice faltering from the pressure of his cockhead pushing into your cervix.  

“Agh—haah” Ralak lets out a gruff grunt in response, his hips now snapping back and forth out of his control. He’s huffing and puffing next to your ear, pumping his cock in and out of you in a frenzy of need. Swollen balls repeatedly slapping against your clit, it’s almost impossible to hold back the gurgled noises escaping your throat.  

“Fuck—so—fuckin’—deep—fuck.” The curses are punched out of you as he relentlessly smacks into you again and again.  

“Lì’fyaz [language.]” Ralak chides in a growl, hand slipping down to pull back the hood of your clit—taut.  

The continuous sting of your clit has your legs shaking and the way his cockhead is repeatedly stimulating your sweet spot has your eyes rolling back into your head. It’s almost too much all at once yet you yearn for more. Your cunt clamps down around him, especially when the tension becomes so tight you feel your stomach double-knot. Ralak hums when you tighten around him, only making him rut harder into you.  

Pulling back, he glances down at you sucking him in, your tail curled tight to your back and his cock plunging in and out of your pussy. He can see just how tight you are as your pussy walls grip his girth mercilessly. And with the protective hand on your abdomen, he can feel each thrust against the palm of his hand. It makes his chest swell with pride— 

You carry his child yet still take him so well.  

“Oeÿa tsantu [my good girl]” Ralak slips into his native tongue, panting in an accent as thick as tree sap. “Oeÿa numeyutsyìp [my little student]” 

Ralaks cock heats up inside you, heating your core along with it. It’s the same familiar sensation you feel before he provides you with your release. The feeling that keeps your eyes squeezed shut and breath shallow. He knows your close and slows his thrusts like he usually does, fucking you a little harder rather than faster, angling his pelvis so he’s right in your swelling g-spot.  

Your hands fly behind you, grasping at whatever’s available as your orgasm washes through you. You gush all over your thighs, cum dribbling down your legs to your feet, some spattering on Ralak as he fucks and holds you through your high. It’s sudden and uncontrollable, leaving you sputtering out nonsense and your legs shaking violently beneath you.  

“There it is. Good muntxate [wife].” Ralak huffs with a smirk, relishing in the quick, feverish flutter of your cunt on his cock. His voice is shaky from his uneven rhythm now that he can finally allow himself to finish too. “Love—hng—when you cum for me, you—ahh, haah—know that?” 

He begins grinding to you, shoving you further into the wall as he focuses on his own climax. He uses his feet to kick your legs closed, and pulls out of you, stuffing himself between your thighs. He’s groaning and growling, hunched over you with bent knees and flushed, flattened ears. Skin slapping against skin, he humps at your thighs, thick cock sliding back and forth over your still pulsing clit.  

His cockhead continuously pokes out between your folds, tip oozing and oozing with precum. Both his hands fly to your hips, gripping them with force as his thrusts become almost violent. You struggle to keep yourself standing as his hips smack into you repeatedly, your body jolting with each thrust. He gives you one last, harsh thrust, holding you still against him as you feel his cock throb wildly between your thighs. You look down to see his huge load shoot out in thick, white ropes. He’s grumbling behind you, giving your thighs an extra few uncontrollable thrusts as he peaks in his high.  

Finally you fall to the flat of your feet, his arms instantly snaking around your waist to support your weight entirely.  

“I told you no taunting, tanhì.” He’s referring to the time he opened up about his first rut, “Next time, you ask nicely. Tslam? [Understand?]” Ralak says breathlessly.  

“Sran, oeÿa karyu. tslolam. [Yes, my teacher. I understand].” You blubber, fucked out and jaded.  

—— 

[spatialwave]

"indulgence"

pairing: pre-war!cooper howard x plus-size!fem!reader word count: 1.1k summary: cooper lost his breath the moment he saw you. there you sat at the end of the bar, deep rouged lips and painted nails that ran along the rim of your wine glass—smiling at him like the devil. warnings/tags: mdni! smut, praising, penetrative sex, doggy-style, porn without much plot, fluffy ending, reader is confident and cooper is divorced (and lonely). notes: as a plus sized person, this was long overdue to have some representation 😉

“hey, cowboy,” your voice purred, words rolling from your tongue. you leaned against the bar, eyes half-lidded and watching the older man who hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from you for the past ten minutes. feeling confident from two glasses of merlot, you decided to jump at the chance to talk to cooper howard.

to be noticed by him of all people, well, there was a first for everything.

your head tilted to the side, lips pulled into an impish grin, “can i buy you another glass?”

cooper’s eyes fixated on yours, sitting in his seat at the bar with a cigarette between his lips. two fingers pulled the thin stick from his mouth, a smirk replacing the stoic look on his face.

as confident as you were, you felt your stomach swirl in nerves as his eyes flickered up and down your satin-covered curvy figure. he was intoxicated by the image of you, knees weak at the idea of knowing you—learning your body. a few glasses whiskey in his system always made him incredibly worked up.

“only a stupid man would pass down a free drink from a pretty girl like yourself,” his voice drawled, the thick southern twang sending your brain into orbit. he was much more charismatic in person, “but a gentleman would never let her pay.”

the way he spoke was so cliché, but it worked wonders on you. a smile spread across your lips and the softest laugh erupted up from your throat, “in that case, a glass of red, mr. howard."

“so, you do know me,” the older man hummed, quirking an eyebrow as he slid a few bills across the black marbled surface, mentioning to the bartender your next round of drinks.

you kept your stance in front of him, long painted nails tapping along the bar top, “oh, please,” you chuckled, the sound deep in your throat and sending chills up cooper’s spine, “don’t be so modest. i’m sure you can’t go anywhere without someone recognizing you.”

with a tilt of your head, you chewed on your plump bottom lip—a coy look on your face. one that made the bulge in that man’s pants harden. if being divorced gave him anything positive, it was the freedom to have fun with a woman like you.

a chuckle came from him, lips breaking into a smile that was so god-awfully beautiful. he was easily the most attractive man you’d ever had the pleasure of flirting with.

“okay,” he said through gentle laughter, nodding at the bartender when two drinks slid before you, “sometimes i like to think that one day i’ll run into someone who has no clue who i am. it would be like a breath of fresh air.”

your eyes settled on his hand as he held the glass of whiskey to his lips, noticing the bare ring finger.

“i like roleplaying,” your voice was low, the intent of what you wanted from cooper palpable, “i can be that girl for you… sorry, what was your name, sir?” it was then your eyes rounded, eyebrows lifting in feigned uncertainty.

cooper didn't hesitate to indulge in you.

“fuck,” the word squealed from you, your face buried into fluffed pillows and ass in the air. your knees were growing weak, fingers digging into the linen as cooper fucked you from behind, “s’good…”

large hands grabbed at the rounded flesh of your ass, watching it bounce with every forward buck of his hips. your curves were heavenly, your body reacting and moving in ways that made his cock twitch inside of you.

“good girl,” cooper mumbled, eyes half-lidded as he groped your hips, fingers pressing into your skin. he couldn’t pull his eyes from you, watching in delight as you turned your head to the side to look over your shoulder. your eyes were glossy, lipstick smudged and face contorted into a blissed out expression.

you saw stars, and your mind was high in the clouds. cooper’s cock stretched you well, driving deep into your heat as to cause your eyes to roll back. a guttural moan rumbled from your chest, mouth open and tongue prodding against your bottom lip.

cooper’s hand settled on the small of your back, pushing down so you arched, and your head slightly tilted back as his pace quickened. your eyes settled on the cowboy behind you, his hair dishevelled, sweat accumulating on his forehead and chest, and red blooming over his cheeks. his abs tightened as he focused on grinding his hips forward against your ass, causing them to jiggle in a way that made his mouth water.

the image of him was burned in your mind, and you knew then no one else would ever compare to cooper howard.

a smile curled the corners of his lips, brown eyes watching you, “tell me how much you like this.”

“a lot,” you slurred, hardly able to speak as his length pounded into you with reckless abandon. you could hardly keep your eyes open, fingers digging into the silk bedsheets until you white knuckled, “i’m gonna’ come.”

“hold on, angel,” his voice was thick with lust, leaning forward so he could sneak a hand around you. he grazed his fingers against your rounded stomach, lowering until he could rub his middle finger in tight circles over your swollen clit.

you mewled in response, body shaking and hips stuttering as your orgasm came at you like a tsunami. eyes rolled into the back of your head and your cunt tightened and pulsed around cooper’s cock that fucked you rotten. the sounds from you were delicious—sending cooper over the edge just as quickly.

you milked him for what he was worth, collapsing onto the bed just as he did and thankful for your knees and thighs to rest.

“christ,” you breathed, hands lifting to brush against your hair, before resting them above you in an outstretched position. a hand moved to your cheek, tilting you to look over at cooper howard who was smirking to himself, “what’s that smile for?” you teased, looking through thick lashes.

surprisingly, you were answered by his lips. a soft, gentle kiss that made you wonder if this night wasn’t the last you’d see of him.

he pulled back and watched your eyes widen, an innocent look on your face that was far different that the vixen stare you had at the bar.

“just appreciating you,” he hummed, kissing you again before you could even part your lips to speak.

you were wrapped tightly around his finger, with no intention of trying to break loose.

[swimmpantyz]

DOG behaviour

mammon x fem!reader

summary: After getting punished by Lucifer, you had to take care of Mammon's bad behaviour on your own.

tw: roleplay, pet names, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cock riding, kinda degradation kink, slightly dub-con at some point, cock warming, porn w/ little plot

words: +2000

There was Mammon sitting on the floor with a totally upset expression while his older brother pulled on the leash around his neck, making him move with little to not care.

Satan on the other side was trying to hide his laugh leaving a not-so serious face... How had they come to this?

As usual, Mammon tried to make some money by stealing things from his brothers.

The target this time was a grimoire that looked extremely old and expensive in Satan's room... But he didn't know it was and ancient grimoire that actually belonged to the oldest brother.

Lucifer had to take care of it, of course.

"Shit... I already apologized, I'm not goin' to do it again, I swear!" Lucifer didn't flinch and walked down the stairs of the house. "Where are we going? Nah... Don't tell me..." His loud ass voice caught the attention of his little brothers, who came out of their rooms to laugh and take some photos of the scene in front of them... Except for the two youngest ones who weren't around. Shamefully.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry! please don't bring me to _________'s room, don't embarrass me like that man!" He began to despair as his cheeks turned red in embarrassment.

"I feel a bit of pity right now." Asmo said, a little pout on his face. Levi side eyed him.

"Didn't he sell your limited edition makeup from a brand I don't remember?" He commented, making his younger brother frown.

"Death for him!" Upset, Asmodeus kept taking pictures of Mammon, almost posting them on his Devilgram stories. But that photo had worth to use for threatening.

Once they reached your room, Lucifer knocked the door, politely asking if he could come in, receiving a 'Yeah!' as an answer.

"No! No, no, no! I'm not goin' in!" Mammon started to kick everywhere, trying to get away, but Lucifer pulled him back again.

"Excuse me." He opened the door getting in, dragging his brother too. You were lying on your bed with your phone in hands, legs up while your head hanged off.

Once you processed what was happening in front of your eyes, you sat up straight, smiling widely with a grin you tried to cover with your hands.

Mammon was dying of shame.

"D--Don't laugh!" You took a photo of them, capturing Lucifer's sinister smile next to the embarrassed Mammon.

"Should I ask why?" Lucifer shook his face at your words, chucking a bit.

"No need at this point." Once you calmed down, you got up from your bed, approaching Mammon who looked at you from below with confusion.

As you bent down, you began to caress his white soft hair playfully.

"What a weird dog you have Lucifer, he has a grumpy face." You poked his cheek, Mammon closed his eyes and blushed softly. His eyes and brows didn't matched: while his eyes shined lovingly, apparently pleased by your caresses, his brows frowned, upset by your mocking.

"He better not bite, I don't wanna get rabies." Lucifer hummed at your words, handing you the leash Mammon had on his neck.

"Not that I know... I'll leave him with you. Personally, I'd rather walk him all over Devildom, but I have business to attend to." He approached you and brushed a few strands of hair that fell on your face. Mammon growled at that.

"What a bad boy!" You laughed at his cute behavior as Lucifer walked towards the door.

"Make sure he behaves well. Like an obedient and polite dog, okay?" You nodded in response. "Good." He turned around, leaving you both alone.

Mammon sighed as he got up from the floor.

"What are you doing? dogs don't walk in two legs. Mammon, on the floor." Without being able to avoid it, he went directly to the floor, as a result of a direct order from you.

"This is what I hate about pacts." He grumbled.

"I never thought you would go along with that jerk, ________... Didn't know ya were that evil." He looked really offended, looking up with white eyebrows frowning.

"Hey, don't say it like that, it suits you to be a good boy." He flatly denied.

"Not even in a thousand of years. I hate this." You sat on your bed, placing a pillow at the head, sitting there and resting your back towards the wall.

"Oww, really? I think you're going to love it. Come here puppy, here here." You patted your bed and the boy approached doubtfully, not knowing what was on your mind.

Once in front of you, you took the leash, pulling it, making the demon lay on top of your body, right between your legs, his arms placed at the sides of your waist.

He stared surprised down at you.

"How obedient! Isn't Mammon so cute when he behaves so well?" You stroked his silky white hair with your free hand.

"What... What are you doing? Are you still making fun of me?" He closed his eyes, accepting your caresses, his breath itching the closer you brought him, his cheeks burning in a hot peach pink.

"I'm not making fun of anyone, I'm just petting my new puppy." The demon stirred restlessly and brought his head closer to your chest.

"Mammon, look at me, come on." He did so, and you brought your face a few inches closer.

"You want a kiss?" He nodded immediately, looking at you with excitement. His pretty blue eyes shining as if he had the sun in front of his eyes.

"Say that you are a good boy, that you will never behave bad again." His cheeks turned even more red. You caressed his warm cheeks, and he leaned on your touch.

"I'm a good... I--I'm a good boy, 'n I'll never behave bad again." You smiled as you stroked his hair again. He shut his eyes embarrassed.

"Fuck... The things ya make me do..."

"Come on, your doing good, you're being such a good boy." You saw a smile that he tried to cover by bringing his face closer to your neck. "You don't want a kiss?" He quickly glued his face to yours.

Att first, the kiss was soft, innocent.

But apparently Mammon was getting excited as he tried to stick his tongue inside your mouth.

You pulled away quickly. A 'pop' sound haad Mammon's lips pouting.

"It was just a little kiss, nothing else." He almost grunted, getting closer and closer, his breath tickling your face. You chucked, your hands on his chest stopping his movements.

"What are you doing?" You softly asked, playing with the fabric of his shirt.

"I need more." He didn't want to, he needed to. It was much more intense that just wanting something.

"Wanna touch ya too..." He whispered, his eyes staring up and down at you constantly. He was so close that you could even see his pupils dilating slowly.

"You wanna touch me?" You tried to tease him again. He gently took your hand and placed it over his mouth, kissing it. And he looked so good while doing it.

"All over." His sudden bold confession made you shy out a bit.

You didn't say anything as your free hand went through his chest, caressing it. You moved your thigh, brushing it against his clothed cock.

"Do you want me to stop?" Knowing the answer, but wanting to scare him a little bit, you playfully said.

"No! No please, keep doin' that..." He got closer to kiss you again, this time, you let him be.

Mammon was literally eating your mouth with kisses, leaving you breathless.

Quickly, you backed up a bit, almost running out of air. He began to rub himself on your thigh when you stopped touching him. Watching as you gasped for air, your blushing face made him want to move even more.

" 's too fast, Mammon." You backed up again and he complained, frowning amd whining.

"Luci could show up out of nowhere, you know how he i-" He didn't let you finish, kissing you deeply, pressing you down.

"I want all your attention for me, it's mine... Don't think about him." He greedily said, moving closer and pulling your body completely towards his as he ran his hands around your waist and hips.

"Please." You felt how his hard cock rested on your stomach.

"Ya're so cute... Ya look so adorable, I'd do anything to keep seeing this expression of yours." That demon in front of you wasn't the same Mammon as always. He leaned in to kiss you again, sticking his tongue inside your mouth when you opened your mouth.

"You're going to end up chocking me." A bit of drool ran down to your lower lip.

In just a second, Mammon ended up lying on his back.

With warm cheeks, you stopped his movements.

"Stay still or we're stopping." Instantly, Mammon froze on his place.

"Please..." He begged again. His hard cock was still pressing towards you, distracting yourself. You didn't plan on doing more than kisses and touches, but Mammon seemed desperate to continue... And to be honest, you were liking that a lot.

Since you weren't making any move, he squeezed your hips with both hands, moving you on top of him.

With one hand he began to lower his own jeans, opening the zipper. You took his hands, stopping him.

"Aren't we going too fast?" Mammon seemed deaf, trying to free himself from those clothes that were squeezing him.

He grabbed your hand, placing it in on top on his boxers, moving it so you could feel his hard cock.

"Ya killing me. Got me all excited like this..." He whispered with a raspy voice, you felt the big bulge below your hands, your body heating up abruptly and your stomach contracting.

"Don't blame me." Looking down ashamed, you touched his cock, squeezing and stroking it lightly like he wanted.

"Mh- Fuck, yeah, just like that baby." You wanted to close your eyes in shame, but the view was too good to miss.

"I really wanna to do it... Can we? Please, I need ya." You didn't understand how he could be bold. So sincere with his feelings.

"I..." Trying to convince you, Mammon gently pulled you closer, leaving kisses on your neck and caresses on your waist.

"Mammon-" You whispered softly next to his ear. He bucked his hips up.

"I swear I'm goin' to be gentle, I swear. I'm going to be careful and do it how ya want it. Yeah? Can we?" He begged between kisses and put your hand under his boxer for you to start stroking him.

"Do you... Have condoms?" You asked, sighing softly, he shook his face, blue eyes clenching in pleasure, his teeth biting his lower lip, holding soft moans.

"I promise I'll cum outside." You thought for a few seconds, debating on fucking him or not. Although Mammon was making your job difficult, caressing your thighs and staring up at you with a pleading look.

Fuck it. You nodded, getting closer and kissing him while strocking his cock under his clothes.

He raised his hands, holding your hips, pressing you against his body in search for the closest proximity.

He put down your shorts, playing with the edge of your small panties, squeezing your ass without shame.

Your panties were wet, and that made his pride and arousal get bigger and bigger.

He wanted to be gentle, to take really good care of you, but he couldn't hold himself, makimt him barely lower his boxers, move your panties without even lowering them, to support his swollen tip on your pussy.

"A--Are you going to put it in just like that? are you crazy?!" Panic washed over you as you felt his head rubbing against your folds, was he planning on breaking you in half?

'Ya're so wet…" He sighed, too far gone in the feeling. Mammon's cock began to slide inside you. A painful sting mixed with pleasure flooded you.

You thought it was going to sting and hurt like hell, but apparently, you underestimated how aroused you actually were, because the feeling of Mammon's wet, hard cock sliding inside you was too perfect.

"Mh- Fuck, ya're so warm too." He began to move your hips up and down slowly. "Ya're squeezing me so tight..." Wanting to have a little more dominance in that situation, you began to jump on him, fucking yourself harder and managing to make Mammon moan loudly.

The only thing that could be heard in the room were the dirty and wet sounds you two were making.

"Why-- How it's so big?..." You whined breathlessly, making him fastener the movement of your hips. You couldn't stop moaning as you felt each stroke quicker and deeper, the tip of his cock hitting sharply your soft spot.

"Ya really drive me crazy." He turned around your body, getting between your legs again. He pulled out his cock, loving your whimper of complain.

"Why did you stop?" You pouted. Mammon crunched, kissing your lips fastly with a silly smile.

He took off your panties and shorts completely... He was going to take all your clothes off, but only lifted your shirt enough to see some more skin.

He took off his own black shirt... A sweaty body would normally disgust you, but for some reason right now it was so hot, and come on, it's fucking Mammon, he was made by God himself, of course he's body is amazing.

Again, he lined up his cock to thrust in, letting out a groan... He didn't wait and began to move his hips harder. Your bed was crashing against the magic tree, a constant squeaking sound filling the room. The demon began to move wildly, bringing your orgasms at an immense speed. Constant moans heated the atmosphere, wet bodies and sweat sticking together. He kissed you messily, sticking his tongue in.

"There! r-right there." Mammon focused on the spot you told him, biting his own lower lip trying to hold back his release a little longer just to come with you.

"I- I can't hold it anymore, you feel so fucking good." He moaned your name as he thrusted desperately into you. Feeling your walls squeezing around his cock tightly, your mouth whining his name while you cummed, it was amazing, it made him literally whimper in your ear, lowering himself to hide in your neck, sinking his teeth there to muffle all the dirty words he wanted to say.

"I love ya so much... So, so, so much." He muttered, too pussy drunk to process all his confessions... Not that you didn't know them. "I wanna fill you up, all of ya." A few more hard thrusts later and he cummed deeply inside of you, literally to the brim, doing just want he wanted, so much cum that it began to drip out of your pussy, staining the sheets of your bed. That silly promise about not cumming inside was entirely bullshit. "Ya're gonna have my babies now?" He groaned at last, chucking tiredly. His chest went up and down deeply. He laid down on top of you, still moving inside a little more but gently, your fluids mixing with each soft push.

You felt your heart beating fastly, just like his, and he stayed inside of you, trying to recover, arms embracing you tightly around your waist, hiding his face more in the curve of your neck.

... You really just gave in. The task that Lucifer gave you totally fucked up. Literally.

But it was worth of it.

[littlemisskookie]

Crocodile Tears: Chapter 2

Crocodile Tears: Index  Ship: Stoner!Reader | Stoner!BTS  Description: You accidentally eat brownies with aphrodisiacs in them. Even worse one of your asshole friends catch you reading smut to cope, and decides to airdrop your collection of your dirtiest fantasies to the rest of the house. Just your luck. Warnings: Dub-Con, Degradation, Humiliation, Dom!Taehyung, Sub!Reader, A/B/O Roleplay, Choking, Headlock/Chokehold, Slapping, High Sex, Intercourse, Primal Play, Outdoor Sex, Kinkshaming?, Overstimulation, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Oral, Blowjob, Deepthroating, Edging, Really just PWP, Also Praise Kink somehow?,Taehyung has a ridiculously big penis, Taehyung is SUPER mean, like, very sadistic, lots of ABO names used a lot so if you don’t like that skip, Weed Word Count: 6,197 A/N: sorry for the wait. Here’s this!

You stepped out of the bathroom after cleaning yourself up, praying to god no one could smell the sin coming off you in waves. Jungkook provided no comfort, either, only giving a teasing grin as you stepped out. "Looking kinda wobbly, Y/N."

"Don't tease me," you hissed, trying to ignore the echoes of pleasure still residing in the pit of your stomach. Your hands roamed over your neck, faintly tracing at the marks Jungkook had left. You couldn't bear to stare at them any longer in the mirror, but one look at you and everyone would see what you were up to. "How am I going to hide these from the others?"

Jungkook shrugged. "Don't really see a point, honestly." You glared up at him, his lack of concern for your situation irritating you. A whining beep emitted from the laundry room you were previously in, and Jungkook's on the move. "I've got an idea."

Jungkook came back with an oversized hoodies, probably one of Namjoon's, straight from the dryer. You beamed up at him, grateful, reaching out to get it. He held it away from you, however, a sly tug at the corner of his lips as he stared down at you. "Nah ah, give me a kiss first."

You flushed at his words, quickly rising to your toes to reach him for a kiss, yanking the hoodie for your own as soon as your lips meet Jungkook's. He doesn't let it remain short, however, leaning into you and pulling you against him to kiss you deeper. He hums against your mouth, only pulling back when he felt you were wanting a bit more. "You wanting to smoke again?"

You're yanking the toasty fabric over your head as you contemplate the question. Jungkook had fucked one high out of you to replace it with another. Truth be told, though, you were still too anxious to return to the living room where the majority of the guys would be. You still couldn't face the predicament you were put in, and who knew what the afterglow you emanated would reveal to them. You couldn't risk it. "Do you know where I can find any? I don't want to be a bother to the other guys."

There seemed to be a knowing glint in Jungkook's eyes when you say that. "I think there's a bong on the back porch. Why don't you check over there?"

You were surprised that Jungkook didn't insist on coming with you, but figured you needed the break. Being around Jungkook was intense enough as it is, and you didn't want anyone to be able to tell right now that you two had fucked. Guys typically paid attention to that sort of thing, and with your different clothes and mussed up hair you were basically begging to be teased- in more ways than one as evident by the men you've encountered tonight.

You were not granted the liberty of being alone, however, when you stepped onto the back porch.

"Oh, Taehyung, sorry to bother you." 

Taehyung was sitting on an outdoor sofa, bong in one hand and phone in the other. He ignored the woods before him, an acre or so of land that Namjoon's parents owned in addition to the house. He looked up from his phone to grin up at you, smoke curling around his lips. "Y/N! Come join me."

You obliged and sit down next to him on the couch, grabbing the bong and taking a hit from it. You enjoyed the feeling of the smoke filling your lungs and muddying up your mind, giving you a hazy high that rivaled that of an orgasm. Taehyung's droopy, red-tinged eyes roved over you, lingering your lips pressed against the top of the bong as you took a hit. He bit his lower lip, pinching the thick fabric of your hoodie and tugging you closer. 

You shivered under his intense gaze, suddenly feeling too warm. The hot summer night suddenly made the amount of clothes you wore suffocating, but perhaps the added heat was due to Taehyung's stare. You ignored the lingering effects of the brownies, assuring yourself that was the reason behind your horny thoughts and need. You had just been fucked by Jungkook- but here you were feeling excited over Taehyung's bit lip and touchiness. You obliged, letting him pull you to sit over his lap, your back turning against the woods behind you.

Taehyung pulls the bong towards him, encouraging you to light the bowl. He takes a hit, inhaling for as long as he can before putting his hand on the back of your neck, tugging your face closer to his. For a moment your heart raced, thinking he was about to kiss you. As though knowing what you were thinking, however, he cruelly smirked, hand sliding towards your jaw. He squeezed your cheeks, forcing your lips to part open as he blew smoke into your mouth. You inhaled it, only closing your lips once Taehyung finished and moved his hand over your mouth. "Hold it," he commanded, eyes dark as he watched you. You obeyed, letting it settle into your lungs, catching your breath so it wouldn't travel out. You did your best to suppress any oncoming cough, and after a few seconds Taehyung removes his hand. "Breathe."

You let it pour out from your nostrils, disappearing into the air and it wisps around your face. Closing your eyes, you imagined yourself as a dragon, the smoke warning of the fire inside you. You didn't feel very intimidating right now though- Taehyung held that power. Then again, when did he not? You're glad you were told to breathe, smoke or not, as you would've been anxiously holding your breath now in anticipation of his next move. He only looks up at you, relaxed eyes peering up at you. 

Weed was different from alcohol in certain ways. When you're drunk everything you're feeling comes pouring out. When you're high everything around you pours in. When you're drunk, everyone can see exactly how you're feeling and you're more transparent than ever. Being high, especially those who are good at it, made it far easier to hide your emotions. Taehyung was the type. You could never read his emotions or expressions when he was high, he was basically unreadable. Taehyung was always a little unpredictable like that. 

He rubbed the fabric of your hoodie between his fingertips. "I don't remember you wearing this earlier."

"Got it from the, uh, laundry room." Not a lie.

"Oh? Why? It's summer, and it's so hot out here. Aren't you too hot in this?"

"I'm fine, really, I was cold earlier."

"Are you cold now?"

"Well, no-"

"Take it off."

You stared at Taehyung, eyes locking. He said it so casually, but the small smirk on his face being your only indicator that this wasn't as innocent of a request as you'd like to believe. "Don't want you passing out from heat stroke, do we?" He tugged at the hoodie again, impatient. "Take it off."

His words left no room for argument. With shaky hands, you reached for the bottom of your hoodie, lifting it. Taehyung's fingers slid from the hoodie down to your bare thighs, hands running over the exposed skin and brushing over the hem of your shorts, but no further. He licked his lips, watching the hoodie fly over your head. "Well well well, where'd these come from?"

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as his fingertips lightly brushed over the hickeys Jungkook left, leaving goosebumps in his wake. "I- um, I can explain-"

"Who were you in the laundry room with, Y/N?"

As though a deer frozen in the headlights, you felt caught. "I..."

Taehyung's featherlight touches became more sure and firm, his hand as now curling around the column of your throat with unquestioning authority. "Be a good girl and tell me."

You gulped, feeling your throat move under the pressure of his palm, unable to resist holding in the secret."Jungkook," you softly admitted.

Taehyung hummed, his pointer finger lightly tapping against the temple of your neck. "Figures that asshole would go before me."

You gasped in shock, eyes widening as you realize just what Taehyung had probably been doing on his phone when you walked in. "You know?"

He flashed his teeth, a smile gracing his features as he took in your surprise. "Mhm. Jungkook showed me it, said you airdropped it to him. Big reader, huh?"

As though on instinct, you jerk your neck back out of embarrassment, wanting to hide your face in shame where he couldn't see. You lifted your hips, wanting to jump off his lap to run away from the situation of being confronted. Taehyung has none of it, however, and pulled your thighs down to slam down against him. It's now that you can felt his erection against you, his grip forcing you to grind down on his dick. "Now, where do you think you're going, huh? I haven't even gotten my fun yet." He chuckled in your ear, his ministrations suddenly less gentle as he roughly grabs the back of your neck, the action so similar to what he did before. He brought your face close to his, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Wanna guess which one I was just reading?"

You squirmed on top of him, holding onto his shoulders to keep yourself upright. Biting your lip and shaking your head in embarrassment.

"But I think you'll like it," he laughed. "In fact, I know you will. It's one of the stories you touched yourself to, isn't it?"

"I-It's mainly just f-fantasies-"

"Your little fantasies about having big alpha cock to finally satisfy you?" Taehyung laughs sadistically in your face as he sees you whine in embarrassment. "Oh yeah, saw a lot of those, baby. Getting fucking bred and knotted, you just wanna be someone's bitch, don't you? I was just reading one about a little omega who needed an alpha to help her through... what's the word they used again? Oh right... her heat." He pressed you down harder against him, gliding your hips over him. "I thought it sounded a bit familiar..."

"It was an accident, Tae. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"But it's what you want, isn't it?" His nose nudged against yours, lips so close to yours, barely brushing as though to tease you. It was akin to the hanging grapes in front of Tantalus, but you may actually have a chance of getting what you so desperately craved. "Little omega just wants to be stuffed by an alpha, huh?"

You shuddered, fingers curling against Taehyung's shoulders. "Y-you're not being easy on me!" you whimpered out of frustration.

"Mm, I'm not, am I?" Taehyung's nose grazed along the side of your neck, his breath tickling your ear as you shivered in his grip. "I don't think you want easy, though, do you?"

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, unable to deny his accusation. "No... I don't."

"Hm," Taehyung hummed, slightly satisfied. His hand slid from behind your neck to caress your cheek. He tilted his head, still not giving in. "Yeah? Wanna be my bitch?"

"So bad," you admitted, finally giving in.

Taehyung finally rewarded you, connecting your lips to his. Kissing Taehyung, to put it bluntly, was hot. He was slowing down at the parts that he wanted to drive you crazy, and overwhelming you the next second. You kept up as best as you can, Taehyung's kiss making you hornier than ever. You had no doubt that even without the weed or the aphrodisiacs, he would have been able to get you aroused with a mere kiss. By the time you're pulled back, you're breathless but wanting more. 

Taehyung seemed to know how good of a kisser he was, his satisfied expression from winning taking over his handsome features. He wasn't done conquering, though. Far from it. "Strip."

Taehyung's bluntness was still alarming to you. "Here?" You were outside. Anyone could walk outside and see you guys. Sure, there were only woods outside and no nearby neighbors, so the only ones who would see you would be the boys. You were having issues of your own with them already, though.

You're brought to surprise when Taehyung's palm struck your face, stinging your cheek. "A good omega does what their alpha tells them to do," he growled out under his breath. "Don't you want to be a good bitch for your alpha?"

You nodded, tears springing to your eyes as you got to work. You lifted your shirt and shorts, but were unsure whether you should leave your underwear on. Taehyung answered for you, an impatient and irritated tone lacing his voice. His hand landed against your ass, smarting the skin. "Are you stupid? All of it."

You obeyed until you were completely naked before him. You were glad for the summer air warming the night, but felt horribly vulnerable being so exposed in the open. If anyone saw you, naked, on top of a full clothed Taehyung, what would they think?

(Part of you was really excited to find out.)

"Go on and spread your legs. Let me see how wet a real slut gets."

Your face burned with embarrassment as you hesitantly do as told.

“Look at me,” he commanded. Taehyung didn't seem concerned in the least. His eyes glazed over your naked form, appreciating and admiring the view before him. His hands ran over your thighs, but remained respectful. Taehyung would be good, for now. "Nervous, little omega?"

"J-Just f-feel so embarrassed-"

"I think you like it, though," Taehyung grinned, his hands venturing up your waist and to your breasts. He fondled you before attaching his lips to one of your nipples, sucking and licking at the bud while keeping eye contact with you. You wanted so desperately to close your eyes and look away from his dark, piercing gaze, but remembered his words. He let you go after giving a small nip with his teeth, making you squeal above him. "Think you like being humiliated and exposed like this. Slapped around and treated like a toy. You secretly love this." You whimpered as Taehyung's hand ran over your folds, still slightly swollen from Jungkook's earlier battering. "Jungkook did a real number on you, huh?"

Your knees buckled into the chair cushions as Taehyung's fingers rubbed circles against your clit. "He was real mean to you, wasn't he sweetheart?"

You nodded pathetically, accepting the sweet kiss Taehyung's offered to your pouting lips. "It's ok baby," he said comfortingly. "I'm gonna be even meaner."

He plunged two fingers inside, movements hard and deliberate, making you practically crumple on top of him. He waited until you're practically quivering on top of him to stop, pulling back. You blinked in confusion as he lit the bong beside the two of you. He lit the bowl, inhaling to let the smoke fill the clear glass. "I'm gonna give you a head start to run into the woods. You have until I clear this and come catch you."

"What happens if you catch me?" you questioned, trying to regain composure, already off kilter from his rough fingering that left a pleasurable ache in you. You knew you were going to be sore by morning. 

"What do you think? I'm gonna fuck you full of cum right where you stand," he informed you, taking the first hit of the bong. He blew the air out with nonchalance, as though he hadn't said what he said."I suggest you get started on your head start."

You weren't sure you were able to process this at the speed it was going. You found yourself fumbling over your words, mind trying to keep up with what was happening.

"C-Can... Can I-"

"Can you what, sweet girl?"

"Can I at least put the hoodie back on?" You'd feel especially terrified if you had to run through the woods naked. The hoodie would be the only thing big enough to completely cover you.

Taehyung doesn't seem especially pleased by the idea, but relented, reaching down by your other discarded clothes for the hoodie. He tossed it your way, taking another hit. "Fine. Only because I don't want you to waste the rest of the time you have left. Otherwise I'd think you'd want someone to walk in on you being a slut on the back porch."

You quickly yanked the hoodie over your head and turn towards the woods. The light from the house and the full moon peaked between the leaves, acting as your only light. You were terrified, adrenaline rushing through you like never before as you dashed between tree trunks, leaves crunching beneath your feet as you tried to get as far away as you could. You felt the sweat against your skin on the thick material of the hoodie, and felt hot from the running. You weren't expecting to do a workout today. You shouldn't have dawdled so much. Taehyung probably had only one more hit at best from the bong before he was going to be hot on your tails. 

You ducked down behind a bigger tree, catching your breath and hiding away in the shadows. You tried to quiet your harsh breaths, heart pounding as you listened in on the night. Seconds passed. You heard nothing but crickets. You let out a sigh of relief, but it was too soon.

It started off as a faint, distant sound. The crunching of leaves beneath shoes approached. You heard the sound of steps coming closer, a few yards away. "Come out, come out, little omega. I want to hear you scream for me."

You held your breath, mind racing as you heard Taehyung get near. Your heart pounded in your chest and the hairs on the back of your neck stood straight up. You peeked around the trunk to Taehyung, who was turned away, searching for you. Taking your chance, you leapt on your feet, running in the opposite direction towards the house. Wrong move.

Your anxiety peaked as you heard his footsteps get louder and faster the closer he got to you, his shoes causing the leaves on the ground to crunch loudly behind you, reminding you of your impending doom. You practically flew between the trees, dodging trunks and branches, not even looking back. You focused on the light from the house in the distance, a beacon you ran towards for safety. Your hair flew behind you, and you didn't dare look back to the man chasing you. You could hear him, though, his harsh pants as loud as yours. It was hopeless, though, as you were soon tackled, Taehyung's strong arms wrapping around you as you both fell on the ground with him on top of you. Luckily you weren't hurt, Taehyung's large body taking the blow as the two of you fell on the ground. It wasn't until Taehyung pinned your shoulders down to the grass that you were able to process what happened, the starry night sky and overhead branches spinning before you.

"Gotcha," Taehyung said with a breathless, triumphant- no, cocky!- smirk. 

You thought of all the items that you guys would get high together, and Jungkook would have the tendency to want to wrestle everyone in the group in a high stupor. As a result, you had participated in a few matches and knew all to well what it was like to be pinned down by Taehyung. In your high wrestling matches he would simply want you to stop moving, however, in order to win.

Now, he was wanting to dominate.

His hands enveloped your wrists like cuffs, locking you to the ground as he trapped you between his thighs. He sat down on your upper thighs, giving you no room to escape. You twisted underneath his grip, body writhing as you tried to get away, hopelessly stuck. He was breathing harshly, pants escaping his lips, nostrils flared. He snarled at you. "Get this stupid fucking hoodie off." He roughly tugged it off of you, practically tearing the article clothing off of you. You crossed your arms as he grabbed the fabric, trying to preserve your decency when exposed to both Taehyung and the night sky. It was pointless, though, and soon enough Taehyung is gifted with the visual of your naked form. He lifts you up to put the hoodie under you, the fabric replacing the rough ground and patches of grass beneath you. He grins a big, toothy smile when he sees your naked body beneath him. "There's my pretty girl."

Taehyung harshly grips your hips and forces them up, practically folding you in half as he pulls your lower half closer to him. You're leaning against your upper back now, shoulders pressed into the ground, hips suspended in the air to Taehyung's mercy. His hand reached out to grip your face, forcing you to look up at him. The lights from the house in the distance softly illuminated his features in the darkness of night, the shadows only making his handsome features more mysterious. "Told you I'd catch you, little omega."

"I tried-"

"I know you did, baby," Taehyung assured, arm curling around your leg to hold you up, fingers brushing against your folds. "Fuck, you’re so wet, huh? You liked being chased down? Like being a little afraid?"

"N-No, I-"

"So you’re a dirty little liar too? I can feel how drenched you are, stupid slut. You like a little danger, huh? Like being forced down?" You gasped at the feeling of him spitting on your pussy, and before you can respond his mouth is enveloping you, tongue rapidly flicking against your clit. He hums, sending vibrations through your body before he detached. "You liked the idea of being pinned and fucked where you stood, huh? Helpless to do anything when I make you cum over and over again?" Your back arches at his onslaught of impossible questions, fingers curling into his hair as your thighs trap him in, his mouth once again on your cunt. Your eyes twisted shut as you moaned from the onslaught of pleasure. You're overwhelmed, trying to squirm away from his skilled tongue, but seeing as you were practically folded in half, escape was impossible. Tears of pleasure were brought to the corners of your eyes as he switched to a suctioning sensation, and soon you were riding closer to the edge.

"Oh fuck! I'm gonna c-cum-"

Taehyung lifted up, giving you a moment to breathe as you come down from your edge. You frowned in disappointment, Taehyung's fingers coming up to your clit to replace his tongue not doing enough to satisfy you. "You can only cum if you call me alpha."

You give him a wide eyed look. "Tae-"

"Not Taehyung." His deep voice and raspy growl left no room for argument.

Cowering under his gaze and desperate for release, you caved. "A...Alpha."

His smirk of satisfaction was almost worth it in itself, but when his lips enveloped your clit without hesitation, you knew there was no turning back. You moaned out the new pet name over and over again until you reached your climax, Taehyung's greedy tongue lapping up your release and everything you had to offer. His eyes were locked with yours, eyes trained on your expressions as he thoroughly wrecked you with just his tongue. You were left limp and tired, Taehyung still holding your hips up to properly access his meal. It wasn't until you were lifted fully back to the ground that you were able to feel the ache in your upper back from the pressure put on it, but given the much more pleasure able ache in your pussy, you'd say it was a fair exchange.

Taehyung didn't seem to be done exchanging, however.

His hand fisted your hair and lifted your face to his, his mouth crashing against yours as his tongue delved into your mouth. The taste of your cum on his tongue sent your mind into a tizzy. Your head was spinning, still shaking in his hold from the tremors of your orgasm. You did your best to keep up with his kiss, but he devoured you completely, making you submit with just his tongue once again. You let out a gasp for air once he finally pulled away, but his pink, swollen lips tempted you to go in for more.

"Time to return the favor, omega," Taehyung said, licking his lips. "Take my cock out, baby. You've earned a taste."

Your face flushed at the insinuation that you've earned the right to give Taehyung a blowjob, but something about how cocky and arrogant he was, with plenty to back it up, made you squirm under his gaze. Though he had practically ripped your clothes off your body with demand, your shaky hands were far more subservient and methodical when you were pulling down his pants. 

You should've known Taehyung had an unusually- no, unfairly- large dick. The smirk that he wore once he saw the surprise in your eyes told you that he knew it, too. Your expression must’ve been one he was familiar with. You held it in your hand, surprised that your short digits aren't even able to completely curl around the shaft. Sick of your admiring and stalling, Taehyung delivers a swift slap to your cheek, drawing you out of your trance.

"What're you waiting for? Fucking put it in your mouth, bitch," Taehyung hissed, beckoning your lips closer to the tip. You did as you were told, obediently opening your mouth and offering a kitten lick to the tip.  Gaining more confidence, you put the entire tip in your mouth, laving your tongue around it to provide stimulation as you began bobbing your head up and down. Each time you went down you tried to take him in deeper. Luckily for you Taehyung's fist in your hair didn't force you further than you can take, instead helping you find your rhythm as you started properly fucking him with your mouth.

Taehyung's throaty growls and moans were likely music to your ears. Every curse that escaped his lips, every praise directed at you, turned you on even more. "Such a good girl, letting Alpha fuck your mouth like this," he groaned, tilting his head back to gift you the view of the column of his neck, his Adam's apple bobbing along his throat as he swallowed. "Fuck, gonna let me fuck your throat, omega? Want that?"

You nodded dumbly, humming around his cock. Your eyes widened, tears pooling in your eyes as Taehyung suddenly pushed you closer to the base of his cock, his dick plunging deeper into your throat. His grip on your hair tightened, yanking your head and bobbing your mouth over him over and over again. You focused on trying to breathe when you were pulled further up to the tip, and you could feel the tears slipping down your cheeks already. You didn't want to stop, though. Taehyung's moans became later, his thrusts more sloppy and erratic as he used your mouth. "Fuck yeah, oh my god, such a good little slut..." he murmured, grunts emanating from his throat. "Mm, you love this, don't you? Love the taste of my cock, huh?"

Your were forced all the way down to the base of his cock, your nose pressed against his pelvic bone as his full length sheathed inside your throat. You gripped onto his thighs, nails digging in as you tried to keep your place pressed against his body. You looked up at him with tearful eyes, his dark, sultry gaze encouraging you further to please him. You could feel his cock twitch inside your throat as he stared at your pretty face. “Fuck, look what you’re making me do to you,” he growled, as though all of this were really your fault. It felt like he was close to busting at any moment. After a few seconds, you were pulled off of him, spit falling down to your chin and chest as you were separated. You gasped for breath, coughing from his rough usage. 

"Mm, you did so well for me baby," he purred, thumb wiping away at your face as you stared up at him. He slapped his cock against your face, the wet smacks bringing a smile to your face. 

"W-Why didn't you cum?" you sputtered out, panting.

"The only place I'm cumming tonight is in your little pussy," Taehyung clarified, catching his breath. He offered himself a few strokes, trying to calm himself down. "Now, present yourself so Alpha can breed you."

You felt the blood rush to your face with embarrassment, but did as you were told. "Yes, Alpha." Your hands and knees pressed into the hoodie below you, and you arched, presenting your ass properly for Taehyung's viewing pleasure. 

His hands roamed over you, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He got closer behind you, bending over so his lips would be close to your ear. "You want Alpha's cock, baby?"

You nodded, shivering as his hand curled around your neck, and then his entire arm. His bicep flexed against your neck, holding you in a chokehold. "Yes!" You gasped out. "Wanna be a good omega for you. Want you to breed me. Please please please-"

Your begging was cut short when you felt the tip of Taehyung's cock against your entrance, and soon he was pushing himself in. One of your hands reached up to dig your nails into Taehyung's bicep, and he loosened his hold, letting you breathe. You moaned as you felt him slowly enter you, your slick from your previous orgasm allowing him to slide in. Had he not eaten you out before you doubted you would've been able to take such a big dick so easily.  He hissed with pleasure, a deep moan emanating from his chest. “Fuck, knew you’d have the perfect pussy. You’re so fucking tight. Always knew you’d get this wet for me.”

"F-Fuck! It's too big," you whimpered.

Taehyung only cruelly chuckled in your ear. "Yeah? Can't take it? When you begged so much for it? Acting like you don't want it when you're so wet and keep sucking me in?"

It was true. With each word he was only getting deeper in you until he was pressing against your cervix. You felt so full, you weren't sure you could take much more. Taehyung pulled his hips back, beginning to fuck you. You clasped at the hoodie and the grass, gripping whatever you could on the ground below you, whimpering as you took the brutal thrusts.

Taehyung's moans were more delicious than ever, now enjoying your cunt wrapped around him. His deep groans and grunts were now directly in your ear, letting you know just how much he was enjoying using your body for his pleasure. He dropped you from the chokehold, letting your chest fall limply to the floor, your hips still raised. His fingers dug into your hips as he slammed you back into him, his hips digging deeper into your ass. His hands pressed into your back, making you arch further like the pliant slut he knew you were.

He snickered as he saw your expression, a grimace of pleasure and tear-brimmed eyes, your sobs of ecstasy only bringing him closer to the edge. It was almost comical to him. "You're really fucking crying because it's too much? You begged for this. You should've thought about that before you decided to act like a horny little slut."

"I-It wasn't my fault!" You whined out, barely able to let out a coherent sentence due to Taehyung's rough thrusts. "The br-"

"Don't go blaming those, Y/N. We both know you wanted me to breed you like this long before tonight," Taehyung snidely remarked, his words causing you to hang your head down in shame. It was true. So often when you would read your smut you'd think of one of the guys in the love interest's place, the mere thought of them doing such taboo and pervasive actions making your heart race even when you were alone. For it to be happening in real life? Unreal.

"I did," you admitted with a sob, biting back an unseemly groan as Taehyung's large hand slid around your waist and to your cunt, cupping your heat and letting his fingers run along your sopping wet folds. "I wanted this for so long. Wanted you so bad, Alpha."

"I know, baby, I know. I'm here now," Taehyung assured you, his unrelenting digits on your clit and the battering against your g-spot driving you closer to the edge. You let out a high pitched whine, feeling your orgasm building up again. "Alpha's gonna knot you like the perfect omega you are. You gonna be good and take it all?"

You nodded your head rapidly, biting your lip as you felt your high approaching. "Yes, please! Give it to me. Gonna cum for you, Alpha."

"Yeah? My selfish little bitch is gonna cum again before Alpha gets to even once, huh?" The hand that wasn't currently determined to contribute to your undoing fisted your hair, raising you from the ground and closer to his body. Your back pressed against his chest and you arched, the pain of his fist pulling your hair and the sweet feeling of his mouth adding more hickeys to your neck making your head spin. 

"I'm s-sorry! I can't hold it anymore, please A-"

"Tch." He interrupted you with a rough shake of his fist, causing you to whimper in both pain and shame. You were unable to turn away from his unforgiving eyes, though, his grip stern and demanding. "I should've expected it from a horny slut who gets off to wolf-fucking. Thought you were a good omega."

"I am!" you persisted, thighs beginning to quake. Taehyung put more of his body weight on you, letting you feel the brutality of his thrusts as he tried to go as deep as possible, determined to wreck you with every fiber of his being. You started to be bent forward again, your back arching and your chest getting closer to the ground as you were folded to Taehyung’s whims. For particularly deep and sharp thrusts he’d stay buried in you for a few seconds longer, letting you feel his balls like pressing up against your cunt and making contact with the fingers playing with your clit. 

"You are?" A throaty chuckle vibrated in your ear. "Then why are you about to cum all over me?"

That's all it took for your last bit of resistance to be put down, and you let out a sob as you came harder than before, your legs quaking as you struggled to hold yourself up. If it weren't for Taehyung's firm grip you would've crumpled to the floor in exhaustion. Taehyung didn't stop, though, your orgasm only driving him into a frenzy as he snapped his hips into you at an animalistic pace.

"Stupid little slut," Taehyung growled, thrusts getting sloppy as he berated you. You squealed in pain as he slapped your ass, his blows brutal and swift, sparing no mercy. "Bad omega, cumming on my cock without permission."

"I'm sorry, Alpha!" you cried out, lips trembling as you felt him overstimulate you from one orgasm into another. Your body was unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure Taehyung brought. "Ah! Please, fuck, cum in me."

"Yeah? Want my knot? Want me to breed you?" Taehyung questioned, his growls turning closer to rasps as he got closer to the edge. "When you've been nothing but a- fuck, ah- dumb bitch?"

"Your bitch," you gasp out dumbly, your mind flying far into the heavens as Taehyung continued to fuck you with vigor. "Yours, yours, yours."

"Yeah, that's right." Taehyung smiled, hand sliding from your hair to your throat, squeezing as he felt your walls spasm around him as you entered your next orgasm. It was enough for him to be driven to climax, his warm cum filling you up as deep as he could. "My bitch," Taehyung confirmed, nails slightly digging into the skin of your neck as he emphasized it.

You panted for breath as you felt his cock twitch inside a few more seconds, Taehyung giving every drop he had to offer. You almost did feel like you were being knotted, the sore feeling in your body and Taehyung's enormous size making you feel just like those omegas in the smut you read. Eventually he dropped you from his grip, letting you slump down onto the hoodie beneath you. You whined at the feeling of Taehyung slipping out, though kept your ass raised obediently.

Taehyung cursed as he saw his cum dribble out of your hole and down your folds, the white liquids practically glowing under the moonlight. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, enjoying the sight. He offered a wry smile your way. "Good girl. You earned that."

[deramin2]

(Spoilers for Critical Role Campaign 1)

I don't have any expectations for wherever FCG will stay dead or come back somehow because I've spent 9 years watching Sam Riegel totally subvert my expectations in a narratively compelling way.

But I will say that "FCG shouldn't come back because it would lessen the impact of a narratively perfect death" is EXACTLY what people were saying about Percy's first death after C1 E68. (The first televised character death.) If he had to have an end, it was a fitting end that, while tragic, neatly tied up the thesis of the story. Would Taliesin even want him to come back? With Whitestone saved and Ripply killed, was there even much left to explore?

They found Percy's death letter telling them he loved them all but please bury him in a ditch with all his designs so he could be forgotten by history. He was so sorry for all he'd done and he could never make it up.

But they tried anyway, having to wrest Percy's soul away from Orthax. The players knew what they said in the resurrection ritual was meaningful along with their rolls. But they did not know they were also having to convince Taliesin. If they'd tried to appeal to Percy's soul in the wrong way, dice be damned, Percy was going to refuse. What we got was really meaningful and powerful roleplay (especially from Marisha and Laura) that did convince Percy along with successful rolls.

Being brought back did not at all weaken Percy's own sacrifice or the impact of his death. It forced him to confront everything he'd been running from. It forced him to see that there were people who loved him and would not let him throw himself away for them. They didn't want a martyr, they wanted their friend. It utterly changed the trajectory of his character.

There's only four ways I can think of on the table to bring FCG back:

True Resurrection — Incredibly expensive high level spell. They would have to find the materials as well as someone who both can and is willing to cast the spell in the middle of a war to stop a second Calamity. None of this would be easy. The ritual could still fail. FCG could decline to come back and the other players would not know that until they went to all the effort. The Raven Queen views True Resurrection as heresy which is why they didn't try it on Vax. How would a second chance change them?

Reincarnate — Lower level and cheaper spell. FCG would come back as a fleshy being instead of an Aeormaton. Would the experience live up to FCG's fantasies about it? How would it change them to realize they are truely alive, and always were, but are now also mortal? Reverse Veth story? Wild ass Pinocchio retelling? What does it mean to get a second chance but everything about you is different?

Wish — I think this would count as duplicating True Resurrection. High component cost and requires a high level magic user. (If it's duplicating a spiral there's no risk of no longer being able to cast Wish.)

Hag Deal — They do know a fatestitcher Hag who likes them and limes making deals even more. Orym may be able to just extend his existing deal. What are the consequences for the deal marker as well as FCG? Would the robit feel responsible for that person's fate? How would that affect how they feel about coming back and the meaning they need to make from it.

I don't think there's a right or best option because whatever we speculate on, the actual result will be full of meaning and very poignant. I can't imagine that Bell's Hells won't try to bring him back. They've lost so much already. They couldn't bring back Eshteross or Bertrand or Will & Derrig. They couldn't live with not even trying. Maybe their method works, maybe it doesn't. But at least they tried.

And if FCG does come back, they have to live with knowing that even though they saved their friends and put an end to Otohan, they also hurt their friends by treating themselves as disposable. They forced their friends to confront that each of them might have done the same and that's deeply unhealthy. It will change the character development tremendously.

My favorite film and play genre is where the protagonist dies (or nearly dies) (usually self-inflicted) at the beginning and has to journey through purgatory to find themselves again before they can return to the living. Films like Wristcutters: A Love Story (2006) or Castaway on the Moon (김씨 표류기 2009). Death matters because it reminds you to live. The journey is finding meaning in both life and death and coming back utterly changed.

[muldermuse]

What's your emergency? (Gator Tillman X F!Reader)

This is in the two sinners world. Reader is bored and needs Sheriff Gator's help with something.

18+ only!! Smut ahead!! Fic includes piv sex, rough oral (m receiving), spitting, swearing, infidelity kink, actual infidelity, reader is called a whore, reader just uses men tbf, housewife roleplay, sir kink. Just like all two sinners posts, infidelity is a huge part!! Please don’t engage if any of the above is not for u.

send through two sinners reqs/ideas/thots

thank you everyone for the engagement with all two sinners works!!!!!!there will be more please enjoy pure smut- you all deserve it and more ❤️

One of the worst parts in living in this dump of a town is that there’s nothing to do. You’ve got the week off and you’ve officially run out of things to do. The house is pristine, your skin is glowing and you’ve exhausted your social battery with brunch dates with friends. You’ve seen Jax, Steve and Jenson once. Jax took you out for breakfast at your favourite diner, then he came back to your home and built some flatpack furniture that you’ve been avoiding for months. You sucked his dick until your jaw locked as a thank you. The day after, Steve dropped off lunch (vegetable soup and a bagel) and fucked you slowly in bed, pressing hot kisses to your neck and whispering about how good you felt under him. Jenson picked you up from a night at the bar with your friends, he went to a drive thru for you and let you choose the radio station for the drive home. He dropped you off at home and returned 8 hours later when you’d awoken. He brought some hangover remedies with him and made you pancakes. You spent the day entwined on the sofa, watching some shitty reality show he swore you’d never get him to watch. You’d text Gator a few times in the week but he was too busy to come over. 

It was Saturday and the boredom was starting to set in to your bones. You were getting restless. There was nothing to do. There was no excuse to get Gator to come over. Unless…there was.

[sent at 12:32] You:emergency at the house 

[sent at 12:32] You: need u to come over

[received at 12:33] Gator🐍💩: too busy sry

[sent at 12:33] You: but its an emergency???????

[sent at 12:33] You: ur meant to be a sheriff

[received at 12:35] Gator🐍💩: i am a fuckin sheriff

[received at 12:35] Gator🐍💩: and ur fuckin desperate for attention 

[received at 12:35] Gator🐍💩: way too busy for ur shit today

He’s right, he is a Sheriff and you’re a member of the local community in desperate need of help.

***

You know that Saturday shifts are quiet for Gator, which would be surprising but Roy would never give his son any real responsibility after he’s fucked up so much. Gator’s on patrol so any call goes straight to him. You know this is crazy, you’re calling 911 to get someone to come over and fuck you. This is unhinged but you are really fucking bored. 

“911- what’s your emergency?”

“Hi, I’m sorry this might some really dumb” Your voice is a tilt higher than it usually is. “But, I’m home alone right now and I swear I just saw two big guys standing at my back window looking at me…I’m just a b- well to be honest, I’m really scared and would like someone to come and check it out- y’know make sure I’m safe”. The call handler is really helpful and tells you that you’re not being dumb and you definitely did the right thing. 

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to do this but could you tell me which Sheriff will come out and check for me? Just y’know with two random men standing outside, I’d like to know who’s coming to the house.” Your voice is so high, you can feel your vocal chords straining. 

“Yes of course ma’am. It’ll be Sheriff Gator”

You thank the call handler and run to get ready. 

***

You put on a short dress which you know drives Gator wild. It’s just a hair too short and if you bend slightly too much, Gator will be able to see his favourite pair of red lace panties underneath. Your tits look amazing and your hair is down, perfectly shaping your face. You decide you’re going to play a game with him as you’re applying a sickly sweet lip gloss to your pout. 

He usually knocks on your door loud but this time it’s like he’s punching your front door. You pull it open and he looks so pissed. His gaze is hard set on you and when gulps when he sees you in the dress but his eyes do not give any level of desire away.

“This is fuckin’ too far…even for you, this is fuckin’ crazy”.

“Sorry, are you Sheriff Gator?” Your voice has the same high tilt it had on the phone  “The lady on the phone said it would be you, I’m home whilst my husband is at work and I thought I s-“

“Your husband? What husband?” He huffs, “this is your fuckin’ house. You’re not even wearin’ any rings. What the fuck are you doin’?”

You smirk at him; he’s so fucking obtuse. “Can I show you where I saw the scary men? Maybe grab you some lemonade for comin’ all the way out here?”. You hold your hands behind your back and smile at him softly. He blows his disposable vape in your face as he pushes past you. You smile to yourself as the shut the door behind him, silently putting the latch on. 

He’s stood awkwardly in your kitchen, if you were acting as yourself you’d ask him why he’s behaving like this but, you’re committed to the role of the bored housewife so you tell him sweetly “I’ll get you that lemonade, Sheriff”. You grab the jug out of the fridge and reach up as high as you can to grab two glasses on the highest shelf. Of course, there’s more accessible glasses in the cupboard but reaching up means you can stick your ass out and show Gator his favourite panties as your dress rides up. You can hear him grumble behind you as you try to act oblivious to what you’re doing. You hand him the glass filled with lemonade and he keeps eye contact with you as he downs the drink in one gulp.

“Is it thirsty work stoppin’ all those bad guys, Sheriff?” You move over to stand in front of him and run your fingers down his chest. “My husband isn’t brave enough to be a Sheriff, sometimes I wish I had a brave man around the house- y’know?”. You bite your bottom lip as you look up at him with bright eyes. Your nails trail lower down his chest until you feel his hard dick in his pants. You softly rake your nails over it and you hear him gasp at the touch. You get on your tiptoes and press your lips to his ear and whisper, so fucking soft, to him “Are you a brave man, Sheriff?”. When you look at him again, his eyes are glazed over with lust.

“Maybe we should um- y’know, check upstairs. Make sure that there’s no one hidin’ in your bedroom” He stutters.

You’ve fucking got him.

***

You lead the way on the stairs, ensuring that you’re a few steps in front so Gator can see up your dress. You can feel yourself getting wetter with every second. You’ve roleplayed with other guys before but never with Gator. He’s a simple man. He just wants to make himself and you cum. He sees no point in playing around when it’s wasting time that he could have your thighs shaking around his head. But you know he’s enjoying this. With this situation, he’s a noble Sheriff doing his duty and you’re the whore who fancies him so much you’re going to break the sanctity of marriage.

You open the bedroom door and sit on the bed expectantly. You’ve made most of the moves up until this point, you want to see if Gator is as into this as his erection would suggest. He vapes as he looks around your room, opening your closet door and the door to your en suite to ‘check’ for any home invaders. When he’s finished peering through your bedroom, he holds up little trinkets placed on your cabinet, smirking as he looks closely at stuff he’s probably never noticed before (Gator is never in your bedroom unless he’s fucking you and he’s usually too focused on how hot you look when you cum to notice a old Barbie placed near some books).

“So uh, your husband, what does he do?” You stay seated as he chats to you.

“He’s a banker in the city, works late or the weekends lot of the time- so I’m here feelin’ lonely pretty often”. You impress yourself with the quick lie, Gator smirks as he makes his way over to you. He stands in front of you and puts his hand on your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“S’shame. Pretty lil’ thing like you should never feel lonely. Anyone could break in and hurt you, some bad men around these parts”. His grip on your chin gets firmer, you look into his eyes rather than the bulge in his pants which is inches away from your face.

“Good job you’re here Sir, big strong guy like you can stop them- right?”. Gator loves being called Sir, it makes him feel so fucking powerful that it’s nearly guaranteed to make him cum during sex. One time, he had been fucking you from behind and pulled your hair to look at you. Your voice was nearly gone from moaning so when, in the whiniest voice you could muster, you called him Sir and asked him to cum inside you- he finished immediately. Cursing himself for cumming so quickly. You don’t say it often, terrified of it losing its power but it never does. The memory of that night turns you on even further and you feel like it’s time to hurry this along.

He swiped his thumb across your bottom lip and you open your mouth obediently- doe eyes still gazing up at him. Gator smiles as he places two fingers on your tongue, you can feel your mouth starting to fill with saliva with the obtrusion.

“Y’gonna thank your local Sheriff baby? I drove out all this way for ya. Y’gonna fuck me in your husband’s bed like a whore?” You keep your eyes locked on his dark gaze as you nod at him. He withdraws his fingers from your mouth but instructs you with a gruff voice to “keep your fuckin’ mouth open”. He has a smug grin on his face as he unzips his pants and eases his hard dick out of his boxers. “Bigger than your husband, baby?” he asks as he taps the plush head against your wet tongue.

“Uh huh” your mouth has been open for that long that drool is staring to slide down your chin. Gator notices and rubs his dick against spit, the lower part of your face feels tacky with a mix of your spit and his precum glistening against your skin. He fists your hair and pushes your head onto his cock. “Clean up your fuckin’ mess for me”.

You breathe through your nose as you take his cock down your throat. Trying to stifle the gag as your nose pushes into curled hairs at the base of his cock. He grips your hair in his fists and moves your face up and down his length. You can feel spit dripping down from your mouth onto your tits as he essentially uses your throat as a fleshlight. He pulls your mouth off him and you take a second to catch your breath. Your hair is messed from his fists grabbing at it and your eyes are glassy and peering up at him. He smirks as he pulls you back onto his cock and you take him all the way down your throat. He groans at the feeling, “suckin’ my dick whilst your husband is at work huh? Lettin’ me use this fuckin’ throat while he’s making money”. He thrusts his cock into your mouth one more time and you back off it with a gag as he instructs you, “hands and knees on the bed baby. Arch that back so you look nice n’ pretty”.

***

He teases you before he puts his cock in you. This is the first time you’ve ever been completely submissive to Gator so he’s probably making it last for as long as possible, knowing that the next time you have sex it will be him begging to cum. He spanks your ass hard and you whimper a “thank you Sir” which makes him do it again harder. He taps the head of his cock against your clit and you moan at the contact. You can imagine the smug smirk on his face as he does it, undoubtedly feeling how wet you are from playing the role of the lonely whore of a housewife. He finally pushes the tip of his cock in you and grabs your hips tightly before you can push your ass back to take all of him.

“Nu-uh baby, need to hear you beg for all of it” his voice is the smuggest you’ve ever heard it and you know he’s not going to last long. The power he currently has over you making him close to the edge already. His grip on your hips is bruising as you hear above you in a taunting voice, “c’mon, aren’t you goin’ to show the Sheriff what a good girl you can be?”. You hate how wet his mocking tone of voice is making you. You’ve never felt as desperate for him and it pains you to admit.

“Please put it all the way in Sir, I’ll be a good girl pl-“ before you can finish begging, his cock fills you. His thrusts are ruthless and unrelenting but you can’t hear anything over your own moans and the squelch of your wet pussy taking all of his cock. Your mouth is hanging open and you can feel your eyes roll into the back of your head as you slur ‘thank you’s to him. His hands haven’t left your hips and, similar to your throat, he’s basically just using you to make himself cum and the thought of that sends you over the edge. You cum over him with a shouting cry and shaking legs. In the daze of your orgasm shuddering through you, you can hear Gator grunt “gettin’ too fuckin’ tight baby. Gonna make me cum so fuckin’ deep”. He talks himself to his orgasm as he slams his hips into you a final time. You can feel his legs twitching behind you before he pulls out and lies on the bed next to you.

You press a chaste kiss to his sweating forehead before getting up and walking towards your bathroom. “My husband will be back soon so you need to leave”. His radio crackles into life when you shut the door so he leaves (as usual) without saying goodbye.

He sends you a text a few hours later.

[received at 20:37] Gator🐍💩: need to do that again asap. U be the sheriff next time????

[trupowieszcz-moved]

have you ever wondered what people ate in 17th century poland? me neither, but my dad has and since he's a historical reenactor and has reenactor friends, they managed to dig out a cooking book from the period, called Compendium Ferculorum.

this book contains possibly the weirdest recipe i have ever fucking seen, enigmatically called "dish with pancakes", to lull you into a false sense of security. the weirdest thing about it is that it actually tastes really good, and not at all like you would imagine when you initially hear what goes into it.

i understand most of you aren't able to read 17th century polish in a gothic font, so here's the direct transcription:

LXXVI. Potráwá z Naleśnikami Weźmiy Kapłona álbo Cielęćiny, álbo Báránka, porąb, wymocz, ociągniy, odbierz, poley Rosołem, ułoż másłá, pietruszki, soli, warż, á gdy dowiera, wley rosołu, wley Octu winnego, Cukru, pieprzu, Szafránu, Cynamonu, przywarz. Zrob Naleśniki, w materią wsyp trochę Száfranu y Cukru, uwarz Ryżu albo Jaieśnicę usmasz, wsyp Száfranu, Rożenkow drybnych, zawiiay tę máteryą w Naleśniki, w ktorą y Cukru przydasz, zrob z Jáiec máteryą, to iest: rozbiy Jáiec, maczay końce tych Naleśnikow w Jáycách rozbitych, puszczay ná gorące másło, a gdy odrętwiesz, daway te potráwę, a Naleśniki ná wierzch kładź, a zalewáiąc day ciepło.

which, loosely "translated" to modern polish, would be:

76. Potrawa z naleśnikami Weź kurczaka, cielęcinę lub baranka, poćwiartuj, wymocz, oskóruj, odbierz [to nie wiem co mogło oznaczać niestety], zalej rosołem, dołóż masła, pietruszki i soli, gotuj, a gdy zawrze, wlej resztę rosołu, ocet winny, cukier, pieprz, szafran i cynamon, gotuj dalej. Zrób naleśniki, do ciasta dosyp trochę szafranu i cukru, ugotuj ryż lub usmaż jajecznicę, wsyp szafran, drobne rodzynki i zawiń to nadzienie w naleśniki; w rozbełtanych jajkach z dodatkiem cukru zamocz końce naleśników i podsmaż na maśle, a gdy jajko się zetnie, podawaj potrawę z naleśnikami na górze, zalanymi gorącą zupą.

and in english:

76. Pancake dish Take a chicken, veal or lamb, quarter it, soak it, skin it, pick it up [this I don't know what it could mean unfortunately], pour broth over it, add butter, parsley and salt, cook it, and when it boils, pour in the rest of the broth, wine vinegar, sugar, black pepper, saffron and cinnamon, continue cooking. Make pancakes, add a little saffron and sugar to the batter, cook rice or scrambled eggs, add saffron, small raisins and wrap this filling in the pancakes; dip the ends of the pancakes in beaten eggs with added sugar and fry in butter, and when the egg has set, serve the dish with the pancakes on top, drenched in hot soup.

lo and behold, this is what it looks like:

maybe it's not the most appetizing thing in the world, but please trust me when i say that this slaps. this is so fucking good. it has no right of being this good, but it is. why would they eat it back in the day if it wasn't good? this was for high-ranking nobles' kitchens. it had to slap. it had to be over the top and weird.

since the original recipe isn't very descriptive of how much of what you have to add, i'm gonna write it out with as many details as i can for those who aren't as kitchen-savvy and wish to try to make this tasty abomination. unfortunately i forgot to take pictures along the way, so no illustrations, sorry.

Ingredients (for about... 4 servings? I don't know. We had 2 and there was still a lot left):

for the pancakes:

500g of all-purpose flour

4-5 eggs (3 for the batter, 1-2 for later shenanigans)

like a cup of milk

2-3 spoons of sugar (brown sugar would probably be more historically accurate)

saffron (the more the better but watch out, it's expensive as shit)

some water if it turns out too thick

for the broth:

1.5 liters of water

3 stock cubes (if the package says one per 0.5l; otherwise just check what it says)

or you can just make broth from scratch if you want to roleplay a 17th century cook

3-4 chicken drumsticks (or an equivalent amount of veal or lamb)

cinnamon

black pepper

m o r e s a f f r o n

around 120g of butter (half a package if you're polish and know what i'm talking about)

one parsley root

3-4 tablespoons of wine vinegar

a... handful? of sugar. around 2-3 tablespoons, I guess

for the scrambled eggs:

4 eggs (or more; 1 per pancake)

a little bit of milk

1 tablespoon of sugar

e v e n m o r e s a f f r o n if you can afford it

raisins (or dried cranberries or whatever you want that has a similar taste size and texture)

you can also try to make this with rice instead of scrambled eggs. i imagine it can't be that hard.

the steps (there's a lot.):

Sieve the flour and add every other pancake ingredient into it; make sure the saffron is crushed into smaller bits

mix that shit with a hand mixer. it should be the consistency of like, sour cream, so if it's too thick, add a bit of water and check again. it's gotta be generally thick though, make sure it's not too runny (if the consistency is beginning to resemble banana juice, it's too runny already).

heat up the pan, put a little bit of oil on it with a folded paper towel (so you don't burn yourself on accident) and cook the pancakes until they're a bit golden, but not yet brownish in the spots that stick to the pan the most. basically just don't burn them. add a little oil the same way every 2 pancakes.

there's your pancakes, set them aside and move on to other stuff - it's broth time

boil the stock with the parsley root and your meat of choice, but don't add any spices yet, just the fuckton of butter. let it simmer for like an hour. yes, an hour. good soup takes time.

once the time has passed, you can add the spices. notice how i didn't really specify how much of the spices you have to add, and this is because you have to follow your heart and add as much as you can possibly handle eating. no, it's not gonna be too much. add that shit. add 3/4 of a 15g pepper packet. add almost the entire 15 grams of cinnamon. add like a bit of salt, but not a lot this time, just like 2 pinches. ADD THE SAFFRON. add the sugar. add more vinegar than you think would be enough normally. it's gonna boil away anyway.

mix it and let it simmer for even longer. taste it every now and then to see if you can handle it. if a few minutes after doing the dark magic listed above the taste is still very strong, that's good. if it's so strong your throat starts burning, you may be entitled to some more water in there, but if you don't start crying, leave it be. for like another hour.

time for scrambled eggs. rule of the thumb is 1 egg per 1 pancake and 2 pancakes per serving, so if you're cooking for 2, use 4 eggs. easy. add everything that i listed, but if you miss the sugar or the raisins, those can be added after you cook it.

once you have cooked the scrambled eggs, put it on a plate and wash your pan if you don't have another one/don't want to use another one. mix two remaining eggs in a bowl.

put the scrambled eggs with raisins (or whatever you decided to put in there) in your pancakes and roll them as tightly as you can manage. heat up your pan and put some butter on it.

CAREFULLY dip the ends of the pancakes in the mixed eggs and transfer them to the pan with butter. it may be easier to put them on the pan first and pour a little bit of the egg over the ends then, so if you're not sure you can dip them without the entire filling falling out suddenly, do that instead.

fry the pancakes on both sides until the egg is no longer in liquid form.

now, the serving:

pour a ladle of soup into a soup plate

put a piece of your meat in there too if it hasn't disintegrated completely and just started floating around in pieces

put two pancakes in the soup

now you can eat this thing. smacznego :)

I would also like to thank @slavicafire for posting weird old recipes sometimes and inspiring me to take the time to write all of this out :^)

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

The All-Star Game

Batter Up Chapter 5

Pairing: Baseball player Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: This is not how Joel wanted to spend his All-Star Game, at least you make the best of it for him. Warnings: smut, fluff, family dynamics, nurse/patient roleplay in the shower, oral (m receiving), cum eating, unprotected p in v sex (reader has a previously discussed IUD... be safe), a doctor mistakes reader for Joel's wife. Words: 4,900

A/N: Been fighting writer's block, twelve hour work days, and total brain fry. Thank you for being so patient with my lack of updating folks. Not gonna lie, I read through my first piece Golden Walkway earlier and was like "how TF is my first ever ff/smut piece that good?!" while I'm absolutely banging my head against the keyboard trying to write out four sentences tonight. The biggest shout out to @frannyzooey for filling my Google Doc with notes and simplifying my gobbledegook. I absolutely do not feel worthy of your kindness. *insert Wayne's World not worthy GIF*

Masterlist Playlist

⚾️⚾️⚾️

Day 1 Travel Day For All-Stars

And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

“God damnit,” Joel growls. “Why do I always forget that that’s your damn alarm?”

“Mmph, it works. Wakes me up.” You sit up and stretch before reaching to pick up your phone.

The same phone you stared at while willing yourself to sleep, attempting to ignore the circling "what ifs" of the dreaded conversation you knew you had to have with your parents, only able to do so after focusing on the soothing sound of Joel's breathing.

You get up, slip on his shirt and crack open the curtains letting the morning sun peek in. 

“Guess I should look at my phone, hm?” Joel slowly sits up and settles his back on the pillows while you readjust, his big brown eyes disappearing behind the tired crinkles that line the sides as he lets out a rumbly yawn.

“Might be a good idea, I’m sure Sarah wants to talk with you.” Running a hand through his sleep tousled hair, you give him a kiss.

“Called her on the way home yesterday, let her know not to worry and that I’d be fine without her.” He sighs. “I think she knows I have somebody.”

“Hm. I didn’t want to get into it this soon, but I’m going to have to talk to my mom at least. She knows I’m here in Philly and I didn’t get on my flight.”

“Well, shit,” he grimaces. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be good. I texted her saying I’m fine and I’d talk to her tomorrow. Just nervous, but at this point, there’s no going back…they were already going to find out today. So instead of doing it in person, I’m just going to have to do it over the phone.”

“Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.” His hand grabs yours and squeezes it.

“We will, I just want to have a nice morning with you, I'll deal with them after lunch.”

“But first, coffee?”

“But first, coffee.”

——

“Well, here goes,” you dial your mom’s number and hit the green phone circle. She picks up after two rings. Crap.

“Hey mom,” you nervously swallow, trying to sound chipper. Joel’s hand soothingly pets your back, grounding you. 

“Hi sweetie, what’s happening? Your dad and I are very confused.”

“Yeah, um about that, is dad with you?”

“He is… is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything is good. Um, could you put me on speaker?” You haven’t had to feel this level of nervousness with your parents in almost twenty years. 

“Hi Duck, what’s going on?” Your dad calls you by your nickname, so he’s not mad… yet. “Was looking forward to seeing you, I don’t know why you’re not here. Mom and I didn’t hear from you, so she checked your location last night and you’re in Philadelphia? Not New York, not the airport, not Texas, but Philadelphia, why is that? We were worried, Duck.”

“I know, I’m sorry about that. So, things got… complicated. I was packing for the airport and was watching the Liberties game when, um, Joel got hurt.” You exhale, trying to calm yourself by focusing on the feel of Joel’s hand on your skin. “I, uh, drove down to help take care of him because, um, he and I have been, together since, well, November.” You breathe out the latter word, hoping your quiet breath will hide the shame in keeping Joel a secret for that long, for not respecting your parents and your own relationship. You feel so small, so fragile, so young, confessing to your mom and dad like you’re in trouble. 

“November?” The only word your mom responds with. Your dad stays quiet, and you’re reminded of why you wanted to do this over the phone. So you wouldn’t see their expressions. Although, maybe if they were here, they would be able to see the way Joel looks at you, how happy you are, how perfect he is for you.  

“Yes, um, remember when I flew in for your birthday? We ran into each other, and I don’t know, it just worked out. I know this is a lot.” 

Joel’s hand lands on your shoulder, tugging you back to lay against him, his arm wrapping around your chest as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.  You love him so much, you let a tear slip out as you wait for any sort of validation. 

“So, you and Joel Miller have been together for, what, nine months? And we’re only finding out about it now?” You try to gauge your dad’s voice, sensing disappointment, praying it’s not anger. “Is it because you got caught at his place? When were you going to tell us?” 

Okay, there’s anger. 

“Tonight actually, um, Joel and I were going to tell you tonight at dinner. I’m really sorry and I know this is complicated because there’s a bit of history between him and you, but daddy, I love him.”

“Bit of history?” he replies, incredulous. “He was my star player for twenty years, he was rude to the media, coaches, and reporters and I always had to pick up that mess. He was great on the field and in the clubhouse, but he was a pain in my ass most of the time, and now you’re telling me you’re in love with him… and have been for almost a year?”

You bite your lip as you will the tears away from your eyes. You’re so thankful for Joel’s touch right now. He’s respecting you, but you can tell by his breathing growing louder and quicker that hearing your dad’s raised voice is upsetting him. Maybe it’s better to be not in person, that way Joel doesn’t run the risk of throwing your dad through a wall. 

“Yes,” you croak out. You feel like a child answering him. Eyes downcast, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“And all of a sudden, right after he’s no longer on my team, he’s your boyfriend?”

“I’m sorry dad, it’s not something we planned on, it just… happened and I know you’re mad and I’m sorry that it took this long for you to find out and I’m sor—“

“Sweetie,” your mom’s voice breaks through your anxious words, “are you happy?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, Joel’s arm squeezes you tighter, “incredibly.”

“Well, that’s all we want for you. If it’s with Joel, then we’re good, right?”

You breathe out a sigh of relief at her words, her acceptance, her demand of your dad to recenter himself and his ire. You turn to look at Joel and see tears sitting in the waterline of his eyes that are focused on you. He gives you a small smile. 

How could you not love this man? How could anybody doubt the power of what you two share?

“That is what we want for you, but I am concerned. People will have questions. Joel is a part of this team’s history and now my daughter is dating him.”

“I understand that.”

“I know you do, Duck. You can make your own decisions, you haven’t lived under our rules for a very long time. I trust you. As long as you are happy and you understand that there will be roadblocks up ahead with the public eye, then I can be on board. People talk, the internet talks and you’re signing yourself up for a lot of people talking about you. I know you realize that, but does Miller?”

“I do, sir,” Joel says, the first words spoken from him, with the “sir” sternly emphasized. “Look, I don’t care what anybody has to say, people’s opinions never mattered to me. I know you’re well aware of that. I love your daughter. She has been with me every step of the way since I learned I was no longer a Capital. I apologize that this is all at once ’n that this is how you’re finding out, but I do not apologize for the way I feel about your daughter. I love her.”

You watch Joel’s lips as he speaks his confession to your parents, wondering how you could be so lucky to have found him and to have his heart the way that you do.  

“Listen, I know you two are smart, and Miller, you know at the end of the day I respect the hell out of you. If my daughter is happy, that’s all I can hope for as her father. As much as I worry about her, I know she can make her own decisions.” 

“As a father to a college student now, I understand that sir. You have my word that I will stop at nothing to keep your daughter happy.” 

“We know that Joel,” your mom’s soft voice soothes the conversation. “I just wish we would have known about this sooner. I’m a bit upset that it took you long enough to let us know. We just want you to be aware of what issues might arise for you two.”

“Whatever happens, it’s just white noise to us. It’s my choice—it’s our choice,” you say. “We’ve talked about everything before, we are fully aware.” 

“I can’t tell you what to do Duck, Mom can’t tell you what to do. Miller’s a good man, underneath it all, I know that. If you are happy with him, then we are happy for you.”

“This is the happiest I’ve been.”

“We’re glad sweetheart, so glad,” your mom chokes out. At least they’re happy tears. “We’ll be here for you, always. I guess we won’t see you this week.”

“No, Joel needs me, I don’t want to leave him.” 

“Alright then, feel better Miller, we love you Duck,” your dad’s voice softens. “Take care and keep us updated, okay?”

“Thank you sir,” Joel respectfully responds.

“I will. Love you guys, bye.” You end the call and let out a big sigh of relief. 

One down, two more to go. 

“I’m proud of you baby,” Joel breathes out against your hair.

“Heh, thanks. I think?”

“I know you were nervous.”

“Oh, yeah. Still kinda dumb how I’m intimidated by them but… I think it all worked out in the end.”

“It did baby. Why does your dad call you Duck?”

“It’s short for duck snort.”

“...Like the baseball term?”

“Yep, I used to be a crazy toddler and thought my parents chasing me was funny. One day my dad called me a duck snort because I’d always get away and ‘win’, and it kinda stuck.”

He smiles, stroking your cheek. “That’s so fucking cute. ”

“Speaking of daughters, when are you going to tell Sarah?” 

“Later. I’m all phoned out for the time being, want to rest my back and take a nap. That one was a little tense.”

“A nap sounds amazing,” you stretch and adjust to put your head on Joel’s chest, your favorite pillow.

——

“Joel,” you blink your eyes open, “the sun’s going down. I think we overslept.”

“Mm, I’m up. Been up.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You’ve had a long couple of days, wanted to let you sleep.”

“You’re due for your pills,” you yawn, getting up.

“I am.”

He winces as you hand him his medicine and glass of water. 

“You alright?” 

“Been better, just really hurts right now. Plus, I should call Sarah before it gets too late. I just texted Tommy and told him.”

“Oh?” You turn on Joel’s heating pad and hand him the remote.

“Yeah, he texted me and asked me how I was getting along and if my nurse was hot. Told him about everything. He was happy for me and congratulated me on my hot nurse.”

“He’s ridiculous,” you shake your head. “I’m going to go make dinner, I’ll leave you to call Sarah.” You kiss the top of his forehead.

“Thanks baby.” 

——

You quietly step into Joel’s room holding a tray with his plate full of steak, rice and broccoli, Joel’s go to in season meal.

“Hey sweets, my dinner is here. I gotta go.”

“Can I—can I say hi to her?”

You smile at Sarah’s sweet voice as Joel looks past his phone to you. You nod and walk over placing the tray on Joel’s lap.

“Sure, here she is.”

Well, this is new. You’ve never been with anybody who has a child, let alone a college aged kid. You know Sarah, you love her, you used to chase her around the club box years ago. 

You grab the phone, she’s gotten so beautiful. Same brown eyes as her dad, deep dimples as she smiles, long curly hair. She’s a young woman now, just as gorgeous as her dad. 

“Hi Sarah, nice to see you again.”

“Oh my god! Hi! It is! Wish it wasn’t through the phone but I, just, I wanted to say that, I-I am very happy that Dad finally found somebody and it’s you!”

“Well, I am too.”

“He told me you’re doing a better job than I ever would at taking care of him, so I don’t need to tell you to take good care of him.”

“I try,” you chuckle. 

“Thanks for saying hi to me, I’ll let you go, I know you have dinner!”

“Of course Sarah, any time. I’ll hand you back to your dad now.”

You keep your smile as you hand the phone back to Joel. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him this happy before, eyes alight with a large grin on his face. You never noticed how his dimple matches Sarah’s. 

Your shoulders feel lighter now that the most important people know, and accept, your love. 

The secret’s out. 

⚾️⚾️⚾️

Day 2 Home Run Derby

Greeting Doctor Arroyo with a smile, you leave him in the living room to wait. 

"Joel," you peek your head into the bedroom. "He's here."

"Send him in," he replies, sitting up higher.

Showing the doctor the way, he thanks you. 

"Thanks, Mrs. Miller."

You let out a little laugh. "Not the wife, just the girlfriend."

Giving you a small smile, he leaves you in the hallway with thoughts of being Mrs. Miller swirling in your head.

After the doctor leaves, you sit on the edge of the bed.

“So, what’d he say?” 

“Still stuck like this for the next few days. Wants me to do some stretches and move around more, going to check on me in two more days again. Said I’m recovering well, told him it’s because I have a good nurse.” 

“You do have a good nurse… that’s better news than I was expecting at least.”

“Yep, and he took the bandage off from my shot so I can finally take a shower.” 

“Oh?”

“Oh is right,” his eyes darken, “but you’re gonna have to wash me, nurse.”

“I can do that, not only am I your nurse but I’m also your wife according to Dr. Arroyo.”

“Oh?”

“Oh is right,” you wink. “I told him I’m your girlfriend.”

“Should’ve told him you’re not my wife… yet.”

“I’m happy with girlfriend right now Mr. Miller.”

“My sweet independent girl.” 

“Eh, your sweet independent nurse now. Come on, let’s get you washed Mr. Miller.”

“Yes ma’am.”

——

Joel hobbles into the bathroom as you adjust the temperature of the shower. 

“It’s hot, too hot, just like you like it Mr. Miller.”

“God, I love it when you call me that. Now nurse,” he smirks, “come help me with my clothes.”

“Right away Mr. Miller,” you reply, sauntering over to him.

“What a pretty nurse you are, have a feeling you’re going to take REAL good care of me,” he raises his arms over his head as you lift his shirt up.

“I’ll sure try to take good care of you Mr. Miller. Did you want me to remove your shorts?”

“Yes nurse.”

You lean forward, grabbing the waistband of his pants to lower them down, running your gaze appreciatively over his half-hard cock.

You look up and angle your eyebrow at him. “I can see you’re quite excited for your shower Mr. Miller.”

“Mm.” 

“Go ahead and get in, it’s all ready for you.” 

“But you’re not. Take your clothes off.”

“Now, Mr. Miller, I can’t get naked for you, but I can take this off.” You slip the straps of your dress down your arms and shimmy out of it, leaving only your white cotton bra and underwear on. “You know, gotta stay decent while taking care of my patient.”

He hums in appreciation, taking in the sight. Turning, he steps into the shower with a groan of contentment.

“Feel good?” You ask grabbing a wash cloth. 

“Very.”

He leans forward, placing his arms on the wall and stretches his back as the water hits his skin. Water trickles down the deep plains of his spine, the strong muscles of his back gleaming under the sheen of water. You follow the river that falls from his neck, down his back bone, past the two lower back dimples you love, past the slight curve of his behind and down his hairy legs. He is all man… your man. It’s a shame all the water that lands across his body is wasted on the drain. 

“Is the temperature good?”

“S’perfect,” he grunts.

“Want me to scrub you sir?”

“Heh,” he turns his head to look at you, “with a nurse that looks like you? ‘Course I do.”

The drops of water sear your skin as you step into the water.

“Jesus Joel, it’s hot in here.”

“Mm,” he reaches over and turns the water cooler before turning around, his eyes darkening as he notices the fabric of your bra cups has turned see-through. “Better?” His eyes stay on your chest.

“Better. Now, let’s get you washed, sir.”

“I’m all yours.” 

You grab Joel’s bar of soap, lathering your hands up with the eucalyptus scented bar. Your hands run across his chest leaving lines of suds along his skin, and he lets out a small groan as you rub soapy circles over his stomach. 

He reaches a hand up and pinches your nipple underneath the sheer wet fabric. 

“Feel good sir?”

“Very. Such a good nurse.”

You step closer to him, his hard cock jutting against your stomach as you wash his arms. Your fingers press tight along his biceps and his shoulders, releasing the tension.

“Fuck,” Joel breathes out, “you’re driving me crazy like this.” 

“Well, get ready, I need to wash your legs and…” you wrap your hand around his erection, “this… sir.”

“Jesus Christ,” he groans and shakes his head. “Go ahead nurse.”

You reach around him and grab the soap before kneeling on the tile floor. 

Your soapy hands glide along Joel’s legs, his calf muscles firm under your touch, his thighs soft as you move closer to Joel’s hard cock dripping water and precum. You move your hands along the back of his thighs, cradling the bottom of his ass cheeks before pushing him forward and sealing your mouth over his cock. 

“CHRIST!” Joel’s shout echoes across the bathroom, his hands splaying against the glass.  

Pulling back, you look up.

“You alright? Is this too much?”

“No, no sweetheart,” his eyes soften as he reaches down and holds your cheek, “it felt really good. Go on baby,” Joel leans against the shower wall, “prove to me I’m your favorite patient.”

A long groan escapes Joel’s mouth as you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth. You take him deeper in, sucking the water off of his length as he grabs a handful of your wet hair, your mouth slurping along his length. You clench your thighs together as you feel your cunt throb with arousal.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he chants. 

Water dripping off of Joel’s skin pelts your face as he fills your mouth, your nose brushing against the coarse hair of him there, his cock repeatedly brushing the back of your throat causing a string of saliva to drool out of your mouth.

“Touch yourself, touch your pussy while you suck me baby.”

Your hand reaches underneath your soaked cotton panties, your fingers ghosting across your swollen clit. You moan as you press down and swirl around the bundle of nerves.

His hips jut forward when you hollow your cheeks around him sucking as you bob your head along his length, your free hand cradling his balls and massaging the soft skin of them, bringing him to the brink of his orgasm.

“So good baby, fucking hell,” his grip on your hair tightens, “going to give you my cum soon if you keep that up.” 

Your eyes look up to him, he tilts his head down and gives you a blissed out half smile, water cascades down his face and falls onto your skin. The way he looks at you, the line on his forearm straining as he holds your hair, his warm cock stretching your mouth open, the feel of water dripping down your throat mixed with the taste of Joel. The sensation is too much, you whimper around Joel’s cock as you orgasm. Your fingers drown with your arousal, your mouth goes slack around him as warmth spreads through your limbs. Your hand collects the hot slick that leaks out of you, spreading it all over Joel’s shaft, pumping him with your fist as you suck the tip of him. 

“Close,” he pants, “lemme cum in that mouth, wanna see your mouth filled with me.” 

You nod and moan as you tighten your grip and suck harder.

He chants your name as he empties his release into your open mouth, the last spurt of him landing on your outstretched tongue.

He untangles his hand from your hair, running it down your face to grab your chin and angle it up.

“Swallow it baby.” 

His blown out brown eyes watch in worshiping awe as you seal your mouth shut and gulp down the salty taste of him before licking your lips. 

“All good Mr. Miller?”

“Quite… best nurse I ever had.” 

—-

“He reminds me of you,” you muse, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl as you and Joel watch the Austin Capitals’ rookie phenom James Neal hit ball after ball over the fence of Capitals Stadium. 

“He better. He’s my replacement.” Joel grumbles. 

“How do you feel about not being there?” 

“Tonight isn’t as bad, I always hated the Derby, having to sit on the field and play nice with the cameras. Tomorrow is going to suck.”

“I know it will, I’m sorry this is happening to you. You deserve everything this season. I know everything hasn’t gone the way you’ve wanted but I couldn’t be prouder of how you’ve handled it.”

“Don’t think I’d be able to do it without you baby,” he kisses the top of your head as James Neal hits his twentieth home run over the fence. 

⚾️⚾️⚾️

Day 3 The All-Star Game

And the first pitch of the sixth inning is a strike. Scott steps back into the box, swings… and a miss. Strike two. Bridges winds up, and Scott hits a ground ball to first and—OH! Reynolds misreads it and it gets past him, two runs score. The American League now leads by two in the sixth! 

“I would’ve caught that,” Joel bitterly says. 

“I know you would’ve All-Star,” you console, leaning against him and wrapping an arm around him. 

“Mmf, you can’t lay on me like that.” 

“Sorry, does it hurt?”

“No, not even close. Just… feels real good having you all naked and pressed up against me like that.”

“Sorry.”

Joel plants his hand against your back, keeping you from moving away. 

“Stay, I like it. If I was on that field right now I couldn’t feel you like this.”

“Oh yeah?” Your hand runs a trail down his shorts and grips the heft of him. “Definitely wouldn’t be able to feel this.”

“Definitely not,” he groans. 

“Definitely couldn’t pull your shorts down and touch you if you were playing right now.”

“No,” he grunts, lifting his hips up allowing you to remove his shorts. 

You wrap your hand around his half hard cock. “And surely, I couldn’t jerk you off if you were on that field.” 

“Fuck, no,” he grits, hardening under your touch.

“Did you want to watch the game in peace or do you want me to take care of you?” 

“Take care baby,” he kisses you, “fuck this game.”

“Yeah, fuck this game.”

Your body overheats as you slide down Joel, straddling his thick thighs, taking his cock in hand, rubbing it along your dripping cunt and slowly settling yourself on his length.

Joel’s lips part, his big brown eyes staring at you as a long moan leaves your mouth savoring the feel of his cock stretching you. 

“You feel so good,” his head thuds against the pillow. “I haven’t felt your pussy like this in forever. Fucking missed it.” 

Your hips rock back and forth still adjusting to the size of him as he grabs your tits and massages the weight of them in his calloused hands. 

“This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

You’re too blissed out to answer, too overwhelmed by the size of him. All you can muster is an isolated nod and whine arching your back while he pinches and pulls your nipples into peaks. 

“You gonna fuck me baby? You gonna fuck me like the All-Star I am? Come on baby, prove to me I’m your All-Star.”

You rise and fall on his cock, grinding your hips down each time he stuffs you full. 

“Look so good like this baby,” Joel juts his hips up “you’re the only fucking trophy I need.” 

You lean in as your thighs begin to tremble bringing his hand to your lips. Joel’s blown out pupils focus on your tongue as it traces the circles of his tattoo.

“Fucking perfect,” he rasps. 

Your pussy clenches at his praise, Joel’s cock hits the sensitive spot you want to feel him the most. 

“Cum for me, let me feel you strangle my cock, cum for me baby,” Joel’s gravelly voice encourages as he pulls his hand from your mouth, tugging you down against his chest. 

Your cunt flutters around him as your orgasm shatters into you. Your mouth going slack, drool falling out and landing on Joel’s chest as you scream his name and writhe on top of him.

“That’s my good girl, that’s it, fuck, you’re fucking gripping me baby, not going to last long like this.”

You summon as much energy as you can leaning forward to lick the golden skin of his neck as you grind your hips against his, your soaked pussy pumping his cock.

“That’s it baby, that’s it,” he pants. “Gonna cum.” 

Joel lets out a long groan as his hips jerk up into you, warmth blooming through your core as his cock empties into you. You both stay frozen collectively catching your breaths as you come down from your shared bliss. His cock slips from you as you lift up to kiss him, both of your spends dribbling down between your thighs.

“Did I make you feel like the All-Star you are?”

“Mm,” he smiles, pulling away, ”I love being a baseball player sometimes.”

You turn towards the TV. “It’s tied now.” 

“Mm, for the first time ever, I really don’t care.”

You stay cuddled in his bed for the remainder of the game, today is definitely your favorite All-Star Game experience.

Well folks, that’ll do it for this year’s All-Star Game here in beautiful Austin, Texas. The National League wins in a 4-3 victory over the American League. We’ll see you next year. 

“Good game, I really enjoyed the sixth inning.”

“Guess it’s good we get home field advantage in the World Series,” Joel shrugs.

“Always thinking ahead.” “Always. Had a plan for a whole thing after the game but life had other plans. I, uh, grabbed this when I was changing earlier,” Joel opens his bedside table and pulls out a small gray suede box.

Your heart skips a beat at the implication of what it could be. There’s no way.

“It’s okay baby, don’t panic, it’s not that. Now that everybody knows, I want you to be able to wear me wherever you go.” 

He opens the box, a delicate gold necklace with a pendant of his number hangs from it.

“Joel,” you breathe out as tears prick your eyes, “it’s so… beautiful.”

“That first night I had the chain was the night I had you in the back of that club. I tried for so long to stay away from you, and yet you were always there, like some forbidden treasure I could never have… now we’re together and this is the happiest I’ve ever been.” Joel swipes the tears from your cheeks as they fall, “I love you so much sweetheart.”

“I love you too,” you smile as you take the box and remove the necklace. 

“Put it on baby, lemme see it.”

You clasp the necklace behind your neck and lower your arms. Joel pets the gold pendant against your skin. 

“Beautiful,” Joel whispers.

[artwhumpersanonymous]

Welcome to Art Whumpers Anonymous!

AWA is an 18+ discord server intended to be a space for artists of all levels, styles and mediums to come and share art, seek critique, share OCs and talk about whump in a community setting! We also run weekly and yearly events.

Additionally, we welcome those who are writers/hobbyists/lurkers/just testing the waters with art, as well as offer a space for OC threads, writer's talk, sfw/nsfw roleplay seeking/playing, commission/trade seeking and sprinting, among others.

The server is 18+, and has adult channels and discussions. Sorry kiddos, but unfortunately any minors will get banned!

INVITE:

DM FOR A LINK. Blog MUST have age in bio, no empty/almost-empty blogs.

FAQ below the cut:

Who are the mods?

@coyotehusk @demondamage @sunshiline-writes and Ev (no tumblr)

Can I join if I don't have an active whump blog?

By all means!

What if I don't make art but still would like to be able to check out the art there?

Though AWA is focused on being an artist community, we do encourage anyone to join.

How large is the server?

Right now we are hovering around 100 folks!

I want to get better at art. Can this server help with that?

The AWA offers a crit space!

Why is the server 18+?

The AWA mods wanted to create an adult space where adult topics could be engaged with without worrying about censoring for the sake of minors. We do ask that explicit content stay within their respective channels, but otherwise try to cultivate a nonjudgemental environment.

What events do you do?

AWA currently is running an OC Trade Event, as well as a weekly member spotlight DTIYS. Anyone in the server is free to participate.

I have another question you haven't answered here?

Feel free to drop us an ask or DM.

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 18

summary: It’s a lazy Sunday with Javier Peña that starts in the early hours of the morning with you waking him up after having a very sexy dream…

rating: E (18+!! This is literally smut and fluff. No y/n, age gap (around 10 years), Soft Javier Peña, alternating pov, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie(s), BREEDING KINK, shower sex, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, come eating, come play, cockwarming if you squint, spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, slight roleplay, teasing, sex dreams (mention of exhibitionism, edging, & unethical interrogation techniques), DOMESTIC FLUFF, fluff, romantic comedy, slice of life, cutting Javier’s hair, talks of future, Javier being so in love, Javier being a romantic, my favorite smut I’ve ever written)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 18.4k (It’s such a good time)

a/n: Hello there! I know the last few chapters have been emotionally draining, so this is just a smutty, fluff fest. I’m talking it’s them enjoying some domestic bliss and Javier just having the best time with the love of his life (and his massive breeding kink). Shoutout to @theewokingdead, who very specifically guessed what the word count would be and was correct! Thank you to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for betaing this on such short notice. You are the literal best, and I appreciate you so much. Hope you all enjoy!

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

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Javier wasn’t necessarily a light sleeper—he’d been able to sleep fine in a place like Bogotá, where there were gunshots almost nightly and a constant stream of noise outside. With all of his years working, he’d gotten accustomed to waking up immediately to the sound of the telephone ringing, or a knock at the door, always having to be alert at the drop of a hat when something was going down.

Basically, if he was sleeping and someone needed him, he was getting up and already putting on his clothes to get to work.

It was the middle of the night, his body warm under the blankets, the air conditioning softly whirring, lulling him in his slumber—at the sound of his name being whispered, he was rocketing back to consciousness, his dream slipping away like a whisper in the wind, forgotten and replaced with concern as he came to. There was confusion for a split second as he reoriented himself, the soft sheets and warm body next to him telling him he was in bed with his girlfriend, recognizing her familiar scent and soft hand rubbing gently over his bare chest.

“What’s wrong, baby?” His voice was deeper and raspier from disuse, blinking his eyes open to see the only light in the room was the alarm clock’s red numbers softly glowing on her bedside table. He sat up, his heart beating faster, adrenaline hitting his system while he assessed the room for any signs of danger, ready to get up and fight if he had to, listening for anything outside their bedroom door in the rest of the apartment.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she answered quickly, pressing her hand over his racing heart. He laid back down, turning to face her, pulling her close. “Everything’s okay,” she continued. “I’m sorry for waking you up.” There was guilt in her tone, his eyebrows furrowing.

He couldn’t make out her features, seeing the outline of her body from the small amount of illumination the clock offered, knowing where her head was, carefully sliding his palm along her cheek.

“Cielito, what is it?” he asked gently. “Did you have a bad dream?”

He needed to make sure she was okay.

“Um, not a bad dream, kinda the opposite, and of the sexy variety…”

That had him perking up, feeling the blood rush to his groin as a smile curled up on his lips, understanding now why she woke him up—she wanted sex.

Excitement was an understatement for how he felt that she’d woken up horny and, instead of taking care of herself, wanted him. He was wide awake, his cock already half-hard.

“What was it about…?” he asked, trying not to sound too excited. “Was I, uh, in it…?”

He hoped he was.

“Yes, you were in it.” She paused. “I don’t want to say what it was about…” She sounded embarrassed, making him curious as fuck.

“Well, now I really wanna know,” he said mostly to himself. “You can tell me,” he reassured her. “I’m not gonna give you shit—I told you about my dirty dream last week.”

“Yes, but yours was very tame, just me riding you in a field.”

She was in one of her pretty dresses he loved, tits out, bouncing in his lap. It was a good dream, which led to him getting out of bed and fucking her against the bathroom counter.

Her first comment stuck with him.

“Yours wasn’t… tame…?” he asked slowly. “Baby, you gotta fucking tell me.”

Her hand moved in the tiny space between them to poke his chest.

“You have to promise not to judge me or give me shit about it.”

He grabbed her hand, bringing it up to kiss her knuckles.

“I promise,” he said into her skin.

Taking a deep breath, she sighed loudly. “This is entirely your new job's fault.”

Monday morning, he’d be starting at the Sheriff’s Department as a drug enforcement consultant.

“My new job’s fault?” he asked, now holding her hand over his heart, the warmth of it soothing.

“Yes, and the fact I know you’ve got six fucking suits in our closet.”

“What…?”

“I haven’t even seen you wear one yet, but I keep imagining you looking like a detective? Suit, tie, shoulder holster, a goddamn badge, just so fucking sexy and in the dream—” she pressed her hands to her face mumbling the rest.

“What happened in the dream?” He was dying to know, his cock throbbing over her having one about him that turned her on so much, she needed to wake him up to fuck her.

Her hands fell, speaking barely above a whisper. “In the dream, you were a detective interrogating me, which led to you bending me over the table while I was handcuffed with people watching on the other side of the two-way mirror.”

“Fuck,” he breathed. It was practically the plot of a bad porno—the thought of handcuffing her and fucking her from behind had arousal scorching in his belly, thinking if it was something she really wanted, he could probably play out the scenario without the audience. “Kinkier than my fucking dream,” he mused. “Gonna have to get some handcuffs.”

She sucked in a breath. “Would…you?” she asked.

“Yeah, Hermosa,” he rasped. “I fucking love you.”

“I fucking love you, too.” There was a smile in her voice, Javier leaning forward to kiss it with his own.

“You all wet?” he asked when pulled back. “Need me to fuck you, baby?” He moved to hold her jaw, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip.

“Yes,” she moaned. “I’m sorry for waking you up, but I’m so fucking horny.” Her hand skated up his back.

He stroked her cheek. “Cielito, always wake me up for sex.”

“That’s the plan because I know you’d give me sad puppy dog eyes if I masturbated.”

“And I make you come harder,” he said matter-of-factly with a shrug of his shoulder.

“You don’t have to be smug about it,” she groused.

“I’m not—I was stating a fact.”

“Uh-huh. You gonna fuck me, Mr. Facts?”

“It’s Detective Facts, and yes, I fucking am.”

She laughed, “You’re so fucking ridi—” The last word devolved into a moan when he crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her passionately.

Rolling her onto her back, he licked into her mouth, his hand skating down the soft skin of her stomach to between her legs, slipping two fingers through her slit.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmured into her mouth, marveling at just how much sticky moisture there was, gathering some onto his fingertips to glide them over her perky little clit, languidly circling it. He wagered if he looked where she was sleeping, there’d be a wet spot, the thought making his cock twitch.

“What part got you this wet, Cielito?” he asked. “Me interrogating you? Bending you over with your hands handcuffed behind your back?” A soft moan came from her, his fingers speeding up. “Or was it people watching while I fucked you?” He smiled at the louder noise she made, knowing he fucking got her, his cock so painfully hard he needed friction, gently thrusting it into her hip to ease the ache.

She reached down to wrap her fingers around his dick, his mouth falling open as she slowly stroked him, it taking him a second to get his bearings.

His hand moved, pushing two thick fingers into her soaked cunt, her hips bucking into his palm.

He cleared his throat. “You want people to see how good I fuck you?” he questioned, his thumb moving to her bundle of nerves, pumping his digits. “Want people to know no one else fucks you like I do?” Moans were spilling from her mouth, her hand leaving him to grab onto his hair. “It gets you off that someone could find us when we fool around in the truck, doesn’t it?”

Crooking his fingers, her breath hitched when he found that spot that made her toes curl. He focused on it, pressing into it over and over, his thumb massaging her swollen nub.

“My dirty fucking girl,” he said, giving her a filthy kiss, his tongue sliding along her own before nipping at her bottom lip. Her pussy was starting to spasm, his fingers fucking into her with abandon, hearing the wet slide of them between her legs, it bordering on squelching. “You gonna come for me, baby?” he asked. Her jaw was slack, soft sounds coming from her lips, the tip of his tongue flicking up the top one. “You want me to dress up in one of my suits and play out your dream?”

“Oh, god,” she moaned.

“Handcuff you and bend you over our kitchen table? See if I can fuck the information out of you?”

That was it, her body tensing, her cunt clenching up hard. Arousal spilled around his digits as she came with a cry of his name, a tingle moving down his spine that he got her off.

“My good fucking girl,” he praised, kissing her hard as he worked her through it.

The need to be inside her was intense, his hard cock pressing into her hip, dripping precum onto her skin.

“Still want my dick?” he asked after breaking the kiss.

“Need it,” she answered, making him smile.

“You can fucking have it, Cielito.”

Kissing her quickly, his hand left her, twisting to his other side. “Close your eyes, baby,” he said.

“What?”

“I’m turning on the light—don’t wanna hurt your eyes, so close ‘em.”

“Oh.”

“They closed?”

“Yep.”

He switched it on, squinting at the sudden brightness, flipping back over to face her, shoving the blankets off them, and kicking them to bunch at the end of the bed. His attention moved back to her, taking in her naked body—seeing her skin was a little dewy, admiring her curves and softness, looking cute with her hand covering her eyes.

A little smile pulled up on his lips, his fingers itching to touch her, so he rubbed them over her belly.

“You gonna keep your eyes closed while I fuck you?” he asked.

She moved her hand a little to peek one eye open.

“No,” she answered. “But I don’t get why we have to fuck with the lights on.”

“I love seeing you,” he answered truthfully. “Love seeing how good I make you feel.”

Her hand left her face. “You know, I used to be a low-lighting or fully off girl, but you look at me like that—” She pointed at his face. “And I can see the genuine love you have for me and my not-at-all-perfect body, which honestly makes me feel really comfortable with you—so I’ll allow the lights.”

“Not-at-all-perfect body?” His eyes were narrowed in confusion. “What the fuck are you talking about?” His hand moved up to grab her breast, leaning closer to her face. “I fucking love your body. It is perfect. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

She scoffed. “That’s a dirty fucking lie.”

He took offense to that, disliking that she didn’t believe him.

There was literally no other woman on the entire fucking planet he’d rather be with, or even fuck. She’d ruined him for anyone else—when he thought of his dream girl, she was who came to mind, nobody else. She was the star of his fantasies when he got lost in thought while out riding on his horse or driving, imagining all the things he wanted to do to her, and she was the one he was having sex dreams about.

She was perfect, and he loved everything about her.

“I’m not fucking lying,” he said sternly. “There’s no one who’s sexier than you, and I’m fucking serious when I say I love your body, and that it’s perfect. You find me attractive, right?”

“Well, yeah, but you’re a ten.”

“A ten?” His head cocked in question.

“You know, on a hot scale where ten is smokin’—you’re a ten.” She pointed at him.

“You don’t think you’re a ten?” He frowned.

She snorted. “Absolutely not. Now Winona Ryder? She’s a ten.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Beetlejuice, Edward Scissorhands, Dracula?”

“I’ve never seen those...”

Shock was on her face. “You haven’t seen Dracula? That movie awoke some things in me…”

“Is it based on the book…?”

He’d read it in college.

“Yeah.”

His mind was going through what he remembered reading, trying to figure out what she meant.

“What things?” he asked.

“What things, what?” she asked innocently in return.

“Did it awaken…”

She smiled, poking his nose. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would.”

“Well, too bad. So, can we have sex now?” Her hand moved down to palm his hard cock again, making him gulp.

“You can’t distract me.” She was slowly pumping him.

“Did I mention the dream made me so fucking horny when you were pulling on my arms behind my back to fuck me on your dick?” she purred. “Gonna need you to do that, with or without handcuffs.”

The image flooded his brain.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

He’d really need to get some fucking handcuffs.

“And I didn’t tell you this part, but you wouldn’t let me come. Told me if I gave you the information you wanted, you’d finally let me. Just kept getting me there, then stopping, over and over…”

His skin was feeling hot.

“You like it when I edge you, baby?”

“Yes, Javi—makes me come so hard.” Her strokes on his cock sped up, feeling that need to be inside her again, hitting him hard. “God, you fuck me so good,” she moaned, and it had a jolt running through him.

“You want my dick, Cielito?”

“Yes. Please. Dámelo, give it to me, Papí.”

He could see how much she wanted him in her gaze, her words making him close the distance to have his mouth on hers in a searing kiss. His hand was on her tit, moving his fingers to pinch her stiff nipple, swallowing her moan.

He didn’t want to waste another fucking second, feeling like electricity was thrumming under his skin, separating from her, as he sat up with a groan to get on his knees.

Pushing her to lie on her right side away from him, he grabbed some pillows.

“Keep your hips like that,” he said, seeing in his mind exactly how he wanted to do this. “Sit up a little and rest back on these.” She sat up, turning her upper body, so when he put the pillows behind her, they supported her head and shoulders, propping her up a tiny bit. “Are you comfortable?”

She smiled warmly. “Yes,” she replied. “I’m very thankful for yoga with how you’ve got me a little twisty like this.”

Her hips and legs were to the side, while her top half was lying back.

He huffed out an amused breath, making his way down to her legs.

“You’re gonna fucking love it—trust me.” He was at his destination, bending her left leg at the knee and lifting it to hook around his hip while he straddled her right thigh on the bed.

“I always trust you.”

The truth of her words shone in her eyes, and it warmed him.

“I know.” He smiled.

The position opened her up, seeing her arousal glistening on her pussy and inner thighs, his hand coming up to his mouth to spit on his fingers, using it to slick up his cock, needing the extra lubrication for how he was going to fuck her.

He shuffled forward, holding his dick to press the tip to her entrance, slowly pushing it in, his mouth falling open as her wet warmth enveloped him, loving to watch himself disappear inside her while she moaned.

Getting halfway in, he pulled all the way out, his cock shinier from her arousal, him pushing back in to the same point, mesmerized by how her pussy practically sucked him in, pulling back out again.

He did it once more, attention stuck on her tight cunt swallowing his girth, seeing her stretch around him, taking him so easily, the image making sparks ignite in his belly.

“Fuck,” he groaned, not able to get enough.

“Javier, if you don’t put that thing inside me and keep it there right this second, I am getting my fucking vibrator,” you said through your teeth, annoyed he pulled all the way out for a third time, your fingers digging into the sheets.

You enjoyed some teasing, but this was bordering on torture with how horny you were, needing him to fuck you already.

The dream had been… a lot.

After Javi moved in, you’d been curious about his suit situation and snooped through the garment bags containing them, finding a range of colors: navy blue, charcoal grey, medium grey, light grey, black, tan—and they’ve been haunting you. It was stuck in your head that he was basically a cop, or at least had been one, and with getting the job with the Sheriff, it had you picturing him dressed like a goddamn sexy detective. In the photos you’d seen of him in Colombia with the Murphys, he was in his signature button-up/jean combo, but you knew his second go-around he was the head bitch in charge and had to dress the part, thus the suits that were fuel for your horny imagination.

And your brain had the audacity to play out a scene where he was a goddamn sexy detective willing to do whatever it took to get the information he wanted, including fucking you within an inch of your life while people watched.

It’d felt so real—dream Javi made all the same noises—the grunting, the groans, him talking in that low, deep rasp that made shivers move down your spine. Then the fucking? You were at his mercy, having to take what he was giving you, and it’d been so fucking good.

Yeah, the scenario was a bit fucked up, but it was just a fantasy, something a tad taboo that excited you, knowing full well your Javier would never.

The dream had really riled you up, waking up so horny all you could think about was getting his dick inside of you, and now you were so close to having what you wanted, and he was being a fucking tease.

His eyes met yours, one eyebrow arching, notching his cock at your entrance.

“Your vibrator,” he rasped in the same tone from your dream, “doesn’t feel like this—” He punctuated the sentence by pushing into you, sliding home in one smooth thrust that had your eyes rolling back and gasping when he bottomed out, needing to dig your fingers into the sheets for something to hold onto.

Your eyes opened wide, unable to speak with how fucking deep he was and how full you felt; it was almost too much to the point you were beginning to sweat. Javi’s head was thrown back, staring at the line of his throat and the perspiration starting to bead in the hollow of it.

He was right that your vibrator definitely didn’t feel like this. He’d stretched you open, staying still so you could feel every ridge and vein on his dick while it throbbed against your sensitive walls.

Your breaths were coming out harder, one of his big hands on your thigh resting on his hip, the other squeezing the round of your asscheek, moaning when he gave it hard slap as you waited for him to move.

It seemed to be taking longer than usual for him to get going—was he making sure you had enough time to adjust to him? Did he need a minute to calm down, so he didn’t come?

“Javi?”

His head tilted down to look at you, his eyes dark with want. “Yes, Cielito?”

“Move, baby.”

A smirk pulled up under his mustache.

“No.”

Your eyebrows flew up to your hairline. “No?!” It came out incredulous, not believing what he said.

“No.” He shook his head. “You said stick it in and keep it there, so I fucking am.” His hand landed on your ass with a loud smack, making you tense up, stifling your moan.

“You’re joking,” you breathed.

“I’m not.”

Two could play this game, reaching your hand between your legs to start playing with your clit.

“Fine,” you replied. “Stay right there and look pretty. I’ll get myself off.”

A grumpy look came over his face.

“Like fuck you will,” he said, batting your hand away.

“Oh, so are you finally going to fuck me?”

His fingers dug into your ass, feeling as he slid his dick almost all the way out, leaving just the tip, answering your question, “Yeah,” as he slammed back into you, the breath leaving your lungs in a gasping moan. “I… fucking… am…” Each word ended in a hard thrust, him setting up a punishing pace that had you going dizzy with pleasure.

This position was magical.

Why haven’t you done it before?

It felt like he was fucking you in doggy but better, somehow going deeper and hitting it just as hard, the wet slap of his hips sounding in the room.

You got to watch him in action, which was a thing of beauty, seeing the flush blooming on the skin of his chest and up his neck as he slowly started glistening all over in sweat and the feral look on his face—teeth bared, furrowed brow, grunting as he fucked into you.

The best part?

His hands were free, and he couldn’t keep them off of you—one on your ass, squeezing it, spanking it, the other sliding over the skin of your stomach and reaching to palm your breast and play with your pebbled nipple.

He was watching you, his eyes scanning your face and lowering to the jiggle of your tits while his thigh pressed deliciously against your clit.

The bed was softly squeaking, hearing the slap of skin hitting skin, your soft sounds filling the air and mixing with his rougher ones to create an obscene soundtrack for the early morning hour.

Every push and pull of his hips was building you up—the heat in the base of your spine was growing rapidly, his thick cock pounding into you, filling you over and over again. Your hand grabbed onto his sweaty forearm as your moans got louder, eyes on his.

Hair was sticking wetly to his forehead, his hand smacking your ass hard, the sting making your cunt clench around his cock, spearing into you. “You gonna come, baby?” he grunted.

“Yes, Javi,” you moaned. “It’s so good—you fuck me so good.”

“Yeah, I do.” His thigh moved so his hand could get between your legs, circling the engorged berry of your clit, the sparks of pleasure making you gasp. “You love how I fuck you, even in your fucking dreams.”

It felt so insanely good, tears were streaming down your face, your fingers clawing into the skin of his arm, your other doing the same in the sheet.

“It’s yours, Javi!” you cried.

“What’s mine?” he asked, pistoning into you with strong, even thrusts.

“My pussy is yours, I’m yours—fuck, I love you!”

His head fell back, a long groan of fuck coming from his throat.

Looking at you again, he said through hard breaths, “I’m yours… All of me is yours… Every fucking part of me belongs to you… I fucking love you.”

It all came to a head, the muscles in your belly winding so tight, the tension snapped, and you were coming with a shout of his name, euphoria overtaking every molecule in your body.

“There it fucking is,” he grunted, slowing his speed as you clenched around him, fucking you through your high. “My good girl—my good fucking girl. Te amo, mi amor. You did so fucking good.”

Your eyes were closed, feeling all floaty as you tried to catch your breath.

Javi’s body was suddenly blanketing you, a hand pressing into the pillows beside your head for support as he crashed his mouth to yours, kissing you. A surprised sound came from your throat, reaching your hands up to push your fingers into his wet hair, opening your lips when he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a practiced dance.

He started thrusting faster, chasing his own end, his free hand palming your breast.

“I’m gonna come inside you.” His words were muffled into your lips. “I’m gonna fuck you full of me—I’m gonna keep you full of me—” Oh, he was in the rambling stage of being lost in the sauce, his pace getting uneven. His mouth moved, biting your chin, before continuing to speak when he pressed his nose against your neck, sounding wrecked, “—fuck my come so deep inside you, I’m with you for days. Make you drip with me. Want it to—“ His sentence cut off in a strangled moan as he came, pushing his cock as deep as it would go, feeling it jerk and the wet pulse as his hot seed flooded your depths.

“Yes,” you moaned as he rolled his hips, fucking his spend deeper.

A hiss slid through his teeth when the overstimulation became too much, him finally stilling.

You knew the moment he could think again after a minute passed, Javi groaning as he sat up on his knees, carefully untangling your leg from around his hip while staying inside you.

There was a deep frown on his face as he stared at where you were joined.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him, your voice rougher than usual.

“I don’t wanna pull out…”

“Okay…?”

His head came up to look at you with big sad eyes. “I wanna hold you.”

“And your dick needs to be inside me for that?”

A long sigh left him, seeing him deflate.

“No…”

“You’ll feel better when we’re cuddling. I’ll play with your hair and give you kisses.”

He smiled a little, his eyes closing, hissing when he pulled out of you. There was some shuffling, where he got off your leg to roll you flat on your back while he kneeled between your spread thighs.

His attention was back on the puffy lips of your pussy, his fingers suddenly scooping up some of his come that had dribbled out of your sopping opening to push it back inside.

“Fuck,” you moaned.

He slowly pumped his digits, twisting them a little as his eyes met yours.

“Don’t wanna lose any.” His voice was quiet and raspy. “Can you keep it inside for me, baby?”

It turned you on hearing him ask, blurting out the first thought that came to mind, “You’re really testing my birth control—it’s working overtime.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed, you continuing to speak, “I know I’m ridiculous and wake up every goddamn morning at six a.m. to take it and pee, but you know it’s still only 99% effective, right?”

He frowned, his fingers stopping inside you. “Do you want me to pull out sometimes? Or—” His frown grew deeper. “—do you want me to use condoms…?”

You made a face. “Um, hell-fucking-no.” You answered. “We are in a committed relationship, and I expect to be rawed, thank you very much. I just want to make sure you understand there’s still a teeny-tiny risk you could knock me up.”

He mumbled something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like ‘I fucking wish,’ looking away.

“What?” you asked.

He met your eyes, shrugging. “If it happens, it happens.”

Your eyebrows lifted.

“Wow.”

“What?” he asked.

“Just your growth,” you answered. “You used to be adamant about not risking babies, and here you are—“ You waved a hand at him. “—Mr. Casual about the prospect now.”

“Things have changed…” he said slowly. “Like you said, we’re in a committed relationship—we’re gonna get married one day, buy a house.” A small smile turned up on his lips. “You want to have my kids, and truth be fucking told, you’re the only person I want any with. I know you wanna wait until we’re married and I get the shit in my head worked out, but if by some fucking happenstance I beat your birth control and get you pregnant, I wouldn’t be upset.”

“Well, I’m really happy that it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Now, back to the horny.” You wagged your eyebrows. “I’ll keep your come inside me—keep it there all night.”

He crookedly smiled, pulling his fingers out from between your legs. “My good girl,” he rasped, sucking his digits clean with a lewd groan.

Once finished, he quickly crawled up the mattress to lay down beside you. There was some maneuvering to get the pillows back where they belonged, the bed jostling when he turned over to switch off the lamp, him rolling back to face you, pulling you into his arms to cuddle you close.

You were chest to chest, and as you promised, your fingers were in his hair, stroking through it, and scratching lovingly at his scalp, both languidly kissing as you relaxed, exhaustion starting to catch up to you now that you were thoroughly satisfied. You’d stay like this for a little while, then you’d need to get up and use the bathroom, just wanting the closeness and being with him—loving how he held you, one of his hands rubbing along your spine, getting lost in him.

His mouth left yours.

“Was I better?” he asked in the darkness.

“What?” You didn’t know what he was talking about. “Were you better than what?”

“The sex. Was I better than the me you dreamed about?”

“Oh my fucking god,” you giggled, lightly pulling his hair. “You’re so fucking ridiculous.”

“But was I better?”

“Yes, Javier,” you answered in exasperation. “You were better than the you in my dream. But, uh, get some handcuffs…”

“I fucking will.” He replied, his mouth back on yours in a toe-curling kiss.

Sundays were for relaxing and preparing for the week ahead—running errands and getting chores done.

After his Cielito had woken him up in the middle of the night, they slept in until a little before ten, getting up to do their normal morning routine, taking turns in the bathroom, dressing at the same time, and both ending up at the bathroom sink to brush their teeth together—Javier in just his sweatpants, Cielito wearing her panties and his army green shirt, it always making him feel some kind of way seeing her in his clothes.

Breakfast was a joint effort, the two of them padding around the kitchen comfortably and efficiently, Javier ending up behind her at the stove with his arms around her middle while she cooked their omelets. She smelled so fucking good, kissing her neck and nuzzling his face in her skin while she giggled, one of her hands coming up behind her to push into his hair as she told him she loved him—he was in heaven, having the best time making breakfast with the love of his life on a lazy Sunday morning.

When the food was almost done, it’d taken a lot of effort for him to separate from her, moving to her side, turning her head to give her a lingering kiss before he went across the kitchen to pour their cups of coffee, the pot having brewed while they cooked. Their mugs were kept on a stand that looked like a tree—one pole in the middle and smaller ones coming out of the sides to make it tree-like, it could hold five cups, but only three mismatched ones were hanging on it.

Grabbing their mugs, his was a gift from her that made him groan when she’d given it to him, the white coffee cup with Garfield the cat looking grumpy on it, his arms crossed with a speech bubble reading, ‘I hate Mondays,’ all because Javier had said the same thing one morning after spending the weekend with her—he loved his mug and never used another. Cielito’s was just as silly and always had him smiling with how much it made sense it was her favorite. Hers had a cartoon of the alien from that weird show from the 80s, Alf, dressed to go to the beach: swimming trunks, a matching shirt, goggles with a snorkel on top of his hairy head holding a colorful beach ball in one furry hand and a beach umbrella in the other, while it rained down on him, lettering below the cartoon proclaiming, ‘Life’s a beach.’

The coffee was poured into their respective silly cups and made to their liking, Javier’s black, as usual. Moving them over onto the kitchen table, he placed them at their seats. His was put beside the rolled-up Sunday newspaper he’d grabbed earlier from outside their front door and his black framed reading glasses he’d brought out of the bedroom.

“Breakfast is ready,” she said, the food plated on their white ceramic plates, sitting on the kitchen counter.

He walked up behind her as she stood there sprinkling more cheese atop her omelet, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the skin right below her ear.

“Looks good, Cielito,” he said softly.

“It wasn’t all me—my sous chef is getting better at his knife skills and has learned you can never grate too much cheese.”

Javier smiled.

“His mistake for thinking half a block was too much,” he replied. She’d finished and put the lid on the Tupperware containing the shredded cheddar, his hands moving down her body and up her bare thighs to under his shirt she was wearing. He grabbed her hips, spinning her to face him, a beautiful smile on her gorgeous face. “Bésame,” he said, leaning closer to her. “Kiss me, mi amor (my love).” He nudged the tip of his nose against hers, whispering, “Por favor (Please).”

“So polite,” she said just as softly with a look of amusement. “You’re acting like you didn’t just kiss me five minutes ago.”

He frowned. “I need another.”

“In order to survive?” she teased.

“Yeah, it’s life or death.” He grabbed her hand, pressing it over his heart. “Necesito tus besos para vivir—moriría sin ellos (I need your kisses in order to live—I’d die without them).”

“You’re so dramatic,” she laughed, making him smile. “Kiss me, you big dork. I don’t want the food to get cold.”

He didn’t have to be told twice, his lips meeting hers, kissing her so tenderly. It ended, him stealing a quick peck and giving her ass a little smack, moving to grab his plate and taking it over to the table to eat. Getting seated, he put on his reading glasses, grabbed the newspaper, and removed the rubber band, unrolling the paper to read the front page.

This wasn’t something he did in Colombia—reading the newspaper while having breakfast. He’d been too busy, all of his news coming from the United States Government or listening to the local radio station while he drove. He’d kept up to date on what he needed to know and what was essential to his job, and now he was reading about Laredo’s plan to vote on building a new fire station and NASA holding a memorial for the first American in space who’d recently passed away.

There was always a little bit of nervousness when he got to the world news section, wondering if he would see anything about South America. He had an idea of what was going on down there and in Mexico because Steve Murphy was a big fucking gossip who kept him up to date on everything on their weekly calls when Javier checked up on him, Connie, and the kids—Steve still worked for the DEA in Miami, mainly doing office work now that he had his family.

When Javier had revealed the corruption going on in Colombia, it’d caused a shitstorm with the citizens demanding the president’s resignation, and of course, it was all over the fucking news.

A government taking money from a cartel in exchange for virtual immunity? The United States of America being aware and not doing shit about it? The highest-ranking DEA agent in Colombia going on record about the corruption and calling the country a Narco-Democracy?

It was reported worldwide, a hot topic for a while, before the next fucked up thing took its place.

Honestly, he’d been surprised Cielito had no idea who the fuck he was when they met since his name had been used in some of the media, though a lot kept him nameless, more focused on the scandal, which he appreciated.

He liked knowing what was happening in the world or at least what was being reported by the media, so he read the newspaper, finding stories today about China and Cuba.

The paper was on the table beside his plate, him holding it open with one hand while he read, the other forking bites of his omelet into his mouth.

“Crossword me,” Cielito said, reaching her palm out across the table.

He smiled, flipping through the pages to pull it out and handing it to her.

“Thanks, babe.” She smiled, folding the paper once to see only what she wanted.

“You’re welcome, baby.” Taking a sip of his coffee, he fondly watched her eyes moving over the writing. “What’s my horoscope say?” he asked after setting his mug down, knowing that section was below her crossword and she always read theirs. He didn’t get the astrology stuff, but she enjoyed it, and he loved seeing her smile whenever he’d ask.

“That your intellect and personality are needed when others are feeling insecure,” she read, “and since you love challenges, you should dig into a problem.” Looking at him over the newspaper, she smiled, continuing, “So, use being a big ol’ smarty pants for good, not evil, and find a problem to solve.” She shrugged.

“Got it.” He nodded, digging into his food.

He loved this—eating their breakfast while he read the paper, her sitting across from him with her page folded down to just the crossword, her fork in one hand and a blue ballpoint pen in the other, filling in the tiny squares.

It was so fucking domestic, the type of shit his parents did on the weekends, and he was so happy he thought his heart might burst.

He especially loved when she’d get stuck on a clue, chewing on the end of her pen, deep in thought and either visibly brightening when she realized the answer or asking if he knew, and sometimes he did, loving the big grin she’d give him if he was right.

Their breakfasts were eaten, coffees drunk, the paper read, and her crossword done, her plate pushed away from her, setting her elbows on the table as she held her face in her hands, smiling at him.

“So, haircut,” she said, his attention on her.

“Haircut.” He nodded, taking off and folding his reading glasses, setting them on the tabletop.

“How do you want it to look?”

“I’ve got a picture I can show you.”

Her eyebrows creased. “One I’ve seen?” she asked.

“Have you gone through my wallet?” he asked.

“No? Of course not.”

“Then you haven’t seen it,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“When’s it from?”

“Right when I got back to the States this last time.”

“So, I get to see your head-bitch-in-charge look,” she said.

His face scrunched up.

“The head, what in charge?”

“The head bitch in charge.”

He frowned. “Cielito?”

“Yes, Javi?”

“I know I’m… older than you.” He sighed, closing his eyes, one arm crossed over his chest, his other hand pressing to his forehead, hating that he had to bring up his age. “Sometimes you say shit I don’t fucking get, and I don’t think you are, but are you… insulting me? Does bitch mean something different now…?”

“I cannot believe you just called yourself old.”

His hand dropped, arching his eyebrow. “I feel fucking old,” he groused.

“You’re not old,” she said, waving away his comment. “You’re older than me, yeah, but that just means you’re my freakishly hot and sexy older boyfriend.” She grinned. “It turns me on that you’ve got a decent retirement savings and are actually serious about our relationship and know what you want out of it. Maturity is sexy. Stability is sexy. And Javier, of course, I wasn’t insulting you.” Her face softened. “You know I love you very much. There’s been kinda a movement to make bitch more empowering, and women sometimes use it amongst friends as an endearment. When I worked in Dallas, the head of our nursing program was this woman who was a real badass that got shit done and didn’t take no for an answer, and she called herself the head bitch in charge. So, I’m saying you were the big boss and really good at your job.”

“Thank you.” He felt better having an understanding. Leaning forward a little, he smirked. “You like having a freakishly hot and sexy older boyfriend?” he asked.

“Oh my god,” she laughed. “Yes.” She nodded. “Fucking love having a freakishly hot and sexy older boyfriend. There are so many perks.”

“Besides my retirement and maturity…?”

“You’re fishing!” she accused, pointing at him.

“What?”

“You’re fishing for compliments!”

“It’s a valid question…”

“Fine, I’ll stroke your ego.” She playfully rolled her eyes. “You’re older, so you have experience, which means you are literally the best fucking lay I have ever had in my entire life, and frankly, you’re so fucking good, you’ve ruined me for all other men.”

His chest puffed up a bit, preening as he smiled. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Yes, Javier. You know this.”

He did, but he always liked hearing her say it.

“Wanna know something?” he asked.

“Of course.”

He pointed at her. “You’re the best fucking lay I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

She gasped, covering her mouth, her eyes widening. “You’re lying,” she said in a shocked tone.

“I’m not.” He shook his head. “Never had better.”

It was the truth; he’d really never had better.

When they met in the grocery store, she’d genuinely wanted to help him and hadn’t expected anything from him; their interaction could’ve ended after she’d given him the tomato, maybe never seeing each other again. But he’d made the move to invite her to drinks and she’d accepted. He was the one who’d offered to drive her home, wanting to be alone with her, and as they kissed, she’d finally made a move and asked him to touch her. He’d gotten her off, and instead of the date ending then and there, she’d wanted to return the favor—she was fucking adamant about it.

From their first interaction, he could tell she cared about him; he could also tell that she just wanted him for him.

She didn’t want his money or a visa out of the country; she didn’t want to use him for sex or to get back at anyone. There was no ulterior motive to her intentions and absolutely nothing transactional about it.

She wanted him, she cared about him, and when they fucked, he could tell, he could feel it. It was different and so much better—intimate, loving, more than just sex, and it was so fucking good.

He was addicted. He couldn’t get enough. It was hands down, the best sex he’d ever had.

Her hand lowered, revealing a big toothy grin. “I love you so fucking much, it is honestly insane,” she said.

He smiled back. “I really fucking love you, too.”

Her face turned curious. “The best lay?” she asked, double-checking. “Me?” Her finger pointed at her chest. “I’m the best lay of your entire life?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “You are. Nobody else even comes close.”

“Wait, wait.” She looked at the stuff in front of her, finally settling on grabbing her empty ridiculous Alf coffee mug and holding it up in both hands. Her voice was a little louder as she spoke, “This is one of the happiest moments of my life. Okay, I gotta keep it together. There are so many people I’d like to thank. First is Marc for taking my virginity the first weekend after I started college and being kind enough to give me a crash course on what guys like.” Javier was trying his best to hold in his laughter that she was really doing a fucking acceptance speech like she’d just won a goddamn award. “That guy I met in a bar in downtown Portland, that I don’t even think gave me his name, who was happy to teach me how to deepthroat and didn’t care when I puked a little—you were a real one, thank you.” He also would like to thank the nameless man in Portland, raising his cup as she spoke with a big smile on his face. “—the other dudes I don’t feel like naming who taught me so much, including Wham! t-shirt guy—”

“Wham! T-shirt guy?” Javier whispered, setting his mug down.

“—I’m so grateful for all like four of you, wait, five, thank you—next, I’d like to thank God for my bangin’ body, my boyfriend is super into—” That one got him, sputtering as he started laughing, unable to keep it in. “—and most of all, I’d like to thank the love of my life and the best boyfriend in the history of forever, Javier Peña for this honor. I am truly humbled and will hold this title close to my heart, something to remind me that dreams really do come true if you’re horny enough.”

Chuckles were still coming from his chest as he started clapping, her looking very delighted with herself as she set the coffee cup on the table.

He wiped at the tears in his eyes, starting to calm down.

“That was really fucking good,” he finally said.

“Thanks!” She grinned. “I mean, this is literally my crowning achievement, and it deserved a speech.”

He was smiling. “I love you, Cielito.”

“I love you, too, Javi.”

“I love being with you.”

“Careful, you’re getting sappy,” she teased. “But I really fucking love being with you, too. So, back on topic, your haircut.”

“My haircut.”

“This picture, uh, are you wearing a suit in it?”

Her question made him smirk, remembering the night before and her dream. It had a thrill running through him at how horny it made her when she thought about him wearing one.

“I’m not.” He shook his head.

Her shoulders slumped, sighing loudly. “Bummer,” she replied.

“I’ll put one on if you want me to…”

She smiled at him. “I know you’d be down to model one for me, but I kinda want to wait until tomorrow when you get dressed for work, so I can see the whole shebang, with the hair and suit. It’s like a surprise—a sexy surprise.”

“Okay, baby.” He chuckled.

“Let’s clean up, and you can show me the picture.”

“Sounds good.” He said as he got up from the table, his chair squeaking across the floor.

After loading up the dishwasher and cleaning the kitchen together, they went into the living room, her following him to the entryway, where he got his wallet out of the bowl on the console table by the front door.

The worn black leather didn’t contain much, just some cash, a credit card, his debit card, an old picture of his parents on their horses, and his driver’s license that he pulled out from the windowed pocket, handing it over to her.

“I had to get a new one when I came back,” he said while she inspected it.

“God, you’re always sexy—how is your photo good?” Her eyes met his. “It’s some law of the universe that driver’s license photos are supposed to be the literal worst picture you’ve ever taken. Mine looks like a mugshot if I’d been arrested for public intoxication. This isn’t fair, Javier!” she exclaimed, holding up the plastic.

Confused by her outburst, his eyes narrowed as he grabbed her hand to look at the picture. There wasn’t anything great about it, just a shot of his head—short hair neatly combed, trimmed mustache, looking annoyed with a frown on his lips and a slight furrow in his brow.

“This isn’t a good photo of me…” he said slowly. “The lighting is shit, and I look mad.”

“That’s just how your face looks, babe. It’s your resting face. You naturally look grumpy, and I think it’s so fucking cute.”

He looked at her. “You think it’s cute that I look pissed off…?”

Their gazes were locked, her smiling. “Yes.” She nodded. “It’s very cute because you look like that—” She pointed at the picture. “—and then you’ll see me, or I’ll talk to you, and suddenly the expression melts away, and you’re smiling, just looking so happy—I love it.”

“Oh.”

“I love your face a lot. So, you want it cut short.” Her free hand went into his hair, running her fingers through it. “I’ll have to take down the sides and up top. When was the last time you got a haircut?”

“Uh.” He thought it over. “Four months, I think? It’s longer than I usually let it get.”

There was enough length that it had started to curl.

“I love that there’s more for me to play with. Can you grab a chair in the kitchen and bring it to the bathroom? There’s better light in there.”

“Of course, baby,” he said, leaning in to kiss her quickly.

He put his license away and his wallet back in the bowl, making his way to the kitchen while she headed for the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he was sitting on the chair in their bathroom, seeing his head and bare chest in the large mirror over the sink. On the countertop, she’d laid out her supplies—hair-cutting shears and a handheld mirror.

She’d grabbed a small purple spray bottle and a black comb, currently beside him spraying water in his hair and combing through it, him watching her in the mirror.

Moving his arm, he wrapped it around her waist.

Snorting, she said, “I fucking knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me.”

Lowering his hand, he squeezed her ass, making her giggle.

“Of course not.”

“No feeling up the hairdresser.” She went back to wetting his hair, moving out of reach behind him to get the back of his head.

He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Are you seriously pouting?” she asked, glancing at him in the reflection.

“No,” he sniffed.

He wasn’t.

He could sit here and not touch her just fine.

“Sure, Javi. Your hair is so nice.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s just so soft and thick.” Her attention was on it. She held the bottle and comb in one hand, sliding her fingers through the dry side. “I love how when it’s longer, it starts to curl, just gets all wavey.” The spray bottle sounded as she got more water on the brown strands, the comb’s teeth moving through them again. “I want our kids to have your hair,” she mused.

His heart sped up at her words, swallowing hard. “You want them to have my hair?” he asked softly.

Her gaze met his in the mirror.

“Your hair, your eyes, god, your nose—I would be delighted to have little miniatures of you running around.” She waved the comb in the air.

His eyes had gotten bigger, imagining children that were a mix of them both, and it had warmth spreading through his veins.

It always caught him off guard when she mentioned them having kids or her getting pregnant, still so fucking surprised she even wanted that with him. He’d gotten it in his head that he’d never be a father, had thought it for so long it’d become ingrained, feeling like a fact he’d done too much fucked up shit he didn’t deserve to be one.

In college, he was too focused on his goal of swimming professionally, kids hadn’t even crossed his mind aside from preventing them. He sure as fuck didn’t want Lorraine to be the mother of his children, and when she claimed to be pregnant, he’d been so young and scared, all he wanted to do was what was best for the baby, and if that meant marrying a woman he didn’t love, he was willing to do it for his unborn child, because they were all that mattered to him.

She’d burned him—she’d ruined his life and prospects of doing the thing he loved, and her lie put him off of wanting kids, not with knowing how manipulative someone could be, she’d made him not want to date either, instead focusing all his energy on building his career.

He had figured he’d do the wife and kids thing after he finished his stint in Colombia, imagining having an office job with the DEA in the States and time to dedicate to dating and actually getting to know someone before jumping into it.

Things in South America were too fucked up, though, and he’d become married to his job, it becoming his life and all he cared about, willing to do whatever was necessary to get it done. When he started doing the sketchy shit, that’s when the guilt began eating away at him, the voice in his head telling him what a piece of garbage he was. It constantly reminded him that he wasn’t a good man and didn’t deserve a loving wife like Steve. When Olivia came about, it taunted him about how he didn’t deserve the family either, and it fucking killed him because he believed it—he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting that kind of life with someone like him.

But here was Cielito, who didn’t give a single fuck about the things he’d done in his past and wanted their kids to look like him.

Him!

She loved him, all of him, and wanted to have a family with him, and he was so fucking happy, his throat was feeling tight, and his eyes were starting to water.

He had never been happier in his entire life, and a lot of joyful tears had been shed since that night they watched his mamá make tamales. He didn’t tell his girlfriend this, but the next day when he’d gone back to work at his father’s ranch, the first thing his dad asked was if he’d watched the VHS. Through tears, Javier answered he had, and that his mom and dad would one day get those grandkids they always wanted, both men hugging as they happily cried, having a celebratory beer together when the day was over.

“You needed the reminder, Mijo,” Chucho had said as they drank. “Your mamá and I have always been proud of you, and it’s true that you’re a good man with a big heart. Those things you did that you beat yourself up about, Mijo? Your heart had been in the right place ‘cause you cared so damn much, but just because you made mistakes doesn’t make you any less of a good person. You know, when I found the video a week back, and I watched it, it made me grin how much your mamá would’ve loved your Cielito—they would’ve gotten along like a house on fire.” Chucho chuckled. “And I think your mom would’ve been better at getting your butt in gear about finally giving us our nietos (grandchildren)” He’d clapped Javier on the shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, Javi, and can’t wait to spoil my nietos rotten—now hurry up and marry this girl.”

“I’m gonna propose on our first anniversary,” Javier had replied. “When I’m ready, can I have—”

“Your mother’s ring?” His dad cut him off, grinning. “Yes. She wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He knew, without a doubt, he was going to marry her. It was so set in stone in his brain that he sometimes thought of her as his wife instead of his girlfriend because she was so much more than just his girlfriend—she was his life partner, his other half, his media naranja (soulmate). They were going to spend their lives together, and he’d planned the proposal, knowing exactly how he would do it; they just had to wait.

“Oh god,” Cielito exclaimed, taking him from his thoughts. Her face had a look of realization, and her hands were paused in his hair.

“What?” he asked.

Their gazes met. “I’m gonna have to build up my immunity.”

He could see the expression on his face was confused. “What?”

“Your fucking eyes!” She pointed at them in the mirror with the comb. “Your sweet, puppy dog eyes that make me fucking weak. If our babies have them, it’s gonna be game over for me—they’ll be so fucking adorable, and they’ll get everything they want! How can I say no to those eyes?” she accused. “They’re so beautiful and expressive, and when they get all sad, I wanna do whatever I can to cheer you up. Our babies will have secret weapons they better only use for good, Javi!”

Every time she said ‘our babies,’ his heart skipped a beat.

“Can they use them for evil?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah.” She nodded. “I’m honestly so surprised you don’t use them against me—I wouldn’t be able to say no to the eyes, and our children cannot know my weakness.”

He smiled. “I really fucking like when you talk about our future kids.”

Her face matched his, going back to wetting his hair.

“I do, too.” She sighed happily. “They are gonna be so fucking cute.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re their mom,” he said, pointing at her in the mirror.

She glanced at him. “That was so fucking smooth—careful, you’ll make me fall even more in love with you.”

“Good.” He smiled as she moved to his other side to wet the last of his hair. His arm instinctively went around her waist, seeing her smiling in the mirror.

Once she was done, the spray bottle was set on the counter, and she moved to stand in front of him. There was a thoughtful expression on her face as she brushed the comb through his brown waves to part it where she wanted.

She was so close, his eyes stuck on her tits under his green t-shirt right in front of his eyes, calling to him—wanting to touch them—unable to stop himself when he leaned forward to press his face between the soft, pillowy mounds, his hands going behind her to grab her panty-covered ass.

“Javi!” she laughed. Her hand went into the hair at the back of his head, tugging on it to pull him away from her, his mouth turned up in a lazy smile. She was smirking as she looked at him. “I said no feeling up the hairdresser.”

“You’re only wearing my shirt and a pair of panties…”

“True. I’ve made it too tempting. I can change if it’s too much…”

He made a face. “Fuck no.” He smacked her ass, making her giggle. Squeezing the plump flesh one more time, he sat back, crossing his arms over his chest again. “Don’t change. I’ll keep my hands to myself if I can keep looking at you.”

Her eyebrow quirked. “Ten bucks says you grab my ass before I’m done cutting your hair.”

He scoffed. “I can go a fucking haircut without touching you—deal.”

“Sure, Javi…” she said, not sounding convinced.

“I can,” he grumbled.

A warm smile was on her perfect lips. “There’s that adorable grumpy look I love.” Her hands moved, the comb held in one as she cupped his cheeks, her upper body bending to kiss him. It was too quick, and he chased her lips as she pulled back, her mouth still curved up. “And now it’s melted into that happy smile—god, you’re cute.”

He hadn’t even realized he was smiling.

Swallowing hard, he didn’t know how to respond, watching as she went back to combing his hair, concentration etched on her brow. She turned to grab her shears, moving beside him, her fingers pulling some of his hair away from his head and cutting it, doing that over and over.

His attention was on her profile in the mirror, seeing how serious she was, her hands moving in practiced movements like she’d done this many times before.

He was drinking her in, his eyes moving along her body, unable to pinpoint what he loved most.

There was her nose that he loved, and when she did that cute thing, scrunching it up, that made him smile. Her chin, his mouth always finding it—her lips, too, needing to kiss her constantly in order to feel their softness. He loved the spot where her earlobe met her face, loved pressing his nose into it to smell her. That crinkle between her eyebrows when she was concentrating, that was showing right now; he found it adorable, loving it, too. She told him she wanted their kids to have his eyes, but he loved hers more, hoping to see tiny versions of them one day.

Javier softly sighed.

Something about looking at her made him feel good, and he loved it, ignoring how his chest fluttered as his gaze trailed over her body.

Earlier, she said he was getting sappy when they were talking, and right this second, he felt like the biggest fucking sap, thinking about how he loved all of her lines and curves, her laugh, her voice, and how she smelled.

He loved her.

He loved everything about her.

She was perfect to him and the only person in the entire fucking world he wanted to look at.

He could stare at her for hours and never tire of it, simply spend the time memorizing every little detail because he never wanted to forget.

She’d made her way around his head, the sound of her scissors snipping as she cut away his length and shaped his hair sounding in the room.

His fingers itched to touch her, her body so close, clenching his hands into tight fists.

There was a lot less hair on his head now, her standing behind him trimming the top.

He couldn’t believe how much had changed in such a short amount of time.

He’d met the most amazing woman he started dating, and now they were living together, planning their future of getting married and starting a family, and he was so unbelievably happy.

It was a stark contrast to how he’d been when he returned to Laredo almost a year and a half prior.

Resigning from the DEA and coming back to Texas, he was tired, feeling the exhaustion deep down in his bones that he had dedicated so much of his life to a worthless cause. Sure, they got Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel, but even with those wins, the war on drugs didn’t end, and it would never end—you cut off one head, and two more pop up even worse than the last in a neverending vicious cycle of violence and death.

He was done when he got home. All he wanted to do was lay low and live as quiet of a life as he could while he figured out what the fuck he was going to do with himself.

Amongst all of the pain he had from South America and the things he’d done, there were a lot of reminders around the ranch of how happy his parents had been, and it was like a stab to his heart seeing pictures or hearing his dad talk about his mom, knowing he’d never have something like that. They were the blueprint for what he wanted in a relationship—the love and happiness. He yearned so much for what they had, there were nights when sleep escaped him, and he cried that he’d never get it—he knew, for a fact, he wouldn’t find it in Laredo because he basically knew all of the women or knew of them, and there wasn’t a single one he could see himself having that with.

It was a big reason he’d kept to himself and hadn’t been seen with anyone—there was no future for him with any of them, and he was tired of meaningless, casual sex, so he turned down anyone who hit on him. He also didn’t want the town gossiping more than they already were, so he kept a low profile, wallowing in his self-pity that he’d be alone for the rest of his life.

Honestly, things were bleak before her, everything black and white, but she showed up bringing color and life, turning his entire world upside down for the better.

Meeting her and falling in love was the best thing to ever happen to him.

She was moving around him to even his hair out, and he had to admit he was impressed with her skill. It was turning out very well, but she was perfect, so, of course, she was good at it.

There was a soft smile on his lips. “Do you still cut your hair?” he asked her.

Her attention didn’t leave what she was doing, continuing to cut.

“Yeah,” she answered. “No point in paying someone for something I can do at home.”

“You’re good at it, and I love your hair.”

Standing in front of him, she smiled as she made sure the top looked good—combing through the little bit of length and snipping away any stray long hairs.

“Thanks. I read some books, and it took a lot of practice to get it down. Exhausted med students are great guinea pigs—they give absolutely zero fucks. Eventually, though, people started paying, which was nice.”

That reminded him about how he would pay her for the haircut, having promised food and a foot rub.

“Where do you want to get lunch?” he asked.

“Um—“ She thought it over for a second, continuing to trim “—tacos sound good.”

“El Mercadito?”

That was their favorite.

“I was actually thinking Taco Bell.”

He couldn’t help the look of disgust on his face. “You’re joking…”

He really fucking hoped she was.

Her hands stopped, and she leaned back to look down at him, her eyebrows creased as she asked, “Why would I joke about wanting Taco Bell?”

He took a deep breath. “Cielito,” he started. “We live on the border with Mexico… We can get authentic Mexican food. Fuck, we can cross the border and get food in Mexico if you want. I—“ He pointed at his chest. “—can make you better Mexican food than fucking Taco Bell,” he spat out the name. “That place isn’t real food—it’s shit in comparison.”

“Oh my god,” she laughed, throwing her head back. “I knew you’d have thoughts about Taco Bell.” She met his eyes again, her hands holding the scissors and comb moving to carefully cup his cheeks. “I was joking, babe. I would be fucking insane to choose Taco Bell over El Mercadito.” She leaned in to kiss him.

“Thank fuck,” he sighed in relief, the words said into her mouth.

She pulled back to look at him, her eyebrow raised. “If I was serious, would you have eaten it?” she asked.

He inhaled deeply, letting the air out slowly. “If it was what you really wanted?” he said, “Yeah.” Javier shrugged. “Of course, and I would’ve hated every fucking bite, but I’d eat it for you—I’d eat anything for you,” he answered truthfully.

Her face went soft. “That’s very sweet, but I don’t want you eating things you don’t like because of me.”

Frowning, he replied, “I’d rather you be happy…”

She crossed her arms. “Well, I’d rather you be happy, Javi.”

“I am happy eating what you want, even if it’s something I don’t like. I thought I’d hate that raw fish place you took me to in San Antonio, and ended up liking it.”

“The sushi?”

“Yeah.”

“You let me take you there when you figured you’d hate it?”

“Yeah?”

“Javier!” she exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say anything? We could’ve eaten somewhere else.”

He was frowning. Sighing, he replied, “You were excited about finding a place that sold it. I told you I’d never had it before, and I was willing to try it.”

“Yeah, but you thought you were going to hate it. God, you were probably so uncomfortable.”

“I wasn’t,” he reassured, rubbing her upper arms. “You showed me how to eat with the, uh, chopsticks and did a good job of ordering shit you knew I’d like. It was good. I enjoyed it. I like trying new things with you.” He smiled.

“Promise?” she asked.

“Yeah, Cielito.” His hands cradled her face, pulling her down to kiss him.

His plush lips were so soft on your own, melting into the tender kiss. He nuzzled his perfect nose against yours when he ended it, whispering, “I love you.” His thumbs stroked the apples of your cheeks.

“I love you, too,” you replied just as softly.

When you straightened to continue your work, his arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you to stand between his spread legs, shoving his face into your breasts as he hugged you tightly. Juggling the comb and scissors, you got them into one hand while your other rubbed through the wet, shortened hair at the back of his head.

“Just needed to touch me, babe?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah,” his muffled voice answered.

It had to be torture for him to sit in the chair and keep his hands to himself, so you let him hold you for as long as he needed, knowing how important physical touch was to him—it was one of his love languages or how he liked to be loved, his big three being affirmation, physical touch, and quality time.

He needed reassurance by putting the love you had for him into words, telling him you loved him, complimenting him, appreciating him, and encouraging him. He liked to feel your love, giving him kisses, hugs, holding his hand, cuddling, and of course, the most intimate of all, sex. It made him feel adored when you actively wanted to spend time with him and were always down to hang out—there were these little things you could do that meant a lot to him, and you made it a point to do them, wanting him to understand how much you loved him, like how he did the same for you and catered to your similar love languages, except acts of service being a big one for you; Actions spoke louder than words, and it made you feel loved when someone went out of their way to do something for you, and Javi did this often, like this morning when without even asking he made your coffee exactly how you liked it, and had it waiting on the table.

He sighed happily in your bosom, making you smile, his hands rubbing along your spine.

A minute later, he was sitting up in his chair, looking at you with a dreamy smile on his lips, still touching you.

“You get enough?” you asked. “Can I finish your hair?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

Pieces of it in various sizes clung to his broad shoulders and down his naked chest and back, knowing he’d need to shower it all off when you were done.

Those big hands of his trailed down lower, grabbing handfuls of your ass, causing you to giggle.

“You owe me ten bucks,” you said, poking him in a pec with your free hand.

A frown appeared on his face. “Fuck,” he groaned unhappily, looking down. His head popped up with an angry expression, “This is fucking entrapment,” he accused, pointing at you. “You cheated.”

You were taken aback, pressing your hand to your chest. “I cheated?” you asked. “How the fuck did I entrap you?”

“You kissed me.” He crossed his arms in front of him as if his answer cleared up everything.

“I kissed you? Sure, but you also kissed me and hugged me. It’s not my fault you decided to grab my ass, too. I didn’t entrap you. You did this yourself and now owe me ten dollars, ya filthy ass grabber.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’ll show you a filthy ass grabber,” he rasped, grabbing your hips and turning you to face the mirror, quickly pulling down your underwear. His hands squeezed the round flesh of your ass hard before slapping the sides to watch it jiggle, making you moan. “Fucking love your ass.” He gripped it again with his fingers, one coming off and his mouth taking its place.

“Javi,” you gasped when teeth sank into your skin, the pleasurable pain making your eyes close, him smoothing it over with a loud, sloppy kiss.

One of his hands pushed your shirt up, the other landing on your asscheek in a hard smack, him rubbing over the hurt to soothe it, placing one more kiss on your plump cheek, finally pulling up your panties.

“You can finish now,” he said, spinning you back around.

His sweatpants were slightly tented between his legs, your skin feeling heated, him smirking beneath his mustache.

“You’re a goddamn menace,” you said, breathing a little harder.

“I’m your menace.”

You smiled. “Yeah, you are, you fucking dork.”

The haircut was almost done. All you needed to do was his bangs, using the comb to pull the hair forward, sliding it between your fingers to measure it, and snipping away the excess, doing it repeatedly until it was done. From playing with his hair, you knew he had a cowlick on the left side of his head where his hair parted, and when you combed his top and bangs, they swooped over to the other side of his head from there, just like how it looked in his driver’s license picture.

The scissors and comb were held in one hand, your other pushing through his brown strands to get it just right.

“You’re so fucking hot it should be illegal,” you mused, leaning back to take him in.

It was a very put-together and professional look, it trimmed down on the sides, then the little bit of length on top combed over from his side part. There weren’t any sideburns for you to deal with since he shaved them pretty much every day, which looking at his face, he hadn’t the day before seeing a tiny amount of stubble on his face.

“It looks good?” he asked.

“I’d fuck you.”

He chuckled, a big smile appearing on his face that had his dimple showing. “Let me see in the mirror,” he said, his hands landing on your waist to get you to move, so you did, stepping out of his way and turning to grab the handheld mirror to give him, Javi taking it right away.

“It’s fucking perfect,” he marveled. “Looks better than how my barber did it.” He’d turned in his chair to look at the back of his head in the small mirror, pride swelling in your chest over the compliment.

“You really like it?” you asked.

He moved to face you. “I love it,” he answered, leaning forward to set the mirror on the counter, his hands pulling you into his lap, sitting sideways in it, his eyes on yours, his hand holding your cheek. “You did so fucking good—thank you.” His mouth met yours in a heated kiss that had you moaning when his tongue slipped between your lips, pushing your fingers into his shortened hair.

His arm was held tightly around your back as he licked into your mouth, stealing your breath. It was like he couldn’t wait any longer for this moment to have you in his arms and his lips on yours—the kiss was so thorough that when it finally slowed to a stop and he gave you one last peck, you felt dazed when his mouth left you, his eyes on yours.

“You wanna trim my mustache?” he asked.

You weren’t sure if you heard him correctly, asking in a confused tone, “What?”

“Do you want to trim my mustache?”

“Your mustache?”

“Yeah.” He smiled.

It took a second to respond with how shocked you were by his question. “You’d let me trim your mustache?” you clarified.

“Yeah?”

Reaching your hand to stroke his cheek, you replied, “It’s lovely you’d want me to, but that is too much pressure, babe. Your mustache is a work of art.” You rubbed your finger over it. “It’s a part of your identity—it’s who you are. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I fucked it up. It’s just so perfect. Nope. No way. I’m not touching it. That’s all you, Javi.”

He was smirking. “A work of art?” he questioned amusedly.

“Oh, like you don’t know how iconic the stache is,” you said, patting his cheek. “You haven’t gotten rid of it since college, and you make it look so good, Javi. It absolutely is a work of art.”

“It’d be hard for you to fuck it up—I trust you. You sure you don’t wanna give it a try?”

“Nope. I’ll watch, though, as usual.”

He liked it when you kept him company.

After a quick kiss, you were getting up and out of his lap, putting your stuff away while Javi went to get the broom and dust pan in the kitchen after brushing the pieces of hair off his body, it not doing much with the amount still sticking to him as he swept the floor.

Once he’d finished, and the dustpan was emptied and put back where it belonged, It was Javi’s turn to pull out his tools, getting them out of his drawer: shaving cream, razor, fine-toothed comb, and trimming scissors, lining them up neatly on the countertop.

He turned on the sink, and automatically you were walking over to get a small towel from the in-wall cabinet, returning to him, his head leaning over the sink as he splashed water on his face with his hands. He reached for your various skincare products on the counter, grabbing the cleanser, making you smile as he straightened to massage it into his skin and facial hair.

“Don’t forget your neck,” you said.

Glancing over at you, he smiled immediately doing as you said and making a show of getting his neck, too, his face now having a nice soapy layer on it.

After rinsing, he dried off his face with the towel you handed him, you taking it again when it was time for him to shave. Your hip rested against the countertop as you watched him lather his cheeks and chin in shaving cream, washing his hands quickly before grabbing his razor.

“I forgot to tell you—” you started. He had a look of concentration on his face, hearing the blade scrape through his stubble. “—I’m going out for drinks with Robyn tonight.” She was your best friend and co-worker.

“What time do you need me to drop you off?” he asked, his eyes not leaving his face.

Fuck.

You hadn’t anticipated that question.

Technically, you were going out for drinks with Robyn, just not in a usual place like a bar or restaurant. You had a surprise planned for Javi the next day when he got off work, and Robyn was your cover to sneak over to Chucho’s to start working on it. So, you girls were going to have a beer or two at the ranch with your boyfriend’s dad while you prepped.

“I’m not planning on drinking that much, so I’ll drive myself.”

He turned on the sink to wash the razor, him looking at you with a furrowed brow, half of his face shaved, leaving his mustache untouched.

“I’d feel better if I drove you and picked you up…” he said, turning off the water. “I’d worry about you being alone and driving home in the middle of the night.”

You let the air slowly leave your nose.

“Well,” you finally said, “I wasn’t expecting you to be so fucking chivalrous, which is unbelievably sweet, and I love you, but I’m gonna need you to trust me that I’ll be super safe, and I’ll call you on my cellphone when I get there, and when I leave.”

The understanding was clear in his eyes as he sighed, his attention moving back to the mirror.

“Of course, I trust you, Cielito,” he said, shaving again. “So, are there really drinks involved?”

“A couple of beers at most,” you answered.

“Uh-huh.” When he finished his face, he washed the razor, shaking off the water. His eyes met yours in the reflection, a little smile on his lips. “Are you doing something for me, baby?”

Keeping your expression as neutral as possible, you asked in return, “Why would you think that?”

He scoffed. “Because you tried to mislead me by saying you were going out for drinks with Robyn, so I’d assume the bar, but you won’t let me drive you, which means whatever you’re actually doing is a secret and something you don’t want me to find out about. I trust you—” He emphasized the sentence. “—I know for a fucking fact you’d never fuck me over, so this is you being adorable and trying to surprise me. You can keep your secret.” He winked at you. “Please call me when you get there and leave,” he said, looking too pleased with himself.

You sighed loudly. “You really just went all Detective Peña on me, and I’m both horny and frustrated that I couldn’t pull one over on you.”

He snorted, setting the razor aside as he turned on the facet, going through the motions of rinsing off his face, then taking the towel from you to thoroughly dry it.

His words were muffled as he replied, “You tried, though—cute attempt.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you don’t have to be patronizing.” You grumbled, playfully swatting his bare shoulder.

His hands paused, lowering them to turn his head and look at you, his face adorably pinked up from shaving and washing it.

“I’m not being patronizing,” he said with a furrowed brow. “You would’ve gotten me if you hadn’t turned down my ride. You should’ve just had me drive you to Robyn’s and had her take you both to the secret second location.” He shrugged.

Your eyes squinted. “Are you giving me pointers on how to fool you?”

“Yeah,” he answered, smiling. “I, uh, like when you surprise me, but I can’t turn off my fucking brain with shit like this.”

Nodding in understanding, you responded, “Has your cop senses tingling.”

“Spider-Man, right?”

“Yeah!” You grinned.

His face matched yours. “Fucking got one.”

“You did, and I’m very proud.”

Leaning in, he gave you a kiss, his eyes on yours when he broke it.

“You sure you don’t want to trim my mustache?” he asked softly. “You did so fucking well on my hair. I know you won’t have any issues.”

It warmed your heart that he thought so highly of you, chewing on your bottom lip as you decided. He trimmed it every Sunday, and you’ve watched him do it for many weeks now, having an idea of his technique.

“Fine,” you answered. “I kinda know what to do, but talk me through it.”

He gave you a beaming smile, moving in to kiss you quickly before tossing the towel in the hamper and suddenly moving into your space. His hands held your jaw as he kissed you hard, maneuvering you to back up into the bathroom counter, feeling it behind you. His palms trailed down your sides, going low until he got to your bare thighs, breaking the kiss as he lifted you with a grunt to sit on the countertop, him standing in the space between your open legs, kissing you again. He smelled like shaving cream, and your face wash, his mustache tickling your skin, sliding your hands into his short hair as he licked into your mouth.

No one kissed like Javi.

It was an experience—feeling the kiss on your lips and all the way down to your toes with how your body tingled, making your cunt throb for more. His hands always had to be on you, the weight of them burning the skin of your thighs, and there was no point in trying to think when he was taking up all of your senses—he became the only thing on your brain, making you forget about what you were doing, or were about to say, it was a shock you even remembered how to breathe.

Your skin was heated, feeling your pulse between your legs when it hit you, the thing you were supposed to be doing that surprisingly wasn’t Javi.

“I thought… I was trimming… your mustache…” you panted between kisses.

“In a second.” His words said into your mouth, filthily tangling his tongue with your own, making you moan and your fingers tighten in his hair.

Your lungs were aching when he gave you one last soft kiss to the lips and another to the tip of your nose.

He was smiling, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths. “You ready?” he asked.

“You kiss me like that and then expect me to be able to function?” you asked, sounding just as winded.

His head cocked to the side. “Yeah?”

“You’re so fucking ridiculous.” You shook your head, starting to catch your breath.

“You ready?” he asked again.

“Yeah, but if I fuck up, you only have yourself to blame.”

He chuckled, moving to grab the fine-toothed comb and trimming scissors, returning back to his spot between your spread thighs, handing them to you.

“I dried my mustache,” he said. “You’ll want to brush it down.”

His hands were soothingly rubbing along your thighs.

“Right,” you replied, raising the comb up, and sliding it down the short hairs, seeing some were on his lip that’d need to be cut.

“You start by shaping—trimming the bottom, going from the middle, out, the top, then edges.”

You waited for him to stop talking, taking a deep breath, you got to work, the scissors in your dominant hand as you did what he said, trimming all of the longer hairs until you were finished.

“Now, it’s the same way you used the comb to measure and trim the length when you were doing my hair,” he said, meaning you combed some hair to see how long it was on the comb, and trimmed it to the length you wanted. It was easy enough to do, going through the practiced movements and seeing how long he usually had it, cutting down to it.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he mumbled, trying not to move his lips.

You smiled. “After this part, it’s just going through it again to make sure I didn’t miss any strays?” you asked.

“Yeah.”

“Got it.”

You were concentrating, making sure it was nice, and even going over it once more until you were satisfied.

“I think it’s done,” you said, holding the comb and scissors in one hand close to your chest.

“Let me see,” he replied, moving to look around you in the mirror. “I fucking told you there was nothing to worry about—it’s perfect,” he said, leaning back to meet your eyes, smiling.

He did look fucking amazing with his freshly shaved face, trimmed mustache, and cut hair. God, it seemed insane this handsome man was in love with you.

“You really like it?” you asked. Pointing at his head with your free hand, you continued, “The hair, too?”

He moved closer, you setting the things you used onto the counter beside you as he slid his big hands along your arms.

“Yeah,” he answered, his gaze burning into yours. “I love ‘em. You did so well, you could open up your own hair salon.”

You huffed out a breath. “No, thank you. I’m happy with my job.”

Leaning in, the tip of his perfect nose slid down the bridge of your own as he said in a low rasp, “Well, you’re the only one allowed to do my hair from now on.”

“I am?” you whispered, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Yeah—I love you.” He ended the sentence with a kiss.

You pulled back immediately. “Nope, I got your hair on my lips, and I don’t want it in my mouth,” you said, wiping at it. “You need a shower.”

His shoulders slumped as he sighed, looking away. “Fucking covered in them.” He stared down at his naked chest.

He was covered in them—thousands of tiny brown slivers were all over his skin.

“Strip,” you ordered. “In the shower.” You pointed at it. “Then we can be horny.”

“Good idea,” Javi said, meeting your gaze, his hands rubbing up your outer thighs to slide his thumbs under your panties. “You gonna join me?”

Your palms moved up his sternum, ignoring the tiny pieces of hair as you asked, “You want me to?”

Smiling, he replied, “Always, and you know it.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you do.” He grabbed your ass, helping you off the counter to stand as he continued, “Let’s go—I’m dying to kiss you.”

“It’s been less than five minutes,” you laughed, him taking your hand and pulling you toward the shower.

“It’s been too fucking long.”

“You’re adorable,” you said as he opened the shower door and turned on the spray.

“I’m horny.” He was pushing his sweatpants down his legs, kicking them off, then facing you, his hands gripping the bottom of your shirt.

“You’re always horny,” you replied, raising your arms; he impatiently tugged it off, dropping it to the tiled floor haphazardly. His thumbs dipped into the waistband of your underwear while he leaned in to kiss your bare neck, making you gasp his name when he sucked hard on your pulse point.

“I’m always horny for you,” he murmured into your skin as he kissed your shoulder. Suddenly he was dropping into a crouch in front of you, pulling your panties down to your ankles. He hummed in the back of his throat, his voice lower when he said, “Such a good fucking girl keeping my come inside you all night—it’s leaking.”

You swallowed hard, knowing there was some pooled in your underwear.

“I told you I would,” you answered.

Two of his fingers slid through the wet lips of your pussy, moaning when he pushed them inside you to feel what was left of himself.

He looked up at you, his eyes so dark with want, slowly pumping his digits. “Gonna have to fill you up again, baby,” he husked. A shiver moved down your spine, having to keep a whine from escaping your throat. “Gotta keep you full of me.”

“Yes,” you breathed, nodding your head.

There was something about having him come inside you that made your brain purr happily. Was it a kink? Maybe, all you knew was you enjoyed being his stuffed little creampuff.

If you really thought about it, you loved the intimacy of Javi losing himself in your body and how you could feel him get bigger and harder as he came, knowing it was all because of you. There was another thing you discovered hidden in the deep recesses of your consciousness that only came to light recently, and it was the fact of there being a teeny, tiny risk of you getting pregnant that really riled you up.

Have you fantasized about him knocking you up while he was fucking you? Yes.

Does his saying all this stuff about keeping you full of his come add fuel to the fire? Also, yes.

Sex with Javi has always been incredible, but some kind of switch flipped that has made it even better, and you were as addicted to cream pies as he was.

Your agreement had him moving into action, his hand leaving you to help you step out of your underwear, Javi rising to his feet with a groan. His attention turned back to the shower, putting his hand in the water and seeming satisfied with the temperature since he tugged you into the stall with him.

There were many reasons you chose to buy this apartment, the oversized south-facing windows were a big plus for your plants, but the best feature was the bathroom that’d been upgraded with a large shower stall two people could easily stand in with a small bench on one side and the spacious bathtub that was excellent to soak in.

Steam was rising in the small space, noticing Javi’s dick was hard between his legs, him immediately getting under the spray to rinse himself off as you stood behind him, staring at his naked back, watching the muscles flex under his freckled skin while his hands moved to clean his upper body.

Quickly he was turning, his eyes closed, tilting his head back into the water as he pushed his fingers through his hair, washing it. Your eyes trailed over his front, seeing his chest and belly had reddened, his cock heavy and hard, jutting out from his hips, and you needed to touch him, pressing your palms over the heated skin of his pecs, feeling his heart beating under your hand.

It caught you off guard when his mouth came crashing down on yours, stifling the surprised sound in your throat, Javi kissing you like his life depended on it. He wrapped his arm around your back to pull you into him, the broad palm of his other hand cradling your face.

This was one of those kisses where you could feel deep down how much he wanted you—how much he needed you. It was all-consuming, teeth, tongues, and lips as he kissed the breath from your lungs.

His mouth didn’t leave yours as he maneuvered you to take his place under the showerhead, the hot spray cascading down your back.

“It’s nice and hot, just how I like it,” you said when you broke apart, him kissing along your jaw.

His head moved to look you in the eyes, his hair wetly slicked back while his hand left your face.

“Baby, there’s hot—” He held his hand flat in between your faces. “—and then there’s how you like it—” He raised his hand above your head. “—where it feels like the water is being pumped straight from the fiery pits of hell.”

“It feels nice!” you laughed. “And you’ve gotten used to it. You never complain anymore.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I’ve gotten used to being cooked alive because my wi—girlfriend—” Your eyes widened at his almost slip up. “—loves it so fucking much.”

Did he think of you as his wife? Was he going to propose soon? You knew the idea was to get married at some point. Did he already have a plan? You were excited by the prospect, happiness had your skin feeling like it was vibrating, knowing it had nothing to do with the water falling down your back, and you couldn’t keep the cheek-splitting grin off your face.

“Javi?” Your hands skated up his chest to loop your arms around his neck.

“Yes, Cielito?”

“Do you think of me as your wife…?”

Blush appeared on his cheeks as his eyes darted away, clearing his throat. “Uh, kind of? You’re more than just my girlfriend… I, uh, think wife is better…?” He met your gaze. “I am going to marry you and have everything figured out.” Javi sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “But, I’m trying to be romantic and wait…”

Your heart was hammering in your chest that he did have a plan and if he was waiting for something in particular…

“You waiting for our anniversary to ask me to be Mrs. Javier Peña, babe?”

His hand fell, revealing rounded eyes. “Am I that fucking obvious?”

It was taking everything in you not to jump up and down in excitement that he was going to propose in less than a year. Did he have a ring? Where was he going to do it? Was he going to take you away somewhere? Your mind was racing with the possibilities, aware that however he chose to do it would be perfect.

You smiled as you answered, “You’re just very sweet and romantic, so it makes sense, and I can’t wait.” You leaned in to kiss him, saying into his mouth, “Now, your wife is very turned on by this conversation, and I’d like my husband to fuck me.”

He loudly groaned, his arm on your back pulling you closer to him, the other moving down to squeeze your ass, Javi kissing you harder.

His lips found your chin, nibbling it with his teeth, followed by kissing a wet streak across your jaw and down your neck, pushing your fingers into the hair at the back of his head when he nipped at your pulse.

Your body was thrumming with energy, arousal coating the insides of your thighs, wanting him inside you so badly to fill the needy ache.

“Wanna eat my wife’s pussy.” His words were muffled into your collarbone, sending a thrill through you.

“Yes,” you moaned.

With a groan, he was getting down onto his knees on the shower floor, pulling you closer to him, his big hand grabbing your thigh to set up on his shoulder, while the other had a firm grip on your ass to keep you steady.

Your head fell back as he dove in, licking a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, pulling it between his lips and sucking—sparks of pleasure were lighting up in your core, needing to put your fingers in his hair for something to hold onto.

The water was somewhat muted with it hitting your spine, so you could hear Javi between your legs, groaning as his tongue licked up every bit of your arousal he could taste on the lips of your sex and between your folds. He made you moan when he shoved the wet muscle inside you, greedily licking up the mix of his come and your juices.

“Oh, fuck, Javi,” you gasped. “It’s so good—it feels so good.”

Heat was building in your center, growing rapidly while he worked you over, feeling his tongue dragging along your inner walls to get every last drop and licking back through your slit when he’d gotten his fill.

Javier knew how to use his mouth, be it for saying romantic things, filthy things, or him just wanting you to see god. He put it to good use, especially right now, with his lips wrapped around your engorged clit, pushing you closer to your release.

He pressed two thick fingers inside you, moaning at the slight stretch, and you were so close, the muscles in your belly beginning to tighten, your cunt starting to spasm. You knew what was about to come, yet, you still weren’t prepared for him to crook his digits and rub something so divine it had your vision whiting out, gasping his name.

“You gonna come for me?” The question was asked into your pussy, punctuating it by sucking your bundle of nerves hard, his fingers sliding into that heavenly spot, over and over, working you up until you hit your breaking pointing, shattering with a cry of his name as you came, ecstasy flowing through your veins.

His fingers kept moving to extend your high, Javi’s mouth coming off you to say in a rough voice, “Good girl—you did so good for me.”

You were thankful he kept you standing, pretty sure you would’ve crumbled to the ground if he hadn’t. Panting breaths were leaving your mouth, your thoughts muddled in a pleasurable haze.

He wasn’t going to last.

They’d talked about their future kids, and now all he could think about was fucking a baby into her and add in her calling him her husband, he fucking knew once he got his dick inside her, it was going to be embarrassingly quick—which was why, even though his cock was painfully throbbing between his legs, he needed to make her come on his tongue to guarantee he satisfied her.

Her pussy had finally stopped fluttering around his fingers, licking her taste off his lips as he rose to stand, groaning at the ache in his knees. She had her eyes closed, her face relaxed, looking all blissed out, and it made him smile seeing her like that, still able to smell her on his mustache.

Wrapping an arm around her, he turned to press her back into the wall, the hotter than hell water hitting his side, wondering in the back of his mind how fucking big their water heater was—tenderly he kissed her, feeling her reciprocate, her hands landing in his wet hair, gripping it in her fingers.

The kiss slowed to him pecking her lips, each of her cheeks, and the tip of her nose while she smiled.

“You good, Cielito?” he asked, nuzzling her nose with his.

“I’m fucking amazing,” she answered.

“Yeah?” he rasped. “You still want your husband to fuck you?”

Just saying it had his heart swelling and his cock twitching between them, Javier pressing it into her belly, letting her feel him.

“God, yes,” she moaned. “I want my husband to fuck me and fill me up.”

A sharp spike of pleasure cut through him like a knife, Javier groaning.

This would end before it even started if she kept talking like that.

He moved quickly, pulling her leg up on his hip to give him room to work.

“My wife gets whatever the fuck she wants,” he said.

He spat on his fingers, spreading it over her dripping hole, spitting on them again to coat his dick, gasping at how good the friction felt.

There was no way he could wait any longer, pushing the tip through her folds and notching at her entrance. His mouth fell open as he pressed in, her warmth so inviting, sliding home in one thrust, her walls tightly massaging his cock.

Fuck, she felt so good—nothing was better than this.

He fit so perfectly, he thought he was meant for her.

Heat pulsed in his gut, threatening to explode, making him swallow thickly with sweat already beading on his brow.

He sounded wrecked when he told her, “I’m sorry, baby—I’m not gonna last.”

Her eyes opened, smiling warmly at him, moving her hands to rub over his back, his own clutched on her thigh and hip.

“Don’t be sorry,” she reassured. “I want you to come—I want you to fuck it deep inside me. Please, Javi, let me have it.”

He could see in her eyes she meant it. Javier groaned, “Fuck.” He crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her as he started moving, thrusting into her hard and fast.

His fingers were digging into her skin, feeling her all wet and warm, taking him so well, moving in and out of her smoothly with the slap of his hips echoing in the stall.

He was grunting, Cielito’s hands tightly gripping his ass, her moaning into his mouth as he kissed her—every slick slide of his cock was pushing him closer and closer, feeling the heat growing hotter and hotter in his gut.

The things she said were playing over and over in his head—her calling him her husband, asking him to fill her up and fuck it deep inside her. He was imagining her asking in that same begging tone to put a baby in her, have him as her husband fuck one into her, the thought making a pained groan pull from his throat.

His face moved to the crook of her neck, panting hot breaths against her skin.

“Give it to me, Javi,” she whined. “I want it.”

The words shot straight to his dick, speeding up to pound into her, his belly knotting up so tight that Javier lost his rhythm.

“Gonna come,” he said through his teeth.

His balls tightened up, feeling his cock thicken, pushing into her deep one last time as he came with her name on his lips—the wet gush of his spend filled her inner depths, rolling his hips with a whispery hiss to fuck it deeper, wanting to get his come as deep as possible inside her.

The overstimulation became too much, and he came to a stop, pleasure rolling through his body and relaxing him to the point he slumped against her.

His eyes were closed, humming happily when her fingers started stroking through his hair, kissing his bare shoulder and cheek.

Javier was in heaven—he was always in heaven with her.

Fuck, he loved her.

He loved her more than life itself.

He loved her more than anything.

It took a lot of energy to move his head.

“Por favor bésame, mi amor (Please kiss me, my love).” It came out slightly slurred, Javier puckering his lips.

“You’re so polite—is this a life or death situation again?”

“No.” He shook his head. Opening his eyes, he looked at her as he tried to put how he felt into words, saying what came to mind slowly, hoping she’d understand, “Estoy enamorado de ti (I’m in love with you)—” Her face softened, smiling. “Y te amo más todos los días (And I love you more every day). Seré solo tuyo hasta el final de los tiempos e incluso cuando mi corazón deje de latir, seguiré amándote (I will be only yours until the end of time, and even when my heart stops beating, I will still love you).” Javier sighed wistfully. “Me enamoro mil veces al día, y cada vez, es contigo (I fall in love one thousand times a day, and every time, it’s with you). Tus besos se sienten como un rayo de sol después de que ha llovido, devolviéndome la vida—besarte es como ver las estrellas y soy codicioso (Your kisses are like a ray of sunshine after it’s rained, bringing me back to life—kissing you is like seeing the stars, and I’m greedy). Quiero todos tus besos (I want all of your kisses). Necesito todos tus besos (I need all of your kisses). Siempre necesito todo de ti (I always need all of you). ¿Por favor, me puedes dar un beso (Please, can you give me a kiss)?” Her eyes had squinted, trying to put together what he said. “Need me to translate?” he asked.

“I think I got it?” she answered. “Which, dear god, Javier, this is so romantic. I’m pretty sure you said you’re in love with me and love me more every day. You’ll only be mine until the end of time and even when your heart stops, you’ll still love me—“

“Deje de latir,” he corrected, smiling. “Stops beating—latir means to beat.”

“Oh! Cuando mi corazón deje de latir, seguiré amándote—when my heart stops beating, I will still love you.”

“Sí!” He kissed her nose.

“Yay! And same.” She grinned. “Then it was, uh, you fall in love a thousand times a day and every time it’s with me. Like, Javi, just give me the ring, I’m gonna say yes.”

His heart sped up.

“Todavía no… (Not yet),” he replied. “Quiero que sea perfecto (I want it to be perfect).”

She pouted and it was a struggle not to kiss her.

“Fine. My favorite part was when you said my kisses feel like a ray of sunshine after it’s rained and kissing me is like seeing the stars.”

“¿Y me hace (And it makes me)?”

“Codicioso,” she giggled. “Greedy.”

“Es cierto (It’s true).” He kissed her cheek.

“¿Estás seguro de que no quieres ponerme un, uh— (Are you sure you don’t want to put a—)” She paused thinking of the word. “Oh! Anillo en el dedo (Ring on my finger)?” she asked, holding up her left hand.

“Te amo, pero todavía no (I love you, but not yet). Sé paciente (Be patient).” He pressed his lips to her other cheek in a smacking kiss.

“God, okay, but you keep saying these things…” He gave her a look, and she sighed. “I’ll stop asking. Now where was I?”

“Quiero todos tus besos (I want all of your kisses)...”

“Right, you want and need all of my kisses.”

“Claro (Of course),” he said, nodding.

“You’re so fucking adorable. Finally, you said you always need all of me.”

“Sí, verdad (Yes, it’s true). ¿Cuál era mi pregunta (What was my question)?”

“¿Por favor, me puedes dar un beso (Please, can you give me a kiss)?”

“¿Y me puedes dar un beso, por favor (And can you give me a kiss, please)?”

“No sé (I don’t know)…” She said it slowly and he frowned. “¿Cómo esta mi español (How is my Spanish)?”

He was honestly very proud of how well she’d been learning, grinning as he said, “¡Perfecto! Fue mejor que ayer (Perfect! It was better than yesterday) Ahora bésame, por favor (Now kiss me, please).” He puckered his lips again, her laughing.

She cupped his cheeks as she finally kissed him, Javier feeling like he was melting into her, loving how her mouth felt on his.

It was languid, soft, and he was happy.

When it ended, and he looked at her, his eyes were bigger.

“¿Mi amor, me puedes lavar el pelo, por favor (My love, can you wash my hair, please)?”

She started giggling.

“Not the eyes! My weakness.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Of course, I’ll wash your hair, babe.” She put her hand in the water. “It’s gonna be a cold shower, but that question doesn’t require the use of your secret weapons.”

He wasn’t even paying attention to the shower’s temperature he was so focused on her.

“Needed to make sure you said yes.” He smiled.

“I gotta build up my immunity somehow.” She shrugged.

“Because of our future kids?”

She nodded. “Sí, uh, debido a nuestros muy adorables futuros bebés (Yes, because of our very adorable future babies).”

He was pretty sure he might burst from the happiness inside him.

Kissing her, he murmured into her lips, “I really fucking love you.”

“I really fucking love you, too, my future husband.”

He smiled into the kiss.

He was her future husband, and she’ll be his wife, and they’ll live happily ever after with their future kids, like one of those fucking fairytale Disney movies she’d watched with him.

Jesus Christ, he had become such a fucking sap.

Steve could never know.

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[zombiekillerbiceps]

The Hunt

Note: Requested by anon. Sorry this took a bit to get out! I try to proofread thoroughly. I think I got a little off the rails, I hope you like it anyways! This awakened Something in me and I do not wanna talk about it (I am... Such a switch wow)

Content: 2.5k words, 18+, NSFW, cnc with enthusiastic consent, LeonxReader, ambiguous era, primal / prey play, biting, slapping (hard), choking, pain play, kidnapping roleplay, insults (slut), cute ending

You pushed off from the tall birch you were resting against, brushing the dust and grease from trail mix off your hands. It was hot out, but the breeze felt cool on your sweat.

"About ready to head out?" You asked.

Leon nodded, throwing back one final handful of trail mix, and stood from his shaded resting spot.

It was the weekend, which meant going hiking with your boyfriend. You'd gotten pretty good at it over the past few weeks! Good enough that you felt confident on the more difficult trails that were so remote it was almost impossible to find the trail sometimes.

"You ever think it's weird how like no one else uses these trails?" You asked. You adjusted your bag as you started to move out.

"No," Leon replied. "We're pretty far out. We used to use these trails for wilderness training, they have to be off the beaten path."

You looked at Leon sideways, mischievously.

"What?"

"So... No one else uses these trails?"

He arched an eyebrow, not quite knowing what you were getting at but knowing you well enough to see you were up to something. You turned towards him, stopping in front of him. Your hands messed with the hem of his t-shirt. A slight blush rose to your cheeks.

Oh.

"No, it's just us," his hands came down to your waist and pulled you closer to him. His body was hot and he smelled like sweat, but his scent kinda turned you on. "You have something in mind?"

You hesitated. He was more than indulgent with your fantasies, but this one might be too far. You debated just dropping it.

"Not like you to get all shy," he teased. You rolled your eyes, but he was right. Besides, you trusted him. You were comfortable with him.

"I was thinking..." Heat rose up your neck, "Maybe we could come back here at night. And maybe you could chase me around a little?"

"Oh, chase you around a little." He smirked playfully, swaying your hips side to side. "And how do I get you out here, all alone, to chase you down?"

-----

The night was almost unbearably muggy. The August heat laid down on you with it's full weight, crushing the air from your lungs. The sheets were kicked down to the bottom of the bed. You wore nothing but bikini-style underwear and a thin, silk camisole, and your body was still slick with sweat. The window was open and the fan was on but nothing challenged the summer heat wave.

You couldn't sleep. Not really. You were passing in and out of consciousness in a hot, confusing haze, not ever sure when you were awake, when you were dreaming, and when you were in that weird space between.

When you felt hands on your legs, you were pretty sure you were dreaming. They caressed up your calves to the sensitive backside of your thighs. Another hand tucking the hair out of your face, gently following the curve of your neck, then under and around your shoulders.

You were lifted out of bed by strong arms and a familiar smell. Your eyes started to flutter open.

"Shh, shh. It's easier for both of us if you just rest now." You nodded in agreement, plunging back down into sleep.

A lukewarm breeze on your back stirred you. The sound of a car door opening, then the familiar smell of a pine car freshener. You were being placed in the back seat.

"Baby?" You asked, barely able to muster your voice. You tried to force your eyes open.

Leon's form leaned over you in the dark. A devilish look darkened his features. Then he was gone from you, and you were asleep once more.

You snapped awake when the car bounced across some deep pot hole. Where were you? How did you get here? The car rolled to a stop as you sat up, your heavy, restless sleep weighing down your limbs.

"Oh, good. I was worried you'd miss the best part."

"The best part?" You asked, trying to take in your surroundings.

Thick forest surrounded the car on either side. A familiar, faded trail sign loomed over the driver's side. You were confused, and the low timber of Leon's voice was scaring you a little. He was getting out of the car and coming round to the other side when you put it together.

He opened the back door, and then his rough hands hauled you out of the seat like you weighed nothing. Your bare feet met rough gravel with sharp discomfort.

"The best part," Leon said. Then he let you go. You stumbled into the gravel, your legs not quite ready to take your weight. You hit the gravel hard, small rocks biting into the fat of your thighs and your palms.

He didn't even look at you. He wore a grey t-shirt that even in the dark accentuated his muscles. The sleeves were tight around his biceps. It was tucked into black cargo pants, in turn tucked into those big, black work boots of his. He pulled out a watch from one of his pockets.

"Three minutes," he told you, his voice without a hint of levity. It was almost bored, even.

You didn't move, suddenly shivering in the summer heat. You watched him roll his eyes. His hand found the back of your head and you gasped when he pulled you up to him by the hair. Your hands on his forearms helped. You could feel his muscles there and suddenly felt like he could throw you through a concrete wall if he felt like it.

You remembered Leon was dangerous. He was capable of hurting you, if he wanted. His eyes met yours, his expression cold.

"Better start running," he said. "My favourite part's no fun if you don't put up a fight."

Your stomach dropped, a jolt of excitement rippling through you as you caught his meaning. He tilted his head, waiting for your response. You nodded, biting the corners of your cheeks to keep from smiling.

Then he was throwing you forward. It felt cruel, like he didn't care if you ate gravel again. You stumbled, but you didn't fall this time, using the momentum to propel yourself into the woods.

You could hear the crunch of gravel beneath his boots as he made his way after you, as unhurried as if he were taking a stroll in the park.

Your bare feet met the soft dirt at the start of the trail. It was pitch in the woods and you could hardly see anything in front of you, relying entirely on muscle memory. Broken branches scraped against your ankles.

You splashed through the creek you usually jumped over, the ice cold water shocking you a bit.

"I thought you knew the trail better than that," Leon mocked almost lazily from somewhere behind you. Shit.

Then you were on solid ground again. Spongy, mossy earth bounced beneath your feet. You kept running until your lungs hurt. Trees scratched up your arms and legs, dirt and mud splattered across your limbs. You lost track of time, not sure how long you'd been running for.

Your eyes were better adjusted to the dark when you finally slowed to a stop. Not because you wanted to, your legs just couldn't run anymore. You tried to get a sense of your surroundings.

You didn't recognize anything. Everything looks different in the dark.

Were you lost? Did you go off the trail?

Something rustled in the bushes. Your heart pounded, your blood rushed in your ears. You tried to quiet your breathing but your lungs fought for air. The forest was quiet again.

Shit, you were so fucking lost.

You wanted so badly to sit and rest, but you forced yourself forward. The path got more difficult here. You had to use the trees and rocks around you to navigate rough terrain.

The bushes rustled again, this time ahead of you.

You froze to your spot. An animal? Your pursuer?

Then he appeared out of the darkness ahead of you like a tiger emerging from water. It was a smooth transition, his movements liquid and purposeful. It was like he belonged to these woods more than the world outside. How did he get ahead of you?

Twigs snapped beneath his boots as he made a steady pace towards you. He rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck as he strolled confidently forward.

You turned to run, sprinting into the woods on shaking, tired legs. A manic laugh almost escaped you as the adrenaline pooled again in your body. Your higher brain, the part that knew this was a game, was having fun. But that deeper core of your being? The part responsible for fight or flight? That part was terrified.

Leon let you get a few paces ahead before sprinting after you. He caught up to you easily, his body crashing into yours, barely breathing quicker while you panted against him. His arms were around your hips, pinning you against his body. His breath was hot in your ear. You squirmed, trying to break free of his grasp.

"Fuck!" You yelled, part defiance and part animal terror.

"Shh, shh, shh," he pet your hair out of your face, "You made it farther than I expected. But, you're mine now."

"Fuck you," you kicked at his legs, adrenaline moving you harder than you meant to. Your heel found a soft part of his inner thigh. He released you with a hiss.

"Oh, shit," you turned to face him, already about to apologize, but froze at the expression on his face. He laughed, but it was a joyless sound. Then a hand was coming down across your cheek, hard enough to stagger you.

Your ear rang, a heavy stinging sensation burned that side of your face. Heat pooled between your legs. The pain thrilled you.

Then his hands were on either side of your face. He was gentle, tilting your jaw towards him to examine the damage.

"I'm okay," you insist, your voice soft. Your hand drifts to where you kicked him in the leg. He nods wordlessly, reassuringly. When your eyes meet his again, they're a challenge. "You hit like a bitch."

He struck you again, hard enough to draw a sound from you somewhere between a wince and a whimper.

"Don't fucking test me," he growled.

One hand was grabbing you by the hair again, another wrapping around to grab your throat. He squeezed. That sweet, floating feeling. Then release, the blood rushing back.

He did it again, longer, until you felt weightless, until your vision started to blur. Then release, and you crashed down into your body.

He wrestled you down onto the ground. Your fingers dug into his forearms leaving hot, red scratches. You kicked at him, but he was expecting it this time. You really, really tried to fight him off. You put everything you had into it, animalistic protests falling on deaf ears as he was simply stronger than you. He shoved your face into the damp earth.

"Fuck you," you groaned, your breath stirring the dirt in front of your lips.

You heard his belt, then his zipper. He shifted his body against you and you could hear the shift in fabric as he pulled his pants down. You struggled against him the entire time, and he barely even acknowledged you. Fuck, it turned you on to see how easily he could overpower you. One handed, even.

He pulled your hips up to his, spreading your legs apart with his knee. He leaned over you.

"Do you have any fucking idea," he muttered, his voice fanning a building flame between your legs, "how much restraint it takes to not fucking hurt you?"

His words alone drew a whimper from you. Instinctually, you backed your hips against him, inviting him. You pressed your ass against his cock, feeling it hard and warm. His breath shuddered.

"Can't believe you like this," he muttered, lining himself up with your cunt. "What kind of slut likes being forced to take my cock face down in the dirt?"

"Your slut," you told him.

You weren't even sure when he got your underwear off, but he found your cunt dripping wet. Of course he did.

"Yeah, my fucking slut."

He hesitated before pushing it in.

"Needta hear you say it, baby."

You pushed yourself up against him, but he hovered just out of reach.

"Tsk. Not good enough," he scolded.

"Please," you gave in. "Please fuck me into the dirt l-"

You didn't get to finish your sentence. His cock pushed into you in one motion, a loud, gasping moan escaping you. A low growl escaped him, sending a thrill down your spine.

He pulled back, then pushed into you again. Hard. His hands squeezed onto your hips beyond bruising. Fuck, you were sure he could break the bone if he wanted to.

He fucked you hard, both of you a sweating, painting mess. The sounds of his cock slamming into your soaked pussy rang out into the forest, your moans unbridled by fear of bothering the neighbours.

"Fuck, fuck! Leon, that's too much," you managed through your moans, pain blooming across your body.

"You can take it," he told you, not even slowing.

His teeth sunk into your shoulder, electricity running through your body. He bit into you like a rabid dog, his breath quick and heavy on your skin.

Your legs were shaking against him. The sounds you made were wild, a flurry of unbridled moans and curses. Leon didn't speak so much as he growled; rough, guttural. A feral animal lost in how good fucking you felt.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm- Leon, fuck, I'm so..."

He released his bite on you, growling encouragement in your ear. You teetered on the edge for what felt like eternity, your high just building, and building, and building.

His hand buried into your hair again, pulling your face from the dirt. He used your hair to pull you against him, sharp pain rocketing down your back.

It was enough to tip you over the edge. You came hard, shaking and nearly crying with how fucking good it felt.

Three hard thrusts and Leon was cumming with you, unable to hold back. The two of you gasped for air.

Leon pulled out of you and leaned back on his ankles. He gathered you up against him and you noted how he shook against you.

"Hey," he said, softly, burying his face into your hair.

"Hi," you greeted. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just... Worried I hurt you. I hit you pretty hard."

"You did," you said honestly. "It's a good thing I like that sort of stuff."

He laughed into your skin, relaxing. He held you for a while, until the two of you got too stiff to sit like that anymore.

He eventually stood and dressed, then helped you up on shaking legs. He offered his shoulder to steady you while you slipped your underwear on over your legs.

"I brought some clothes for you in the car," he said. You beamed up at him.

"You really are so sweet."

He helped you find your way out of the woods and back to the car. You dressed, and then relaxed in the passenger seat, the two of you settling back into normalcy.

"Hey," you finally said. "Do you wanna get some food?"

"That's the best thing you've ever said to me," he grinned and started the engine.

[kisskiss-slashslash]

Hey, i recently had an episode of trauma coming back (i was a victim of child SA) and i just couldnt do anything; i couldnt speak.

Could you mabye write something about the boys with a s/o whos a victim

Sorry you went through that, friend, and that I took so long to answer this. Many hugs from this internet stranger.

Slashers with an S/O who was a victim of SA

Jason Voorhees

Jason doesn't really question why you seem to hate the horny teenagers just as much as he does. In his mind, that's just the stance any decent person should have. But then, one time, while you two pick off the campers one by one again, you walk in on two of them doing the deed and it takes you right back to what happened to you. You drop your weapon, and, alerted by the sound, Jason rushes to your side, kills both the campers and then sits with you, your head leaned against his shoulder, until you feel better again. After that, he will do the killing alone again, and just let you pick off anyone who is currently trying to escape.

Vincent Sinclair

He knows a thing or two about trauma, just not of the sexual kind. Luckily, there is not much in Ambrose that could directly trigger you... until you stumble over Bo's stash of porn magazines, some including certain fetishes and kinds of roleplay. You quickly put the magazines back to where you found them and flee into the basement, where you literally run into Vincent, causing both of you to topple and fall onto the waxy floor. He immediately knows that something upset you, and takes you to his workshop, puts on some calming music and cuddles with you and Jonesy. Then he will give Bo a strict signing to about having his magazines laying around.

Freddy Krueger

Probably the worst significant other for someone with that kind of trauma, considering he was the cause for that kind of trauma for some people too (like Lori). He will try to make light of it. If you tell him that something makes you uncomfortable, he will do it on purpose, to "desensitize you" (or at least that's what he claims).

Basically this guy is an asshole. But we already knew that, didn't we. The best thing that could be said about his way of handling your trauma is that he offers to pay your abuser a visit and make them regret what they did.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms will yell and rage and pout when you don't feel like being touched at the moment, during those days when the memory is particularly present and raw for you. But with time, you might be able to get him to understand that what happened left scars, just like the fire his parents started when he was a child.

He asks you to tell him what happened. And if you do, he will listen, and tell you "That won't happen again. I'm here now. Nobody gets past me."

Bubba Sawyer

Chop Top and Nubbins tend to make some off-color jokes at your expense, but once you explained your trauma to Bubba, he immediately stops them when he sees that they are starting to hit too close to home. The two middle brothers absolutely aren't used to their youngest brother telling them off or standing up to them at all, so it leaves them sufficiently stunned and actually makes them understand how serious Bubba is about protecting your mental health. As an apology of sorts, they offer to sniff out where your abuser is hiding and make an example of him.

[princessfroslass]

Angel Dust has a clear validation problem.

I had been thinking about this ever since episode 2 and episode 6 all but segmented this onto my subconscious.

Angel clearly doesn't care whenever anyone slut shames or just overall insult him- he lives to get a rise out of people. Hell, Hazbin Hotel's VERY FIRST SCENE on the Pilot was him going full "oh yeah slut, very creative." And going after Travis life- but not on a insecure way, he very clearly didn't care. Fast forward to the actual show and it's more of the same- he doesn't care whenever Vaggie or Husk or anyone else threaten him because he enjoys the chaos and it's open about the fact he is only there to no pay rent. He just doesn't care about what others think of him.

Except.... When he does.

You see it's interesting because back on that origin comic (that I don't even know if it's canon anymore but for a characterization point I'll take it.) when Charlie states they need a quest and even pays him for his time (Angel was working on the street when they meet him) and she goes full "this is an investment, on you." He leaves the limo all "oh...ok....sure...." Clearly moved or touched by her faith in him, even though he still thinks it's misguided trust.

Back to episode 2, it's pretty much the anthesis of this. For once, someone else seems interested on changing his ways and THAT obviously excites Charlie, who referred to Sir Pen as "the hotel's first real quest" now to be fair with her, Angel is very vocal about how he thinks the Hotel is BS and hadn't show any intention to change his ways soon- but y'know that still must stings like it hasn't even been a week and this girl that is all sunshine and rainbows already gave up on him lmao but it gets even worse- on the roleplay thing, look at the fucking role he is giving- A CRACKHEAD- like he had to pause before saying that shit- and to rub salt on the wound, Sor Pen performance ends with the "no sex before marriage!" Line. Like out of all sins one could commit- you pick Addiction to Drugs (more specifically CRACK) and Sex. Yo girl what the fuck- and ofc, only Sir Pen gets congratulated, because Angel was critical of the whole thing and the former was full on enthusiastic about it- the last shot before the bedroom scene we get us Angel staring at Charlie validating Sir Pen's efforts and how he is going to be redeemed so fast before Angel sadly goes upstairs.

Now the room scene..... Yikes. The fact that the roleplay was all and on about the drugs thing and how the last voicemail/Angel's imagination? Things we heard it's "Addict trash like you doesn't change"... Hahaha all the yikes with that fucking roleplay. So yeah it's very fucking clear from the get go Angel has....issues. Hell even after "It starts with Sorry" when everyone goes back to sleep he doesn't looks happy, just resigned lmao

(Which it's funny because on the very next episode he saves Sir Pen from the war thing going down but I digress)

Now episode 4- oh MAN where do I even start. Now remember how in the first paragraph I mentioned how Angel disses Travis but like, in a confident way? Not on the way someone affected would react? Well this ep is everything but that lmao "I don't give a shit about what a drunk ass bartender thinks of me" reeks of insecurity by the tone alone I am sorry. Notice how he looks very taken aback when Husk calls his act out before he doubles down and goes full "I am actor dumbass" bit. Man's defenses were penetrated in a way it hasn't before and he needed a moment to put more bs out of his ass because God forbid someone in this Hotel knows how horrible his life is and how much he hates himself- and then his advances were thoroughly rejected for good ("It's never gonna work on me") and he absolutely losses it. Not being able to compute that someone that clearly stared at him long enough to read him, doesn't want to fuck him. Disgusts from people that barely knows him he can take- being told to his face it's not working, he can't. And it's not even because he particularly want to fuck anyone there- that is how he sees his own worth. He makes Val money, everyone around wants to take him, his services are apparently FAR from cheap ("you know how much I am WORTH?!") and he had based his whole self worth around it- no matter how many times he gets taken advantage of on a random club on 3am or if is his own fucking abuser (he literally only opened Val's voicemails after the whole ep2 fiasco) people either despises him because of his overt sexuality or want to use him for it (there is also the middle road where his worse habits are enabled and that makes him 'fun' company- but I'll be there in a min) there just can't be a reality where he is told to his face that he is destroying himself and any connection he can have WITHOUT the alterior motive of wanting to fuck him- right? I mean even Charlie's hope on him was proven to be limited, so why bother?

Enter Loser, Baby.

And yes, my beloved Huskerdust atem- you see there is something fucked up about it. Angel only joins in to sing as well after he goes full "I am a hoe that likes drugs tehee" but unlike always, he is...not proud of it. He only sings about it because Husk sang how "it's ok to be a-" like expecting a negative, and it's ONLY when Husk completes it with a "Baby that is fine by me" does Angel truly smiles. He just had a whole breakdown, he doesn't has the energy to put his facade and his "I don't care what you think" actitude. But because Husk validates that he is able to follow along.

There is also the "This guy it's not that bad" part. Angel softened up at that because, again, Husk validated him- the real him. He saw through his facade and embraced it.

In episode 5 there is this little scene where Charlie is talking to her father over the phone and everyone else is silently supporting her from behind. And Angel, the ever realist- is just....grimacing through the whole thing lmao but to his credit seemed to support her regardless- but what cought my eye through the whole thing is that when Charlie goes full "Dad, this is important to me!" The camera focus on Angel a bit....touched? See the scene you'll get what I mean.

Then episode 6 came along. Cherrie comes along, and her and Husk play devil and angel on Anthony's shoulder the whole night. But there is something interesting about this- Angel never.... really stops Cherrie, nor explain why he would avoid drugs- Husk does. He ONLY explains himself when Cherrie confronted him about being so protective of Nifty. When Cherrie offer him the pills he doesn't goes full "I am sober now" cut and dry, instead he goes full "er....I dunno, I am tired. Maybe another time?" after Husk does the whole "I thought you were better than that" bit. Cherrie enables Angel- she clearly CARES about him, there is not doubt about that- but Hell is made with good intentions, validating his excesses and taking an active part on it is how they bond- and how his relationship with her makes him feel a bit better about himself, even when at the end of day it all comes crashing down (hello end of Addicted) and what is the first THING he smiles at after his confrontation with Valentino? "You did good, kid".

Ao in synthesis, Angel craves for validation in all and any way he can get it- regardless of how good the intentions of those giving it are. It either can be an validitation of his usual behavior (Cherrie) an validation of him wanting to better himself (Charlie, Husk) or just.... validation of his body as a whole (those weird sharks he ran to at ep4) it really depends of how much his mental state is on the gutter that day.

And then there is Valentino.

It's clear Angel's self Worth issues are not much better thanks to the way he is treated in and out of the studio- but, and knowing his familial relationship, it's doubtful they CAME from there, and it was an unfortunate result of it.

Valentino and the Vees pray on the vulnerable- that was DIRECTLY stated at ep2, and what is more vulnerable that a drug addict whose own family rejected? Sure Angel had been on Hell for a WHILE but his foundation was already shaky to begin with, he is street smart and posseses more common sense that some of his peers (literally the only one that stated they SHOULDN'T bring every psycho that tries to kill them to the Hotel lmao) but this need for Validation running deep on his core makes him the ideal pray for any asshole that is willing to drop a few "oh you are so pretty 💜"s his way until it's too late. How tragic would it be- to have the first person that validated him in a WHILE be the one that hurt him the most.

[thenightfolknetwork]

Hello.

I am—was—a very powerful deity. About 200 years ago, I was sealed away by a group of very rude Sapio men. I have, obviously, escaped those confines by now.

However, I am far from my original form. In an attempt to drag me down to their level, those heathens made me one of them. A Sapio.

With all due “respect” to the Sapios in the community, I HATE IT. Not to mention: I have lost all ability to make in-person contact with ANYONE in the creature community! I would be impressed with this level of sorcery if it wasn’t used against me, of all beings!

So, what am I supposed to do with my next thousand years while I sort this out? How am I meant to enjoy the thrill of the hunt when I’ve only got two short legs? What good is howling at the moon with a voice that can barely echo off the cliffs?

I’ve tried finding some new hobbies, but honestly. A potluck with Nextdoor Sasha and her Oh So Lovely Kids isn’t exactly a ravenous feast in my honor. Nothing seems to compare anymore. So what do I do? I know it’s only temporary, but if I get invited to one more night out drinking with the boys that doesn’t include the killing of a sacrificial boar, I’m going to lose it. Please, help an ex-god out!

Oh, reader – this sounds absolutely dreadful, I'm so sorry you're having to go through this. Not only are you having to suffer the indignity of being confined to a form that is not your own, but the magical prohibition on meeting with liminal folk must be particularly wearing.

On a practical level, I wonder how far that prohibition extends. Given that the spell that binds you to this form was constructed over 200 years ago, it seems unlikely it can account for the joys of the modern Internet.

Online friendships are not quite the same as in-person ones, but they can be extremely fulfilling, and may offer you more support for your particular circumstances than Nextdoor Sasha is able to provide.

At the risk of getting your hopes up, the Internet might also be helpful in finding a more long-term solution for the matter. This sounds like an extremely complicated, high-level binding, and likely not something the average professional magic-user would be able to undo.

It's rare that I suggest seeking out a wizard to solve one's magical problems, since wizards are, by and large, overpriced, overeducated and overly endowed with ego. But in your case, a highly specialised, highly qualified practitioner might be just what you need.

In the meantime, I think you need to reconsider the types of activities you're taking up to fill the hole left by your erstwhile godhood. I quite agree that neighbourhood potlucks and nights out with 'the boys' are hardly going to scratch the itch. Have you considered BDSM? Or alternatively, it's less sexual cousin, LARPing?

If you want to feel like a god again, the world is full of people willing to help. You just need to find them, and agree the exact terms of your worship – whether that be within the confines of a kink scene, or a roleplaying game.

You will need to communicate your needs and wishes clearly, and respect other people's boundaries, but provided you can manage that, I see no reason you couldn't find any number of willing peons to worship at your feet and kiss the ground you walk on.