#as always... pulling from personal experience over here

[hotshotsxyz]

wide awake from the breeze

(buddie) (2.2k) i swore i was going to write something for @summerofbuddie so here i am with something on the last possible day lol. very in character of me. title from blue sky & the painter which i will continue to push as The eddie diaz song for season 8

The air is crisp and cold, and finally, finally, Eddie can breathe.

The San Gabriels are beautiful this time of year, but it’s hard to appreciate the changing leaves when he’s watching Buck. Their color could never compete with his light.

Buck’s fingers tap against the steering wheel as he hums along to a song Eddie’s certain has repeated at least three times in the past two hours. He’s beautiful like this. He’s always beautiful, actually, but Eddie thinks this might be his favorite version of Buck. Happiness suits him.

They’ve been tumbling towards something since Buck broke up with Tommy, since Eddie finally let loose the words that have been stuck in his throat for years. For once in his life, Eddie isn’t overly worried about time. For once in his life, he’s got plenty of it.

They reach a scenic overlook, and Buck pulls over. He takes his sunglasses off and drops them on the dashboard, then looks over at Eddie and grins.

“See,” Buck says brightly, “I told you it’d be worth the drive.”

Eddie twists in his seat so he can face Buck a little more directly. His curls are wild from the wind, and his eyes glow in the late afternoon sun. “I didn’t doubt you for a second,” Eddie murmurs.

Buck’s smile grows impossibly wider. The foliage doesn’t stand a chance. “You want to get out for a little? Stretch our legs?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees easily.

There’s a trailhead just a few hundred feet away, and Buck bounds toward it eagerly.

“Half a mile out and back?” he calls over his shoulder after studying the map for a second, as if there’s anywhere Eddie wouldn’t follow him.

“Let’s do it,” Eddie replies as he sidles up next to Buck.

Buck smiles at him again, and it’s a little like watching the first light of dawn stretch across the horizon.

They mostly walk in silence, but every few minutes Buck pauses to point out a particular tree or bird. It’s kind of incredible, the way he latches onto information and then gifts it to Eddie in a single excited breath. Eddie’s got his own personal guidebook to the world, and he makes everything feel new and special.

The trail ends at the bank of a small, placid lake surrounded by rocky outcroppings. Buck sits on one and pulls Eddie down next to him.

The sky above them is cloudless and clear, a brilliant blue that’s reflected in the water. A few leaves drift slowly across the surface, leaving behind tiny wake trails. It’s peaceful in a way Eddie’s rarely gotten to experience in his life. He isn’t sure he’d even be capable of appreciating that if it weren’t for Buck.

“I think I want to do this forever,” Eddie says as they stare out across the lake.

Buck knocks his knee against Eddie’s. “What?” he asks, “Watch the leaves turn?”

Eddie looks at him and finds a soft smile that tells him Buck knows exactly what he means. “Yeah,” he says, knocking his knee back, “something like that.”

For a long moment, Buck holds his gaze. “Yeah,” he says finally, “me too.”

Eddie leans to the side, allowing his weight to settle against Buck’s shoulder. He tries not to worry anymore about whether or not he deserves to have someone like Buck in his life. He has him. Buck picks him, over and over again, and even though Eddie’s not sure he’ll ever quite manage to wrap his head around it, he’s long since decided the only way he needs to feel about that is grateful. And god is he grateful.

Buck closes his eyes and tips his face toward the sun. His cheeks are tinged with pink, and it’s hard to tell if it’s the cold, the beginnings of a sunburn, or something else entirely that’s caused it. Eddie finds that he wants to know, wants to press his fingers to Buck’s skin and see if the redness fades or grows.  

It’s an impulse he could give in to; Buck would let him. There’s something about this moment he wants to freeze though, and if he moves it’ll change. Instead, he watches. He commits every detail to memory. When he’s old and gray and everything else is fading, this will be what he remembers.

A gust of wind blows down through the valley, and Buck shivers with it, nose scrunching. He opens his eyes and looks at Eddie. “I’m cold,” he admits with a sheepish smile.

“You’re always cold,” Eddie says, voice dripping with fondness.

Buck tilts his head in acknowledgement. He flexes his fingers a few times, probably stiff in the autumn air.

“C’mere,” Eddie says a little nonsensically. Buck will understand.

Buck holds his hands out and Eddie takes them. He vigorously rubs at them until they’re satisfyingly friction warm. He keeps them when he’s done, holding them together between his palms to protect them from the wind. Buck ducks his head and grins.

“You’re like a space heater,” he says, shuffling impossibly closer.

“And you’re like an icepack,” Eddie replies.

Buck blows out a soft, amused breath. “Makes me handy to keep around in the summer,” he quips.

“I always want you around.”

Another version of Eddie might’ve hesitated, might’ve buried that instinctive reply as far down as possible, shoved it next to all the things he refused to examine. Too bad for that Eddie; he wouldn’t get to see the pink on Buck’s cheeks darken and spread.

“I always want you around, too,” Buck says, quiet, like he might scare away the moment if he speaks too loudly.

Eddie’s been waiting. For what, he’s not entirely sure. For him and Buck to be alone, though that’s hardly a rare occurrence. For all the doubtful voices in his head to go silent, but Buck’s been quieting those for years. For him to feel settled in his skin. For the world to stop turning around them long enough to do it right. All at once, Eddie feels like there’s nothing else to wait for.

“I love you,” he says, and the words taste good. They’re the icy fresh snow melt that streams down mountains in the spring, the bright tang of citrus in the summer, the spicy warmth of mulled cider in the winter, and soon, he thinks, he’ll know for certain that they taste like Buck in the fall.

A small noise spills from Buck’s mouth and he sways forward, less like he’s leaning in and more like he can’t help but be caught in Eddie’s gravity.

“Eddie,” he whispers. His eyes shine.

“Buck,” he replies.

For most of Eddie’s life, he’s been afraid. He’s pushed past it, locked it down, pretended that the twist of anxiety in his gut was never more than passing butterflies. Here, though, now, he doesn’t even feel brave. He’s too sure, Buck makes him feel too safe; there’s no fear for him to fight against.

Buck blinks a few times and swallows visibly. Eddie rubs his thumbs in soothing circles against Buck’s wrists.

“You…” Buck starts, rough and awed.

“Take your time,” Eddie says, unable to hide his amusement.

Buck huffs and kicks at Eddie’s ankle. “Forgive me for taking a second to process literally the best thing I’ve ever heard,” he retorts without any bite.

“Oh no, I mean it,” Eddie says with a wide grin. “I’ll sit here all day. I’m not cold.”

A startled laugh jumps from Buck’s throat. “Be quiet, let me finish processing,” he says.

“Process away,” Eddie murmurs.

A few seconds pass and he watches the gears turn in Buck’s mind. Eddie knows the way they like to twist and catch, but he’s not worried. They’ll have a lifetime to discard all the worst-case scenarios.

 “Okay,” Buck says finally. “I’ve processed.” He pulls his hands from Eddie’s grip and raises them to his jaw. He leans in and Eddie meets him halfway.

Eddie was right, but also wrong. Buck tastes like love, yes, but he also tastes like home and joy and warmth and a little like the muscadines they’d stopped to buy from a roadside stand earlier in the day. Buck smiles against his lips and it feels like the rest of his life.

“For the record,” Buck says, pulling back just far enough to look Eddie in the eye, “I love you too.”

Eddie can’t help the bright peal of laughter that bursts from his chest. He feels free and alive and happy and everything else he was once afraid he’d never be able to. Buck skims a thumb along his cheek bone and grins.

“If you’re done, I really want to kiss you again,” Buck says once Eddie’s laughter has faded to a soft chuckle.

Eddie grips Buck’s waist and hums. “I don’t know, I think I need to process,” he teases.

“Oh, that’s fine, I’ll just sit here and freeze while you—” Buck makes a surprised noise as Eddie surges forward and cuts him off with his lips.

They break apart a second time and Eddie rests his forehead against Buck’s. “I’ve processed,” he says, quiet and smiling.

“Yeah?” Buck asks, a little breathless.

Eddie hums an affirmative. “Best thing I’ve ever heard, had to let it sink in.”

Buck presses a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “It takes a second,” he agrees.

Another gust of wind blows past them. A few leaves begin their gentle descent to the ground and Buck shivers.

“Come on,” Eddie says, laughing lightly as he pulls back and stands. He holds his hands out and Buck takes them. “You’ve got a hoodie in the Jeep.”

Buck’s head tilts adorably. “I didn’t…” he says, trailing off as the confusion in his expression makes way for that quiet, disbelieving smile that seems to be reserved exclusively for Eddie.

“You’re always cold,” Eddie says with a fond eyeroll. He tugs at Buck until he stands.

“Not always,” Buck says, suddenly inches from Eddie.

Eddie swallows as a shudder of anticipation travels down his spine. “No?” he asks faintly.

Buck fixes him with a look Eddie’s seen before, though never directed at him. “Nope,” he says, eyes dark and lips curling.

The effect is lessened slightly as the breeze kicks up again and Buck cringes away from it. The tip of his nose is bright pink. Eddie wants to kiss it, so he does.

He laughs again and drops one of Buck’s hands. “Let’s go, cowboy, you can seduce me in the Jeep.”

Buck’s mouth opens and closes. “Uh, that’s—yeah, let’s do that,” he says in a rush.

They quickly make their way back up to the trailhead. Eddie can’t remember ever smiling this much, but even when his cheeks start to hurt it’s impossible to stop. He’s happy, happy in a way he didn’t even know was possible until very recently.

When they reach the overlook, Eddie pauses just long enough to lift their joined hands and press a kiss to the back of Buck’s.

Buck’s eyes widen. “When did you get so…” He gestures vaguely.

Eddie snorts. “I have game,” he says.

“No,” Buck says incredulously, “you don’t. Or—or didn’t.”

“It sounds like you think I have game,” Eddie teases.

“I think you should get in the Jeep so we can go home and test the theory,” Buck replies.

“Gonna have to let me go first,” Eddie says, nodding toward their intertwined fingers.

Buck blushes but makes no move to extricate himself from Eddie’s grip.  

“Or not,” Eddie says softly.

“I just…” Buck trails off.

Eddie squeezes his hand.

“I want to remember this,” Buck says, ducking his head. “How everything feels right now.”

“Even the cold?” Eddie asks.

Buck squeezes his hand. “M’not cold,” he says.

The wind blows, and Buck crowds in closer to Eddie, trying to hide from it.

“I think you might be a little cold,” Eddie murmurs.

“Maybe I just wanted to kiss you again,” Buck replies.

Eddie grins. “Don’t let me stop you,” he says.

Buck presses a feather-light kiss to his cheek, then his nose, then the corner of his mouth. Eddie feels his cheeks heat beneath his touch.

“Okay,” he says softly. He steps back and lets go of Eddie’s hand. He fishes his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the Jeep.

Eddie climbs into the passenger seat as Buck settles in front of the wheel, just like they’ve done a thousand times before. He reaches into the back and grabs Buck’s hoodie, the slightly oversized one that he loves to wrap himself in on days just like this one. He hands it to Buck. As he watches Buck wriggle into it, he’s hit with a wave of joy all over again.

“I love you,” he says when Buck’s head pops out from the hood, just because he can.

“You’re such a sap,” Buck says, but it sounds a whole lot like I love you too.

Buck turns the key in the ignition, and the stereo comes to life playing the same song as before.

Is that a blue sky? The singer asks.

“It’s about damn time,” Eddie can’t help but sing along.

Buck grins at him and grabs his hand.

It’s about damn time.

[websterss]

ABOVE EVERYTHING ELSE — TYLER HARRISON

SUMMARY: Tyler has everything to lose especially when Weyland Corps has you in their hold, so why wouldn't he follow through with his orders in order to get you back.

WARNING(S): angst, fluff,

WORD COUNT: 2,844

PAIRING: Tyler Harrison x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

Tyler sat rigid and on edge as he waited in the west wing of the ship's infirmary bay. The cool metal bench seeped through his pants as he bounced his knee for five minutes. The long wait agitated him and made him uneasy. He clocked his three o'clock and then his nine, both ends of the hallways vacant and deserted apart from him and his need to see you. They usually were sporadic with being on time and persisting he be there on time for his debrief before he was allowed to see you again. That was Weyland's leverage over him, holding you high over his head, out of reach, and using your status updates as a means to get him to cave into doing their dirty work.

This new task made him feel like a snake. Made him hate the way he was going to have to betray those he cared about. Rain. How she and Andy were his first step in getting you back to him. This was the last of many debriefs he had been given before, many tasks where he had to carry out and commit crimes that plagued and haunted his dreams. Everything he's done, everything he was about to do was unforgivable. There was also that slight voice in the back of his head weighing all the possibilities where you would find out about his assignments and leave him. He at times thinks you should but you never do. You don't leave because if there was one thing that was keeping you here, still being with him, it was the undying love you had for one another.

"Harrison." A nurse calls out, pulling him out of his spiraling. He straightens his back and stands up. "Follow me."

Tyler nods, not one to question orders, and follows the nurse down the hallway quietly.

Tyler follows the nurse through multiple lefts and rights. He reigned in on the fact you weren’t easily accessible to reach. The facility was large and sterile, cold and unsettling. The nurse leads him down to a large room that looks more like a high-tech lab. They reach the closed door, where she swipes her badge across the scanner, a beep is emitted from the device and before he knew it the door was swishing open in a slide. The second his foot crosses the threshold, he meets your gaze. He takes no time in rushing towards you, wrapping his arms around your fragile state. He sighs, breathing in your scent, the oxygen cords inserted in your nostrils colliding with his chest as he hugs you gently but firmly.

"Ty!" You breathe out, a smile dawning on your tired expression.

Tyler feels himself at ease at the sound of your voice, his arms tighten around you as if you would disappear if he let go. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, taking his time to drink in the sight of you alive in front of him.

"Hey, sweetheart." He greets you tenderly, pulling back to get a proper look at you. You look so small and fragile in comparison to the massive medical bed you're lying in. The oxygen tubes in your nostrils and the plethora of wires that run from you to the various pieces of medical machinery make you look more like an experiment than a person. It breaks him to always see you this way. His gaze never falters from you as he calls over his shoulder to the nurse. "Leave us." Once he hears the swish of the door open and close again he looks back and then faces you once again. You look back at the door, feeling at ease now that you have him all to yourself.

"I've missed you. You weren't here last week. T-they said I'm getting better." Your breaths are slow and labored.

"I know. I couldn't come." A pang of guilt makes his stomach twist as he remembers the real reason he hadn't shown. "But I'm here now, alright? Sorry, I couldn't be here earlier." The words felt like bile in his mouth, but he pushed past the feeling as he squeezed your hand in his. "I had a meeting to attend to, but all's well and said now. I'm here and I'm all yours." He reaches forward to tuck one side of your oxygen tube behind your ear.

"I-I like the sound of that." You hum in delight, melting into his gentle caresses.

"Of course you do. You're pretty easy to please, sweetheart." Ty teases softly, his thumb rubbing small circles against the top of your knuckles. He studies your features, noting how tired you look, he can also see that your hair is getting long and unkempt. The sight of your hair growing back gives him all the hope he needs to push through.

"I missed seeing your smile." He murmurs, his hand continuing to stroke against your temple and hair. A beat of silence passes. "I think the treatments are starting to pay off. We were right to start you on them. I mean you're glowing compared to how you were these last two months." He beams. "How have they been treating you here? Is everything okay? Have they been too harsh or rough on you? I'll get Captain Mayfair to provide you with better nurses if they are. I won't hesitate to–" He inquires, his voice lowered slightly.

"Ty, baby, it's okay. They've made sure to make me feel as comfortable as possible."

"Promise?" Ty probes, staring earnestly into your eyes. "You would tell me, right? If they have been harming you? You'd tell me."

The way Tyler's looking at you lets him know there's a good chance that if any of the staff here have been making you feel uncomfortable you wouldn't complain. He knows you'd be too nice to even consider it.

"You'd kill anyone on sight if you so much as saw a bruise on my skin…I'm okay." You reassure him. Squeezing his hands. He looks down at your grip, amazed by the strength you've garnered again.

He chuckles, looking down at your intertwined hands, a soft breath of relief passing through his lips. The slight squeeze of your hand does little to soothe his fears, but for the moment, he lets himself bask in the fact that you're okay. It's more than he can hope for given the circumstances.

"You don't know the half of what I would do for you." He murmurs, slowly bringing your hand up to his lips. He plants a light kiss on your knuckles. "You're my top priority, infinitely."

"Infinitely?" You try to mask your chuckle, but he hears you anyway. "Two weeks ago you said I was a top priority, yet eternally."

"Forgive me, my love, for thinking you're the most important thing in the entire goddamn universe?" He smirks, rolling his eyes playfully as a scoff bubbles from his lips. He gives you a lopsided smile, bringing your hand to his cheek to nuzzle his face into it. He shuts his eyes and relishes the feeling of you against his skin. "You're top priority every single day and that's not going to change, you know. But when I say eternally…" His eyes open, looking back up at you. "I mean eternally. Until I die, or if you give out on me, and I no longer have you, the one thing keeping me from jumping into space without a suit. You're my top priority, no matter what. It's you above everything and everyone!"

"Well…I-I wouldn't go as far as to say above everyone, surely there are others that trump me-"

Ty pulls back slightly, a small frown playing at his features as he cocks his head to the side to look at you more directly.

"No." He asserts, his voice firm. "No. Don't even go there. You're top prior, my love. You are above all of them. You'll always be above everyone. I wouldn't be where I am today without you by my side. I wouldn't still be breathing if it weren't for you. You're the–the center of the Milky Way, my love. You are a…" He pauses, searching your eyes for any doubt, glitching when his brain farted.

"A black hole?" You quipp.

"Hush." He teases, grinning down at you. He playfully jabs your side with his index finger, watching a small smile grace your features. Seeing that smile makes his heart leap into his throat. He'll never get used to it. "You cheeky thing." He mutters, grabbing your other free hand. He takes it in his, intertwining the other hand that was there. He brings both your hands up to his lips again and gently kisses your knuckles. "You're more than a black hole. You're a supernova that's going to explode everyone's galaxy." He pauses, his smile never leaving his lips. "Including mine."

You flush under his warm eyes. You bite down on your bottom lip, your demeanor evolving into one of timidness. He had got you with that one, that was for sure. And he seemed to notice the fault in your composure. His smirk only grew.

"Really? That's the one that gets you?" He coos, grinning at the lovely flush that was spreading to your cheeks. It wasn't often that he was able to render you into a speechless blushing mess but when he could, my god did it fill him with an incredible amount of pride and love for you. His fingers gently squeeze your knuckles. "I'll remember this for next time, my love. Duly noted." He remarks slyly.

"It was good…" You laugh.

"It was pretty good, huh?" He teases lightly, his thumbs slowly starting to rub soothing circles against your knuckles. He chuckles, bringing his gaze up to your eyes again. "You don't make it too hard, my love. Just mentioning anything with a celestial connection and you're blushing like a school-aged teen, practically eating right out of the palms of my hands."

"It's the accent." You shrug. Blaming his pronunciation of his words and delivery. Mostly the delivery.

"Oh, now you're just grasping at straws, sweetheart." He quips again, grinning at you. "Now, I admit, my accent might be one of the finer things about me, but it's not exactly the primary reason you get all flushed." He hums, letting his thumbs press a little harder into your knuckles.

“You’re right, it’s all your hotness that’s making me swoon.” You feign a sigh.

"Yeah right, you big fibber." He calls you out, but there's a hint of a smirk that forms on his face. "You're swooning because you know who I belong to." He replies, his voice taking on a lower, gruff tone. "You swoon because you know I'm yours." His voice is just above a whisper, his eyes darkening. "Only yours, sweetheart."

You avert your gaze down to your lap. A faint smile displayed on your lips. But it slowly fades as Tyler tilts his head to meet your eyes. "W-what did they tell you?"

Tyler's face quickly morphs from playful to apprehensive. His thumbs had stopped their motion and now rested against your knuckles as he looked into your eyes.

"Let's not. Let's not talk about that right now." He says carefully, his dark eyes narrowing.

"Tyler, I can see it practically eating at you. What is it this time? What are they sending you to do?"

Tyler's jaw clenches, his eyes closing briefly as he lets out a soft sigh. He had been praying to anyone that you weren't going to mention his work for Weyland-Yutani. He should have known better. You were never the type to simply ignore the big elephant in the room.

His lips form into a thin line as he averts his gaze away from you. His mind is in an internal debate, contemplating whether to be honest with you or not. Tyler bites at the inside of his cheek, hesitating before he decides to speak.

"There's something new." He pauses, trying to organize his words. He looks at your face, noticing the growing sadness in your expression. His eyes soften as a wave of sadness mirrors over his own features. "They…" He pauses again, his jaw clenching slightly. "They told me it would be a retrieval."

"A retrieval for what?"

"Some sort of substance called Plagiarus Praepotens?" 

"Plagiarus Praepotens? What's that?"

"They didn't tell me much just that it was extracted from a xenomorph and combined with human DNA to perfect humans, whatever that means."

"A xenomorph...what the hell is that?"

"From what I’ve been told. I don't want to know."

"Tyler maybe this one isn't such a good idea. I mean from the sounds of it, it doesn't feel safe."

"I don't have a choice, my love." He mumbles, his head lowering in shame and guilt, the reality of the situation hitting him like a truck. He releases your hand from his grip and turns his whole body away from you. It pains him to feel weak but the truth is that is exactly what he is in the grand scheme of things. "I have my orders so I have to do this. I'll get them what they need, but not only that…" He inhales deeply. "I found a way to get us to Yvaga."

"Yvaga…Tyler what are you talking about?"

For the first time since you've known him, he looked desperate. In the years you'd been together, you've never once seen a crack in his confidence. He was always the strong and steady shoulder for you to lean on, but right now, in this very moment, that facade he usually wore was cracking. The facade he'd tried so hard to keep up for you was crumbling.

"I-" He pauses, swallowing thickly. "I have a plan."

"Ty…" You warned.

His eyes flicker around your face, his fingers twitching against his pants. His features shifting from desperate, to guilty and then finally to pleading. "There's cryostasis chambers on that spacecraft." He murmurs, licking his lips nervously. "I-I just need you to trust me."

"You're gonna go rogue…"

"No. No, I'm-" He stops himself short and he sighs deeply. "I-" He hesitates. His eyes are locked on your face and a wave of guilt washes over him as he sees the look in your eyes. "Damnit." He mumbled under his breath, his shoulders slumping.

He leans forward from where he sat on your bed, bringing his head close to yours. He tilts his head down and presses his forehead against your shoulder, his hands coming up to rest on either side of your waist. "Sweetheart…" He mutters, his voice hoarse. "I'll tell you everything. I swear. But, you have to trust me." He pleaded. He could feel your body stiffen against him, whether it was from the pain of his grip or from what he was asking of you, he didn't know. "I just want to get you out of here."

"Yvaga was always just a pipedream for us…It always felt so out of reach." You shake your head.

"It's not, my love." He whispers against your shoulder. He tightens his grip on your body ever so slightly. "It's not out of reach. I know it's not. I-I just need you to hold on for a bit longer. Can you do that, for me?" He murmurs, his head slowly pulling away from your shoulder, so he can look you in the eyes again. His expression had changed to one of almost desperation. "I meant every would I said about getting you out of here and I intend to keep my word."

"I know you do Tyler, but what are the risks huh? What's the catch in all this?"

"I-" He cuts himself off short, his eyes flickering away from your face for a moment. He knew he couldn't lie to you, you wouldn't accept that. But the truth wasn't going to make the situation any better. Instead, he slowly drags his hand up from your side to wrap a piece of your hair around his finger. He gently rubbed the strands between his fingers. He took a deep shaky breath before he was able to answer you. "Honestly..." He began, his voice low. "I need Andy to be able to access the entryways onto the ship."

"Andy? But that would mean you'd need to talk to Rain about him."

He nods his head slowly. "Yeah…I-" He pauses, hesitating. "I-I'll have to talk to Rain." He replies, his tone sounding reluctant. He didn't want to get anyone else involved in the situation, especially since he was essentially putting them on the line in the process. But what other choice did he have?

"Y-you're not gonna tell her about all this are you?" Your voice grows shaky.

He shakes his head slowly, his brow furrowing. "No." He murmurs in response. There was no way in hell he was going to drag anyone else into this. Putting you at risk was the last thing he wanted to do, but there were no other options. "It's you above everything and everyone else."

[ha-rinrin]

The Festival

Paring- Jinx X F!Reader

Word count- 31.3k

summary- You're a respected member of the university council, known for your leadership skills and organization. What happens when Jinx, the popular and chaotic students needs your help to set up a wide tech festival?

A little peak to my ao3 fan fiction

You flipped trough the pile of paperwork across the council meeting room. It was the usual chaos, request for funding from various student organizations, complains about the cafeteria's latest attempt at "healthy options," and proposals for next semester’s big events. The list seemed endless, but you were used to it. You thrived in this environment, where order and structure ruled. Here, everything was under control, and that was exactly how you liked it.

Just as your mind starts to drift, Derek, your fellow council member, groans from across the table. "Great. Guess who submitted a new proposal?"

You glance up, knowing the answer before the words even leave his mouth.

"Jinx," he mutters, flipping through a folder. "The campus wildcard."

The mention of Jinx’s name is enough to make everyone shift uncomfortably, and you can feel the tension rise between two of your fellow council members—Vi and Caitlyn. Vi, Jinx’s big sister, sits up a little straighter, her jaw tightening. Caitlyn crosses her arms and lets out a quiet huff of disapproval, she has never been a fan of Jinx.

Your stomach tightens. Jinx is infamous around here. Known for her chaotic energy and wild stunts, she’s the kind of person everyone’s aware of but few actually know. You’ve heard the stories—who hasn’t?—about her explosives demonstrations in the engineering labs, her graffiti art that somehow makes it past security, and the parties that erupt wherever she goes, filled with loud music, dangerous experiments, and neon lights that pulse through the night.

You’ve never directly interacted with her, but as a council member, you’ve cleaned up the aftermath of her stunts more times than you’d like to count.

You reach for her proposal, already dreading what’s inside. "What does she want this time?" she's known for submitting.. well, interesting ideas, one time she send a whole plan on how turning lecture halls into laser tag arenas was such a great idea

Derek slides the file toward you, and you open it, skimming the pages. It’s a proposal for a campus-wide tech festival—robotics demonstrations, live engineering projects, interactive art installations. It’s… ambitious. You can already see the potential for things going disastrously wrong. And of course, there’s an after-party planned. A massive one. but you have to admit, it is a great idea.

"This looks…" you hesitate, unsure whether to call it reckless or brilliant. "Ambitious."

Caitlyn, sitting across from you, scoffs. "Ambitious is one word for it. Catastrophic is another."

Vi shoots her a look, her jaw clenched but silent. Caitlyn doesn’t look fazed. If anything, she seems more annoyed. Caitlyn has never hidden her disdain for Jinx. The chaos Jinx brings to the campus makes Caitlyn’s job on the council infinitely harder, and you’ve heard her vent more than once about how Jinx’s antics undermine the structure Caitlyn and Vi work to maintain.

Still, you can feel the unspoken tension between Vi and Caitlyn every time Jinx comes up. Vi tries to stay neutral, but the protective instinct over her sister is always just beneath the surface.

"Ambitious? More like a disaster waiting to happen," Derek adds, rolling his eyes. "You know how she is. The university won’t let her get within a mile of an event this big without strict supervision."

You sigh, knowing they’re right. Jinx is brilliant, no doubt about that. Her projects, when they work, are incredible. But they almost never come without some sort of explosive twist—sometimes literally. The administration has a close eye on her, and every time she gets close to doing something huge, they pull the reins back, worried about the potential chaos she might unleash.

"I’ll talk to her," you say, closing the file and tucking it under your arm. "See if we can rein in some of these wilder ideas."

You find yourself in the engineering building later that afternoon, a place you rarely visit. The labs are noisy and full of students rushing to meet deadlines, their arms filled with wires, tools, and half-constructed machines. You navigate through the maze of equipment until you find the lab Jinx is rumored to haunt.

The door is slightly open, and you push it gently, stepping inside.

The scene inside is exactly what you’d expect from Jinx. It’s a mess—no, it’s a war zone of wires, gears, tools, and half-assembled robots scattered across every surface. Sparks fly from one corner, where Jinx herself is hunched over a piece of equipment. Her neon-blue hair is pulled into two messy insanely long braids, goggles perched on her forehead, and she’s completely engrossed in whatever she’s working on.

"Jinx?" you call, your voice hesitant.

She doesn’t look up. "If you’re here to tell me I can’t use explosive fuel cells, save it. I already know."

You blink, thrown off by her casual, sarcastic tone. "No… I’m here about your tech festival proposal."

That gets her attention. Jinx straightens up, pushing her goggles up higher and turning to face you. There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes as she grins, clearly pleased with herself. "Oh, that. You council types finally got around to reading it, huh?. About time"

"Yeah, we did," you say annoyed at her comment, stepping into the room carefully, avoiding stray wires and tools as if one wrong step might set off something dangerous. "It’s… ambitious."

Jinx leans back against a cluttered workbench, crossing her arms. "Ambitious is just another word for fun."

"Ambitious is also another word for risky," you counter, trying to keep your tone calm. "The administration has concerns. Especially with your… reputation."

She raises an eyebrow at that, her grin widening. "My reputation? I like to think of myself as the one who makes things interesting."

"Or destructive," you mutter under your breath. Louder, you say, "Look, the council wants to support your idea, but we need guarantees. We can’t have another one of your projects going… rogue."

Jinx’s eyes spark with amusement. "Rogue? That sounds fun. But I get it. You’re here to babysit me, make sure everything stays neat and tidy just as you councils love to do."

"I’m here to help make sure your event doesn’t get shut down before it even starts," you correct her. "The university won’t approve this unless there’s a plan in place to keep things under control."

She’s silent for a moment, her gaze studying you as if she’s trying to decide whether you’re worth her time. Then, to your surprise, she shrugs. "Fine. I’ll play nice. But don’t expect me to turn this into some boring expo where everything’s by the book like you want it to be."

"That’s not what I’m asking," you say, your frustration slipping through despite your best efforts to remain calm. "I’m asking for balance. Something fun and innovative, without… explosions or absolute chaos like you "love to do" ."You quote her, already feeling an intense irritation.

"Explosions make things exciting," she quips, but there’s a softness in her tone now, a hint of cooperation. "But okay, councilor. We’ll do it your way. For now."

You exhale, relieved but still wary. "I’ll get the council to review the budget and schedule a final approval meeting. We’ll need to talk logistics."

"Sounds like a date," she says, and the way her eyes twinkle as she says it makes your heart skip a beat. "By the way, nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you."

"You… know my name?" you ask, caught off guard.

"Of course I do," Jinx replies, tossing a wrench onto the workbench with a smirk. "You’re practically a campus legend in the council. Always following the rules, keeping things neat and tidy and on top of that being pretty. It’s cute."

You blush at her calling you not just pretty, but also cute. still, you can’t tell if she’s teasing you or complimenting you—or maybe both—but the playful energy she exudes is enough to leave you flustered, you don't ignore the annoyance though . "Right… well, I’ll be in touch."

As you turn to leave, you can feel her eyes on you, that mischievous grin still lingering. And for the first time, you wonder if you’ve gotten yourself into something far more complicated than you’d expected.

The walk back to the council office feels heavier than usual. You’ve dealt with difficult proposals before—unrealistic requests, last-minute event ideas, student groups that didn’t know how to handle their budgets—but nothing quite like this. Jinx, with her chaotic charm and devil-may-care attitude, had somehow made it feel like agreeing to help her was a far more personal decision than just approving a project.

Back in the council room, Vi and Caitlyn are already waiting, the air between them thick with tension. You can feel it even before you sit down, the awkward space that always opens up between them when Jinx is involved. Caitlyn’s posture is as rigid as ever, her hands clasped neatly in front of her, while Vi looks like she’s been wrestling with something in her mind.

“So?” Caitlyn’s voice is sharp, cutting through the silence as you settle into your chair. “How did it go?”

You hesitate, glancing at Vi, who watches you intently. She doesn’t say anything, but there’s a quiet plea in her expression. She’s stuck in the middle, and you can feel the weight of that as you take a breath.

“She’s willing to compromise,” you say carefully. “She’ll follow our guidelines, but she’s not going to water down the event. It’s still going to be… big.”

“Big,” Caitlyn repeats, her tone flat. “That’s one way to describe it. Let me guess—there’s still an after-party, isn’t there?”

You nod slowly. “Yes, but she’ll cooperate with security measures. No unsupervised explosives. No rogue robots.”

Caitlyn sighs heavily, clearly unimpressed. “And you believe her?”

Vi shifts uncomfortably, her hands tapping against the table as she finally speaks up. “Jinx means well. She just… gets carried away sometimes. But she’ll stick to it. If Y/N’s overseeing things, she’ll fall in line.”

You can hear the underlying frustration in Vi’s voice, the familiar strain of trying to balance loyalty to her sister and the expectations of the council. You’ve seen this dynamic between them before—Vi, fiercely protective of Jinx, but also tired of having to clean up the messes she leaves behind. Caitlyn, on the other hand, is always ready to take a hard line, no matter how much it irritates Vi.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want her involved,” Caitlyn says, her voice tight. “Every time she promises to stay within the lines, she ends up finding a way to blow them up. Literally. And it’s always us who have to clean up the aftermath.”

Vi’s jaw clenches, but she doesn’t snap back. You can tell it’s taking all her patience to hold back her frustration. The room is tense, the air thick with unspoken arguments that have likely played out between them too many times to count.

“Look,” you say, stepping in before things can escalate further, “I’ll be keeping an eye on her. The event will have rules, and she knows the consequences if things get out of hand. I don’t think she’s looking to get herself banned from campus activities.”

Caitlyn lets out a humorless laugh. “Maybe not, but I wouldn’t be surprised if something went wrong. She thrives on chaos.”

Vi shakes her head, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “She’s trying, Caitlyn. She’s not the same as she was back in the day, she's not the same jinx as she was in highscool. She wants this event to work.”

Caitlyn meets her gaze, the tension between them simmering. You’ve seen this argument before, this subtle back-and-forth where neither of them fully wins. You’re caught in the middle of it now, and it’s not a comfortable place to be.

“I’ll keep her in line,” you say again, trying to offer a resolution. “The event will be under control.”

Caitlyn narrows her eyes, but she relents, though her expression remains skeptical. “Fine. But if she steps out of line, it’s on you”

Her words linger longer than they should, the unspoken warning hanging in the air. You nod, not fully understanding the weight of that responsibility. After all, the council is trusting you to make sure this doesn’t become the disaster everyone expects it to be, everything you worked so hard for is at sake now and is on Jinx hands..

nobody was faith in Jinx, well.. except for Vi but she doesn't really count. Highscool Jinx's was something else, she's always been really smart so even after partying all night, drinking, smoking cigarettes and weed on a daily bases, sometimes playing with boys and girls feelings gaining the "school heartbreaker" title, and also getting detention almost every day, she still had the best grades out of all the class. You didn't see her much back then due to being a year above her, but gossip spread fast. Now you’re responsable for any mistake she makes during this festival, great

Continue in ao3

[sequinsmile-x]

I’d be so so keen to read something about Em coming out as bisexual to Aaron (aware you’ve had an ask for this I just want to stress the interest 🫶🏼)

It’s something I struggle with myself and the validation of being bisexual is something that’s very real. It would be lovely to read something like this as something that seems realistic for Em. The way you write is so beautiful and intricate and I know you’d do a wonderful job.

For anyone else reading this - you are valid whoever you are and whoever you choose to love <3

Happy Fridayyyyy!!!

Hi bestie <3

I've been asked to do this a few times, and as a bi girl myself it is very close to my heart. I wanted to make sure I did it justice so waited until it felt right and now really does feel like the time. It is also coming to the end of Bi Visibility week, so here we are!

This feels oddly personal, almost like I'm putting out some pages of a diary out there for people to read, so I hope this is as cathartic to read for those who wanted it as it was to write.

As always, let me know what you think, I'm nervous about this one because it feels important!

-x-

The Past is Never Far

She’d told herself for years that she’d never mention it. It was, after all, not the biggest secret she had kept.

Emily and Aaron walk into an ex of hers when they are out on a date, and it prompts her to tell him something she's not told him before.

Warnings: Coming out (mentions of past bad experiences doing so)

Words: 3.2k

Read over on Ao3, or the below the cut

Emily hums contentedly as she squeezes Aaron’s hand, her eyes catching his as she looks up at him and smiles, “This is nice.” 

He smiles back, relaxed and content and handsome in the fading light as he lifts her hand to kiss her knuckles, “It is,” he replies, kissing her knuckles again before he tucks their joint hands into his coat pocket to protect them from the chill in the air, “We’re near that ice cream place you like, we could get some on the way back to the car?” 

Date night was something they’d established early on in their relationship. They had so little time just the two of them so it was important to them both to have this one night every month where they could have just that. Jack would spend the night at Jessica’s, often pouting that he wanted to come with them too, something Emily and Aaron would salve with love and assurances they’d all have breakfast together the next day, and the two of them would go to one of their favourite restaurants. The nice weather was fading, summer disappearing into Autumn. It was Emily’s favourite time of year. Not because her birthday was coming up, or because Jack and Aaron’s were too, but because of the cool air and the sun on her face. The ever-present reminder in the wind about the beauty of change as the colour of the leaves started to fade to orange and gold. 

Aaron knew she loved this time of year, so he’d been easily convinced to go on a walk with her around the block before they returned to his car and back to their apartment. She’d moved in with him and Jack recently, the apartment that was once just theirs hers now too, and they were looking for a house. A place they could buy and call home, something they both wanted so desperately and had been denied for so long. 

She smiles, leaning in so her shoulder bumps against his, “It’s too cold for ice cream.” 

Aaron chuckles and kisses her temple. He stops them on the street, the hand not linked through hers on her hip as he guides her backwards so they don’t block the sidewalk. He leans in to kiss her, “You’re the one who told me it’s never too cold for ice cream,” he replies, leaning in to kiss her, stamping his lips against hers once more before he removes his hand from her hip and digs through his other pocket, smiling in victory as he pulls out a pair of her gloves, “Plus, I came prepared. Your hands won’t get cold and you can still have Rocky Road - the best of both worlds.” 

She beams at him and cups his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss before she rests her forehead against his, “I love you.” 

“Love you too, sweetheart,” he says, kissing the corner of her mouth before he pulls back and they continue walking down the street, content and happy in each other's company. 

He buys them ice cream once they make it to the store, a double scoop of Rocky Road for her in a cone and one scoop of coffee in a tub for him. He chuckles at her as a drip of ice cream falls onto her gloves and she narrows her eyes at him, making a point of maintaining eye contact as she licks the remnants of it from the ridge of the cone, her smile wide as she watches him swallow thickly. She’s about to say something, to add to the teasing, when she hears a familiar voice behind her, one she hadn’t heard in years. 

“Emily Prentiss?” 

Her eyes go wide as she turns around, uncharacteristically caught out as she clears her throat, scrambling for something to say as she comes face to face with a piece of her past she hadn’t expected to see again, “Cat.” 

Cat chuckles as she steps forward, pulling a still shell-shocked Emily into a hug, “I thought it was you, Em,” she says, squeezing her before she steps back, “It’s been a long time. 15 years maybe?” 

“Closer to 20,” Emily laughs, the shake to it grabbing Aaron’s attention as he watches the interaction between the two women. Emily looks at him and curses herself internally for getting so flustered, “Aaron, this is Catherine Thomas, Cat, we…” she swallows thickly, her lips pressed together to keep the whole truth back, “We go way back,” she smiles as she turns to Cat, sees a spark in her eyes she hadn’t thought about in years, “Cat, this is Aaron. My boyfriend.” 

Cat smiles and holds her hand out for Aaron and he shakes it, “Lovely to meet you, Aaron.” 

“You too,” he replies, looking back and forth between the two women, curious at his girlfriend’s reaction, at the way her shoulders are slightly tight as she watches them interact. 

“Anyway,” Cat says, looking back at Emily, “My wife is just getting some ice cream. I can’t believe you still come here after all these years.” 

Emily nods, “Best ice cream in the city.” 

Cat looks up at Aaron, “Emily introduced me to this place when we first met,” she says, smiling fondly at a memory that was just theirs, “And I bring my wife and kids here now too.” 

Aaron smiles, “My son loves it here too.” 

“Cat?” 

They all turn at the sound of another woman’s voice to see her standing there with two pre-teens, both of them looking relatively irritated at being forced to spend the evening out with their parents, her expression curious as she looks at her wife. Cat nods and indicates she’ll be over in a minute before she turns back to Emily and Aaron.

“Well,” she says, “I’ve been summoned. It was good to see you, Emily. You seem well,” she hugs her again, something Emily returns, careful not to drip ice cream on her back.

“Nice to see you too, Cat,” she says, smiling as she pulls back, her gaze falling on her family behind them, “Your family is beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” Cat beams before she looks at Aaron, “Nice to meet you, Aaron.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he replies. They watch as Cat walks back to her family, gratefully taking her ice cream from her wife as she makes it to her side, saying something they can’t hear, “She seems nice.” 

“Yeah,” Emily says, feeling out of sorts from the flashback to a past life, something from so long ago it felt like it had happened to someone else. A part of her she kept secret, even from Aaron, “She is.” 

“Shall we go home?” He offers, his gaze on her as she smiles at him, a tenseness to it that she doesn’t hide well as her eyes meet his. She nods, shaking her head to rid herself of the feeling that had settled over her the last few minutes. The strange mix of nostalgia for her past when she was young and unburdened by responsibility and everything to come, and happiness for someone she’d once loved, all whilst she stood next to the person she knew was the love of her life, the man she’d spend the rest of her life with. 

“Yeah,” she says, smiling as she presses her lips together, her focus back on her ice cream as she eats some more, “Let’s go home.” 

___

She thinks about it for a couple of days.

She’d told herself for years that she’d never mention it, her relationship with Cat and the other women she’d dated over the years, because it wasn’t relevant. Since she’d come back to DC, still on uneven ground after being Lauren Reynolds and being with Ian, she’d only dated men. It wasn’t a purposeful act, not something she’d particularly tried to do, but it had happened. So it meant telling her friends, her new family, seem unimportant. 

It was, after all, not the biggest secret she was keeping from them.

She’d never even told her mother. Sure that, at best, her reaction would be to tell her it was ‘just a phase.’ At worst, she was sure her mother’s rather selective catholicism would make itself known, and she didn’t want to put herself through it. Instead, she kept the few relationships she’d had with women from her, and the one time she’d met Cat she’d introduced her as a friend, something that she hadn’t known at the time would start to unravel their relationship. The first pull at the thread that held them together, Cat’s confidence in her sexuality so much stronger than Emily’s had been at the time. Cat had been out and proud the entire time she’d known her, and, in the long run, their difference in how they approached it would never have worked. 

There were times when Emily had considered telling the team. When she’d make eyes at a woman across a bar when they were all out together, but she’d always chicken out, even with her tongue loosened and her cheeks warmed by tequila. People, mostly ex-boyfriends, had reacted poorly before. Either telling her that bi-sexual wasn’t a real thing, dismissing something she’d always known to be true about herself, or over-sexualising it, a familiar look in their eyes as they saw how her sexuality could benefit them. 

After Paris, she decided she’d simply keep it to herself. Her friend's view of her had been changed anyway, the person they thought she was dead and gone, buried in the grave that had always been empty. She couldn’t bear to do it again, to once again change what they thought they knew about her, even for something like this, so she didn’t. Even when she started dating Aaron, sweet, kind loving, Aaron who had never been anything but supportive and unflinching whenever she told him anything she hesitated.

Ever since they’d walked into Cat, she felt the need to tell him. To uncover this last final part of herself that she’d kept hidden away. He knew everything about Ian. He knew about Rome. It was time he knew about this too. 

Even though she wants to tell him, she feels nervous. A familiar kind of anxiety settles in her chest as she snuggles up on the couch with him one night, determined to not put it off any longer. Jack was in bed, safe and asleep in his room down the hall, and the TV was on, a movie they’d watched countless times before fading into the background as she sinks into her boyfriend’s side. She presses her face against his shoulder, breathing him in, breathing in the last few moments of how things were before she changed them forever. 

“I need to tell you something,” she says, her words partially muffled by his shirt before she pulls back, her brows furrowed as she corrects herself, “Actually, I don’t need to tell you. But I want to.” 

He watches her carefully for a moment before he nods, reaching for the remote to turn off the TV, ensuring she has all of his attention. He turns so he’s facing her, his knee skimming her thigh as she turns too, her focus on the top of the couch. She tugs nervously at a loose thread, a nervous habit he’s grateful distracts her from her cuticles. He thinks of the ring he has tucked away in his sock drawer, of how he pictures her twisting it around her finger when she is nervous or worried. He reaches out for her, frowning when she jumps ever so slightly when his hand lands on her knee. He squeezes gently, smiling even though she doesn’t look up at him.

“You can tell me anything, you know that,” he assures her, and she nods, her lips pressed together as she continues to pull at the thread on the couch. 

“You…” she swallows thickly, her eyes closed as she trips over the words she’d practised in her head for days, “You remember that woman we bumped into the other day, Cat?” She asks, her eyes darting up to his face as he nods, “She…she wasn’t just a friend. She was my girlfriend. We dated for almost a year when we were both in college,” she blows out a breath, her chest shuddering with it, feeling somehow lighter and heavier at the same time with the admission, “I’m Bisexual.” 

Her words hang in the air around them and she holds her breath, waiting for his reaction, unable to bring herself to look at him, worried about what she’d find. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he says, his words even and calm, his softness so jarring she looks up at him fast enough it cricks her neck, a pain she barely feels as he carries on, “And thank you for trusting me - I know that can’t have been easy.” 

She chokes on a humourless laugh, “Thats…that’s it?” 

He smiles at her, his dimples carved out in his cheeks in a way she loves, and he squeezes her knee, “Did you…want a different reaction?” 

“No,” she replies, shaking her head, choking on something she can’t name - a sound between a sob and a laugh caught in her chest, “No, not at all. I’ve just never had someone react so…well before.” 

He furrows his brow, “What do you mean, sweetheart?” 

She laughs bitterly and shakes her head, wiping away a tear she hadn’t expected until she felt it on her cheek, “I once had an ex-boyfriend ask me if it meant we could have a threesome,” she says, scrunching her nose up at the memory. She looks at Aaron and smiles at the pure horror on his face, his brow furrowing in indignation for a past version of her, “I broke up with him when it became very clear he already had a list of women who’d be ‘up for it’ at the ready.” 

He clenches his jaw, “I’m sorry he reacted like that,” he replies, “You deserved better than that. You deserve better.” 

She presses her lips together and shakes her head lovingly as more tears slip past her lash line, “Well, I have better now,” she says, playing her hand over his on her knee, linking their fingers together, “Do you have any questions?” 

“Have you dated any other women?” He asks softly, curious more than anything, and she nods, running her thumb back and forth over his hand. 

“Yeah, a couple of others but none as serious as my relationship with Cat. And I’ve had a few dates and drunken hook-ups,” she replies, her cheeks burning with embarrassment she knows she shouldn't feel. 

“Have you always known?”

She nods, “Since I was pretty young,” she smiles her lips pressed together at the memory, “Let’s just say, The Dukes of Hazzard was a bit of an awakening. Luke Duke was hot…and so was Daisy Duke.” 

He smiles and squeezes her hand, lifting it to kiss her knuckles, “What made you tell me now?” 

She blows out a slow breath, “After we walked into Cat, I realised I didn’t want to hide it from you anymore. All the reasons I had for doing so suddenly didn’t make any sense.” 

He pulls her into a hug, his arm tight around her as he kisses her cheek, “I’m glad you told me,” he says, smiling as she turns her head to kiss him.

“I’m glad I did too,” she replies, nudging her nose against his, “I…I was so worried it would change how you looked at me.” 

He frowns and pulls back to look at her, shaking his head as he tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “Never,” he assures her, “Nothing ever could. Especially this.” 

She furrows her brow and tilts her head at him, “What do you mean?” 

He sighs as he chooses his words carefully, “You’ve always been bi, sweetheart, right? It’s been part of who you are as long as I’ve known you, and it’s been part of you as long as I’ve loved you,” he smiles as he reaches out to wipe away a tear from her cheek, “So it doesn’t change anything because it’s always been who you are, even if you hadn’t told me.” 

She leans forward, her forehead against his neck as she breathes him in again, the world the same as it had been before she’d told him, but somehow different too. His understanding of her deeper but everything else unchanged. She takes a moment to hold him close, and she plays everything he’d said back in her head. A conversation she’d remember again and again as a reminder of how much he loved her, how well he loved her. Something she thinks that, after everything, she might just deserve. She furrows her brow as she thinks about it, the way he’d said part of all those wonderful things catching in her chest. Aaron was purposeful in everything. Not calculated, but purposeful. He never said anything he didn’t mean, and she narrows her eyes at him as she pulls back. 

“Wait…you said ‘even if I hadn’t told you…” she tilts her head as he clears his throat, avoiding her eye contact, “Oh my god - you knew?” 

He sighs, scratching the back of his head with the hand not tangled up in hers, “Sweetheart-”

She scoffs and lightly hits his chest, her cheeks burning at the thought that she’d got herself so worked up over something he apparently already knew, “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

He smiles at her indignation, catching her hand before she slaps his chest again for laughing at her. He kisses her knuckles and smiles fondly at her, disarming her ability to be annoyed at him so easily she’s annoyed at herself. 

“It wasn’t my place to, Em,” he says, “It’s your story to tell.” 

She knows he’s right and she huffs out a breath, her cheek against his shoulder as she pouts in a way she’d deny if he brought it up, “How the hell did you know?” 

“As someone who has been in love with you for much longer than I care to admit, I paid close attention to your interactions with anyone I thought might be flirting with you,” he smiles as she tilts her head to look at him, “It didn’t take long to realise you have chemistry with literally every person you ever meet.” 

She suppresses a laugh, her lips pressed together as one more wave of anxiety rolls through her, “And you don’t mind?” 

He shakes his head, leaning in to kiss her, his hand on her cheek to hold her in place, “If anything, it just makes me feel even more lucky that out of everyone you could be with you chose to be with me.” 

She sighs but it catches in her chest, love for him filling her lungs so fast she can’t catch her breath, “Oh, no honey,” she says, placing her hand over his on her cheek, shaking her head as he catches a tear the moment it slips free from her lashes, “I’m the lucky one.” 

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.3)

You die in their arms (Part.3)

In the heat of battle, you succumbs to fatal injuries in the arms of your partner. Each X-Men, torn apart by grief, reacts to the devastating loss, facing the crushing reality that their greatest power cannot bring back the person they love most.

Characters: Wade Wilson, Mystique, Warren Worthington III, Bobby Drake, Laura Kinney, Kitty Pryde, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff & Sunspot

Wade Wilson

The battlefield was its usual chaos—blood, explosions, and a flurry of bullets—but none of it registered to Wade when he saw you go down. His joking banter stopped dead in its tracks, and for once, the Merc with a Mouth was silent as he sprinted over to you. His heart raced as he dropped to his knees beside you, his gloved hands shaking as he reached out to touch your bloodied form.

“Y/N, hey, c’mon... this isn’t funny,” Wade muttered, a nervous laugh escaping him as he gently pulled you into his lap. You were too still, too quiet, and it terrified him in ways he couldn’t put into words.

Your eyes fluttered open, and despite the pain, you gave him a small, familiar smile. “Wade... always the comedian...”

“Yeah, well, you know me. Gotta keep things light, right? But this... this isn’t light, babe. You gotta hang in there.” His voice cracked, and he cursed under his breath, trying to keep his usual bravado intact. But as he looked down at your wound, the blood soaking through your clothes, the reality hit him like a freight train.

“Wade... it’s okay. I’m okay,” you whispered, though your voice was weak.

“No, no, you’re not okay! You’re gonna be okay, though. You’ve gotta be, because I can’t... I can’t lose you.” His voice was raw, and for once, the usual joking tone was gone, replaced by desperation.

You reached up, your hand trembling as you touched his face, and he leaned into your touch, his heart breaking. “I love you, Wade... don’t forget that.”

Before he could respond, your eyes fluttered shut, and the weight of your hand slipped from his cheek. Wade froze, the world around him slowing to a crawl as he stared at you. “No... no, no, no!” He screamed, pulling you closer, his voice echoing in the chaos. For once, the man who always had a joke for every situation was left speechless, his heart shattered into pieces.

Mystique

The battlefield was nothing new to Mystique. She had fought in countless wars, led rebellions, and watched allies fall by her side, but none of that had prepared her for the sight of you, crumpled and broken on the ground, blood soaking into the dirt beneath you.

She shifted into her true form as she sprinted toward you, her yellow eyes wide with fear. When she reached you, she dropped to her knees, her usually stoic expression shattered by the sight of you so close to death. “Y/N,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a fear she rarely allowed herself to feel.

Your eyes fluttered open as she touched your face, her blue fingers tracing the lines of your features. “Raven...” you whispered, your voice weak and breathless.

“I’m here,” she said, her voice a mixture of desperation and determination. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll fix this.”

But as she looked down at the wound in your chest, her heart sank. Even with all her experience, all her skills, she knew there was nothing she could do to save you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your hand reaching up to touch her cheek.

Mystique swallowed hard, her jaw clenching as she fought to keep her composure. “Don’t you apologize,” she growled, her voice rough with emotion. “You’re going to make it, do you hear me? I won’t let you die.”

You smiled weakly, your fingers brushing against her cheek as your strength faded. “I love you, Raven.”

Mystique’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. She had been in love before, but never like this. The thought of losing you, of being without you, was more than she could bear. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes.

But as your body went limp in her arms, Mystique let out a strangled cry, her heart shattering into pieces. She pulled you close, her blue skin slick with your blood as she clutched you to her chest.

For the first time in her life, Mystique felt truly vulnerable.

Warren Worthington III

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the battlefield, but all Warren could see was you—lying motionless on the ground far below. His heart skipped a beat, panic rising in his chest as he dove from the sky, his white wings slicing through the air. Nothing else mattered but reaching you.

When he landed next to you, his breath was ragged. “Y/N!” he cried, his voice breaking as he knelt down, gathering you in his arms. His wings curled protectively around the two of you, shielding you from the chaos around.

Your eyes fluttered open, barely focused, and you gave him a faint, weak smile. “Warren... you’re here.”

He nodded frantically, brushing the hair from your face, his hands shaking as he inspected the wound on your chest. “I’m here, I’m here. You’re going to be okay, just hold on.”

But as he looked down at the deep, bleeding wound, his heart sank. He had seen injuries like this before, and he knew—he just couldn’t accept it. His wings trembled as he held you closer, cradling you in his arms. “Don’t... don’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice barely holding together. “I need you.”

You reached up, your hand weakly caressing his face. “I love you... I always have.”

Warren’s breath hitched, tears welling in his eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours, feeling your warmth fading. “I love you too. So much. Please, don’t go.” His voice was a broken whisper, the angel brought to his knees by the thought of losing you.

Your hand slipped from his cheek, and he felt your body grow limp in his arms. He let out a broken sob, clutching you close to his chest as his wings unfurled, stretching out toward the sky. For the first time in his life, the feeling of soaring through the skies meant nothing—because the only person who had ever grounded him, the only person who made him feel whole, was gone.

Bobby Drake

The battlefield was chaos, ice and fire clashing, mutants fighting for survival, but none of that registered in Bobby’s mind the moment he saw you fall. His heart dropped into his stomach, ice forming instinctively around him as he sprinted across the field toward you.

Sliding to his knees, he reached out, his hands trembling as he touched your face. “Y/N? Hey, hey, stay with me,” he whispered, panic lacing his words as he cradled you against him. The cold that usually radiated from him felt distant, irrelevant, as he stared at the deep wound on your side.

Your eyes fluttered open, weak and unfocused. “Bobby...”

“I’m right here,” he said, his voice breaking as he tried to smile for you. “You’re gonna be fine. We’ve got this, okay?”

But the truth hung heavy in the air, and he knew it. The wound was too severe, and the blood pooling beneath you wasn’t stopping. He wanted to freeze time, to freeze everything so that this moment wouldn’t be real. But time kept moving forward, and you were slipping away.

You reached up, your hand cold against his cheek, but it wasn’t from his powers—it was from the life draining from you. “I love you... I always have.”

Bobby swallowed the lump in his throat, tears spilling down his cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I love you too. God, I love you so much. Please don’t leave me.”

Your fingers slipped from his face, and your body went still in his arms. Bobby let out a choked sob, pulling you closer as the cold around him intensified, the frost spreading across the ground. For the first time, he didn’t care about controlling his powers. He didn’t care about anything, because the one person who made him feel alive was gone.

Laura Kinney

Laura fought like a force of nature, her claws slashing through the enemies with brutal precision. She had always been a weapon, honed and sharpened for battle, but when she saw you collapse on the battlefield, her heart clenched in a way that was unfamiliar—fear, raw and unfiltered, surged through her.

In an instant, she was at your side, her claws retracting as she dropped to her knees next to you. “Y/N!” Her voice was rough, strained with panic as she cradled you in her arms.

You opened your eyes, your face pale as you looked up at her, a faint smile playing on your lips. “Laura...”

“Don’t talk,” she growled, her hands hovering over your wound, unsure of what to do. She could heal, but you... you weren’t like her. She couldn’t fix this, and the realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

Your hand weakly reached up, brushing against her cheek. “I’m sorry... I didn’t... didn’t see it coming.”

Laura clenched her jaw, her eyes burning with unshed tears as she shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize. This wasn’t your fault.” She bit back the sob threatening to escape, her heart pounding in her chest as she held you closer.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice so soft it was almost lost in the wind. “Always.”

Laura’s breath caught in her throat, her grip on you tightening as she pressed her forehead to yours. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears slipped down her cheeks. “More than anything.”

But as your hand fell from her face and your body went limp in her arms, Laura let out a broken cry, her claws extending with a metallic "snikt" as she gripped your lifeless body to her chest. She had always been a fighter, a survivor, but in that moment, she felt powerless—because the one person who had ever made her feel like more than a weapon was gone.

Kitty Pryde

The battle was in full swing, with explosions and shouts all around, but the moment Kitty saw you go down, everything blurred into a distant hum. She phased through the chaos, slipping past debris and combatants until she reached you, her heart hammering in her chest.

Dropping to her knees beside you, Kitty gently pulled you into her lap, her hands trembling as she cupped your face. “Y/N, no… come on, look at me.” Her voice was urgent, but there was already a knowing fear in her eyes as she scanned the wound on your abdomen.

Your eyes fluttered open, barely focusing on her face. “Kitty…”

“Shh, don’t talk, okay? I’ll get you out of here, we’ll be fine,” she promised, though her voice wavered. Kitty had been through countless battles, but none of them prepared her for this—the thought of losing you.

You gave her a weak smile, reaching up to brush your fingers against her cheek. “You’ve always... been my hero.”

Tears welled in Kitty’s eyes as she gripped your hand, pressing it to her face. “And you’re mine. Don’t you dare leave me, Y/N. We were supposed to have more time, more—” Her voice cracked as she choked on the words.

You squeezed her hand one last time, but the light in your eyes was fading. Kitty felt the moment your body went limp, and she let out a broken sob, her forehead resting against yours. For a long time, she just held you, her tears falling silently as the world around her collapsed.

Wanda Maximoff

The battlefield was littered with chaos—magic crackling in the air, debris scattered everywhere. Wanda had never felt so out of control, her powers threatening to lash out as she saw you fall to the ground, unmoving. She blinked to your side in an instant, the world slowing down as she knelt beside you.

“Y/N... no, no, please don’t...” Her voice wavered, her hands hovering over you as if afraid to touch, afraid to confirm what she already knew. A deep gash marred your chest, and blood soaked through your clothes at an alarming rate.

Your eyes opened just slightly, and when they landed on Wanda, you smiled faintly. “Wanda... I’m sorry...”

She shook her head, her hands trembling as she pressed them over your wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. “No, don’t apologize. You’re going to be fine—I’ll fix this. I can fix everything!” Her voice rose in panic, and she started to chant, her fingers glowing with red energy. But no matter how much magic she summoned, it wasn’t enough.

You reached up, your hand weakly brushing against her face. “I love you... you know that, right?”

Tears streamed down Wanda’s face, her vision blurring as she cupped your cheek. “I love you too... please don’t go, Y/N, I need you.” Her voice was a broken whisper, desperation flooding every word.

But you were slipping away, your breath becoming shallow, your grip on her loosening. And as your eyes fluttered closed for the last time, Wanda let out a gut-wrenching scream, the magic exploding out of her in a surge of grief and fury. The world bent and warped around her, but none of it mattered—because the one person who anchored her was gone.

Pietro Maximoff

One moment, you were standing beside him, fighting off enemies with your usual grace and skill. The next, you were on the ground, bleeding out. Pietro’s world slowed down even more than usual, his heart dropping into his stomach as he zipped to your side, cradling you in his arms before anyone else could even react.

“Y/N! No, no, no... please don’t do this to me,” he whispered, his hands shaking as he pressed them to the wound on your chest, trying to stop the bleeding. His mind raced a thousand miles a second, calculating every possible scenario—but there was nothing he could do.

You opened your eyes, and when you saw him, you smiled weakly. “Pietro... you’re always so fast.”

“Not fast enough,” he said, his voice cracking as he brushed your hair away from your face. “I should’ve been there, should’ve protected you...”

You reached up, your fingers brushing his cheek. “You’ve always been... my hero.”

His breath hitched, tears blurring his vision as he pressed your hand to his face. “You can’t leave me, Y/N. We’ve got so much more to do. Remember? We were gonna run away together, see the world—just you and me.”

Your grip on his hand loosened, and Pietro felt your body grow still in his arms. He let out a choked sob, his forehead resting against yours as he held you close. For once, time felt too slow, and every second without you was a moment too long.

Sunspot

The battle raged on around you, the heat of Sunspot’s powers lighting up the battlefield as he took down enemy after enemy. But when he saw you collapse, his heart stopped, the fiery energy around him flickering for just a moment as panic surged through his chest. He flew to your side, his hands shaking as he dropped down next to you.

“Y/N? No, no, no... this isn’t happening,” Roberto’s voice was frantic as he cradled you in his arms, his usually confident demeanor crumbling. You were pale, your breath coming in shallow gasps, and there was so much blood...

You coughed weakly, your hand twitching as you reached up to touch his cheek. “Roberto...”

“I’m here, I’m here,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he pressed his hand over your wound, trying to stop the bleeding. He had seen this happen in battle before, had seen friends and comrades fall—but not you. Never you. You were supposed to be safe, supposed to be by his side.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled faintly at him, despite the pain. “You’ve always... burned so brightly.”

“Don’t say that. You’re gonna be fine, okay? You’ve gotta be fine, because I can’t—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. Roberto wasn’t one to cry, but the thought of losing you? It was too much.

You gave him one last, soft smile, your hand falling from his cheek as your eyes slipped closed. Roberto felt the moment your heart stopped, and the fire inside him burned hotter, fiercer than ever before. But it wasn’t enough to bring you back.

With a broken sob, Roberto pulled you closer, his body trembling with grief. For the first time in his life, his powers—his fire—felt like nothing compared to the cold emptiness of losing you.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, dubcon, coercion, bullying

fem reader

Your bully says he’s always been curious about what it’s like to fuck a geeky good girl like you—and that he’ll leave you if you let him have a taste.

You knew he was probably mostly joking when he offered… but you were sick and tired and perhaps a little desperate for the chance of him finally leaving you alone—so you balled your fists within his shirt, dragged him inside an empty classroom, and told him he could do whatever he wanted.

You don’t know who was more surprised.

He never knew you to be so brazen—but it’s not like you’re some blushing virgin, either.

You have experience. However, most of that experience is with nicer guys… not someone like him…

It’s not like you expected him to go easy on you, but still…

You bruise against the desk he has you bent over on—dewy-faced and panting, lying cheek-down in your own drool as he fucks full-chested moans right out of you. He snickers when your thighs shake, whistling with a grin when feeling your tight cunt flutter around him—slick dripping to the floor in a little puddle.

“You’re so wet it’s embarrassing.” He laughs.

He’s got your arms tussled behind your back, using your shirt as bindings—having balled your skirt up around your waist in two tight fists, knuckles white while using it to keep you still as he pounds into you with a mean snap of his hips. 

Your heart drops when you hear a rip. A second time when, you feel his movements still, and a thick warmth starts to fill you.

“Ah—fuck—don’t squeeze so tight—I’m ‘bout to—” He grunts, but it’s already too late once he pulls out.

Panting heavily as his cock drips with the last drop—hunched over—his eyes fall to your glossy cunt, half-mast while staring at the way his cum slowly leaks out of the still-fluttering little hole. 

He feels a cute-aggressive urge to slap it but doesn’t want to get his hand all sticky.

He pulls his pants up instead, only bothering to button his shirt up halfway, tie hanging loosely around his neck. Anyone with eyes could guess what he’d been doing with his sweaty hair and that flushed look on his face.

And yet he starts leaving without a care or a word. 

Already halfway out the door before you get your wits back.

“No—wait!” You warble, unknotting your sleeves to wrap your shirt around you. “You can’t leave me like this—my skirt…” You hold the tattered piece up for him to see, showing him the tear he’d made, rendering it unwearable.

His hand is still on the doorknob, only bothering to acknowledge you with a jaded look over his shoulder. “How’s that my problem?”

Your brows cinch that pitiful way it always does. That cute way that has his gut bubble and fizz. “Please…” You plead, and it’s almost enough to make his cock perk up again. “Just bring me a skirt from lost and found… please?”

He sighs—the door at his back as he leans against it with arms folded upon his chest. “Tch—and what's in it for me?”

You nibble your lip in thought—but you already know the answer. 

“I’ll be better at it next time—just... please?”

“Hm…” He hums in thought, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips, tugged as if your words had pulled it with string. “Wait here, I’ll be back.”

The door closed with a click, and you were left in the classroom alone.

A few minutes passed. You doubted his return. 

You could always call a friend… but you didn’t want to get anyone into any trouble—calling them when they’re in class. Also, how would you even explain it to them? What type of person skips class to have sex in an empty classroom? Not to mention, they’d ask who you’d done it with—and there was just no way you could tell them. It’d be too embarrassing—you might just die—and if anyone else ever found out, he’d more likely kill you himself.

Well… suppose you could always make the run to Lost and Found yourself. The hallways should be mostly empty at this hour, but there’s really no guarantee. 

In the end, the thought of someone catching you in cum-soaked panties makes you hold onto all hope that your bully would return as he’d said.

And fifteen minutes later, he does. Black school skirt in one hand and strawberry milk in the other. Seemed he’d taken the time to stop at a vending machine.

But you don’t care. Breathing out a sigh of relief—gratitude on your lips as you leap over to him. “Thank you—” 

You eagerly accept the skirt—putting it on just as quickly.

He leans back against the door again, sipping his carton while watching you fall still with dismay. Humored at the pout that takes your lips as you look up at him with those pitiful doe-eyes.

“This is too short…”

He hides his smile with a tilt of his head. “Oh?” He grabs his jaw and pretends to assess your bottom half with focus. “Hmm… turn around, lemme see.”

You listen trustingly—as though you actually believe he cares. It almost makes him laugh out loud at how fucking gullible you are. But he keeps his act tight. Humming at the sight of the skirt only barely covering the crease of your cute ass.

“You’re right—something’s off.” He admits. 

You look back at him just in time to see his smirk before he grabs you. 

Keeping you still with an arm wrapped around your waist, he tips you over and grabs your panties—pulling them despite your body's protests as you wiggle in his hold. You cry as the fabric wedges up between your asscheeks, kicking your legs behind you until feeling it rip.

“There you go…” He coos while letting go of you, twirling the torn string in his hand. “Now it fits perfectly.”

He chuckles at the pretty tears clumped upon your lashes as you look at him with your lip tucked between your teeth until you finally get the grit to say what’s on the tip of your tongue.

“You’re an asshole.”

He sneers with a smile and bags your panties in his pocket—then turns around and opens the door. Leaving you worse off than before.

“Never said otherwise, buttercup.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Shigaraki, Hawks, Shinso, Kirishima

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Toji

DS – Akaza, Sanemi

HQ – Kuro, Miya twins

[logansdoll]

I have so many ideas but I'm not a talented writer so here's one

-your logans wife pre striker you get taken by striker after logan gets shot as a way to kinda get back at him. Logan always had visions of a woman that he doesn't remember glimpses of domestic bliss. When striker attacks (in x2) striker name drops or says smth like "your wife has been waiting" as a way to antagonize logan.

Also, a cute detail to add if a fic takes place before he loses his memory would be the reader to call him james

I really love how your reader in has a plant mutation. Everything you write is just so good

I hope I wasn't to detailed feel free to take bits and pieces.

contingency

running through the base at Alkali Lake, Logan stumbles across a top secret room... only to find his whole entire world inside.

CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place during X2, has some elements from X-Men Origins: Wolverine, reader has been through some shit, Logan is so relieved, you don't really need to squint to see the angst, i'm iffy on how this turned out, etc.

'Think, dammit! What the hell was he talking about?'

With a roar of frustration, Logan unsheathed his claws, sprinting around the bend and slicing right through the stomach of a nearby soldier, waiting until the man fell with a disgusting plop before continuing on his way.

Why couldn't he just remember?

He knew that, for whatever reason, his memories had been tampered with, and that he couldn't recall anything about his life before the claws.

But ever since his run-in with Stryker back at the mansion, he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something especially important.

Something crucial.

"Wolverine..." Stryker grinned, eyes widening stepping forward out of the shadows. "I must admit, you are the last person I'd expect to find here."

Logan's claws revealed themselves with their signature shink, his brows furrowing as he warily stalked closer.

"How long has it been? Fifteen years?"

Stryker let out a small chuckle, but Logan was having a hard time finding what was so funny.

In fact, he was having a hard time with everything about this man—confused as to why he seemed so familiar.

"(y/n) says hello," Stryker goaded, adjusting his glasses. "Or, at least... I believe she would... If I'm being honest, she's feeling a little under the weather at the moment."

A sadistic smirk settled on his lips, his eyes glinting with sick satisfaction.

"But then again... there's seldom a time where she isn't feeling under the weather these days..."

"DAMMIT!" Logan barked, slamming his fist into a wall.

Not knowing was tearing him apart.

Who was (y/n)?

What were you to him?

And how the hell did he end up on the complete opposite side of the compound?

All questions that he furiously wanted to be answered.

Though, somehow—through his fit of blind frustration—he managed to stumble across a door, which had printed in big, bold, yellow letters:

CAUTION: KEEP OUT. HYDROSTASIS IN PROCESS.

"Hydrostasis?" Logan cocked a brow.

He didn't know why, but whatever was housed inside seemed to be pulling him in, silently urging him to open the door and investigate.

'Fuck it.'

Using one claw, he stabbed the retina scanner, the thick lock clicking with a satisfying beep.

He pushed past the door with ease, entering a seemingly large, dark, and oddly cold room, a lamp on one of the workbenches the only thing illuminating the space.

Cautiously, he approached it, sniffing and snapping his head around to make sure he was alone.

Yet he knew he wasn't.

He'd caught whiff of a faint scent emanating from somewhere further into the room, but it was so familiar, it seemed almost instinct to pay it no mind.

For some reason, he knew it wasn't hostile—and if anything, it calmed him, soothing his spiked nerves.

Reaching the table, he found that right next to the lamp laid a file labeled EXPERIMENT 25-8: CLASSIFIED.

He snatched it up with lightening speed, quickly skimming over the latest entry.

EXPERIMENT 25-8 a.k.a Weapon X Contingency

Name: (y/n) (l/n) Age: Unknown Sex: Female Height: X" X Weight: X Rank: Class 5 Report: 25-8 reviles authority. But her connection to Weapon X and general strength makes her a perfect candidate for Project Contingency. Her mutation and overall will to live have rejected all known forms of mind control. Will be kept in hydrostasis until new methods found. Conclusion: Further research required. Could possibly be the only creature known to man that can stop the Wolverine besides the Wolverine himself.

"(y/n)..." Logan tested out the name, confused as to why it sounded so natural.

So home-like.

Looking away from the pages, he glanced down at the table, catching sight of a large switch not too far away.

Without hesitation, he flicked it, the lights in the room suddenly cutting on, along with the lights to your chamber.

And there you were right before him—unconscious and floating in vibrant blue water.

Looking upon you, it felt like he was suddenly hit by a freight train, years of love, care, and warmth flooding his mind.

"James!" you squealed, unable to dim your smile as he hoisted you over his shoulder. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he smirked, carrying you toward your shared bedroom. "You know what you did..."

"No..."

"C'mere. I need a taste tester," you smiled, cupping your hand under your fork as you held up a chunk of steak.

He grinned, placing down his newspaper and taking a bite, groaning at the good taste as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Well?" you asked, nervous.

"Baby..." he paused for dramatic effect, wanting to see you squirm. "This is the best damn steak I've ever eaten."

"You ass!" you scoffed, playfully slapping him in the shoulder as he laughed, rocking you back and forth.

"I can't..."

"I love you, y'know that?" he asked, holding you close as you both relaxed in the bathtub. "I feel like I don't tell ya enough."

"You tell me every day, baby," you smiled, looking up at him as you rested your back against his chest.

"Well, then," he smirked, his hand rising from the water, holding a beautiful diamond engagement ring. "You alright with me tellin' ya a little bit more?"

Your eyes went as wide as saucers, and you gasped so loud the neighbors (which were three miles away) would certainly hear.

"YES!" you squealed, scrambling to turn around and give him a kiss, the water sloshing around violently.

"Careful, hon! You're gonna knock me out the tub!" he chuckled, steadying you as your lips began peppering kisses all over his face.

"She can't..."

"James," you started, timidly, tracing mindless shapes in his chest as you both laid in bed. "That man you told me about... Stryker... he came by the house today."

Logan tensed at the name, his grip around you tightening.

"He didn't do anything, did he?" he asked, tone rising.

"No," you shook your head. "But he asked for you. Said it was important that you come and talk to him."

He sighed, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles.

"I'll go over tomorrow. Straighten everything out," he assured.

"I don't think you should," you quickly denied, nervous. "This man... I don't trust him... He gives me a bad feeling, y'know?"

He cracked a small smile, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"I promise you, he can't do nothin' to me that hasn't already been done."

"RAAAAH!" Logan roared, blindly slashing at the table and all nearby equipment.

How could he have ever forgotten you?

Fury consumed his being in every sense of the word, the anger swelling inside him in a way he had never felt before.

Sparks flew as Logan destroyed any and everything in his path, teetering on the edge between rage and regret.

He could remember so clearly now.

You were his world—his reason for drawing breath, his reason for existing.

No matter how bad things got—angry, frustrating, or lonely—you were there.

You were his escape, his safety, his peace.

Comparing his life from before to the current, he couldn't fathom how he'd survived so long without being in your presence.

Through his slicing, he managed to cut something important, a loud warning siren blaring before all the water began draining from your pod, rapidly pouring onto the floor.

With a loud hiss, the door opened, sending you falling out the chamber.

Logan rushed over faster than he'd ever done anything, catching you in his arms and cradling you bridal style.

He looked upon you as if you were a ghost, a figment of his imagination.

After years and years of separation, he was finally allowed a chance to see your face, now able to recall all its fine details with perfect accuracy.

The softness of your cheeks.

The kindness of your eyes.

The plumpness of your lips.

Suddenly, you let out a loud cough, spitting up some water as your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.

Logan couldn't find the words.

The love of his life was sitting in his arms and after fifteen years... and he had no idea what to say to her.

"James?" you asked, weakly, disbelieving of the sight before you.

That's right!

James!

His name was James!

"Yeah, baby..." he nodded, bitter-sweetly, getting a bit choked up. "It's me—"

You threw your arms around his neck without a second thought, pulling him into a bone crushing hug as tears began pouring down your cheeks, your shoulders shaking with cries of relief.

"I thought you weren't coming!" you sobbed.

Your throat felt swollen as you stuttered, scrambling to say all the things you've been wanting to for so long.

"Oh, God, I love you, Jimmy! I love you so much! Please don't leave me again!"

"I'm so sorry, baby! I'm so, so sorry!" he sputtered, his hand finding home in your hair as he rocked you back and forth, stray tears escaping his eyes. "I shoulda been here! I shoulda protected you!"

He buried his face in your hair, peppering the side of your head with kisses.

"I love you so much, honey... I'm right here. I'm not goin' anywhere."

Suddenly, you went limp in his arms, panic and fear spiking up his spine.

"(n/n)?!" he pulled back, frantically scanning over you to see what was wrong."(y/n)?!"

Quickly, he pressed his ear against your chest, thanking whatever god in heaven that your heart was beating.

'It might be a side effect of the chamber... or maybe she's tired...'

Without warning, the entire compound began to shake, a familiar blue devil popping up next to him out of nowhere.

"Zere you are!" Kurt exclaimed, quickly grabbing onto his friend. "Vee must go! Zee place is goink to flood!"

In an instant, the three were back with the others, the mysterious woman in Logan's arms posing a question to everyone.

"Logan?" Ororo raised a brow, confused, as they began running toward the exit.

"Who the hell is that?" Scott asked, much blunter than Storm intended.

Logan looked down at your peacefully sleeping face, brushing a stray strand of hair out your face.

"She's my wife..."

bonus !!

"SHE'S YOUR WHAT?"

[call-me-mrs-winchester]

HOMEWORK

PAIRING : teenage!dean winchester x teenage!fem!reader (au)

SUMMARY : reader goes over to dean's house to do homework but that's not all they do...

WARNINGS : young love. fluff. smut. sub-to-dom!dean. dom-to-sub!reader. horniness. under-aged sex. rough sex. unprotected p in v. creampie. getting caught kink. implied aftercare.

A/N : this oneshot was inspired by the gif above ^ (which is from jensen's movie devour [and if you think the gif is hot, you should hear the audio 😏🤤]) anyways—this is an au oneshot so don't trip that john and mary are alive & polite. also, please be patient with me, this is my first time writing in second person—and it being a smut, no less. hopefully over time i'll get better. hope you guys enjoy. lemme know what you think!

You knock on the white door and patiently wait for someone to answer. John opens the door, greeting you with the famous Winchester smile.

"Hey, Y/N." He welcomes. "Dean told me you were coming over. Come on in."

"Thanks."

He steps back and opens the door wider, letting you into the two-story house. He closes the door before leading you further into the lovely home. Mary exits the kitchen, a bright smile lighting up her face once she sees you. She rushes over and wraps you in a warm hug. You happily melt into her motherly embrace. You loved Mary. She had always been kind to you.

"How are you?" She asks, her words muffled against your hair.

"I'm good. And you?"

John walks to the staircase and shouts, "Dean, Y/N's here!" before going to sit in his recliner.

"I'm great," Mary answers. "You kids have plans tonight?"

Nodding, you reply, "Yeah, we've got some homework to do."

Dean rushes down the stairs, catching the attention of you and his mother. You smile at your deliciously handsome boyfriend as he walks toward you. His eyes were fixed on yours as if you were the only one in the room. And it's been that way since the day he met you.

"Hey, beautiful," says Dean.

You giggle at the given pet name, a smile plastered on your blushed cheeks. His lips press against your forehead as his hand runs up your arm, creating goosebumps. Dean pulls away once his hand reaches for the strap on your bookbag. He takes it from your shoulder and throws it over his own. It was a gesture he frequently did, solely for you.

Before you started dating, Dean had his fair share of women. Whether he flirted with them or they threw themselves at him, he always had a girl on his shoulder. Everyone knew Dean Winchester's only rule: No Strings Attached. So, when his attention shifted toward you, you brushed him off. As much as you wanted to experience what the other girls bragged about, you refused to be like them. You had enough respect for yourself to say no despite every cell in your body begging for his. The last thing you expected from him was a chase.

You figured he only wanted sex, so 'No' was something he had to get used to. But he didn't stop, he didn't give up, and he certainly didn't chase anyone else. You couldn't understand his interest in you. You weren't popular or the prettiest girl in school, yet you were all he could think about. So, when you finally agreed to a date, you didn't imagine ending up on the hood of his '67 Chevy Impala, in the middle of a field, staring up at the stars as your head laid on his shoulder, talking the night away.

You feared that when he went to make a move, he would be upset or wouldn't understand. But when that moment came to admit that you were a virgin and weren't ready, he didn't once judge or try to rush you. Instead, he smiled and held you closer. And just like that, Dean had your heart.

Eight months after becoming official, which had been a first for Dean, you decide to take your relationship to the next level. He had become your best friend. You trusted him with your life. And you knew from previous conversations that he felt the same way. After your consummation, the bond between you both became stronger. Neither of you were the same people you were when you got together.

Dean grabs your hand and begins pulling you up the stairs. "We'll be in my room."

"Okay. Dinner will be ready in an hour!" Mary shouts after us.

Dean shuts the door as soon as you walk into his bedroom. Your backpack slumps off his shoulder before he attacks your lips. Happily accepting his eager kiss, you moan into his mouth. His swift hands pull off your sweater, letting it fall to the floor. He pushes you onto the bed, causing it to squeak loudly before climbing over your body.

"Not on the bed while your parents are home, remember?" You breathlessly murmur as his lips travel to your neck, licking and sucking on your sensitive skin. "And we really do have homework."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I can't help that your beauty distracts me." He purrs into your ear, sending goosebumps along your skin.

"Stop trying to butter me up, Winchester." You push his chest away, urging him to get off of you. With a chuckle, he rises, grabbing your hands to help you off the mattress. "We have work to do."

Letting go of your hands, Dean walks over to the desk across from his bed and plops himself in his swivel chair. You walk over to your backpack and fetch your supplies before sitting in the chair beside him. You place the textbook between the two of you, flipping to page 124. Opening a fresh page in your notebook, you both began to work in silence.

Half an hour had gone by, and your page showed minimal progress. Sure, you solved a few problems, but your mind wandered elsewhere. The only chemistry you were thinking of was that of your boyfriend. Your paper blurs as you imagine his lips back on yours. You shut your eyes as you focus on the vivid feeling of his cock pounding in and out of you like all the times he had before. Your breath became shallow as your walls clenched around nothing. Although you gave him crap about it earlier, you found yourself unable to resist the temptation.

You open your eyes and glance toward Dean. His brows pinched together, gaze fixed on the problem before him. His face contorted with concentration, absorbed by the equation. The steely determination set in his jaw matched the resolute expression in his eyes. You bit your bottom lip, finding him even hotter. After setting your pencil down, you rise from the chair and turn towards your partner.

Dean looked up from his homework, giving you his attention. Without a word, you leaned down and began to unbutton his jeans. He watched as you slowly unzipped his pants, not bothering to stop or ask what you were up to. He knew exactly what you were doing. You reach into his boxers and pull out his hardening member, mouth watering at the sight of it.

His hand replaces yours, pumping his growing length as he watches you reach underneath your skirt to peel off your soaked panties. Once they fall to the wood floor, you move to straddle his hips. With your hands on his shoulders to steady your balance, you hover over his fully erect cock. Your dominant hand runs down his clothed chest before grabbing hold of his thick member and aligning it with your awaiting entrance. Dean's hands push your skirt higher and rest them against your bare hips. With his help, you ease onto his throbbing cock, moans escaping both of your mouths at the sheer contact.

He stretches your insides, forcing you to feel every inch he was blessed with. Your walls were so tight; He had to concentrate to avoid finishing too early. Your breath mingled with his, trying to find the strength to remain quiet. Once you adjusted around him, you slowly slide off, stopping when the tip dares to slip out. You and Dean make eye contact, staring into each other's souls as you lower again. Your wetness coats his length, making it easier to glide up and down. In no time, you were feverishly bouncing on his rock-hard shaft.

Quiet moans spill from your lips as he brushes your G-spot. Dean wraps his arms around your torso, helping keep your rhythm. Your hands gently pull his neck forward, connecting your lips. The bouncing made it difficult but not impossible as his tongue danced with yours. The overwhelming passion engulfed you, causing a delightful feeling of dizziness. After breaking for air, you rested your foreheads together.

You pick up the pace, and as a reward, Dean thrusts upward. Your hips crash together, slamming his dick against your G-spot even harder. A loud moan slips from your lips, unable to keep quiet from that mesmerizing thrust. He hushes you, and you nod quickly, not wanting to draw his family's attention. The added suspense of getting caught and his fingers rubbing harshly against your clit drove you to your first orgasm. You ride faster as he thrusts harder, working you through your climax. It was nearly impossible to hide your screams of ecstasy, but his shirt did a good enough job softening them.

Heavy pants fall from your lips once your orgasm passes. You lift your head from his shoulder and watch his countenance contour with pleasure. Dean buries his face in your chest, muffling his moans as his arms hug you tighter. Your thighs ache with soreness, hindering your endurance. His hand moves up your back, holding you closer as you feel his thrusts begin to falter. Knowing your boyfriend was close, you pushed through the pain and ran your fingers through his hair before gripping it tightly, just how he liked. You clench around his cock, knowing all the ways to make him spill his load. His hands quickly gripped your hips, locking yours with his before spewing hot ropes of cum deep inside you.

You both moan as his seed coats your soft walls. In times like these, you're thankful for the shot. Although—despite your age—you wouldn't mind having Dean's baby. Hell, you imagined your future with him since the first time you made love. A few kids running around the yard as your high school sweetheart chased after them was one that often came to mind. One you knew he shared with you.

Dean suddenly gripped your thighs and stood up from his chair, interrupting your thoughts. Your eyes looked into his fairytale green irises, searching for his next move. With one hand, he pushes your schoolwork aside before setting you on the desk. A devilish smirk plays on his lips as he pulls his jeans further down, getting ready to have his turn with you. The beating of your heart begins to quicken once again, bracing yourself for what's to come.

He begins to pull out slowly, both of your cums escaping your entrance. Before too much could leak out, Dean rams into your cunt, trapping the fluid inside again. Your hands traveled to his forearms, digging your nails into his skin. With another powerful thrust, your eyes shut tightly, trying desperately not to scream. After taking a few deep breaths, you mustered the courage to open your eyes and peek at the work he was putting in. With your knees wide apart and your feet above his ass, you had the perfect angle to see his shaft drive in and out of you at a fast pace.

The only sounds in the room were heavy panting, skin slapping, quiet moans, and the thud of each thrust against the desk as the items on it moved to the steady rhythm of Dean's hips. His hands trail down your thighs and to your hips, fingertips squeezing hard enough to leave bruises, just how you liked. He angles himself so he's no longer thrusting horizontally but vertically. Your body jolts to the new sensation, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

This man was trying to kill you. You had no doubt left crescent marks upon his skin before you gripped the wooden desk with all your might. The pressure in the pit of your stomach threatened to explode any second. Short and hushed screams escaped your lips as he only went faster, harder, and even deeper than before. He knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted you to scream at the top of your lungs. He strived to get you close enough to shout your pleasure.

He accomplished that once his right hand slipped between your legs and applied heavy pressure to your already sensitive clit. You gasped, but before you cried with ecstasy, he leaned down and covered your mouth with his. After a few more thrusts and rubs to your bundle of nerves, you came undone. Your hands quickly make their way to his back, legs tightening around his hips, holding on for dear life as he fucked your pussy like it was the last time. Tears stream down your temples, overcome by your third orgasm seconds after your last.

Your limbs go limp, the arch in your spine straightening as your body comes down from its sex-induced high. With lips now detached, exhaustion sets in as both of you catch your breath. Dean's body presses against yours, hearts beating as one. You open your eyes to find him staring back, a lazy smile gracing his handsome face. He didn't make a move to part from your body, and you didn't intend to make him. His hand brushed your sweat-clung hair away from your face, taking in your beautiful post-sex glow.

"So much for homework."

Knowing he would say that, you teased with, "I can't help that your beauty distracts me."

Your laughters fills the room before it's interrupted by a knock on the door. Each of your eyes widened, having been—almost—caught in the act. Both of your bodies had stiffened with fear.

"Yeah?" Dean called, attempting to be calm.

"Dinner's ready," Sam replies from the opposite side of the door.

You and Dean sigh in relief; it was only Sammy. He knew better than to go into Dean's room, especially when you were over.

"We'll be right down!"

The sound of Sam's footsteps fades as he walks away from your boyfriend's door. He begins to laugh again, encouraging you to participate. There never seemed to be a dull moment with Dean Winchester. He sits up, pulling you with him before sliding his semi-hardened member out of your soaked vagina. He helps you off the desk and catches you when your legs wobble. Once you regain your balance, you pull your skirt down and search for your underwear. You could feel both of your liquids leak from your entrance, beginning to drip down your legs. Dean fetches the pair and stuffs them in his pocket.

He tucks his cock back into his jeans before zipping up. He grabs your hand and gently kisses your cheek. You close your eyes as his lips linger. The warmth of his skin radiates onto yours, something you have always found comforting. He pulls away and tugs you with him.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's go clean up."

You nod as a small smile appears on your face, knowing he'll take care of you like he always did after sex. You couldn't have asked for or found a better partner, especially so early in life. How did you get so damn lucky?

PREQUEL

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[notjustjavierpena]

Routine

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hi everyone! I told you that I had a hubby-treat for you, and it is finally here. I’m very excited to share this one with you as it is something that I’ve gotten a ton of requests for. You love the simplicity of domestic life, so here’s the life of Los Peñas after you’ve begged to see what their routine looks like.  Like always: A huge thanks to @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for being a patient, sweet and talented beta-reader.

Summary: A day in the life of Javier Peña and his growing family. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, MDNI, hubby!javi’s POV and introspection, pregnant reader, pregnancy symptoms, family dynamics, domestic routines, tooth-rotting domestic bliss, siblings being siblings, married banter, heart-to-hearts, references to Reassess, family conflicts, casanova!javi turned oblivious!javi, javier with a baby needs a warning, handsy and  inappropriate!javi, mention of javier’s mother, baby scan talk, hubby being a DAD!, couch cuddles (with and without kids), sex toys (not explicitly a rose but something along the lines, and while I know we are in the 00s, let’s pretend that sucking toys and cordless toys were a thing for the sake of the story), f masturbation, pregnancy sex, consent king javi, teasing, light dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, light verbal humiliation, nipple play, nipple orgasm, overstim, intense sex, multiple orgasms, m masturbation, wife is an insatiable brat and a screamer, slight dacryphilia, piv sex, rough sex, breeding kink, creampie, slight subdrop, lots of praises and aftercare, baths and hair washing,  

Word count: 17.2k (sorry)

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56355349

Routine

Javier’s alarm goes off at 6:30 AM each morning. He breathes deeply in through his nose as he is woken by the beeping sounds of his alarm clock, pulls his arm out from under the covers where it is wrapped around your waist, and moves it to the button on top of the device. He fumbles to find it for a moment, ending up smacking his hand into the plastic with a grunt. 

You stir beside him when he falls back down on his back. He rubs his eyes until he sees fireworks behind his lids, moving the hand down to smooth his thumb and forefinger along his mustache. 

“It’s 6:30,” he then tells you, reaching for your shoulder to shake you gently until you whine a no and cover your face with your arms. He smiles as your half-asleep state makes you no better than his only daughter, “Come on, mi amor (my love). Another day.”

“Thank God, it’s Friday,” you mumble, “One more wake-up routine and I might leave to start a new life as an actually interesting person, maybe a psychic woman.”

“Telling fortunes?” He muses with a goofy smile even if you cannot see him. He reaches to pull your arms away, “C’mon now.”

“Yes, maybe,” you give in and sit up, resting your folded hands on top of your pregnant belly, “The spirits are telling me that you are waking up the queen of this household. I’ll take Seb later.”

You are still on leave after giving birth to Sebastian but after Javier has started his new job, the both of you have discussed the idea of you being a stay-at-home mother for some time after the twins have been born too. You do most of your work on your computer anyway, and if you quit your job, there’ll be plenty of opportunities to do some freelance stuff for extra income. Javier isn’t over the moon about you playing the part of the cherry-pie-making housewife but you reason that you only get to experience the kids as kids once which he can’t argue with (especially not when he chose a different job for the exact same reason).

“You sure have a gift, all-seeing wife,” Javier nods in agreement and kisses your lips even as you say you have a terrible case of morning breath. Then, resting on his hands, he bends down to kiss your stomach too, “Anything else Mamá wants?”

“Can you make breakfast?” You blink prettily, “I’ll do school lunches and coffee.”

“Sure,” he leans over you and smirks when your noses bump together, “How do you want your eggs? Except fertilized, obviously.”

“Javi,” you scold but giggle and initiate a kiss anyway. He kisses you longingly because he hasn’t for eight long hours of sleep. When he pulls back, heat has risen to your cheek, “Just scrambled.”

“You got it,” he moves and gets out of the bed. It is 6:36 AM now and he calculates the time he’ll have to wake up Inés as well as make breakfast if he needs to get in the shower before leaving too. He doesn’t have to stress.

“And Javi?” You call from the bed. 

He turns around in the doorway to the master bathroom, “Yes?”

“Good morning,” you beam. 

“Good morning, baby,” he smiles.

He takes a quick moment to wash his face, leaving the door open so you can run back and forth to pee the million times that you need to each morning. He doesn’t say anything, just listens to you moving around as you brush your hair and put on soft sweatpants. He tries to imagine what you’ll be wearing when he sees you later because you always shower after sending him and the children out of the door. He hopes that you will wear your blue sundress now that it's warmer than ever. 

When he emerges from the bathroom to plan what he is going to wear for the day, you are already gone and he can hear the radio playing music in the kitchen. He revises his material for today’s lecture about criminal behavior as he takes a white shirt off its hanger and reaches for a pair of dress pants, but he can barely concentrate when he cannot wait to see you downstairs.

Finishing up his little routine, he walks out of the bedroom and down the hallway upstairs. He knocks once on Lucas’ door before peeking into the room, “Let’s go, muchacho (young man).”

Lucas passes him a moment later, fully dressed and with his school bag over his shoulder. He looks so grown that Javier wants to topple over, “Morning, mijo (my son).” 

“Don’t worry, Dad. I’m up,” he smiles. 

Javier raises a brow, “I can see that. Thanks for making my life easier. I’ll go wake up la monita (the little monkey) then.” 

He continues to Inés’ room. She has not woken up yet, deep asleep with the covers half on the floor. She is lying on her stomach with her arms above her head, her mouth agape as she snores gently, her hair an unruly mess, and her pajama top askew on her back. 

He crouches down by her bed and runs a hand over her back, speaking softly as he wakes her up with the intention of not accidentally startling her, “Inés, mi niña (my girl), it’s time to wake up.”

It takes a whole minute for her to escape the land of the sleeping and release the clutch on her pillow. She furrows her brow, yawns animatedly, and rubs her eyes with her tiny fists in the same way he does every day. 

“There she is,” he smiles, “It’s almost seven, we gotta get up for school.” 

“I don’t wanna,” she complains with a pout and earns a gentle hand running over her hair. She buries her face further into the pillow and looks like she’s already about to turn to her weapon consisting of crocodile tears. 

“I don’t want to either but Mom is already packing your lunch. Don’t you want to see Ava and Jacob?” He helps her sit up, trying to distract her from her tantrum. 

“Ava says her mom is sad,” Inés shakes her head but the accidental opportunity to talk about her troubles makes Javier able to undress her without much fuss. He gives her a sympathetic look. Mira, Ava’s mother, is still divorcing her husband Jonathan, and it is the first time that Inés has been confronted with the idea that not all parents stay together. He nods in understanding, “But Ava says that her mom is the one who didn’t want to be with her daddy anymore.”

“Sometimes you can be sad even if it’s a choice you make yourself,” Javier explains as he gets her out of bed, kneeling in front of her on the floor to help her into her underwear and bottoms. He pulls them up over her hips, “Maybe she thought it was nicer to leave so she could not make him sad again.” 

Inés listens to his explanation but just as she is about to nod, she frowns and shakes her head instead, “That’s stupid. Mommy says that you stay and talk about things when you are sad.” 

Javier pauses with the blouse you chose for her yesterday in his hands, trying to find the correct way to explain why adults act the way they do to his daughter. It’s so early in the morning and she had barely been awake two minutes ago. He takes a deep breath before speaking, "Well sometimes grown-ups have disagreements or feelings that are hard to understand, and when those feelings become too strong, they might decide that it's best to be apart instead of being sad together."

Inés furrows her brow even more but raises her arms up in the air to let him pull the blouse over her head, “Is Ava sad too?" 

Javier pulls her arms out of the sleeves and brushes her hair out of her concerned and skeptical face, "Ava might be feeling sad right now too but she has her friends, you for example, and her family to cheer her up, just like you have me and Mamá.”

Inés falls into him and hugs him, giggling as he picks her up and purposely turns her the wrong way around in his arms until she tells him off with a squeal. She throws her arms around his neck when she finally sits on his hip and kisses his cheek, "I'm glad I have you, Papá. I love you!" 

Javier vows that he won’t cry from emotion so early in the morning. He is worse than you sometimes when it comes to these things, chest constricting as tears well up in his throat, “I wouldn’t know what to do without you, mi amor (my love). Let’s go get breakfast before we do your hair. How do you want it?”

“Pigtails,” she decides loudly as they leave the room. 

Downstairs, Lucas has chosen cereal for himself and is reading the comic he got last month at the dining table. Inés says hello to him from her seat on Javier’s hip, and he waves back at her until she giggles and hides her face against her father’s shoulder. 

Javier carries her to you as you cut carrot and cucumber slices for her lunchbox. You turn to them. 

“Morning, Mamá!” She chirps happily and you give her a kiss. 

“Hi, baby,” you reply and notice the faint traces of tears in the corner of Javier’s eyes. You raise your brows, “Did you give your dad any trouble?” 

“We had a little chat about Mira and Jonathan,” he explains quickly and stuffs a carrot in Inés’ mouth before walking to plop her down on a dining chair. Inés chews and immediately gets enchanted by her older brother, looking at the pictures of Spiderman on the pages in front of them while asking him to explain. 

“Are you okay?” You put a hand on his arm, rubbing affectionately all the way up to the back of his neck. He reaches to put his hand on top of yours and smiles reassuringly.

“Just got a love declaration of the ages,” he explains before letting go. He moves to open the fridge and calculates the amount of eggs he’ll need. 

“Ahh, sentiment,” you say with a knowing smile. Without a word, you get a pan out for him and place it on the stove, working with him in a symbiotic manner that he grows more and more fond of with each passing morning you spend together as a family. 

He cracks the eggs out into a bowl to make sure there are no shells and then starts scrambling them whilst you click the button on the coffee machine. Soon, the delicious smell of fresh coffee and breakfast fills up the room and you open a window to let the sound of chirping birds join the music on the radio. 

“Eat up, we’re leaving in 45 minutes,” he places the plate in front of Inés and kisses her hair. She takes the fork you bring a second after and stabs the eggs with determination. 

She chatters excitedly about the plans for her day between bites of eggs and looks outraged when Lucas occasionally steals a piece from her plate. He makes a peace offering by moving his chair closer to hers so he can hold the comic in front of them both. 

Javier goes to pour coffee into his favorite mug whilst you have tea and you eat the rest of the scrambled eggs directly from the pan together with him. He admires you whilst you rest against the kitchen table, having a conversation with your kids whilst nourishing your twin babies. 

As the comfortable morning routine proceeds, he catches your eyes from across the room and you smile so tenderly each time. Rays of sunlight are coming in from the window, dancing over the fabric of your comfortable clothes and making your already glowing skin glow even brighter as you hold the mug of tea in both hands. He knows how lucky he is to have this life with you after the chaotic years of his youth. Who knew that life could start when one thought it was over?

He recalls the very first time he laid eyes on you and how he knew he wanted to marry you by the end of the night (you still don’t believe this). He remembers thinking that he didn’t deserve a life with you and all the love you brought with you, remembers how you said that the only thing that mattered was whether he wanted it or not. He has never once wavered from this want since you allowed him to kiss you for the first time. 

Lost in thought, he almost doesn’t realize that you have started to move around the kitchen to clear the table and stuff the lunchboxes into each respective school bag. He takes a brief moment more to longingly gaze after you. 

You are so graceful in your fourth pregnancy even if you deny it each time he compliments you, your stomach a bump so round and plenty visible already. The both of you are nearly four months into what has been the biggest shock of your lives. All the time, he thinks back to how difficult it was to conceive the first two of his kids and feels a tug in his chest of endless gratitude for being a father. 

He could never describe the flood of pride that had erupted in his heart when he went from being a father of three to suddenly being a father of almost five in a matter of a single second you spent together in an ob-gyn's office on a regular Tuesday morning. He remembers seeing your overwhelmed and tear-stained face when you had thrown yourself back into the examination chair with simultaneous happiness and panic flashing in your eyes. The babble of words was barely comprehensible but they made him kiss your eyelids until you gave him a smile. 

He had called you his very best girl when the doctor had left to give you both a moment of privacy, held your trembling hand, and told you that he would be right there with you every step of the way, which seemed to calm you instantly. He is grateful that he has that effect on you just as you have the very same effect on him. He knows he can never feel what it’s like to bear children but he knows that every fiber of his body tells him that he will never allow you to be scared if he can help it.

These days, he won’t even allow you to be exhausted either which is why he picks up Inés from her seat again and carries her upstairs to the bathroom. When pregnant, you always pack the car with Lucas instead of walking around with your preschooler on your hip. 

“Right,” he hooks a foot around the leg of the stool underneath the sink and drags it out so Inés can stand on it. She grabs the edge of the sink and makes a face in the mirror now that she’s tall enough to admire herself, “Pigtails, wasn’t it?”

Inés nods eagerly when Javier gets out the box of hair ties from underneath the cabinet next to the sink, “I want the Minnie Mouse bows.”

“Excellent choice,” Javier praises as he reaches for her hairbrush too. He combs her hair, starting at the bottom and gradually going upwards just like you have taught him the second that he became a father to a little girl. You had even made a hair boot camp, sitting on the couch and nursing Inés whilst he practiced a few different hairstyles that you would rate on a scale of one to ten. 

He parts Inés’ hair down the middle and starts with the right pigtail, gathering all the hair in his hand with the help of the brush. His daughter grimaces at the slight tug but then her face lights up as she remembers something.

“Daddy! Mommy says I have to do my daily affirmations before school!” She beams at him in the mirror, excited because complimenting herself clearly makes her feel good. Javier cannot believe how fantastic of a mother you are because it would have never even occurred to him that this was the simplest way of teaching his children to be kind to themselves. 

“Alright, let’s hear them, mija (my daughter),” he says and finishes the second pigtail. He takes a step back, holding his daughter’s head in place like you have taught him to make sure the hairstyle is symmetrical. Satisfied, he looks at the digital clock on top of the cabinet. He figures they can spare the two minutes it takes. 

Inés looks herself in the eye when he has let go of her again. She straightens her back like she has seen cartoon characters do, admiring her reflection, and starts reciting with a big smile on her little face. 

“I am smart.”

Yes, she is. Sometimes too smart for her own good. Javier smiles. There’s a pause. 

“I am brave.”

The bravest.

“I have good ideas—“ she halts, turning around to look at him with a frown as if it wouldn’t have the same effect if she had simply sent him the look through the bathroom mirror, “Daddy, you have to say it too.”

She watches him expectantly and he cannot bear to let her down even if he feels slightly embarrassed to talk so highly about himself out loud. He takes a deep breath, a weird feeling in his chest as he meets his own gaze, “I am smart. I am brave. I have good ideas.”

“Good, Daddy!” Inés radiates joy and sports a big toothy grin. She says another one, “I can say no.”

Javier doesn’t catch on to the fact that he has to keep going. Inés turns around to him again with her hands in her sides, “Now you say it, Daddy!”

“Inés…” He chuckles and feels slightly apprehensive. Vulnerability isn’t something he is insecure about but the act of openly saying such nice sentiments to himself hits a nerve somewhere in his chest, imitating a feeling of performance anxiety that he only recognizes from the times he has gone to an exam. 

“Mommy says it makes us feel good inside,” Inés doesn’t let it go, dragging out the minute that he has put aside for this. He knows there’s no way around this and he knows that you would tell him to lead by example. He pretends to cough in an attempt to hide his hesitation, knowing that his confidence and self-love will only fuel his children’s. What more could he want as a father?

“I can say no,” he tells his reflection.

“I can do hard things,” Inés continues. Javier repeats it.

“I am a good friend,” she proudly voices and he hugs her from behind to parrot each word, tightening his arms around her more and more until eventually, he tickles her when she has said her last sentence, “I am loved. There’s no one I would rather be than myself.”

She squeals with delight and slight panic, laughing in his arms in the loud and free manner that only a child can. He gets filled up with warmth and baby fever, trying his hardest to compose himself since they have to leave soon even if he just wants to keep going. 

“Time to brush your teeth and pee before we leave, monita (little monkey),” he tells her and she follows through without any protest. 

When he has told her to help you finish packing her bag, he gets his clothes from the bedroom and gets in for a quick shower. He washes his hair and body, scrubbing his beard with his fingers while revising his material one last time. 

At last, he stands in front of the mirror, putting on his watch, buckling his belt, and fixing the collar of his crisp white shirt. He finishes with his cologne, shaking his sleeve upward on his arm after brushing his teeth to check the time. 7:37 AM.

“Do you have everything?” You ask when everyone is back in the kitchen again.

“I hate leaving you alone all day,” Javier mumbles as you hand over his bag along with Inés’ school bag. Despite Javier’s hands being full, you still place your palms on his chest and kiss him on the mouth.

“Then stop getting me pregnant,” you whisper against his mouth. 

“But it’s just so fun,” he notes and kisses you a few times more when you try to pull away, “They should stop making it so fun. You should stop making me feel so good.”

“Dad,” Lucas interrupts you with a grimace, “We’re gonna be late.”

“Alright, out the door, all of you,” you scratch Javier’s chest briefly before walking out of the room to the front door. You hold it open and watch the three of them scuttling out of the house. Javier wants to count the hours before he gets to see you again.

“And remember, Daddy’s picking you up after school today!” You yell from the door and he turns to walk backwards to the car with a grin on his face. He hears Inés cheer at this fact and secretly, he wants to cheer himself because he never gets to do it. You have an appointment with your ob-gyn doctor later to check if everything is alright with the babies, something they have insisted on since they found out there were two. He’ll have to leave work early but it’ll give him more time with his children in the afternoon. 

He checks each of their seat belts to make sure they’re secure, hesitating for just a second as he gets ready to close the car door, “Hands inside the car, c’mon.”

Inés throws her palms up and he pushes the car door shut with a smile before walking around the front, tapping the hood with his knuckles and waving at you one last time. You smile widely and mouth that you love him. You close the door, and he only starts the car when he sees you in the kitchen window. 

—

The car ride to school is fairly short but it consists of Javier listening to a lot of happy chatter about nothing from Inés in the way only a four-year-old can do. In the ten minutes it takes, he manages to answer questions about why the sky is blue, why there’s no such thing as dragons in Texas, if there are twin ladybugs just like there are twins in your tummy, and if she can try driving the car later. 

Lucas only joins in when she asks whether they can get a dog. He grabs at the back of his father’s seat and lifts himself as far forward as the seat belt will allow only to get told to sit back down. 

“A dog is a big responsibility, you know,” Javier swings the car into a parking spot. He looks back over the seat after turning off the engine, “Mommy and I have you and Seb to take care of, and the twins eventually too.”

“Nunca vamos a tener un perro (we’re never gonna get a dog),” Lucas grumbles and throws himself back into the seat. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks out the window. 

“Never?” Inés’ eyes widen.

“Oye, eso no es lo que dije (hey, that’s not what I said),” Javier replies, pocketing the car keys, “I’m just saying that we’ll have our hands full soon.”

“That’s not my fault and I didn’t even want more siblings,” Lucas says under his breath and Inés squirms in her seat at the tension in the tiny space. 

“Hey, that’s not fair. I don’t want you saying things like that,” Javier says firmly. 

Lucas huffs. For once, Inés is quiet. 

“Look at me,” Javier tells him and his son reluctantly finds his gaze again, “We don’t talk about each other like that and we especially don’t make each other feel unwanted.”

There’s a painful mixture of shame, vulnerability, and frustration on the eight-year-old’s face, “I know, Dad, I’m sorry… it’s just that sometimes it feels like I’m the one who has to always give up what I want.”

Javier knows the irony of his previous statement as soon as he hears those words. Accompanied by the look he receives from his son, it’s enough to make him swallow thickly, “I’m sorry, mijo (my son). I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

There’s a pause. Lucas starts to open the door, “It’s okay. I know that you’re right and a dog won’t be happy if we don’t have time for it. That’s what Mom says anyway.”

He gets out and Inés finally pipes up when they’re alone. She frowns and looks out the window to watch Lucas stand with his hands clutching the straps of his bag, “Can’t we just have a little dog?”

“I have to talk to Mom about it,” he sighs, “Let’s get through this day first.”

The two of them finally get out of the car to join Lucas. Javier locks the car. He starts to lean down over his son, wants to press an affectionate kiss to his hair that’s so much like his own it hurts, but Lucas shakes him off. 

“Dad,” the eight-year-old bites at him, his tone full of embarrassment. He suppresses a scowl even if it’s only a half-hearted one and instead looks around to see if anyone saw him. 

Javier straightens again, trying to pretend the slight rejection didn’t sting too much. Lucas is turning nine soon but he hadn’t guessed that he’d be so much of a preteen already. He has no clue if he is doing okay with him but he vows to get a smile out of him before they part for the day. 

“I’ll talk to Mom about it,” Javier eventually promises. It’s not untrue.

“Whatever, it’s fine,” Lucas replies with a fake smile and looks away. 

“Lucas, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you,” he drops Inés’ bag and thinks fuck it. He crouches down to hold both his arms, rubbing them soothingly, and feels relief at not being rejected again, “I know you really want a dog but you gotta cut your Mom and me some slack here, okay? We’ve never had three kiddos at the same time. Just like you’ve never had two siblings before.”

“Four,” his son mutters. 

“It’ll be okay,” he tells him with a smile. He is steadfast as he continues, “And I mean it, I will talk to Mom but her verdict is final. She’s the pregnant one.”

“Okay,” Lucas says with uncertainty.

“Okaaay,” he parrots to him in a silly voice with a gentle squeeze. 

“Okay,” Lucas says with a little laugh. 

“Okay,” Inés chimes in with excitement. 

Lucas laughs genuinely this time and Javier feels his heart leap. He picks up the bag from the ground and stands once more, only to bend down and kiss his son’s hair, “School waits. Inés and I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Dad, bye, Inés,” he nods, “I love you.”

“I love you too!!!” Inés yells loudly and Javier takes her hand with the one not carrying her bag. 

“Love you, mijo (my son).”

—

The next stop is Inés’ classroom. She runs a few meters in front of him the whole way there but because of her little legs, he never gets too far behind her. He feels so relieved that she’s always this excited for school but with the way that you tell him that she’s so much like him, he also knows that it’s just a matter of time before she grows tired of school during her teen years. Teen years. He shouldn’t think about that already since the thought of her growing is unbearable. 

“Inés, slow down,” he says despite not needing to, wanting a bit of control, “I don’t want you falling and scraping your knees, mi amor (my love).”

When she doesn’t immediately follow orders, he holds out his hand for her to take, “Inés.”

She turns her head toward him as she runs down the hall, so close to her goal which is her classroom, and tumbles into a woman coming out of the room. Javier puts a hand on his head in shock, dropping his daughter’s bag and walking straight to them whilst apologizing profusely. 

“It’s alright,” the woman says with a sweet smile in his direction and then in Inés’ direction. She’s tall and blonde, wearing a coat in this boiling weather which must mean she’s not used to Texas, “We’re both alright, aren’t we?”

“Sorry,” Inés says genuinely. 

“Well, aren’t you well-behaved?” She is grinning now. 

“Daddy, can I go inside and play with Ava?” Inés looks longingly towards the door. 

He goes to pick up her bag, “Sí (yes), but take your backpack and I’ll talk to the nice lady.”

Inés does as she is told, standing perfectly still whilst he helps the bag onto her shoulders. He kisses the top of her head, “Ves a jugar (Go and play). I’ll pick you up later today.”

“They’re great at that age,” the woman says with a dreamy smile after Inés bounds into the classroom, “I dropped mine off a moment ago.”

“They in the same class?” He asks. 

“As of last week. Oh, and it’s Emily, actually, not ‘nice lady’,” the stranger reveals, holding out her hand for a shake, “And you’re Javier, right?”

“That’s right,” he shakes her hand. Great, even she knows who he is and he prepares himself for the usual speech about him being known all over Laredo, doing everything in his power to not make his mouth a straight line. 

However, she nods towards the door and surprises him by saying nothing of the sort. Instead, she makes it about herself which shouldn’t be nice but it is, “Inés’ father? My daughter has mentioned her a few times. We’re new here, moved from Upstate New York. Work. You know.”

“That explains the coat,” he says with a little smirk. 

She reacts by putting her hand on her cheek and then her forehead, feeling a blush that’s not there. He is too oblivious to know that she’s fishing for a compliment on her appearance, “That obvious, huh? I probably look like a red crab. I’m boiling.”

“You look fine,” he reassures, “But hit up the AC in your car or at least take that thing off. Survival mode, you know, do it for the kids.”

Emily giggles. He smiles. 

“We should arrange a playdate sometime. My daughter could use some friends. I think we both could. We could get some coffee if you know a place,” she suggests in an attempt at a flirtation but even if it’s so glaringly obvious, he just doesn’t pick up on it. 

Instead, his mind circles back to you in the kitchen he built for you, “I’m busy most days but I’m sure my wife would be thrilled to set something up. Inés can’t just be playing with our friends’ daughter all the time.”

“Oh,” there’s a slight change in Emily’s demeanor after that. Her smile falters ever so slightly, and there's a fleeting look of disappointment in her eyes but he can't quite pinpoint the cause of her sudden change in mood. He brushes it off, "Well, I should probably let you get back to your day. I suppose your name and number are on the class’ contact list?” 

He tries to keep up the upbeat tone of their conversation but she just smiles awkwardly, "Yes. Of course, Javier. I'll look forward to it."

As he turns to leave, he catches a glimpse of Emily's expression, and he can't shake the feeling that something is amiss. He furrows his brow, wondering all the way to the car what he did wrong and doesn’t know that if you had been there, you would have been laughing your ass off the second Emily had left.

He brushes it off the second the radio comes on in the car and heads to work afterward. The day feels easy; he gets to come home, gets to watch his kids grow up in front of his eyes and in the evening he will make love to his beautiful wife. Such a fact makes days at work pass like seconds, and he smiles all the way from his car when the bell rings for his first lesson.

—

Around two in the afternoon on the same day, Javier enters his house with his kids following right behind him. He comes home to you feeding Sebastian mashed avocado in his high chair, and in the meantime cutely imitating his babbling about nothing right back at the little green monster that used to be his son. He walks up to you after putting his bag down on a dining chair. 

“Hey,” you say with avocado on your forehead. 

Javier reaches up to rub it off, sucking it off his finger before pecking your lips, “Hola, mi amor (hello, my love). How’s your day been? Scan go okay?”

He kisses Sebastian’s head too before turning his attention to you. You’re scraping the last bits of avocado onto the baby spoon before feeding it to your son.

“I’ll tell you about the scan later. I need to talk to you about it… but Seb and I have had such a good day, ain’t that right, baby?” You tickle Sebastian’s cheeks, not caring about being covered in green too. Sebastian giggles and clenches his fist around some of the avocado he has had in his hand for a while. Javier decides not to press any further since you don’t look worried, especially not as you watch Sebastian slam his fist into the plate in front of him afterward, “We tried sweet potatoes today, didn’t we? Y probamos fresas del mercado, pasta con un poco de queso (And we tried strawberries from the market, pasta with a bit of cheese)."

Javier grins at your excitement, watching you reach for a piece of paper towel to wipe off all the excess food from your child now that he has been allowed to eat more independently with just a bit of help, "Mi hijo es un foodie, ¿eh? (my son is a foodie, huh?)"

Lucas pops his head in through the kitchen door with Inés loyally following right behind, “Mom, did you say strawberries?”

You walk to the kitchen table and grab the cardboard basket of strawberries, holding it out for your eldest son. You shake it a little, “They’re really good.”

He takes one and hands it to Inés before he grabs one for himself afterward. He smiles contentedly after biting into it, happily chewing the sweet berry and looking down at his sister to see her reaction as well, “Good?”

You offer Javier a strawberry too. He eats a whole one, doesn’t even bother to pick off the green part, and earns a little crinkle of your nose. He winks at your reaction and the expression of disapproval turns into a smile that sets his heart into overdrive. 

Inés lights up after finishing the berry, “Can I have one more?”

“Consider it your afternoon snack,” you say. You pull out a chair around the dining table, placing the basket of strawberries on the table, “Do you want a PB&J sandwich too?” 

“Yes!” She runs across the room to crawl onto the seat, waiting patiently with her hands flat on the table until she cannot resist nearly smothering herself with another strawberry. 

“Do you want one too, Luke?” You ask. 

“Yes, please. Thank you, Mom,” he says politely and goes to sit down too. He taps a rhythm on the table that Inés fails at replicating. From his high chair, Sebastian joins in by slamming his palms into the table and the luckily empty baby platter. 

“Javi, can you take Seb for his nap?” You ask while reaching for the jar of peanut butter in the cupboard. You cannot find it, frowning at the realization that you must have placed it somewhere else. Javier hears you mutter to yourself about your damn pregnancy brain. 

He walks up behind you, a hand on the small of your back as he leans over you. You freeze but then relax into his touch. He reaches into the far back of the cupboard, feeling for the jar, and fetches it, “You told me to hide it, baby. You eat too much of it with just the lid off and a spoon.”

“I should stop denying the babies it if that’s what they want,” you giggle to hide your embarrassment at having forgotten and pat your pregnant belly. You look so pretty in your dress, the one he had hoped that you would wear; blue as the sky above with tiny yellow bees flying around on it. 

He hands you the jar of peanut butter and cannot help but admire the gentle curve of your stomach, that certain glow making you radiant in the mundane setting of his kitchen. He can never help ogling you when you care for his children and it’s even worse when you carry them as well. 

“You look so gorgeous right now, mi vida (my life),” he rubs the small of your back and slides his palm around you to your belly, breathing against your ear as he talks. You turn your head just a little to smile playfully at him and thank him in a soft whisper. 

Javier looks back to see his kids chatting with each other, so he presses into you a little more.

“I got a bed with your name on it later,” he continues quietly as he still stands right behind you, letting his hand drop to your hip. You shove a little at him but it’s nowhere near enough to actually mean that you want him to stop. He lets his warm breath ghost over the soft shell of your ear until you let out a sigh that you only reserve for him. He continues until he can look at your neck and see your pulse throbbing under your skin, “I could just eat you up. Take you to our bedroom, lock the door… throw you on the bed, and take your clothes off with my teeth.”

“Pórtate bien (Behave),” you scold him with a bit more mischief than what he assumes is intended, “I have sandwiches to make and we’ll be sorry later if Seb misses his nap.”

He adds a finishing touch to his attempt at a flirtation by shielding you from his kids’ line of sight. The broad hand that has been resting on your hip slips further down. and Javier allows himself a grope to your backside. He jiggles the fleshiest part of it and you finally have enough, turning around quickly with a look of mock outrage. 

“Thin ice, baby, thin ice,” you chide but he simply pecks you on the lips and turns towards his children again. 

“Vamos, pequeño (let’s go, little one),” he says to Sebastian as he approaches him, lifting him out of his high chair and placing him on his hip. He feels your disapproving eyes as he walks out of the kitchen but just smirks to himself, heading for the stairs to go to the nursery.

In the room, he places Sebastian on the changing table and checks his diaper. He also removes as much clothing as possible, making sure he won’t overheat in the bassinet. His son grins up at him, not seeming tired at first but then starts blinking slowly as the nap ritual proceeds. 

“Oh, you are tired, mijo (my son),” he whispers softly as he cradles him towards his chest afterward. He feels Sebastian resting his chubby cheek against his shoulder, breathing slowly as he starts falling asleep from being bounced in his father’s arms.

Javier hums, savoring the moment that he knows is fleeting with his son. He is reminded of needing to ask you about the doctor’s appointment again, excitement in his body as he thinks about two sets of tiny feet running across his living room floor at the same time. As a child, he never really understood why he couldn’t get a sibling but his understanding of what was happening to his mother only came a little later until he stopped asking altogether. He loves that his house is so full now. 

When Sebastian is fully asleep, he lays him down on his back on the tiny mattress that belonged to Inés before. He runs his palm over the fine hairs on his head for a few moments, just staring down at his baby to commit it to memory. He tucks the blanket around him, turns on the baby monitor, grabs the other, and flicks off the lights. 

When he returns to the kitchen ten minutes later, he finds you sitting by the dining table with a sandwich of your own. Lucas holds a pencil in his hand, your grocery list lying in front of him and his empty plate has been pushed away. 

“I hate broccoli,” Inés says from her own seat, nose scrunched up. The jelly part of her sandwich seems more around her mouth than in her belly. She tries to look over at what her older brother is writing but he is hesitant in his spelling of the word. 

“I hate it because I can’t spell it,” Lucas grumbles with concentration on his face, “B-R-O…”

“C-C-O-L-I,” Javier finishes, announcing his presence to them. You look up at him as he stops between Lucas’ and your chair, setting down the baby monitor on the table. 

“Hey, he’s supposed to learn how to spell it by himself,” you tut gently but without any anger or annoyance. Javier kisses your jelly-tasting lips. You tap the list, “Lettuce.”

Lucas groans in complaint, “Mooom, all these words are hard.”

Inés giggles from her seat, “Lucas is bad at spelling!”

Lucas furrows his brow, looking to you for saving, “No, I’m not!”

You send your daughter a look, knowing you have the right thing to say to bring some justice into the world, “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Inés Peña. You have to practice your counting skills with Daddy.”

Javier snorts at the look of disgust on his daughter’s face. She comically throws herself back into her chair, arms crossed over her chest. He kisses her hair, “No angry faces, Princesa (princess). You’ll have plenty of time to play afterward.”

“Maybe I am bad at spelling,” Lucas says in defeat, heaving a big sigh. 

“You’re doing great, sweetie. It’s all about practice,” you reassure and reach out to rub the back of his neck affectionately, “And I really appreciate you helping me with the grocery list. It’s a big job.”

“How about an easier word?” Javier suggests, silently eyeing your sandwich as he speaks, “Like tomatoes.”

Lucas smiles down at the paper, brightening at the praise you offer as consolation for his struggles. He writes down the newly suggested word with newfound confidence, “T-O-M-A-T-O-E-S.”

“Perfect,” you continue your praise. 

Finally, Javier pulls out a chair to sit down with his family. He chooses the seat next to you but opposite Inés to keep her in line if she decides to have a tantrum. However, she just watches her brother scribble down word after word. 

“What about ice cream?” She asks suddenly with her best pleading expression. She is more hesitant than usual, knowing full well that she overstepped the rules a moment ago. 

“If Lucas can spell it,” you challenge with a sweet smile, raising a brow at your son. 

Inés grabs at the edge of the dining table, moving to stand on her knees instead of sitting. She leans over the table to get a closer look, “You can do it, Lucas!”

“Challenge accepted,” he says with a grin, nearly breaking the tip of the pencil in his eagerness, especially now that his sister is cheering for him, “I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M.”

Both of them look to you expectantly, awaiting your verdict that’ll make or break the oncoming weekend. You nod, “That’s indeed how you spell ice cream.”

The both of them cheer. You laugh along with them, and Javier feels his knees go weak even as he sits down. He leans back in his seat with his shoulders completely relaxed, briefly recalling a time when his body being this calm was only a possibility when alcohol was in his bloodstream. 

“What’s next on the list, muchacho (young man)?” He asks as the laughter dies down once again, casually reaching out for half of your sandwich. He earns a look of mock outrage from you, your hand reaching out to swat his arm. 

“Get your own, Peña,” you scold playfully. He pulls away quickly and bites down into the corner. You roll your eyes, “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“And you love it,” he says around a mouthful of food. 

“Mom, what’s ‘insatiable’ mean?” Inés asks curiously. 

You look at him with a smirk as you reply, “It means Daddy always wants more.” 

“More what? More food?” Inés furrows her brow in confusion. 

“Something like that,” Javier says with his heart beating loudly in his chest at the mere thought of you. He leans closer to you, lowering his voice just enough, “And more of Mommy, too.”

“And I think that’s it for snack time!” You announce quickly after, heat in your cheeks as you push yourself to stand. Javier is pleased with himself as you walk around in a flustered state, “Lucas, do you have any homework?”

“I finished math homework in school,” he announces proudly, “Is the grocery list finished?” 

“Can you add chicken too? Then I think we’re done,” you walk back to the table to gather the plates, not letting Javier put down his sandwich again. He feels triumphant at having caused you to feel like this, a sucker for watching your warm face. 

“C-H-I-K—“ Lucas spells out loud. 

“C-K,” you correct as you put the dirty plates into the dishwasher. 

“Oh,” he turns the pencil around and erases his mistake, “C-H-I-C-K-E-N.”

“There you go, baby, good job,” you praise.

Lucas beams.

—

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly. Lucas goes to his room to play on his Game Boy, its faint beeps echoing through the house from the open door, Inés, after getting her face thoroughly wiped down, falls asleep on the couch after refusing an afternoon nap, and you and Javier begin the usual ritual of preparing for dinner while Sebastian sleeps undisturbed in his bed. 

“You wanted to talk to me about the scan today?” Javier starts a conversation as he chops vegetables alongside you, your hip occasionally bumping into his as you mix a dressing. 

“Yeah, and before you start to worry; yes, the babies are fine,” you reply and absentmindedly run your palm across your belly. 

“But?” Javier puts the knife down to look at you. 

“But nothing. I just wanted to tell you that they know what we’re having and they want us to discuss if we wanna know,” you smile excitedly. You mirror him by putting down the spoon and stepping closer to let him embrace you. 

“They can tell already?” He asks as he places his hands on your hips, rubbing up and down soothingly. He pecks your lips, heart feeling too big for his chest. 

You nod and lean into another kiss, “And they said everything looks great too. Nothing to worry about, and the due date is so far down the road that we can’t wonder about the delivery yet.” 

“Alright, yes. Okay,” he nods in return, an overwhelmed smile on his lips. He releases a small sigh, “But do we want to know? We’ve tried both but I think it’s up to you.” 

“I mean,” you think out loud while Javier takes the opportunity to rub your stomach, “I like surprises but with the stress the delivery will probably bring, it might be nice to know. Just to appreciate it more than when I’m a mess. I don’t know.”

“Well, I guess we don’t have to decide now. We have five or so months, have a think,” he reassures you and presses a soft kiss to your neck. He can feel and hear you draw in a deep breath. 

You are interrupted by Sebastian’s soft noises through the baby monitor, tiny sounds of complaint indicating that he is just about to cry. Javier releases you from his grasp, “You get him and I’ll finish up here. Dinner in twenty, don’t you think?”

“Sure, baby,” you say with a final peck to his lips. You leave the kitchen, ascending the stairs with a little noise, and when Javier glances out into the entry hall, he sees you walk upstairs with a hand on the small of your back. Sebastian has started to cry but you reassure him all the way through the house, “I’m coming, mijo (my son).”

Javier finishes up dinner. He faintly hears you tell Lucas to go set the table, and when your son starts taking plates out of the drawer, Inés enters the kitchen while rubbing her eyes, awakened by the noise. 

“Hola, mi niña cansada (hello, my tired girl),” Javier says as she leans into his side. He turns the pan on the hob so that the handle doesn’t stick out from over the edge, then runs his hand over his daughter’s hair. 

“No estoy cansada, papá (I’m not tired, Daddy),” she protests while fighting a yawn. 

“¿Entonces tienes hambre (Are you hungry then)?” He asks with a hidden, amused smile. 

“Sí (yes),” she wraps her arms around his waist. 

"Si tienes hambre, ayuda a tu hermano a poner la mesa (If you’re hungry, help your brother with setting the table),” he runs his hand over her back, caressing her gently while stirring the chicken and vegetables. 

“Okay, papá,” she says, her stomach probably growling since she’s not protesting hard labor. 

Lucas has finished carrying plates, glasses, and cutlery to the dining table. He pulls out a chair for Inés to stand on, directing her thoroughly on where everything goes until you enter the kitchen again with Sebastian on your hip. 

“It looks so good!” You praise with a big grin, genuinely proud to see both of your eldest kids cooperating so well, “And the cutlery on the right sides!” 

Javier turns back to have a look, holding a hand up to give them both a high five. You send him a smile only reserved for him, walking to put Sebastian into his high chair afterward. You go to the living room to find a few toys he can play with until dinner is ready. 

“Can I watch Nanalan after dinner?” Inés asks during dinner, mouth full of food. 

“If you practice your counting first,” you compromise. 

Without hesitation, Inés starts saying numbers out loud, “One, two, three, four, five, six…”

“Inés,” you say, a crease on your forehead.

“You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Peña,” Javier teases, “But I think you walked right into that one.”

“Shush, you,” you tut and, out of spite, listen closely after any errors in your daughter’s count. 

After dinner, you take on the job of clearing the table and filling up the dishwasher. Lucas gets a free pass from helping so he can go pop the Nanalan VHS tape into the TV, setting it up for you all to enjoy in just a moment. 

Sebastian plays with a few toy cars as he sits in his high chair. He coos softly, making noises to match the tiny red vehicle. 

Inés, still full of energy, practices counting backward with Javier while you wash up the pan in the sink. He can see you listening to them even with your back turned, knows that you are smiling without looking at your face. 

“C’mon, baby. What comes after six?” He asks, having pulled her chair out to stand in front of her. 

“Seven!” She answers confidently and it is technically not wrong.

He smiles with amusement, “We’re counting backward. Down from ten. Try again. Teeeen…”

“Ten… nine… eight…” she says loudly. 

Javier waits patiently. He holds up the number of fingers equal to the numbers she is saying. She furrows her brows in concentration and continues, “Seven… six… five…”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he encourages. 

Inés grips the seat of her chair in excitement, “Three!”

“Are you sure?” He stops her briefly. 

She looks up at him, hesitating for a moment and seeking reassurance, “Four.”

He nods, “You got this.”

She smiles brightly, “Three! Two! One!”

“Bien hecho, Princesa (well done, princess)!” He praises loudly and leans down over her to kiss the top of her head repeatedly, “Eres mi chica lista (you’re my clever girl).”

She stretches up her arms to which he responds by lifting her up from the chair with a groan. She is getting so big, he thinks as he places her on his hip, or maybe he is just getting old. He gets an idea, even if it’ll hurt the muscles in his back, “You know, baby, counting backward is very important. That’s what they do when they launch rockets into space. Try again, see what happens.”

Inés’ eyes light up as she starts counting again. She rushes through it, seeming to do well when something unknown comes afterward. When she gets to one, Javier lifts her high into the air and spins in the kitchen. 

“Liftoff!” He announces, moving around in figure eights to imitate her flying and she squeals with laughter. The sound is one of those that bubble up in her chest, completely unrestrained and pure in its entirety, and Javier’s heart goes into overdrive when he knows that he is the one causing it. There’s nothing that can hurt him in these moments, nothing that can bring him down from the pride he takes in making his kids feel safe and happy. 

“Oh no!” He continues his part, “Inés Peña, well-renowned astronaut, is attacked by aliens from el planeta rojo (the red planet)!”

“¡Papá, no (Daddy, no)!” She giggles and wiggles in his arms as he buries his nose in her cheek, “¡No permitas que me atrapen los alienígenas (Don’t let the aliens catch me)!” 

“Too late!” He tells her before pretending to sink his teeth into her round cheek. He growls like only an alien attacker would and his daughter shrieks with laughter. 

He stops to let her breathe, her little form shaking as she tries to regain her composure. She throws her arms around his neck, looking over at you in secret and lowering her voice to a whisper that’s way too loud. 

“Do it to Mommy!” She demands. 

You perk up at hearing your nickname and turn around with your hands covered in dish soap and water. You watch, like a deer in the headlights, as Javier places Inés down on her feet. He smirks like a devil and you step backwards but only bump into the kitchen counter. Your wet arms come up to screen your face as he approaches you, looking devilish with his arms out in front of him. He makes grabby hands in the air. 

“You are not doing that to me!” You squeak. He leans into you, and the look behind your arms tells him that you know it is a fight that you have already lost. Still, you try to sidestep him but he just cages you with a quick sweep of his arms. 

“I got you now. No hay manera de escapar, mi amor (there is no escaping, my love),” he moves your arms away without caring about getting wet himself and pulls you into a tight embrace. He bites into your cheek a mere moment later, growling like a dog whilst Inés laughs so loudly that your look says that you might let him give you five more children if he wants. The nibbles turn into several silly kisses, eventually turning into a long, deep kiss too. God, he is going to make love to you tonight.

Behind the two of you, Inés makes a noise of disgust, “Ew! Mushy Daddy!” 

Javier pulls away from you and wipes his hands in his shirt. He ruffles Inés’ hair, “Well, you better run to your brother if you don’t want to see Mommy get another big kiss from Daddy.”

Inés dashes off towards the living room with uncontrollable giggles. Once she’s out of sight, Javier turns to see you drying your hands in a kitchen towel. He seeks you out and you meet his embrace by throwing your arms around his neck. 

“Do you think I missed my calling as an alien invader?” He asks with his lips resting against your ear as you hug.

He can feel you shaking your head, “No, husband, I think you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

“Mhm, wife,” he pulls back to kiss you again, and again and again and again. 

“They’re waiting in the living room,” you stop him, a hand on his chest to reluctantly push him away, “I’ll take Seb.” 

The five of you watch a few episodes together in a pile on the couch. Sebastian sits in your lap while Inés cuddles up into Javier’s side. Lucas mutes his video game but chooses it over the children’s show, repeatedly pressing buttons and trying not to make too loud noises when he wins or loses. 

It ends with the usual bedtime routines an hour later. Teeth are brushed, all three children have no complaints during bathtime, bedtime stories are told and forehead kisses are given even if Inés is already out cold. Javier loves this the most, at least when it goes smoothly.

Eventually, the evening leaves your pile on the couch to only consist of the two of you. 

“We put Inés to bed thirty minutes ago and we’re still watching Nanalan,” you note from your side of the couch, looking at Javier out of the corner of your eye and snickering before you reach the end of your sentence. 

Javier tears his eyes from the screen, his body slumped into the corner of the couch and with the blanket draped over his body. He hides a smile, knowing he has the upper hand in this situation, “Well, get the remote then.”

You have your legs pulled up with them crossed underneath you. You grimace and pat your stomach, “Never gonna happen with this belly.”

He cracks a smile, tone serious in a joking manner which he knows always gets you, “Well then you sit there and keep quiet. I’m missing my show. I haven’t seen if Mona learns a lesson yet.” 

With that, he fixes his gaze on the TV again. You throw your head back to laugh at his silliness and accidentally snort. You squirm and he knows you’re trying your best not to pee a little from the giggling. You cover your mouth but Javier’s head still whips around to stare at you again, looking like he should be a cartoon character with hearts in their eyes.

He starts moving, crawls further toward you, and drags the blanket with him to cover both of your bodies. You shove at him, “Get the remote, Peña.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” He scoffs, cuddling up next to you, halfway lying down and crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m not switching channels here. I like Nana. She’s wise.”

“She your favorite?” You smirk down at him, teasing him still. 

“No, you’re my favorite, mi amor (my love),” he wiggles his brows, staring up at you with every intention of making you laugh, “Stop asking stupid questions.”

“Smooth,” you smile with a shake of your head. You purse your lips and he groans dramatically when he moves up to kiss you, pecking your mouth gently. You reach to ruffle his hair until it is untidy.

“You know, baby, my hair takes all night to style,” he sighs and starts to flatten the stray locks again, “You could be a little more considerate.”

“I’m pregnant,” you argue, “You try being considerate.”

“You’ve been pregnant for nearly two years straight,” his eyes wander back to Nana and Mona.

“And whose fault is that?” You start to watch too. 

“Shut up.”

“I rest my case.”

The both of you watch Nanalan for a while. With a foot, Javier pulls the coffee table closer for you so you can stretch your legs and rest your feet on it. You seem less invested in whether Mona will learn how to take care of the baby bird in Nana’s garden than he is but it doesn’t matter because during the episode, your positions shift and suddenly you are resting against him instead. He feels like a teenager each time this happens, heart racing at having a pretty girl in close proximity, but unlike 16-year-old Javier Peña, he has already gotten the girl and is therefore without clammy hands.

He drapes his arm around your back until his hand rests on your waist, pulling your pregnant body against himself until you automatically lean your head on his shoulder. In the end, you doze off, having gotten into a habit of falling asleep in front of the television. 

When the credits roll over the screen, he nudges you, “Let’s get you to bed.”

You whine so adorably and scoot further into his side, “I don’t want to go all the way upstairs.”

“If you don’t get up, I’ll do it again,” he says, intending to confuse you. 

You pull back to look at him with furrowed brows, “Do what?”

Javier pokes the tip of his nose into your cheek and then imitates a series of bites to your face just like earlier. He makes the noise of a dinosaur this time, growling close to your ear and making you squeal from the tickling sensation it gives. 

“No!” You shriek, “I’ll get up! I swear!”

“Are you sure?” Javier doesn’t stop, only nuzzles further into you and bites the flesh of your cheek for real this time. His whole body fills up with butterflies as you laugh at his torment. 

When eventually showing you mercy, he throws the blanket to the side and pushes himself to stand up. You put your feet on the floor and take his hands when he holds them out for you. He hauls you to your feet. 

After a quick shared shower, you moisturize your belly in the bedroom and pick out your sleepwear whilst he dresses in a new pair of briefs. It is a quiet and relaxing ritual where none of you speak a word, moving around each other in synchronous harmony. 

It’s when you go to pee and change that he notices the little device on the nightstand, plugged in to charge, and he furrows his brow in confusion. The door is closed to the bathroom and he can hear the sound of your toothbrushing, so you won’t be barging in on him as he satisfies his curiosity. 

With quick fingers, he pulls the cord out of the bottom and holds it closer to his face to examine the little pink thing. He hasn’t seen one of these before; staring down into the hole at the top and trying to make sense of what will happen when he presses the button. 

The little thing whirs to life when he does and he can see the way the tip pulses erratically, sparking his interest and triggering the instinct to hold it against the palm of his hand. His brows nearly rise into his hair as he feels the way the vibrator suckles on his skin, so he taps his hand a few times to feel it let go and attach again. It’s when he realizes what it’s meant to do for you that he feels his cock move in his briefs. It happens again when he knows it means that you have used it today whilst being home alone. 

He presses the button on the side again and feels the vibrations become more intense and he nearly throws the cute thing across the room when he tries to turn it off by pressing the button again and the buzzing only gets louder and louder and more and more intense. 

“You two need a moment alone?” You ask from the doorway to the bathroom, smirking as he sheepishly finds your gaze. You have changed into a pair of way too tiny sleep shorts and one of his gray t-shirts, and it looks so naturally stunning on you that he nearly drops the toy. Why is he hard? Christ, he is possibly aching. He wants to throw you on the bed and pull those tiny shorts off and—

“Did you two already have a moment alone?” He asks when he has regained his composure. 

“Maybe, and maybe it was pretty great,” you tease and make your way to him. When you stand in front of him on your side of the bed, your eyes wander downward until you stare at the bulge on the front of his briefs. Your tone is triumphant and sing-songy, “You’re hard.”

“You’re wearing my t-shirt,” he notes as if it’s the most logical explanation in the world. His gaze drops to the way the soft cotton fabric drapes over your tits, leaving just enough up to the imagination but clearly showing off the way your nipples have hardened at the conversation. He twirls the little sucking toy in his hands, wants to make you come with it attached to your nipple until he can see heat rising in your cheeks and then he’ll let the device do its job between your legs. 

“Horndog,” you roll your eyes affectionately, “I can’t even wear clothes? I thought it would be not wearing any clothes that would get you.”

“Can I try this on you?” He decides to be straightforward and just asks while holding the vibrator up between the two of you, “You can guide me.”

“Now?” You raise a brow. 

“Yes, now,” he huffs out a dark, little laugh and takes a step further toward you as if he is a predator caging his pretty prey. You don’t seem affected by it but your nipples might soon poke holes in your shirt, “I mean, I’m a little curious here, so if you’re up for it. I was gonna try to get laid anyway…”

“Charming,” you let yourself fall down into bed, sitting on the edge. Javier places the toy on the nightstand to grab underneath your knees, lifting your legs to help you scoot back onto the mattress. 

“Is that a yes?” He awaits your green light. 

“Yes. Don’t go overboard with it though. It’s pretty intense,” you reply and hook your fingers into the waistband of your shorts. You start to shimmy out of them and he helps you completely out of them when they sit around your knees. Then he bends your legs and spreads them apart. 

“Tell me what to do,” he goes to grab the toy again, kneels between your legs, and awaits orders. He clicks the button and the little thing comes alive once again. You’re just about to reply when he cannot help but ask, “Does it work on your tits?”

“I thought you wanted me to guide you,” you retort but in response to his question, you reach for the hem of your t-shirt and start to pull it up over your pregnant body. He stops you when it sits just above your tits, coming closer to you by spreading his thighs until you drape your own thighs over them. 

“Shut it… and listen to this. It’s pretty loud,” he notes as he feels the little sucker on his palm again, tapping the heel of his hand with it. 

“It’s quieter when it’s in place,” you say with heat in your cheeks, anticipation evident on your face, “So don’t worry about switching up the intensity when I get close.” 

“Ah… but no going overboard,” he nods, grinning down at you. Sure. He drags out the testing on his palm to get you worked up even more, knowing it will only increase the pulse in your whole body until you might cuss him out when he actually goes to work on you. He loves your body when it is pregnant and sensitive, and while he would never let anyone in on what the two of you do behind closed doors, there’s a part of him that wants to brag to Steve about how you cream yourself from getting your breasts played with whenever you have a baby - this time babies - in your belly or your body is raging with postpartum hormones. Oh, he thinks to himself, what a privilege it is to get to see you like he will in just a moment. 

“Javi,” you complain beneath him. 

“Yeah yeah, chica impaciente (impatient girl),” he tuts and finally places the toy against the skin of your cleavage. You suck in a breath, reacting already more intensely than he thought you would. He supposes that it’s due to knowing how it’s going to feel, and he elicits a little moan from you as he drags the head of the toy across your chest. 

“Don’t tease me,” you grumble, squeezing your thighs around his waist. When he looks down between your legs, he can see the way it makes your cunt clench too. You’re trying to stimulate yourself untouched. 

“Christ, you’re a dirty little girl for this thing. What magic does it do for you?” He raises his brows and inches the toy closer to your right breast. He dances around the swell and you bite your lower lip.

“You don’t understand,” you say breathlessly.

“Humor me,” he demands. 

“It feels… like when your teeth nip at my skin,” you explain with eyes that are already glazed over with desire, “It feels like when your mouth is just about to get where I wa— Fuck.”

Javier has covered your right nipple with the toy and between your legs, a damp spot has marked the white sheets. He moves the head of the little sucker around your gorgeous, perky nipple and your moan only increases in volume. 

“Shh, los niños están dormidos (the children are asleep),” he whispers above you, removing the toy to lean down over you and get closer to your face, “Keep your little mouth shut or I’ll need to stop.”

You look desperately at him, shake your head, and whimper at the threat. He pecks your lips with a pleased smirk before you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. It gets even harder for you when he descends on you, gathering spit in his mouth before letting it drip down onto your played-with nipple in an obscene manner. 

“Waterproof, I’m guessing?” He awaits your answer. 

“Mhm,” you nod and then writhe as he covers the peak of your breast again. You let your hand push down into the mattress, making a noise in the back of your throat as he presses the button to turn up the intensity. You fight between throwing your head back and keeping your eyes fixed on what he is doing to you. 

“Eyes on me,” he decides for you. 

“Baby,” you whine and follow through, thighs tightening around his waist as you stare at him. You start thrusting against nothing, lifting your pelvis to squeeze your pussy in time with the still somewhat slow pulses to your chest. 

Javier straightens fully again and your gaze follows obediently. He lifts his left hand to his mouth, sticking two fingers past his lips to wet them with his spit, and then he finds your other nipple. He rubs in soft circles for just a moment before he pinches it between the two digits, tugging at it slightly until he sees slick drip from your aching slit. He cannot help the soft noise he lets out as he watches the drip of your come hit the bed. He is so hard it hurts from just thinking about being inside of you as you continue flexing your pelvis like that.

How the fuck are you going to come from just this? Has he really spent so much time in bed with you that this is something he can force out of you? He is struck by fascination at your trembling body, letting you breathe, even if it’s just barely, by swirling the toy around your nipple. 

“More,” you pant in frustration, swallowing down a frustrated moan to not piss him off, “Turn it up.”

“Hey, that’s not how we ask for things in this family. What’s the magic word?” He teases, finger hovering over the button. He pinches your nipple with the fingers on his other hand, forcing a cry past your lips. You don’t even get to the please. 

Instead, your hand flies to your mouth but you manage to calm your noises again, sliding your fingers into your hair instead. Javier decides then to press the button twice before putting it back on you, watching those fingers yank at your own follicles. You nod and your hips are practically gyrating by now. 

“Javi, fu— fuck,” you gasp out, “I—“

“I know, baby. I can see it on you,” he says, making a noise low in his throat at the way your head falls back into the mattress. Your eyes roll back into your skull, your bottom lip getting caught between your teeth again as you teeter on the edge of your first orgasm. He cannot believe your clit is still untouched because when he dares look down, it peeks out from underneath its hood as if he’s been giving it attention. 

“I’m gonna come,” you announce with a strained voice, still very aware of your noise levels. Quickly, you reach down to cover your mouth with the whole of your palm and then, with furrowed brows, you’re off into ecstasy. It hits you like a shot of adrenaline, your body going rigid before writhing on the sheets. The hand on your mouth turns your moans into desperate whines that stir Javier’s desire even more. His heart races at the sight, his eyes watching hungrily as you come undone the first time of many. 

“Jesus Christ, Mamá,” he removes his hands and turns off the toy when you go from enjoying the tingling of pleasure to shaking at the oversensitivity of your breasts. 

The hand falls from your satisfied smile to lay beside your head. You giggle as excitement is flowing through your veins, “Gimme a second and you can go again.”

“Is it better than me?” He smiles at your cute laughter and wiggles his brow.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you roll your eyes, “Not even close but it’s nice if you’re not available.”

“You know… I would come home during my break if you needed me,” he leaves the toy next to you so he can crawl over you and dip down for a long kiss. 

“I’m sure you would,” you nod at his words, slipping your tongue past his lips. 

He holds himself up with a forearm above you so he can use his free hand to push your shirt further up and over your head. You stretch your arms above your head to help him rid you of it completely, only breaking the kiss for the moment it takes. 

“I’m ready for one more,” you say after a few minutes of just making out with him, arms slung around his neck in a desperate embrace and lips kissing him until they’re swollen. When he sits up on his knees again, he notices the way that his mustache has scratched you slightly and makes a mental note to trim it sometime tomorrow. 

You look so radiant when you’re in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss, and while he gets his pillow to place it underneath your hips, he admires the beauty of you underneath him like this. You have your hair tousled, your eyes are half-lidded, barely open from the way remnants of pleasure still hasn’t been washed away from them, and your velvety skin glistens with a sheen of sweat that’ll make you shiver if he doesn’t heat you up again. Javier wants to lick it off, wants to eat you up until he has devoured you. You’re beyond softer and sexier than any other time he gets to witness you. 

“Javi,” you murmur softly when he’s too slow. 

“What, mi amor (my love)?” He pretends not to hear your demanding voice hidden beneath your tired one. 

“I wanna do it again,” you have a playful glint in your eye. 

“Again?” He teases but his cock pulses, heavy between his legs at the knowledge that he will see you come undone once more in just a moment. He chooses the word moment because the little sucker knows what it is doing and if you respond so well to getting your nipples played with, a part of him is afraid that it’ll be over the second it touches your clit. 

“Javi,” you drag out his name in further frustration. 

Javier rubs your thigh soothingly, “You’re obsessed with this thing. How long have you had it?” 

“Uhh, not long,” you reply, visibly clenching at just hearing the toy start buzzing again. You scoot further towards him, presenting your pussy for him.

“So directly? Or?” He reaches down between your legs, the toy hovering over your mound for a moment before he decides to let it suckle on the skin of your inner thigh where he has just touched you. You breathe deeply in through your nose, wanting to look down at what he is doing but your pregnant belly is already shielding it from view. 

“Yes but the lowest setting,” you instruct. Your hand dips down between your thighs to spread your lips, giving him access to your hard clit, “I’m still sensitive.”

“And wet, ¡Dios mío (my God)!” He marvels with suppressed excitement and moves the toy inwards, trailing its tip until it sits right by your hand. You sigh at the attention, dripping even more from your slit in anticipation. 

Your hips hitch up when he finally covers your clit with the hole of the toy, a quiet moan slipping from your mouth as it falls open. Your face goes slack in contrast to the tension in your pelvis, your body subconsciously moving around to seek the most sensation. 

He guides it steadily up and down, barely rocking it but still moving it enough to create just a bit of a tug on your swollen nub. He sees you lose yourself in it and stares down at you while cupping the bulge on the front of his briefs to relieve some of the desperate pain. He moans low in his throat, “Mi chica bonita (my beautiful girl).”

You respond with a little louder noise, an orgasm already creeping up on you. He shushes you gently, “No noise, baby. Try breathing through your nose or I’ll have to cover your mouth.” 

You clamp your mouth shut and make a muffled sound.

“Look at that pussy flutter for me,” he looks between your legs then smiles up at you, pleased with what he is doing to you. He turns up the power on the toy. Your head falls back against the bed. He sees your brows knit together and then he knows, “Come on, baby, that’s it.”

Your orgasm hits you like a lightning bolt. Javier watches with his hand gripping firmly around the outline of his cock and the toy held firmly against your core. You do a fantastic job of making as little noise as possible but the desire to make a racket is there beneath the surface, especially when your high peaks and there’s a moment where you hold your breath just before shivering with the pleasure in your cunt. 

He gives you another break but you shake your head. He looks curiously down at you, uncertain if you mean it, “No? Again?”

“Make it hurt, please, Javi,” you beg and he thinks he might come untouched from those words. It’s so rare to have you like this when the house is still full. He doesn’t doubt whether it is a good idea though, just turns up the heat and sends you hurtling towards another orgasm. 

You gasp towards the ceiling and slam your legs closed while you grab at the sheets. You look like you are possessed, eyes rolling back into your skull as you come a third time. It must be painful because you are whimpering like a wounded animal, nearly ripping the fabric underneath you and begging silently by only mouthing the words in a worse manner than he has ever experienced as a father of three - soon five - children. 

“Keep going,” you demand almost angrily, concentration on your face as he presses the button to the next level of pulses. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, “You’re about to levitate into the air, aren’t you?”

“I’m gonna come,” you inform him breathlessly.

“Already?” Javier’s brows are nearly in his hair. He is stroking himself on top of his underwear now, itching to feel something when you are lying in a pool of tears, sweat, and your come. Seeing you like this, he has no idea how he is ever going to get anything practical done this weekend; he’ll be doing you every chance he gets until you can’t walk. So hard that he’ll have an excuse to stay home with you on Monday just so he can spear you on his aching cock over and over. Even if you scream, even if you drool, and even if you sob.

When your fourth orgasm of the night starts to gain up on you, he observes the way your legs start to twitch. He holds the toy steady, pushing it against your clit as you nearly go cross-eyed with pleasure. His eyes are wide, the concentration lost for just a second too long when your legs start shaking as you near your end. The toy slips just half an inch, losing its grip on your clit and the accident turns you feral. You reach for his hand, yanking the toy out of his palm, and settle it back into place. 

And then you come. So hard that he has no idea what to say or do, watching a steady trickle of pearly white mess gush out of you as your pussy jumps along with your heartbeat. You try so desperately to keep quiet but the sensation seems to be so intense that you might draw blood from your lip if you don’t get to cry. 

“One loud one, no, no, look at me. One,” he tells you calmly, knowing you are probably seeing spots, “Let me hear.”

You don’t hesitate, face scrunched up in ecstasy while you let out a wreaking sob that’s so close to you screaming that he almost (but not really) regrets allowing you to be noisy. You pant, kick, and scream, tears running down your face as you are lost to the world, leaving him with nothing to do but stare hungrily as he thanks the heavens that you have found a toy that makes you look so happy and beautiful. He’d be its lead promoter if someone wanted him to. 

When it becomes too much, you don’t even turn off the thing. You simply just let it fall from your hands and slump into the bed, your thighs sticky with sweat and slick against Javier’s own. He listens for the sound of tiny footsteps down the hallway for a moment but there’s nothing, not even a squeak from the baby monitor.

“Get inside of me,” you half-beg, half-order with barely any breath in your chest. Javier doesn’t hesitate to step off the bed, slipping his briefs off, and stepping out of them when they pool around his feet. Your eyes watch, huge and wet, filled with desperation for being stretched out after only having your clit played with. He will never dream of denying you when you look like that. You nearly hiccup, “Please.”

“Shh, you’ll get it, mi vida (my life), you’ll get whatever you want,” he soothes softly but then continues the rough streak. He curls his hands around the back of your knees and yanks you off the pillow towards the edge of the bed, sliding your body through the mess you have created. 

You are like a siren with the eyes you are sending him, making his cock stand in the air and at level with your empty cunt. He grabs at the base of his length, guiding the thick head through your folds for a few seconds to slick himself up. However, the need to be inside of you, to pound into you, is too much and he pushes into you not long after. 

The feeling of filling you up has Javier’s heart pounding against his ribs, endorphins running through his system as his mind quiets down completely when he has you like this. Your warm and familiar walls engulf his touch-starved cock and the both of you breathe shakily in relief as you melt together. You even manage a mix between a breathless laugh and a quiet moan, a sound that makes him twitch inside of you as he regains his composure. When he starts fucking you, dragging you by your legs down onto his cock over and over again, he realizes that he doesn’t even need to be careful, your walls so wet and soft from how much you’ve been touched. 

He repeatedly snaps his hips forward to cause an obscene smacking noise that bounces off the walls. You nod frantically at the way he moves inside of you, nose scrunching up with concentration on the sensation of his dick slamming into your front wall. Yet it seems as if you’ve become nearly impossible to please from coming so many times; your hands are placed on top of his, frustration evident on your face, “Harder.” 

“Nena (baby girl),” he pants whilst fucking you, “I’m already going hard.”

“I need it harder,” you whine, writhing slightly, “Please.”

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” He asks playfully and earns a glare that you only seem to perfect when you are pregnant and not getting your way. He smooths his palms up and down your sweaty thighs, thrusts coming to a complete halt, “Crawl back.”

He pulls out his cock with a grunt, letting you gaze hungrily at it when you’ve seen it glistening with your wetness. He is the one getting impatient now, snapping his fingers to keep up the part he is playing for you, his role as the man in charge even if it’s hardly true, “Go on then. Back.”

You move with shaky limbs, your body exhausted from its continuous stimulus. You end up lying flat on your back with your legs wide open for him, holding out your arms with a tiny dissatisfied complaint of a whimper, “Javi.”

Javier finally kneels on the bed and moves forward until he is hovering above you. He grabs the still buzzing toy on the bed and reaches for your hand. He places the toy in your palm and closes your fingers around it, knowing what he wants, “I just need you to promise me that you’ll choke my dick when I fuck you with this joining the fun.”

You nod repeatedly and that’s good enough for him to go crazy for you, even wreck the bed if that’s what you want to do. Thank God that there’s no school tomorrow because you’d be hobbling around with how sore he is going to make - and has already made - you. He leans down and cages you underneath him, buries his face in your neck as he bottoms out inside you in one hard thrust. His pelvis touches yours, his chest, your sensitive tits, his body unable to get close enough.

When he rocks his hips this time, he starts really putting his back into it. You slide your free hand up his bicep to cling to his shoulder, saving yourself from being pushed across the mattress with how forcefully he drives his cock into your heat.

He breathes hard as he exhausts his body to give you what you need, knowing that you can take it even if it aches. He can feel drops of sweat slide down the length of his spine, gathering at the small of his back as he switches to harsh rolls of his hips. 

The switch gives you room. He doesn’t have to actively listen for the muffling of the sucking toy’s buzz to know that you have started to hold it against your clit because your whole cunt jumps at the attention. 

You press your mouth into his bare shoulder to muffle your screams, bravely taking on another round of obscene pleasure as his lower belly burns with the desire to come. 

His head swims with the overtaxing use of his muscles, the strain on his thighs that has started to ache from how much he wants to make your head spin. He feels a tear fall from your eye and drop down on his skin, your whimpering voice trying to encourage him not to stop the torture of your cunt. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as the sensations are becoming increasingly more intense. He turns his head to breathe heavily against your ear, breathing damp against the shell of it when he tries to speak while his lungs empty as small puffs of air. He wants to tell you how good it feels, and concentrates on whispering filthy things in your ear, “That’s it, you can— oh God, you can take it, baby.”

You sound like you’re trying to overcome your own body, fluctuating between whines and groans. He goes on, “No wonder you’re always carrying my babies. You take it so fucking well each time, amor (love). Made for it. Made for getting knocked up.”

You lock your legs around his ankles, clinging to him as he crashes into you repeatedly. He hears you desperately move the sucking toy back and forth, hears the intensity being turned up to a higher level than he has even dared. You sound pornographic even in your quietness - like one of those videos where they don’t want to get caught but just cannot keep all noise at bay - as you get fucked by him whilst it sends you through the gates of pleasure heaven simultaneously. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

“And if you weren’t made for it, I’d be sure to mold that little pussy into shape,” he growls quietly. You start to have that dazed look in your eye, have a grip around his cock that tells him exactly what is going to happen, “Oh, baby. You gonna come on my cock, huh?” 

“Yeah,” you squeak. 

“Yeah?” He mocks. 

Javier enters the final sprint, fucking you open in a frantic rush that almost borders on being gross, greedy and animalistic. You mewl pathetically from the intensity, biting into his skin as he makes you come with pleasure slamming through your body roughly enough to make you start crying. 

To soothe you, he pulls back his head to kiss you longingly even if it becomes nothing more than a messy crash of your mouths together. He does it to quieten down himself too, finding that his stomach is tightening and his balls are drawing up from being so close. You’ve tightened around him too because whereas you should remove the sucker from your clit, once again, you don’t, and the questionable choice has your walls clamping down on him in overstimulation, squeezing his dick so heavenly that his hips stutter. He comes inside of you when the smaller fit has him seeing stars, groaning into your mouth as he pulses into you. 

The buzz of the toy becomes louder again but only because it slips from your hand, your body trembling with overwhelming excitement as you come down from your millionth orgasm in a fairly short period of time. You sob without being sad, curling in on yourself as soon as he pulls out of the dripping mess between your legs. He is on you instantaneously, pushing your hair out of your face, turning off the toy, and cooing gently. 

“Oh, Nena (baby girl), you’re okay,” he tuts while you cry quietly, several teardrops rolling down your nose as your body tries to escape itself. He kisses your shoulder, blows a raspberry on it, “You did so good for me. You’re okay. We just went a little overboard.”

Javier rolls off of you but instead of following the instinct to rest his exhausted body by lying down, he sits up in your shared bed. He scoots close to you until he can coax you to drag yourself into his lap with a feeble whimper, wrapping his arms around you and rocking you back and forth like a newborn. He supposes you must feel rebirthed. You sob into his chest, cheek pressed into where his heart hammers, and still overwhelmed with the painful pleasure that you have just experienced. 

“Shh,” he whispers with his lips pressed to the crown of your head. He kisses your hair, rubbing soothing circles into your sweaty back until your cries turn into tiny hiccups instead, “It’s alright. You’re alright.”

The way you cling to him tells him that you feel safe with him. He dares lift your chin, looking into your puffy, red eyes and rubbing a tear-streak away from your face. His voice is raspy from sex, “Are you okay, baby?” 

“I’m okay,” you croak with a tired and tiny smile, shivering as the sweat starts to cool down. He holds you a little tighter. You relax in his arms even despite getting a bit of control back, “Scatterbrained.”

“Lo sé (I know),” he huffs out a chuckle with another kiss to your head. He cups your jaw and dips down for a kiss on the lips too, thumb rubbing affectionately along your cheekbone, “Pero eres tan hermosa (but you’re so pretty).”

“Thank you,” you cover his hand on your face with your own, “I’m ready to conk out.”

“Shower?” He asks and suggests at the same time.

“I won’t be able to stand upright for that long,” you run your hand over your forehead instead, laughing quietly.

“Alright, bath it is then,” he gently runs his fingers through your hair, “Ready?”

“You’re going to carry me?” You ask with a raised brow as he starts moving towards the edge of the bed with you, “I weigh a ton with this pregnant belly.” 

“I do lifts with our daughter on the daily, you know,” he jokes, “Best workout method in years. Even if she talks a lot.”

You yelp with a laugh as he picks you up effortlessly and carries you through the bathroom, crossing the tiled floor with you in his arms bridal style, and sets you carefully on the edge of the bathtub. As he turns on the tap and lets the tub fill, he imagines the cool porcelain is nice against your sore thighs and cunt. 

After testing the water, he gently helps you into the tub with a comfortable silence between you. The content look on your face is a reward in itself, even moreso the sigh that you let out as the water envelops you and turns your tired muscles to putty. 

Javier washes your hair, leaning your head back and scooping water into his hand to rinse out the shampoo. He runs his fingers across your back and shoulders too, relieving some of the tension he has caused tonight. 

“What about dinner tomorrow?” You ask out of the blue and he nearly wants to laugh because, of course, you’re already back to being a mother. 

He puts conditioner in your hair, “I was just inside of you.”

“And that means that I can’t start planning your kids’ best lives?” You tease. 

He rolls his eyes affectionately, “Fine. I think we should just do something easy.”

“Actually,” you say. Here we go, he thinks. You turn your head to look up at him, “The kids have been talking about a picnic in the backyard, and Lucas really wants to try out the new tent we bought.”

“Mhm,” he hums, not protesting. It does sound fun. 

“And I checked the weather forecast earlier,” you add then clarify, “It won’t rain.”

“Baby,” he says with an affectionate smile as he rinses out the conditioner too, “You need to shut down that brain of yours. You do plenty enough to keep us happy.”

“It does shut down sometimes,” you reassure him with a little smile, rubbing your nose in a manner that he always finds adorable. You lean back to simply soak in the warm water, belly just poking out above the surface, “When you touch me.”

Javier lays a hand on your stomach, caressing you in slow circles. He feels playful when he knows you’re getting back into your normal self again, “Guess I’ll just have to keep touching you then.”

“I guess so,” you reply simply, eyes closed and a lazy smile on your face. Jesus Christ, he loves you and everything you have given him. 

“I’ll let you sit here for a few more minutes, really let you cook,” he tells you, bending down to kiss your hair. He pushes himself to stand, “I’m gonna go plug your new friend in all over. I think we drained the battery.”

“Don’t pass out,” you say in a sing-song voice, “Love you.”

“Te amo tanto, mi amor (I love you so much, my love),” he replies and leaves you alone with a hand on your belly. He hears you talk to his unborn children, and it’s almost sad that the time it takes for him to wash the toy gently in the sink, plug it in, and head back to you isn’t long. 

Finally, with his help, you finish the bath. He helps you to the seat of the toilet, hands you a towel, and drains water from the tub.

“I had the same old question today,” he small-talks while you are on the toilet to dry yourself. He steps over the edge of the newly-drained tub to stand in it, pulling the shower head off the wall to wash himself down from the remnants of what you have just done in bed. He’ll hurry up to finish before you so you don’t start changing the sheets in your pregnant condition. 

“Yeah?” You decide against what you are doing and go, albeit shakily, to find a flannel. You soak it in lukewarm water and instantly sigh as you place it between your legs. 

“Lucas wants that damn dog so badly,” he continues as he washes himself, “I told him it was a bad idea. He got pretty upset.”

“Is it? A bad idea, I mean?” You wash the flannel clean after using it and wring out the excess water before hanging it on the side of the laundry basket.

“I said yes but I also said it was you who had the final say in it. I’m not carrying a litter,” he huffs a small laugh and steps out onto the bath mat. He dries himself, “Two babies, a toddler, and a puppy seems like pushing it, baby, no matter how well-behaved.” 

“I had a dog growing up. It was pretty great and made me feel less alone,” you muse. You turn around to lean against the bathroom counter to steady yourself, watching him with a smile in your naked state, “We could find one in a shelter. A grown one.”

God, you are pretty. He hangs up his towel and draws nearer, stopping only when he has you caged between the sink and himself. He leans in for a kiss and you cup his face whilst he talks, “You’re so good.”

“We could surprise him for his birthday. I don’t like those puppies spending time in those cages during August. It’s too hot. They should be running in the grass,” you scratch his cheeks with your nails, pouting slightly. 

He kisses the pout off your face and puts a hand on your protruding belly, “You’ll look so beautiful during August.” 

“This isn’t about me,” you note with a grin and pat his hand, “Focus on your son for a second.”

“We’ll never be able to top that birthday present,” he says with his eyes glazed over by love, “Just saying.”

“But he’ll remember it for the rest of his life,” you argue. 

“Guess we’ll have to browse the local places then,” he gives in, sliding his hand around your waist. 

“You’re a great dad,” you return the caress by laying your palm on his bare chest. His pulse is high when you look at him like that, saying those things. 

“Don’t or I’ll have you right here again,” he threatens playfully. 

Despite your previous state, you respond cockily by turning around so your ass is level with his dick. You lean forward slightly but only to grab your toothbrush for the second time tonight and disappoint him. 

“Anything else happen today?” You ask as if nothing has happened whilst putting toothpaste on your brush. It matches his. You look at him through the mirror and he takes a moment to think, collecting his thoughts instead of getting hard again. 

“Oh, right, uh,” he gives up and takes a step to the side, reaching for his own toothbrush. You hand over the tube of toothpaste to him. He puts it back in its holder when he is done using it, “Well, there’s a new kid in Inés’ class. I ran into her mom or rather… Inés ran into her.”

You raise a brow in the mirror.

“Anyway, she was real friendly,” he recalls the moment earlier and speaks around his toothbrush, “They’re new in town and she wanted someone to show her around. She actually invited us for coffee.”

You turn to him now, having stopped brushing your teeth. It looks like you are trying not to laugh at him, “Javi…”

“Yeah?” He turns to meet your gaze and furrows his brow. Oblivious. 

“I’m sure she was super excited to invite you and your wife for coffee,” you chuckle, and a bit of toothpaste dribbles down your chin. You reach to wipe it off, “You’re so stupid.”

“Hey,” he clicks his tongue at you. 

“Did you give her your number?” You ask casually. 

“No… I told her that I would find her contact info on the class sheet,” he tells you and you laugh for real this time. 

“Ever the romantic,” you snicker, “Oh, you broke her heart with that.”

“Fuck, do you think she was trying to come onto me?” Javier realizes the true meaning behind the interaction. 

“Well, duh,” you start to brush your teeth again but cannot help giggling throughout the rest of cleaning them, “I bet she was batting her lashes at you.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. I thought she was just being friendly,” he continues his own brushing. 

This happens more and more often. You are so deeply ingrained in his mind that his time as a casanova is so far behind him that he sometimes cannot pick up on these things anymore. He wants to say that it’s a conscious choice to be oblivious but it honestly is not. There’s just no one else but you.

“So are you gonna call her? Is it serious?” You taunt him after rinsing your toothbrushes together. 

“You’re in for a smack to your ass if you continue,” Javier rolls his eyes in an attempt to hide the color of embarrassment in his cheeks. He hurries to go change the sheets before you start doing it.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you blink at him as you pass him to get your clothes from the bed before he has crumpled them up into the dirty sheets. 

He smiles and gets dressed with you afterward, standing on each of your respective sides of the bed without saying much. 

In bed, you kiss and say your ‘I love yous’. He falls asleep after a few minutes of listening to your slowed breathing. Just like he has done thousands of times before. It never gets old.

.

.

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[nsomniacsdream]

I have a hard time talking about American law enforcement, because I have ptsd (like a therapist told me this and everything) from my own experiences with cops and because it's so balls quaking insane.

Like, a cop in the United States can pull you over for any reason. Which is a nice way of saying no reason, because literally anything can be used after the fact as justification. A cop can say its cuz you looked at him, or didnt look at him, or it looked like you were holding something, or looked like you were driving too perfectly for it to be natural. It's insane.

There are apparently no circumstances where a cop can't just kill you. The line the courts have applied is "reasonably believed" you were a threat, but that's such a nebulous nothing limit that people get shot for reaching for their license, having their phone in their hand, you're running away with no weapon, not being able to follow conflicting commands, like anything. And cops are almost never charged, because every court is going to believe he could "reasonably believe" he was threatened. Fuck, if you give me enough time, I can make any situation seem juuuuust plausibly threatening enough to pass that bar. It's insane.

A cop can just rob you. Like tell you to give him your wallet, take all the cash out, and just walk away with it. Exactly like you would imagine getting robbed in an alley would go, except no one can help. And he doesn't even have to hide it, he just drops it in a box at the station and they put it in their bank account. It's legal. You can't prove it wasn't drug money. I can't prove any money wasn't at some point drug money. It's insane.

If a cop just walks in your front door and says "I'm here to kill you and your entire family" YOU ARE GOING TO PRISON IF YOU STOP HIM. There is no positive defense for assaulting a police officer in the United States, and doubly so if you kill him. You have effectively no defense against a homicidal cop, which happens same as any other job. Unless for some reason you have cameras all thru your house and clearly caught the audio of him saying that he's there just to kill you, you have zero chance of not going to prison, probably for life. And that's assuming you aren't killed "resisting arrest" while being taken into custody. It is a crime, in this country, for you to defend yourself under any circumstances if the person you're defending yourself from is a cop. That's insane.

You don't have civil rights if a cop says so. You have the right to have a gun, right? A lot of states have open carry. A cop can shoot you if he sees you have a gun. Doesn't matter if you have a license and everything. So you effectively don't have the right to bear arms if a cop can shoot you for exercising it. You have the right to protest. Unless a cop tells you to stop. He doesn't need a real reason to tell you to stop. And if you don't stop, you can be arrested or shot. So you don't really have the right to protest, do you? A cop cant just search your car or house, right? Unless he claims he heard something, or smelled something, neither of which can be proven. So a cop can search whatever he wants, as long as he pretends there was a "reason". So you dont have protection from unreasonable search and seizure, do you? These are no longer rights- they're things the cops allow.. for now. But legally, those rights have already been found to not actually be rights, because any random cop can decide to take that right from you, for any reason. It's insane.

These aren't like crazy things that I'm just making up, these aren't some weird twisted way I'm looking at something, these are all very real things that we all just.. ignore? Police abolitionists and the media bring these things up all the time, and the overwhelming response to it is: so what? Don't break the law and it won't matter. Blue lives matter. More police funding. Cops should have tanks. It's insane. And I always feel like im just rambling and sound insane when I say this kind of stuff because if you wrote a book and had the dystopian government doing the stuff that the police in this country do every single day, those same people who "back the blue" would line up to say stuff like "*Books government* wouldnt have a chance before us real americans stopped them" on twitter and not even get a hint of the irony.

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) captain price nsfw alphabet with p-links, 𝒶⸺𝓏

𝒜 = aftercare (what they’re like after sex) : john, as i've stated before, is very touchy. he likes having his hands on you in any way that he can. so he'll pull you to his chest as the two of you catch your breath and run his hands along your body, pressing kisses to the crown of your hairline. you usually end up dozing off before john does and so he takes the initiative to grab a warm, damp cloth and clean up the mess of cum between your thighs. after he's done, he'll hop right back into bed and pull you flush to his body, sliding his hands along the expanse of your thighs and counting each beauty mark and mole along your body in the dim lighting of the room until he eventually falls asleep. [connected to this post and this one as well!]

𝐵 = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) : john's favorite body part of his would have to be his hands. they're big and calloused from work and he enjoys gently grasping your hips with them when he pulls you in for a slow kiss. he also adores how much you love them as well, his hands swamping yours whenever the two of you interlock fingers with each other. now john has an obsession with your lips, for him, they convey your emotions much better than words ever could. he can tell when you're annoyed with him by the purse of your lips. can tell when you're feeling shy by the slight upturn of the corner of your mouth. can tell when you're being sassy and sarcastic with the cute smirk that'll grace your lips and also when you're feeling sad by the way your lips curl in on themselves to form a line, and perhaps that's not a body part but it's his absolute favorite.

𝒞 = cum (anything to do with cum basically... i’m a disgusting person) : john's cum is pearl white in color and it's sticky and thick and there's always so much of it when he cums for the first time. the taste of his cum is slightly salty but it's not overbearing, you love the taste of him. price prefers to cum inside of you rather than anywhere else, this only started after john saw you holding your friend's newborn baby in your arms, it's been john's mission to impregnate you since then. [connected to this post!]

𝒟 = dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) : it's no secret that john is older than you, there's an obvious age gap and some people may sneer at your relationship (as you're in your mid to late twenties and john is thirty-seven.) during playful banters between you and john, your go-to "insult" is always, "old man", "yes, daddy." or something along those lines. and despite himself, price always finds that he's thick and hard in his pants. he won't ever tell you that though.

𝐸 = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) : okay, price isn't the type to sleep around, he's had some occasional flings here and there, but that's about it. that doesn't mean he's inexperienced though, john puts in work. he studies your reactions and what you like. a delicious roll of his hips has him hitting that spongey little spot inside of you. licking his thumb before planting it on your clit to rub quick figure eights, has your thighs shaking and his name falling off your tongue like a prayer, and whispering lewd things in your ear and kissing you all sloppily in his pussy drunk state? has your cunt leaking all over the place. john price knows how to fuck and make love, he's perfect.

𝐹 = favorite position (this goes without saying. will probably include a visual) : hm, john's favorite position is called the 'g-whiz' it's a stupid name lowkey but it gives him the perfect view to watch your face as you fall apart over and over on his cock. it also gives him access to your g-spot and your clit as well. three birds with one stone (he loves watching your tits bounce too.)

𝒢 = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc) : it's a mix. there are times when the two of you are going at it like bunnies and perhaps bump heads a bit too hard. or maybe one of you trips while pulling off a piece of clothing-- there's going to be obvious laughter. during softer sex, where john's thrusts are deep and rolling, slow and intimate--- his gaze is always so full of his adoration for you and it leaves you breathless at times. he kisses gently, whispering words of love to you and smiling at the tears that sting your eyes. so yeah, he's a mix.

𝐻 = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.) : john, before he met you, wasn't really sexually active, and so he didn't keep up with grooming himself, there was no need for him to. he was out in the field for weeks on end at a time and when he was off the field all he wanted to do was relax and sleep as much as he could before he had to go back out for another mission. after he met you, however, he wanted to groom himself. not that you seemed to care, nor had you ever complained. but he did it anyways. so, price's hair is brown, nicely trimmed, with no scraggly hairs in sight.

𝐼 = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) : please, john is madly in love with you and he himself knows it and he loves to make it known to you often, even outside of sex. price loves keeping eye contact with you, whether it's through a mirror, while you're riding him, or in any other position that allows the two of you to be face to face. he loves watching the small ticks in your expression as he grinds his hips into yours, cock sinking into you at the most excruciatingly slow pace he's ever gone. loves the way your cheeks flush and your cunt squeezes him when he calls you his, "pretty girl." this man also says 'i love you' often, and it's always so genuine, you never grow tired of hearing him say it. (he definitely doesn't kiss your chin when you give him an annoyed pouty look at his slow pace, he definitely doesn't apologize and speed up either.)

𝒥 = jack off (masturbation headcanon) : i find it hard to picture price masturbating, but i believe he does so when he's away from home for weeks on end, but it's not mindless masturbation like most men are prone to doing. john, when he's away from you for long periods of time, gets almost…needy?? in a way. this man misses you like no other, he misses the smell of you, your loving touches, your smile, your cooking, you pulling him to the living room floor to dance, your horrible singing when the two of you shower together and god he misses the sound of your voice. and this feeling is all so new to him and it's almost overwhelming. 

so when price has the downtime, he calls you, it's a spur-of-the-moment call and when you pick up, he can hear the thickness of sleep in your voice; he feels selfish and a bit foolish, he was acting like a horny teenager. however, after hearing the excitement in your voice and the surprise, he can only smile and ask how everything has been at home. who would've thought that the sound of your voice, all sleepy and soft would get him hard and thick within his cargos? who also would've thought that john price would unzip himself to pull out his rigid cock, tip leaking with pearlescent pre-cum and pulsing in his large hand. yes, john ends up fucking his fist to the sound of your voice, humming and grunting softly to signify that he's listening to you, thighs tensing and heart hammering in his ribcage. i mean, what you don't know won't hurt you.

𝒦 = kink (one or more of their kinks) : hear me out, roleplay, please! wait, think about it, perhaps it's not full-on roleplay but it's something of the sort, john gets a raging boner when you call him 'captain price' mockingly or 'sir'. another would have to be breeding, john wants to knock you up so bad it's almost an obsession, would love to see you swollen with his child, most definitely says something along the lines of. "good girl, wan' t'get you pregnant so bad. you'd like that, hm?" during sex. a mild voice kink? loves the sound of your voice and almost always cums instantly when you beg him to fill you up.

𝐿 = location (favorite places to do the do) : don't really see john being too much of an exhibitionist but the two of you have had sex outside at a park, while on a picnic. you had crawled into his lap and kissed him softly, pleadingly, blinking your pretty little lashes at him and i mean; who is he to say no to your greedy little cunt? however, he prefers to do it in the comfort of your shared home. ♡

𝑀 = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) : your teasing. whether it be playful or sexual it always riles price up. it's one of the many things that he loves about you, your sense of humor. and you express it well, not just through your actions or your words but also through your eyes, they're always so expressive and glittering with light mischief that he can't help but sweep you off your feet, throw you over his shoulder, and carry you into the bedroom.

𝒩 = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs) : hurting you in any way, there are some things he's a bit lenient on if you like it; like choking and light slapping but other than that, it's a no for price. man loves you too much to do anything of the sort.

𝒪 = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc) : as much as john loves having his cock buried down your throat, watching as you stare up at him with tear-stained cheeks, your mouth and chin covered in spit and his cum— he enjoys eating you out. he loves the taste of you on his tongue, loves to overstimulate you, loves to control your orgasms, loves to hear you beg and roll your hips on his tongue. if john could he'd spend the rest of his life buried between your thighs, large hands gripping the fat of your hips to keep you still as your thighs quiver and your pussy pulses from being too sensitive, he would. well shit, i guess that should be one of john's kinks too then, huh?

𝒫 = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) : price is usually slow and sensual, with fervent deep strokes, tender kisses, and whispered murmurs of love. what can he say? he loves showing that he loves you in all that he does. however, on the days when he comes home after a mission gone awry or being away for a long time in general, he's gonna be fast and rough; using your body any way he pleases. on days like this, he prefers you in 'doggy style' or even the 'mating press', and immediately gives you cuddles afterward though, telling you briefly of his mission as you run your hands through his hair. ♡

𝒬 = quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.) : hm, john isn't one for quickies, i mean he doesn't mind a quickie, the park sex that the two of you had was a quickie after all. but i believe he much prefers proper sex, that way he can pull orgasm after orgasm from you and take his time as well. 

𝑅 = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) : john is down to try something at least once, especially if it's something that you want to try. not too long ago, you handcuffed price to the bed and edged him until he had literally begged you to let him cum, it was quite the sight and he's down to do it again. 

𝒮 = stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…) : give this man two good rounds, and then he's tuckered out. however he doesn't mind if you're still reeling to go, he'll pull you onto his lap and let you ride him until you're sated. or even make you ride his face, he could never deny you anything after all. 

𝒯 = toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) : y'all hear me out once more....vibrating panties. rahhhh, hold on hold on. you guys use it when you're out on walks, at restaurants and sometimes even at dinners with your friends. man gets bricked up at the sight of you squeezing your thighs together, breathless and completely out of it. however, in the bedroom, price is all you need, the man is much better than any toy.

 𝒰 = unfair (how much they like to tease) : teases you often, whether it be with overstimulation, ruining your orgasms, or even having you beg him to let you cum. the man, believe it or not, likes to see your eyes water and your lips pout. loves that he can get his sassy, fiery wife all squirmy and pleading with just a few strokes of his tongue. 

𝒱 = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make) : john is not shy, he'll tell you how good you're making him feel, not with just his deep, guttural groans, but also with words. price is the king of dirty talk and he does it unknowingly, he most definitely curses when he's moaning as well, drawn out 'fucks' and at when your pussy squeezes him tight, he'll say. "shit, sweetheart y'r pussy s'made for me." calls you the lewdest names known to man, but says it so lovingly that you can't help but be turned on even more than you already are.

𝒲 = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice) : has definitely had you suck him off while underneath his desk while on a computer call with laswell. poor baby, his face was pink from holding in his moans, especially after you buried him to the hilt down your throat. totally didn't get caught or anything.

𝒳= x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words) : the picture speaks for itself. ♡

𝒴 = yearning (how high is their sex drive?) : you guys, price is 37, atp? he's 40, it may not be as it used to be when he was younger but! he puts in the work and most times tires you out before he tires out.

𝒵 = zzz (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward) : it takes awhile for price to succumb to sleep, no matter how tired he is. so it's usually you falling asleep first. he lays there, holding you close and running his hands along your back and then further. he'll drift off to the sound of your slow breathing and the steady rhythm of your heart.  ♡

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : the full alphabet! ahem, i enjoyed doing this

[d3arapril]

ᡣ𐭩 about time | p.b

part of the invisible string series but can be read as a standalone fic; get up to date here.

paige bueckers x reader word count: 3.9k warnings/tags: 18+ content ahead, one bed trope, friends to lurrverrs, swearing, paige the eater, confessions, paige is down BAD, fingering (r!receiving), tribbing requests welcome and reblogs & feedback appreciated! :*

Paige was a lot of things to you.

A best friend, a teammate, a person to laugh with, a shoulder to cry on. She was probably also the love of your life.

You’d known for the past five years that it was more than friendship for you—how you’d look for her in every room, and how she’d always look for you. That invisible string between you two always seemed to pull you together.

Paige had texted you to ask if you were still planning on coming to camp, to which you swiftly replied with a yes. She mentioned that the two of you would be sharing a bed, a detail that didn't bother you in the slightest. The thought of it filled you with a sense of eager anticipation. Sharing a bed with Paige wasn't a new experience whatsoever, but lately, something had shifted between you.

Every time your eyes met, there was a lingering connection that felt stronger than ever before. Whenever you were around each other, it was as though you were both gradually becoming aware of each other's unspoken feelings bubbling up to the surface.

Now it’s 9 p.m. and you’re in Azzi’s spare room, bag slung over your shoulder as you stare at the single bed you and Paige are supposed to share. The room is small, the kind of room you'd treat more like a storage cupboard than an actual bedroom. The white walls are littered with blue tack stains and faint outlines of long-removed posters, likely from a younger Azzi. A singular desk sits against the wall to the right of you, matching wooden chair tucked neatly underneath it.

The single bed is question is pushed against the left wall, foot of the bed a couple of inches from the small window, cream curtains framing it nicely. The mattress is covered in crisp white sheets that you don't doubt Azzi washed and ironed before you both arrived. Always the good host.

“It’s...” Paige starts from beside you, glancing from you to the bed. “Cozy, I guess?”

“No kidding,” you scoff, pulling out the chair by the desk and dropping your bag onto it. You bend down to undo your laces, “We’re not going to sleep, and we’ll suffer the consequences at Azzi’s camp tomorrow.”

Paige laughs, her smooth legs brushing past you as she sits on the edge of the bed, the white sheets soft against her thighs. “If it bothers you that much, I can sleep on the c—”

“No!” The word bursts out of you, more keen than you intended. Focused on kicking off your shoes, you miss the small, knowing smile tugging at Paige’s lips. She knows you’d never let her do that.

“It’ll be fine. We’ll make it work.”

If making it work meant draping your entire left side over Paige while she was squished against the wall, then sure, it worked out fine. The warmth of her body against yours was almost too much to handle. She didn’t seem to mind, not that she ever would.

“Can I ask you something?” Paige’s voice cuts through the silence, the only light in the room coming from the small desk lamp on the desk across the room, orange light filling the room just enough for you to make out the features on Paige's face you've grown so fond of.

“You just did,” you reply, fingers tapping a random rhythm on your stomach to distract yourself from the feeling of her heartbeat against your bicep.

You can almost hear her roll her eyes as she ungracefully manoeuvres onto her side, propping her head up with an arm. “You’re not funny.”

Part of you wants to turn and tell her that your love for her is all-consuming, but the other part of you knows you need to sleep. You opt for the latter.

“What are we doing?” Paige opts for the former.

You frown, still lying flat on your back, breath hitching in your throat. “What?”

“C’mon, you know what.”

You turn to face her, mirroring her position. She casts a glance at your form covered by the white duvet. Both her gaze and proximity put you on edge, your knees knocking together underneath the covers as you get comfortable on your left side.

You’ve been this close before, several times, but it’s never felt like this—like there’s an electric current flowing between you, ready to spark if you get any closer.

She studies your lips, then meets your eyes. “We’ve known each other for how long?”

“Seven years, maybe?” Your voice is barely a whisper.

“And you think I can’t read you like a book?” She’s smiling now, that stupid look on her face you’ve seen one too many times.

You roll your eyes, avoiding her gaze and looking down at the now wrinkled sheets. Warm fingertips press against your chin, tipping your head up so Paige can look you in the eyes.

“When can we stop faking this?” Your eyes widen at her question, bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “How much longer do we have to pretend we don’t feel”—she gestures between you, hand slicing through the small space separating you—“this?”

A smile cracks across your face, a breathy laugh escaping you. Her fingertips slide across your face until your cheek rests in her palm. Her thumb brushes gently across the apple of your cheek, bringing heat to your face despite the cool air in the room.

“Paige,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering closed as you lean into her touch. “We shouldn’t do this now.”

“You don’t want to talk about it?” Her head tilts as if to say, Really?

“Yeah, but ideally not in Azzi’s spare room?” You laugh, trying to lighten the mood. She pulls her hand away and flops onto her back, but before you can react, she tugs you with her and you land across her chest with your chin resting awkwardly in her armpit. The swell of her breasts against yours is all you can feel and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to calm your nerves.

“I think you do want to talk about it,” she says, looking down at you now, chin tucked into her neck as she stares at your unmoving form on her chest. “You’re just chicken.”

That gets a reaction from you. You turn your head to her, scowling. “You know I’m not chicken.”

“Prove it.”

Before you can overthink it, your body reacts instinctively. You shift on top of her until you’re straddling her hips, your face inches from hers, noses practically touching. The heat radiating from her skin envelops you, your breaths mingling.

“Oh, hello,” she teases, nose scrunching.

“Just kiss me,” you breathe out, tone desperate. “Please.”

Paige pauses, heart skipping in her chest. "I've been tryna hear you say that for so long."

You swallow hard, hand that was holding you up lifting from beside her head to push back the blonde strands across her face. It all feels too intimate too quickly, yet you crave more.

"Wish I said it sooner," your voice trembles as you speak.

Without wasting any more time, Paige leans up and presses her lips against yours. She kisses you with a purpose, head tilting and bottom lip dragging against yours like she'd been practicing for this exact moment. When her tongue prods at your bottom lip, you welcome it, deepening the kiss. You bring a hand up to rest on the crown of her head, fingernails lightly scratching at her scalp.

Paige’s hands find home on your hips, squeezing gently. When you experimentally pull at her roots, she whines in the back of her throat, fingers pressing deeper into your skin.

You both stay like that for a while, lost in each other as you messily kiss, tongues and teeth clashing. Paige pulls back first to catch her breath, a delicate string of saliva connecting you. She darts her tongue out to lick it away, panting into the cool air of the room. The sight sends a shiver down your spine.

“Knew you’d be good,” she says to herself more than anything, cheeks flushed. “Will you let me do something?”

You’re struggling to catch your breath, chest heaving as your hands flatten across her own to push yourself upright.

“Whatever you want, please.”

Her hands slide down your hips to the waistband of your pajama shorts, toying with the blue frills. “Cute,” she teases as she tugs them down, impatient as always.

You place a hand on the cool wall to help keep your balance as you ungracefully shuffle your shorts down and off your legs until they’re hanging around your right ankle. You hurriedly bring a trembling hand to the waistband of your underwear, eager to finally see her put that tongue she can’t ever seem to keep in her mouth to use, but she stops you with a click of it.

“You’re shaking,” she observes, eyebrow raised as she studies your digits. “Relax, it’s me.”

A frown graces your features as you realize how much you’re shaking. You nod, forcing yourself to let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Yeah, sorry.”

“You want this?” She’s looking up at you again, blonde locks splayed around her head on the white sheets. She looks like an angel, fitting because you think she might actually send you to heaven in the next ten minutes.

“Please,” the word comes out as a pathetic whimper, and it’s all Paige needs to hear before she shuffles up the bed and gestures for you to lay down. You do exactly as she asks, head half-hanging off the end of the bed, watching as she positions herself flat on her stomach between your legs.

“Been wanting this for so long, you know that, right?” Her breath is hot against your clit, making your thighs jump. “Can’t tell you how bad I need this.”

A slim finger sneaks its way between your legs, the tip tracing the outline of your pussy clinging to the damp cotton.

“Know you need it too, huh?”

Without giving you a second to respond, Paige dips her head down and places a chaste kiss on your clit through the sodden fabric of your underwear. You swear you hear her moan in the back of her throat as her eyes flutter closed, long lashes flickering across the tops of her cheeks.

She does it two, three more times until you’re whimpering, hand reaching down to pet at her head until she gets the idea and holds your panties to the side. She wastes no time, licking your clit into her mouth and sucking with fervor. It knocks you for a loop, legs drawing up to curl in on yourself, but Paige is quick to catch them, keeping you flat to the bed.

She switches between long, drawn-out sucks and skittering her tongue across your clit, the combination making you see stars, eyes fighting to stay open and arms threatening to give way as you hold yourself up to watch her take you apart.

“Please,” you whimper, not sure what you’re asking for, but Paige seems to know exactly what it is.

“Want my fingers?” Her voice is muffled against your pussy, hooded eyes glancing up at you as she takes you all in—nipples hard underneath your tank, a sweating, panting mess. All because of her. “You need 'em, yeah?”

You practically sob out a yes, and Paige is back to it, the hand not holding your panties to the side coming up to rub through the messiness of your pussy.

“Damn, pussy really needed this, huh?” She teases, and normally you'd hit back at her with a smart ass response but the feeling of her tongue peeking out to lick at your clit again keeps you quiet, head tipping to rest on your shoulder as you get lost in the feeling. You feel yourself gush at that, and she does too, the sensation on her fingers making her blush.

She strokes her fingers through your folds before sliding two straight in to the last knuckle, giving you no time to adjust before curving them inward once, twice until you’ve got both hands fisted in her hair and your head falls down to your chest, unable to keep yourself up. The heel of her hand presses into your clit as she finally starts fucking you properly, alternating between curving her fingers and full on fucking them in and out of you, wet noises from your pussy growing louder and sloppier with each thrust of her fingers.

Your panties are still on, pushed to the side and completely soaked from the mess of her and you. They're no issue for Paige though as she leans back in to suck at your clit again, the pleasure building up inside of you until you're gasping, arms giving way as your head tips back over the end of the bed, hips grinding up into her face.

"Fuck," your voice is hoarse, pitch higher than normal as the girl below you devours you. "Paige, fuck- please, you're gonna make me cum."

Paige nods against you, fingers somehow speeding up. She doesn't let up, head shaking against you as she laps against your clit and it all happens at once - you're cumming before you can even warn her.

You're still somewhat aware of your surroundings so you slap a hand over your mouth as you moan and whine into it, unintelligible words and cries of her name. Uncontrollable tears fall from your eyes dripping into your hair from the angle you're currently in because you don't think you've cum that hard- ever.

Paige rides it out with you, slowing her fingers and tongue until you're a writhing mess. She pulls away and sucks your juices off her fingers, and although you don't see it, the sound alone is enough to make you whimper.

"Fuck me," she's panting as she crawls up your body, wet fingers cupping behind your neck to bring you back to reality. She gets a good look at you; eyes red and teary, lips swollen. "That good?"

"That good." you echo, eyes heavy as you try to ignore the dizziness behind your eyes.

She licks into your mouth and you moan into her, tongue tasting of you. "Pussy's good," she murmurs against your lips, eyes heavy as she pulls back from you slightly. "You hiding that from me for this long?"

"It was always yours, Paige."

That's enough to make her moan; it's deep, vibrating in her chest. She moves down to grab your hips and tugs you down the bed, hands slipping under your tank.

"Wanna see."

It's not a question.

You don't think twice as you lift up and tug the thin cotton over your head, tossing it to the floor. When you're busy fighting the fabric off your body, you feel her slide your soaked panties down your legs and chuck them haphazardly onto the floor. You make mental note to ensure you watch her do it next time.

Like it's a reflex, her hands glide up your stomach and squeeze at your tits, rolling your nipples between her fingertips. The sensation makes you whine, hands gripping at her black t-shirt. The feeling of the cotton against your palms makes you frown, "Why are you still wearing this?"

"Take it off me then," she challenges and you pull the material up her torso and she does the rest, shirt joining your tank in a pile on the floor. She's clad in a grey sports bra, Nike boxers riding up her waist.

"These too, P." You tug at the elastic, snapping it back against her skin.

"You tryna get me naked?" she teases, sitting up and tucking her thumbs into the material and pulling them down and off her legs. You'd be surprised if you didn't have actual hearts for pupils from the way you're looking at her. She's a sight for sore eyes, v line on her stomach prominent, leading down to her smooth pussy. Her legs are strong, toned muscles peeking out beneath her skin from where they hold her up above you.

Paige amusedly watches you watching her, hands on her hips as she waits for you to finish whatever inner monologue you had going on.

"You good?" she's laughing, and you can't help but laugh too.

"I just-" you start, covering your eyes in attempt to contain yourself. "You're just so fucking hot."

Paige rolls her eyes and pushes you flat to the bed, settling between your thighs.

"You're so corny."

You shrug, unashamed. Paige smiles down at you, moving so she's slotted between your legs and one of them is hiked up against her, your calf resting against her shoulder.

"This okay?" she asks, hand stroking against your thigh.

"Yeah," you breathe out, eyes trained on her.

She moves forward and the feeling of your pussy against hers makes her suck in a sharp breath between her teeth, eyebrows furrowing as she lowers down and feels how wet you still are against her own pussy.

"Shit," she mumbles, head tilting down so she can watch where your pussies meet, hips shifting. "Feels so good."

She starts a slow roll of her hips, clit bumping against yours. Her mouth hangs open, heavily breathing as she stares down at where you both meet. You're still sensitive from earlier; choked, high pitched whines leave your throat as your toes curl, legs threatening to shut as your thighs shake.

"So wet."

She's dripping too, the both of you sliding against each other, noises echoing throughout the room as she picks up speed.

Paige is a mess above you, blonde hair stuck to her forehead, eyes squeezed shut as she focuses on the feeling. "I think I'm gonna cum," she moans, blunt nails digging into your leg.

"Please," you encourage her, finger nails scratching down her abs as she rocks into you faster.

It's almost embarrassing how quickly she falls apart, her body shaking and jerking as she cums, release leaking out onto your pussy as she ruts into you. "Fuck," she's moaning into your calf, nose squished and forehead pressed against it as she rides it out. "I love you, oh-fuck."

You're not sure if she realises what she's said but it's enough to make you cum shortly after her, clit grinding against yours just enough to take you there again, softly moaning her name as you fight to keep your eyes open to watch her get lost in her own pleasure.

It takes a couple of minutes for her to gather herself, hips slowing and chest heaving as she opens an eye to peek down at you. "Did you-"

"I did," you laugh breathily, shaking hands stroking up and down her tense stomach. "D'you mean it?"

"What?"

"That you love me."

"Oh," she purses her lips as she gently moves your leg from her shoulder, tiredly flopping down onto your chest. "Yeah."

She speaks into your chest, eyes threatening to close. "Think we both knew that though."

You chuckle, shoulders shaking as you stroke a hand across the backs of her shoulders, other hand stroking at the now wild mess of hair on her head. "I think I might love you too, for the record."

You feel her smile against your chest, lifting up slightly to press a kiss to the swell of your breast.

"Think I knew that too."

You both lay in silence for a while, room filled with the sounds of both of your breathing and the odd noise from outside. The house is quiet, thankfully, and you pray you were both quiet enough to not disturb anybody inside. You cast a glance up to the small clock above the bedroom door, eyes widening when you notice the time.

"Paige," you nudge her shoulder and she groans in response, half asleep. "Fucking wake up."

She lifts her head off your chest, one eye open lazily. "What?"

"We've got to be up for camp in four hours."

You're both groggy in the morning, dark circles and slumped shoulders sat at the dining table. Azzi, on the other hand, is a striking opposite to the both of you, well rested and full of energy.

"Sleep well?" she teases, back facing the both of you as she dispenses ice from the freezer.

"Bed's too small," Paige huffs, head slumped against your shoulder. "Couldn't get comfortable."

"Yeah I bet," Azzi spins around and leans her back against the counter, taking a sip from her water. "Did my childhood bedroom bring you guys together then, or...?"

You almost spray your own mouthful of water across the table, Paige laughing as she pats your back whilst you cough and splutter.

"Yeah-" you heave, rubbing at your chest. "You could say that."

Paige shrugs, sliding out of the chair and walking around to stand behind you, chin pressed to the crown of your head. It's something she's done a thousand times, but now it feels more intimate, especially as she places a kiss to the top of your head. A small smile finds its way onto your lips.

"Damn," Azzi raises her eyebrows, bottom lip pulling between her teeth to hide her growing smile. "About time is all I can say."

She slides past the two of you and goes to leave the room, turning back just before she heads towards the stairs. "Be ready in fifteen, guys!"

You crane your neck up to look at Paige who, if you hadn't known better, you would assume she hadn't had a wink of sleep from the state of her.

"What?" she catches you smirking at her, hand coming up to pinch at the apple of your cheek.

"You look like shit." you deadpan, laughing as her hands come up beside her, feigning innocence.

"Not my fault," she leans into your ear, whispering. "Pussy so good it kept me up all night."

You playfully shove her away from you, heat rising up to your cheeks as you watch her bite her tongue between her teeth, teasing.

"None of that today," you laugh, rising from your seat. Your hands run down your shorts, flattening out the creases. "We have to be good role models, plus, we can't let Azzi down."

"Oh I know," she responds, arm looping over your shoulder. "Can't let 'em know my girlfriend has me like this, huh?"

The G word startles you and you turn to look at her. "Girlfriend?"

"Yeah," she shrugs, hand on your shoulder squeezing slightly. "Think it suits you, no?"

You pause, the word reverberating in your mind. "Girlfriend," you repeat, testing it out like you'd just learnt the word. "I like the sound of that."

Paige's eyes soften, turning so she's facing you and she drops her hands to your waist, finding their way underneath your shirt. Her thumbs rubs gentle circles against the bare skin there.

"I meant it, by the way." she's sincere, voice lowering slightly to get away from any possible prying ears around the house. "I do love you. Feels crazy to say but," she pauses, "Yeah. I do."

You feel your heat swell. "I think I love you too, funnily enough."

That gets you a pinch on your side, Paige scoffing at your response. She presses a soft kiss to your forehead, pulling back from you and heading towards the stairs.

"Come on," she calls, skip in her step. "We've got some kids to teach."

You follow after her, tiredness quickly forgotten.

Azzi was right. It was about time.

[radiance1]

So, Danny was effectively homeless.

His parents are dead, his sister is dead, his friends are dead. Hell, even Vlad, Vlad kicked the fucking bucket which, Danny genuinely never expected.

Vlad was supposed to be his nemesis, his main bad guy, the guy Danny's supposed to constantly pull everything out against just to win. Not to mention how significant his presence was.

A part of him assumed that Vlad would always be there and him not being there and knowing he won't be there ever again is... weird.

So you're probably asking, how exactly did this happen?

Well you see, the nasty burger exploded, for one thing. Then when he was under Vlad's care both of them got outed for being ghosts to the GIW, which was technically Danny's fault, since he did something extremely stupid.

Somehow they got caught, and life under the GIW was not great in the slightest. The constant experiments, the dehumanization (Sometimes Danny doesn't even register himself as human), the amount of times their feelings were utterly disregarded, and so, so much more.

The GIW found Vlad to be more dangerous than Danny, even if he lacked the raw power Danny had his intellect made him dangerous and for good reason. For it was because of said intellect that Danny managed to escape.

Vlad didn't manage to do the same.

Danny hated reliving that memory. Because Vlad was a villain, evil and self-serving, he shouldn't be sacrificing himself for his literal greatest enemy to escape in his stead (Not that Vlad would say Danny was his greatest, he would probably say it was the person who refused him to buy the packers). It was just, so utterly stupid and out of character for him.

So, Danny managed to escape, Vlad died. He couldn't even say anything about Dani because she got destabilized in front of him, in front of both of them actually. It hurt to watch and, he didn't quite know the specifics between Dani and Vlad anymore, but he thinks they were getting... better.

Not how it was when Dani was first created, but Vlad was working on mending it. Which, honestly, just makes everything worse.

Danny isn't powerless but it's a damn close thing. He's far weaker than he normally would be, and he's injured on top of that too boot, his powers can barely work and it's just so stupid.

So here he was, hiding out in some random sewer because he didn't want to take the risk of being on the surface and he hates the smell, but he'll take that over being experimented on again. So, Danny spends most of his time in the sewers of this place called Gotham, he even managed to make his own little area with a couch he stole and a few other appliances that were thrown out.

He lacked a Tv or laptop, but he found a yo-yo! Most of his time was spent practicing various tricks with his yo-yo.

It got boring fast. But it was really the only safe thing he could do when waiting for his powers to come back. At least he's a god at yo-yoing now.

It was while doing various tricks with it in some random sewer path, that a literal, goddamn crocodile-man just splashed up from sewer water and half-laid on the edge, since his lower body was still in the water.

Danny looked at his yo-yo, the crocodile, and then slowly stepped on over and gently poked the crocodile dude.

He made a sound, so he was alive!

Finally! Someone to appreciate his godly yo-yoing skills!

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

The First "I Love You" - Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader SMUT

Summary: You tell Adam that you love him for the first time, the first of any of his wives to tell him that. Your confession of love leads to Adam showing you just how much he loves you back.

Contents/Possible Warnings: P in V sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cream pie, Adam being his usual insufferable self, SMUT, MDNI

The world outside of Eden's garden was a dangerous one, but your husband never failed to keep you safe. Adam had told you stories of the garden and how he lived there with Eve, years before your creation as his third wife. His tales of the place he described as Earth's own heavenly paradise where your every need was met always enamored you; for you too wished you could experience it with him by your side.

The possibility of that happening was long gone as soon as Eve bit into the forbidden apple, but without the actions of your predecessors, you wouldn't have come to be. In a way that even you admitted was a little fucked up, you were grateful that things happened the way they did, and you were grateful you got to meet the love of your life.

Adam was an asshole with an ego that was far too big, but at the end of it all, he was the same man who kept you safe during the day, and who held you at night, keeping you warm despite the cold night, just as he was in the present moment.

You snuggled up to him, your head laying on his chest while his hand absentmindedly combed through your hair; the two of you attempting to get some sleep, gazing up at the stars in the night sky. You certainly weren't in the Garden of Eden, but being with him was like your own personal paradise.

You looked up at him. His eyes were half-lidded and threatening to close from his quickly growing need for sleep. He yawned, pulling you closer, an action that earned a gentle smile from you. You leaned up, kissing him softly.

"Fuck was that for?" He questioned. "You tryin' to fuck, babe? Usually, I'd be thrilled, but I'm exhausted as shit right now."

You shook your head. "I just wanted to kiss you, is all." You replied, smiling at him warmly. He gave you a curious look, unfamiliar with the concept of a kiss that was more chaste in nature. Whenever he kissed you, or his previous wives, in the past it was in the throes of a lustful exchange.

"...Why? Do you want something else, or...?" Confusion filled his voice in a rare moment where he wasn't his usual confident, boisterous self. You shook your head. "I wanted to do it because I love you, Adam." Those last four words played on repeat in his head. "I love you, Adam."

The phrase "I love you," had been uttered by a human before; he had said it to Lilith, and then Eve, but never to you. Yet here you were, the first one to say it to him, all of your volition. The feeling in his heart was indescribable to him, something he never felt before, and it felt better than anything else. Knowing that the one he loved felt the same for the first time ever made him feel almost euphoric, and he was determined to get as much out of that feeling as possible.

His lips crashed against yours in a passionate kiss. He climbed on top of you, moving his lips down to your neck where he sloppily kissed and nibbled, earning a light moan from you; one of his favorite noises.

"Let me show you just how much I love you back," he said, voice low, his hands moving to your thighs. "You want that, don't you? Tell me just how much you want that, sweetheart." Your legs spread instinctively as he loomed over you, the pale moonlight of the night reflecting off of him and giving him an alluring glow.

"Adam, please," you breathed out, pulling him down, your faces nearly touching. "I want you so much. Make love to me, fill me up, do whatever you want to me—" He silenced you with another kiss, pushing into you slowly. You moaned into him, your arms wrapping around him in an attempt to get as close to him as you possibly could, savoring the intimacy of it all.

His thrusts were slow, yet deep, and the pace had you feeling every single inch of his cock inside of you. It was a welcome contrast to the usual way he fucked you; with quick, rough movements and an eagerness to reach only his climax and not yours. It seemed for once he was fully enjoying the pleasure shared between you, and in no real rush.

"Say it again," He told you, burying his face into the crook of your neck as his speed increased just slightly. "Say you love me, baby." With your mind clouded with pleasure you barely heard him, your only focus being on the way his cock fucked into your pussy. Unsatisfied with your response, he grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to look into his eyes filled with arousal, love, and a twinge of desperation.

"Say. It." He growled, each word followed with a sharp thrust that hit your sweet spot head-on.

"I love you—fuck! Adam!—" You threw your head back, arching your back as he rewarded you by speeding up, thick cock stretching you out perfectly with each movement. "Love you—fuck, yes!" You let out a loud moan as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion.

"Gonna fill you up," He groaned, the sound of his hips smacking against yours filling the air. "'I'm gonna get you pregnant, have you do what those other unfaithful bitches couldn't do for me. You probably want that more than anything, to be my perfect little wife who only loves me."

You only nodded at his words, practically drunk off of the feeling of his cock fucking into you so deliciously, your mind clouded with pleasure. Your nails dug into his back as you attempted to ground yourself, your orgasm barreling towards you; its arrival sure to be at any moment.

"Gonna cum—" He warned, moaning out your name in a way that made you even wetter than you already were. "Y-You gonna let me fill you up? Let me–oh shit—" He moaned again as you wrapped your legs around his waist, burying him in deeper and locking him in place at the same time. There was no pulling out now, not like he was going to anyways.

"Loveyouloveyouloveyou—Ah! Fuuuuck!" He growled, his hips stilling, warm cum spilling deep into you. The feeling of him filling you to the brim sent you over the edge, your climax consuming you.

You two remained in silence for a long couple of moments, looking into each other's eyes in a shared adoration before he pulled out, laying next to you. You closed your eyes, satisfied, yet tired.

"Come here," He said, voice gentle, pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around your waist. "Let's do that shit you always want to do after I fuck your brains out."

You furrowed your brows in a slight confusion before quickly realizing what he meant. You let out a giggle. "You mean cuddle, Adam? You usually just go to sleep afterward. What changed?"

He rolled his eyes in response to your question, trying to hold back the smile sneaking its way onto his face. "Trust me, I'm going to sleep, babe. Might as well hold onto you so you don't sneak off or some shit like all fucking women seem to do."

You ignored the implications of his comment, snuggling up to him. "I love you, Adam. I mean it. I'm not going anywhere."

He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth in his heart from your words. "Love ya, too. Now go to sleep, the man needs to get his rest."

You closed your eyes, the feeling of him tracing imaginary patterns into your back lulling you to sleep. You loved him, and he loved you, even if he was still struggling to fully accept it.

[pellucid-constellations]

The Construct of Loyalty

Pairing: Cassian x Rhys's Sister!Reader

Summary: After months of "disobedience" your father calls upon Cassian to be your personal guard. That leaves Cassian, a soldier in the Night Court army, your childhood friend, and a man deeply in love with you, to protect you from all fronts—including the arranged marriage you were born into.

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: Angst, arranged marriage, panic attacks, dual pov ;)

a/n: This wasn't going to be so long initially but then whoops it developed its own life. Part two will be necessary I think ♡ For context and clarification, the reader grew up with the IC and everyone is around 50-70 rn. Rhys's other sister is alive still but not really important to the plot.

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“What if we just—” 

“No, y/n.” 

“But, Cassian, this is ridiculous. I’ve been stuck in here for three days.” 

“And you’ll be stuck a lot longer if you disobey your father again.” 

“You don’t even like the guy! Why are you so intent on kissing his ass?” 

Cassian bit the inside of his cheek and narrowed his eyes at the defeated posture you’d adopted. In truth, he didn’t like your father—hated him, actually. But Cassian knew the life you lived and what would come if you continued to act out against him. He knew things were becoming serious because Rhysand voiced his concerns over your circumstances when he was usually too protective to divulge anything, and he knew things were bad because the High Lord of the Night Court tasked him to watch over you. 

Him, a bastard-born Illyrian who was nothing more than dirt on the bottom of his shoe. 

But Cassian was dirt that you’d actually listen to. 

According to Rhys, your father had appointed six high fae to be your personal guard over the past six months. All six had been sent away rather abruptly when they failed to rein you in. But “rein you in” was a ridiculous sentiment, as you called it. All you wanted to do was to get out of the room your father kept you cloistered in and actually experience a life. 

You wanted to speak to people who weren’t your assigned propriety tutors or servants. You wanted to get out of the Moonstone Palace and be a person outside of the marital obligations your father placed on you. You wanted to shop in Verlaris with Mor and make Cassian take you flying and, above all, you wanted to understand your magic—to hone the combination of night and day that your father’s choice of mistress had carefully curated.

Because that union was the entire purpose of your birth, and the moment you turned 50 you were ripped from your family and hurled into the Moonstone Palace to live out your purpose. 

You were to be the figurehead of the alliance between Night and Day and you were to fulfill that duty through marriage. 

It didn’t matter that you were hardly seen as a person; you were a pawn, and as long as your father lived, you would continue to be used and maneuvered as the court saw fit. 

Rhysand had been trying his hardest to keep you from marriage for as long as he could, but the more you acted against your father’s wishes, the closer you got to your fate. 

You knew it was coming. You’d had far more freedom before you turned 50 but you’d still lived under your father’s thumb. Cassian always hated watching you get pulled from quiet nights in with your sister and would cast you sad looks when you were made to watch from the sidelines when everyone else was training. But that had always been your life, and there was never anything he could do about it. 

Cassian clenched his jaw in abject frustration. “Y/n… don’t do this.” 

You scoffed and harshly sat on your bed, the gauzy material of your dress splaying up before floating back down to rest on the blankets. Whatever hairstyle had been twisted upon your crown this morning was unraveling in a pretty mess around your face and Cassian itched to brush away the strands. 

You’d always been so pretty. 

He turned his fingers into his palm as you began to speak. “He wouldn’t even have to know. I wouldn’t leave your side once,” you mumbled. Your words felt more like a routine and less like an actual request. Because Cassian always said no when the other guards always gave in too easily. 

Or you had simply slipped past them too easily. 

“Look, Starfall is coming up. I’m sure your father would let you go out to be with everyone.” 

You twisted your mouth in a way Cassian knew meant you were trying not to cry. You blinked up to look at the ceiling and nodded your head with your teeth embedded in your bottom lip, and Cassian’s heart was dangerously close to breaking. 

When he’d gotten the station report—or rather, demand—to be your personal guard, Cassian had seen it as a good thing. He’d get a break from the grueling hours of being a soldier in the Night Court’s troops and he’d get to spend more time with you. He’d missed you terribly since you’d been sent to Hewn City. 

But then he’d gotten to your room and spent three weeks telling you no and watching you go stir crazy and he was three seconds away from caving. It wasn’t surprising that the other appointed guards had failed so quickly—you were too lovely to deny, especially when you looked so sad. 

Cassian breathed out a sigh and walked to your seat on the bed, his leathers groaning as he moved to crouch at your feet. You were still staring at the ceiling and Cassian was still aching to somehow fix all of this. 

“Hey,” he prompted. When you only tightened your grip on the piles of luxurious blankets on your bed, Cassian took your chin between his finger and thumb and brought your gaze down to him. “There she is,” he smiled, but the hazy gleam in your eye felt like a punch to the gut. 

“I hate this,” you whispered, all shaky and upset.

Cassian tsked. “I know, sweetheart.” 

“I just want to go back home.” 

“I know.” 

“It’s so weird that you’re in charge of me.” 

Cassian snorted. “I’m not in charge of you. I’m the one that has to follow you around.” 

You narrowed your watery eyes. “If that were true you’d let me go back to Velaris. Or go anywhere other than this wretched place.” 

“Well, in that way I guess I’m more protecting you than in charge of you. That’s what a guard does, sweetheart.” 

“Protecting me,” you laughed, jaw clenching as Cassian kept it in his soft hold. “What would be so dangerous about going to Velaris, hm? Or… running away. Really, really far away.” 

“Can’t run away, y/n. We’d all miss you too much,” Cassian teased, but the hint of panic in his eyes was unmistakable.

You raised an unamused brow. “Because you all see me so much now.” 

Cassian offered you a bittersweet smile and gave your cheek a soft pat. “You know I’m not protecting you from the people out there. You know why I won’t let you leave.” 

You looked resigned, but that reality was becoming more commonplace. You sighed and reached up to place your touch on Cassian’s knuckles. “I know, Cass,” you hummed. “I know.” 

~~

You shifted in your seat for the countless time that evening, the stone throne at your back doing little for comfort. The heavy crown on your head was giving you a headache and your father kept yelling, exacerbating the pounding behind your eyes. 

You were made to attend official court business more often, your father assimilating you into the role he birthed you for with more urgency as you rebelled. Cassian stood behind you with a stiff posture and murder in his eye, playing the role of a guard to perfection. And you knew, with all certainty, that if anyone looked at you wrong they would be on the floor. 

That was one benefit of having a personal guard—even more so a guard that you grew up with. 

“—not accept this insolence,” you heard your father bite out. He jutted his hand back to the shorter throne you sat upon. “And you bring it in front of my daughter. I won’t have this. Not in my court.” 

You hid a flinch as the man before the dais was forced to the ground by a free-flowing darkness you could recognize anywhere. 

Your father’s show of power. 

The man screamed and pleaded and you couldn’t remember what had brought him to this, but you knew this was just a ploy by your father to assert his dominance over the court. You breathed through your nose as he continued to scream and plead, pressing your lips into a line and maintaining your mask of neutrality and boredom. 

You were never made out for the life your father expected from you. 

After the man was thoroughly incapacitated and groaning, your father let up and sent him away and you were left feeling sick to your stomach. 

Almost done, you reminded yourself, and then you could rot in your room with nothing to occupy you but the dread of your upcoming fate. You could feel Cassian’s presence at your back and it was somewhat reassuring that he would be rotting along with you. Maybe he would even play cards with you today or you could pass the time begging him to help you with your magic.

He always denied with an apologetic expression and you knew, deep down, that he would never agree to anything. The back and forth was simply a way to get through the day. 

The doors to the throne room burst open with a loud boom, startling you out of your roaming thoughts. You sat up in alarm when a small brigade of soldiers dressed in Day Court armor marched in, preceding a well-built, stoic-looking man with a grimace plastered on his face. 

You whipped around to look at Cassian in an uncharacteristic act of impropriety. Cassian looked just as lost as you were, but he blinked away the concern and sent you a reassuring nod as if he had everything under control. You watched his ruby siphons flicker and his fists clench as he clasped them together by his thighs, but you turned around. You had to turn around because you were not supposed to consult a guard about matters of your court. 

A quick glance at your father told you that he was surprised as well, but pleasantly. “Blaise,” your father greeted, clapping with the word. You hid another flinch. “I was not expecting you today.” 

“Clearly,” Blaise snarked, stopping before the thrones at the head of the room. “Your full court is not even here. Where is your heir?” 

Your father’s expression morphed into a glare. “Training,” he said. And then, “But that shouldn’t be what concerns you. Your bride is just beside me.” 

The world slowed, your thoughts and the movements of those around you sticky and heavy. You thought you might have opened your mouth but the action was delayed and it was hard to find the path to your muscles. Your chest caved. The light in the room became dim. 

Blaise smirked and trailed his gaze to your figure. He let his eyes rove from your feet up to your face, so unhurried, so lax. As if you were already something he owned and he could take all the time he wished. In a way, you guessed he could—it wasn’t as if you had anywhere else to be.

“Huh.” Blaise stuck his tongue against his cheek. “Come.” 

You blinked as the man stuck his hand out and waved his fingers in three harsh motions, beckoning you to him as if you were a dog. 

It felt like you’d been doused in ice water as onlookers watched you expectantly. Rhys had told you he was buying more time. Cassian had told you. Azriel sent shadows to your room and you took them as signs of something. But before you stood your betrothed and behind you stood Cassian and there was nothing to be done. 

You looked over to your father. 

“This is Blaise. He is a duke in Day. You shall be married. Go to him,” he commanded, nodding towards the stern brow in the center of the throne room.

“Father—” 

“Go to him.” 

You rose. Everything fell off its axis, a rush of lightheadedness making you lose your balance and lean back to grip the arm of the throne. A steady hand on your elbow grounded you. You didn’t even need to turn to know it was Cassian, but you did, anyway. 

Hazel eyes bore back into yours, devastation and determination mingling in the hues. Something dropped in your stomach and something else made you tear your gaze away and stare at your fate head-on. Cassian’s fingers lingered. They pulled away when you fully righted yourself. 

“Do you give me an ill bride, High Lord?” Blaise accused with a mean raise of his brow. 

“Of course not. Do not insult me.” No further explanation. 

You passed your tongue across your drying lips and took the steps down to meet Blaise, the man instantly snatching your hand and raising it above your head. He walked around you, inspecting you as if you were something to be appraised before buying, and nodded after completing the circle. Then, to set your stomach rolling, he swooped down and pressed his mouth to your ear. You heard a rushed step behind you, but the sound was drowned out by hot breath and whispers. 

“You’ll do nicely, given that you’re house-trained. Virgin?” 

You pushed back on his armored chest to gain some distance and Blaise cackled, knocking his head back in delight. 

“A bit skittish, but that’s fine. You said she’ll be used to Day? Definitely not staying here.” 

Your father hummed, taking a bored sip from his chalice. “She’s spent time in Day. Her mother hails from the court.” 

The rest of the conversation was lost to buzzing. 

~~

Cassian was wrought with panic. 

He had already opened his mind and shared the information with Rhys, but Rhys was still honing his daemati abilities and Cassian had no idea if his brother even got the information. 

He hid his panic behind a stone wall of neutrality and malice as he walked you back to your room, cataloging the way you took even steps and stared blankly at the walls in front of you. His facade was breaking down with each step you took; you seemed to be escaping into yourself and Cassian was becoming increasingly worried. 

Part of not being able to practice and control your magic came the dangers of it overtaking you. No one was sure if you harnessed daemati powers like your father and brother, but if you did and weren’t aware, you could get stuck. Cassian had witnessed Rhys’s struggles with that when he was first learning to control his magic and emotions were high. 

The moment your bedroom door clicked shut, Cassian’s hands were on your face. 

“Y/n? Hey, look at me,” he urged, tucking his wings into his back because maybe the light from your windows would help somehow.

When you didn’t look, a faraway haze to your eyes, he shook you, rattling your head in desperation. You should be screaming, crying, begging him to let you leave after what you just discovered. And, instead, you were blank. 

His next demands were stern. “Y/n, I can’t get Rhys here. You need to snap out of this. I don’t know how to help you.” 

You breathed a little deeper, but no change. 

“Fuck.” Cassian looked around the room, his head whipping back and forth as he searched for anything that could help. For Rhys, it was easier to develop skills to get him out of this state because he had been expecting it. For you, there was no prep, no warning.

Cassian turned back to you, his heart pounding out of his chest. If he couldn’t get you out of this before your father noticed—

He saw your eyes shift and something clicked. 

You were staring intently at the red siphon gleaming on Cassian’s chest, blinking quicker the longer you stared. 

“This helping?” Cassian murmured, yanking the siphon from his chest without care to hold it up to your eye level. “Okay, we’ll work with that.” You blinked even more with the tone of his voice and Cassian took that as motivation. “Keep working yourself out of this, sweetheart. You do this and I’ll teach you how to use a blade. Haven’t you been asking? Dumb question—you’ve been asking since we were twenty but—”

Cassian cut off his rambling when the first few tears fell down your cheeks. He watched each as they fell, wiping them away with his thumbs as he waited. And waited. And then you choked out a sob, and as much as he hated the sound, relief flooded through him at your state of consciousness. 

“You—you said there was more time,” you stressed, stumbling over your tears. “Rhys… he told me there was more time.” 

Cassian shook his head as he spoke. “I know. I know, sweetheart, but we’ll figure it out, okay? Me, Rhys, and Az. We can—” 

“You can’t do anything,” you cried. Your breath was picking up. “No one has been able to do anything my entire life. Not my brother or you or even myself. I—Cassian, I was only born to do this. No one cares about anything else. You’re only here because my father willed you to be. Because it serves his agenda to have you guarding me.”

Cassian’s fingers buzzed as he wiped more and more tears from your face. He kept opening his mouth to say something, anything, but it didn’t matter. Nothing would make up for this. 

“I—I can’t. I can’t be married to that man. Being locked in here was bad enough. Being coddled and prepped for my entire life was enough. I’m not a princess, Cassian. I’ve never wanted to… and now I…” 

You were hyperventilating now, raucous inhales colliding with heavy, painful exhales. You dropped to your hands and knees and Cassian followed suit but with the sole purpose of propping you up and placing a steady hand on your stomach. You fought him, desperate to claw at the ground and escape the world, but Cassian wouldn’t have it. 

“I need you to breathe,” Cassian requested, his words firm but soft. “I need you to focus on how I’m touching you and I need you to breathe into my hand.” 

He’d done this before, it was familiar. 

You used to get panic attacks anytime your father forced you to stay at the Palace for a weekend to view one of the many horrors at the Court of Nightmares. Rhys helped, but it was Cassian who noticed the tells—the uneven breaths, the panic in your gaze. It was Cassian who felt pain himself each time your throat closed. 

You shook your head at Cassian’s demand, clawing at your chest. 

“Yes, y/n. Try. For me, please.” 

He could tell you were trying, even as you continued to shake your head until that ridiculous crown toppled onto the floor. You tugged at the shimmering black material on your chest and never broke eye contact with Cassian and you tried. 

Slowly, eventually, Cassian saw your chest stutter and your breath begin to even out. 

“That’s it,” he praised, rubbing his thumb along the boning of your dress. Your lashes fluttered until your eyes closed. “That’s it, baby,” he muttered, the endearment slipping past and getting lost in the air. 

You reached down and gripped Cassian’s wrist. “I’m okay now. I think I’m okay.” 

“You sure?” 

You nodded. “I mean, I’m not okay. But I can breathe and think.” 

“Those are accomplishments I guess.” 

“I don’t think this is part of your job description,” you joked, the small laugh that followed half-hearted and weak. 

Cassian smiled. “Did the other guards do it?” 

“I can’t say they did.” 

Cassian readjusted his position on the floor and shifted you to no longer sit on your knees. He brushed your hair back and fixed the neckline of your dress. 

“You scared me,” he admitted, still focused on adjusting the mess you’d made of yourself. 

“I’ve had panic attacks before.” 

“No, not that. You got stuck, I think. Like how Rhys would when he was first learning to use his daemati abilities.”

“Don’t tell my father.” The words were so quick from your mouth that Cassian shot up to look at you. “Don’t. I already have a difficult time with the court abilities and I don’t need him to—” 

“Y/n, I would never tell him,” Cassian interrupted, a furrow in his brow. “Why would you ever think I would do that to you.” 

You cast your gaze down. “Well, I don’t know. You’re in his employ—you have to report to him and be loyal. The other guards—” 

“I am not another guard.” 

“Well, I obviously know that. But I just wasn’t sure where that part of you started and my friend ended.” 

Cassian closed his eyes for a long, disappointed beat. 

It was pretty obvious that Cassian was in love with you—at least, it was pretty obvious to himself as of three weeks ago. The moment he saw you again after months away, all pretty and sequestered away and so happy to see him you were glowing, he knew he was a goner. There had been hints of it when he was growing up, but seeing you again made it hit him full force. 

Of course, you could never know, because as much as you said you weren’t and were adamantly against the title, you were a princess, and Cassian didn’t want to add more stress to the plethora of horrors in your life. 

Still, the realization of his feelings only made your questioning tone hurt that much more. 

“Y/n, look at me.” Eyes met in your bedroom. Cassian kept his hands in his lap and you had your fingers pressed to the ground. “My only goal is to keep you alive and happy. I frankly don’t give a shit about your father. Everything I do or have done has been to keep you safe. He isn’t safe, so I make sure to follow his orders because not doing so is dangerous for you. Rhys… Rhys has been keeping close tabs on the situation from the outside and informs me what I need to divulge or keep secret. Nothing has ever been done out of loyalty to your father.” 

You released your bottom lip from your teeth and Cassian watched your shoulders sag in relief. He was about to say more, but then you launched yourself into his chest and his arms were wrapping around you without him willing them to. He had to stop the two of you from lying flat on the floor, jutting an arm out to stabilize the hug before bringing it back around to rest in your hair.

“I thought I'd lost you for a little while there,” you admitted, your face buried in Cassian’s shoulder. 

Guilt ate at his heart. “I thought you said you understood why I was making you stay?” 

“I did,” you mumbled. “Or, I thought I did. I knew you wanted to keep me safe, but I thought you also wanted to please my father.” 

Cassian dragged you back from his chest, hands resting along your head and back. “I’m sorry it felt that way. I have only wanted to please your father for your benefit. I’m—we’re family, y/n—” and I love you, he wanted to add “—you’re my family.” 

You stared back at Cassian, tears still fresh in your eyes and on your face. “Can we leave now?” 

Another piece of Cassian crumbled, shattered. “We can’t. You can’t. Rhys is working on another way out of this but if you try to run right now you know your father will only come after you.” 

“What about the human lands?” you rushed out, hands on Cassian’s chest and so close to his heart. “Or I could go off-continent. I could learn to glamour myself and try. Cassian, I could try.” 

“Y/n, you just got lost in your own head and you have no idea what kind of powers you have beyond that. You have no fighting skills, no way to defend yourself. I know you’re capable, but you’ve had your every need catered since you were born. And your father would be after you. I don’t know if you’d survive.” 

Cassian watched you deflate as he spoke. He brushed his hand up from your back to run a soft touch along your jaw. “And I would come with you—if you ran. But your brother has his head up his ass and he’s going to need help when he becomes High Lord.”

You smiled some—a sad, dejected smile.

“We’re gonna figure this out, sweetheart, just like I told you.” He leaned forward until your foreheads touched. “You’re not going anywhere I can’t go.” 

“And what if none of you can do anything about it?” you whispered.

Cassian ignored the fear that threatened to cease him at the prospect. “Then I’m going to fight like hell until I can.”

[ja3yun]

pour it | p.sh

bartender!sunghoon x bartender!reader

warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, cum plugging, choking, slight nipple play, pls never fuck your co-workers (saying from experience), mentions of alcohol ofc, not proof read, anything else lmk!

w.c: 3.5k

REQ: Imagine Sunghoon and you are bartenders for a club and all shifts you guys are always stealing glances at eachother or having lingering touches while you make drinks one day u need to go get more supplies from the back and the tension is so thick he can’t take it anymore and takes you on the boxes of supplies with messy alcohol pouring sex

a/n: hi! it's me and my inability to write a small drabble and turning it into a semi-fic. hope you don't mind, anonnie! i had a lot of fun with this but as someone who used to bartend during uni, you can imagine the flashbacks going through my mind (i also spilt the keg on me like this so, personal experience and some aj lore for you). hope you enjoy!

The club is alive with the throbbing beat of the latest hits, a kaleidoscope of coloured lights dancing over the crowd packed tightly onto the dance floor. The air is thick with the mingled scents of perfume, sweat, and the unmistakable tang of alcohol. Behind the bar, it's a different world, a fast-paced rhythm of cocktail shakers, clinking glasses, and the endless chatter of patrons.

You’re in your element, expertly mixing drinks, the repetitive motions are almost second nature by now. But tonight, there's an added layer of tension simmering beneath the surface. Sunghoon, your coworker, has been brushing past you intentionally for the nth time tonight.

The bar is small, and with Freshers Friday in full swing, it’s a given that there’s going to be constant cross-overs between staff, clambering for ice and lemon wedges. But does he have to hold your waist as he passes, fingers lingering just a moment too long, or reach behind you for a glass when there are plenty on his end? Each touch sends a spark of electricity through your body, your pulse quickening despite your best efforts to ignore it.

You steal a glance at Sunghoon. He’s busy pouring a drink, his jaw set in concentration, but there’s a ghost of a smirk on his lips. He knows exactly what he’s doing. His dark eyes flick to yours for the briefest moment, and you feel a flush rise to your cheeks. You turn away quickly, focusing on the drink order in front of you.

The club's atmosphere is a mix of chaos and thrill. Neon lights flicker and pulse in time with the music, casting a surreal glow over the sea of bodies moving in sync. The bass reverberates through the floor, through your bones, creating an almost tangible sense of energy.

“Excuse me,” Sunghoon’s voice is low, just above a whisper, as he leans in to reach for a bottle of vodka on the shelf behind you. His chest brushes against your back, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body. You grit your teeth, trying to focus on the cocktail you’re mixing, but it’s no use. Every nerve in your body is attuned to his presence.

“Do you mind?” you snap, but your voice lacks the bite you intended. It comes out breathy, more of a plea than a command.

Sunghoon chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. “Sorry, Y/N. It’s just so crowded back here.” His hand trails down your arm as he pulls away, and you shudder involuntarily.

You know he’s teasing you, pushing boundaries, testing your reactions. And damn it, it’s working. You can feel the tension between you two building, a palpable thing that hangs in the air, thick and heavy.

It’s been like this since he started working here a few months ago. Training him up was harder than anticipated, not because he wasn’t good at it or couldn’t follow instructions, but because it took everything in your willpower not to pounce on him. Once, you showed him how to make the bar’s signature Long Island Iced Tea. While he was pouring the Triple Sec into the mixer, the veins on his arms and hands strained, the muscles flexing with each precise movement. It was the moment you realized you had a hand kink.

Nothing could stop your imagination since then, constantly thinking about his hands on your throat, the way they would feel gripping you, controlling you. Every time he reached past you or brushed against you, those thoughts flared to life, vivid and consuming.

The club is a frenzy of movement and sound, but all you can focus on is Sunghoon. He’s making his way back to your end of the bar, and you can feel your heart rate spike in anticipation. He stops beside you, close enough that you can feel the heat emanating from his body.

“Need help with that?” he asks, his voice smooth and teasing, as he reaches for a wine glass on the rack above your head. His arm brushes against you, and the contact sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’ve got it,” you reply, but your voice betrays you, coming out softer, almost breathless. He smirks, clearly pleased with your reaction. He is nothing if not cocky and you do nothing but fuel it.

“Sure you do,” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. His fingers trail lightly across your waist as he steps back, a fleeting touch that leaves you craving more. His cologne isn’t helping either, the dark musk of Sauvage engulfing your nostrils and filtering its way straight to your core.

You bite your lip, trying to regain your composure, but it’s no use. Your mind is racing, filled with images of his hands on you, the way they would feel exploring your body, holding you down. You can’t stop thinking about the power he seems to have over you, how easily he can make you lose focus.

Your manager comes up behind you both, pointing between you. “I need you both to change the Guinness keg. A whole team of Celtic fans just came in and they’ll bleed us dry in a minute,” he explains.

He doesn’t know that the innocent, very much part of your job request makes your heart stop for a moment. The charged energy between you and Sunghoon is so strong tonight that being alone with him, even for a second, could lead to losing all your inhibitions. You don’t mind fucking your co-workers, god knows you’ve had your fair share of fun with Jay and Heeseung in the past, but this feels different.

As soon as Sunghoon bites those teeth into you, figuratively and physically, you have a sneaking suspicion that there is no going back.

“I can handle it myself,” you say quickly, trying to avoid the inevitable. “It’s only a one-person job.”

But Sunghoon is already stepping forward, his hand on the small of your back, guiding you towards the stockroom. “Come on, Y/N. It’ll go faster with two,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument, waving the manager off.

His touch is subtle but it feels heavy, and you curse inwardly at how easily he affects you. You let him lead you through the throng of staff, your body hyper-aware of every point of contact. This is bad, very bad.

As you enter the dimly lit back room, the noise of the club fades slightly, leaving the sound of your and Sunghoon’s footsteps and breaths as the only chorus to the quiet song of the corridor. The corridor always gives you the creeps, the lime-green walls and chipped floor make you feel sick, sicker than you already are.

It’s not even that big of a deal, so what are you panicking for? Just go in, change the keg, and get back to serving duties. Plain and simple, easy as pie.

But as you reach the keg room, your hands are trembling slightly. You push open the door and step inside, the cold air hitting you like a slap. The room is filled with the metallic scent of beer and the cool hum of the refrigeration system. Sunghoon steps in behind you, the door closing with a soft thud.

He moves to grab a keg from the stack in the corner, and you can’t help but watch, mesmerized by the way his muscles ripple under his white t-shirt. The fabric clings to him, highlighting every contour, every flex. His biceps bulge as he lifts the heavy keg effortlessly, and you swallow hard, feeling a fresh wave of heat course through you.

Focus, you scold yourself. You turn to the valve, reaching up to shut it off. Your fingers fumble slightly, the cold metal biting into your skin. You can’t stop glancing at Sunghoon, at the way his forearms strain, veins standing out in sharp relief. It’s distracting, and you’re not paying enough attention to what you’re doing.

You step forward to disconnect the old keg, but you don’t leave enough time for the pipe to empty. As you twist the connector, there’s a sudden, forceful spray of beer, catching you off guard. You yelp, trying to dodge the spray, but it’s too late.

Sunghoon is at your side in an instant, his hands covering yours as he twists the valve shut. But not before both of you are thoroughly soaked. The cold beer soaks through your clothes, making you shiver.

“Damn it,” you mutter, looking down at the mess. Your shirt clings to you, and you can feel the liquid dripping from your hair. You glance up at Sunghoon, and despite the situation, you can’t help but laugh at the sight of him drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead.

“Nice going,” he says with a chuckle, shaking his head. “You always this clumsy?”

“I usually know what I’m doing,” you retort, but there’s no heat in your words. You’re too distracted by the way his wet shirt clings to his body, outlining every muscle and defined bump of his toned stomach. 

Sunghoon steps closer, his eyes dark and intense. “You okay?” he asks, his voice low with a hint of seduction, the rasp in his voice turning you dizzy.

“Yeah, just...wet,” you reply, shivering slightly. The cold beer and the cool air of the keg room are a stark contrast to the heat building between you two. You probably should have chosen a better sentence to utter into existence, knowing how it could be taken.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. “You know, this wasn’t exactly how I imagined getting you wet,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Your breath catches at his words, and you know you should leave it at that, laugh it off, and walk away. But with his close proximity and his breath fanning your face, you’re almost under his spell. “What do you mean?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, tinged with curiosity and something darker.

Sunghoon steps forward, and you instinctively step back, making your back press against the cold wall of the keg room. He eyes you up and down, licking his lips as though he was a lion hunting his prey. “You know what I mean, Y/N.”

The beat of your heart skips, and you nod, agreeing. You aren’t stupid, you’re just horny.

Leaning down to ghost his lips over yours, his eyes grow hungry as they hood over, boring into yours intensely. “I want to bend you over and fuck you so hard you can’t remember your own name,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly. “I want to make you gasp for air, to hear you scream my name until your throat is raw. I want to leave marks all over your body so everyone knows what I did to you.”

You're quivering now, and every syllable sends a zap of electricity into you. His hand moves down your arm, fingertips brushing your skin and leaving a path of fire in its wake.

“I really thought I was going to lose it up there and bend you over the bar and fuck you in front of all those punters,” he continues, his lips so close to yours that you can feel the heat of his breath. H

A whimper escapes your lips, unbidden, and his eyes widen in surprise and delight. “Oh? You like it when others watch? You want me to drag you up there and give everyone a show?” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement and arousal.

You shake your head in a daze, lust taking over because all you can breathe in is his presence. “No...not there.”  Exhibitionism isn’t really up there in your list of kinks, not really for your own dignity, you couldn’t care less about who sees you naked or fucked out, but you hate the idea of anyone seeing Sunghoon and getting ideas.

Jealousy wasn’t an emotion you thought you possessed until he started at the bar. The other bartenders flirting with him in the breakroom or customers asking for his number over the bar quaked your heart a little, injecting a tiny speck of green into your bloodstream. You might have been apprehensive to start anything with Sunghoon, but that doesn’t mean others get a chance to shoot their shot.

“Oh? So what I’m hearing is you do want me to fuck you?” he presses, his voice a husky whisper. His cockiness is showing once again, tongue roaming over his sharp canine lazily as his eyes drink you in.

“Yes,” you breathe out, unable to hold back any longer. The need in your voice is unmistakable, and it only seems to fuel his desire.

Rolling his eyes in relief, he undoes your apron from the front and lets it fall to the floor. “Finally,” he mutters, his demeanour switching from teasing to something darker, more intense. In a flash, he has your black trousers unbuttoned and fully off your body, your panties following, leaving you bare with only your soaked white work t-shirt covering you.

He grabs your waist and hoists you up against the wall, your legs wrapping around his hips instinctively. With one hand, he reaches and undoes the button of his own trousers, shimmying them down slightly and whipping out his cock.

As it springs to attention, you feel it graze your folds, so close to where you desperately need it. The heat and hardness of him against your wetness make you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Sunghoon smirks, positioning himself right at your entrance. “You’ve been driving me crazy, you know that?” he murmurs, his breath brushing against your skin. “Watching you, wanting you...you kept me waiting too fucking long.”

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation. “I need you.”

His eyes darken with lust at your plea, and without another word, he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt. The sudden fullness makes you cry out, your head falling back against the wall. He’s big, stretching you in ways that have your toes curling. You can feel every inch of him, thick and pulsing, as he fills you completely. It’s overwhelming, the way he pushes your walls apart, making you see colours you didn’t know existed.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growls, starting to move. His pace is relentless, each thrust hard and deep, driving you up the wall with every stroke. Your moans mix with his grunts, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the small room. You’re thankful that the room is isolated in the middle of the basement or else you’re convinced everyone upstairs could hear you.

His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he pounds into you. You can feel the power and control in his movements, the way he takes what he wants, and it drives you wild. “You like this, don’t you?” he pants, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and erratic. “You like being taken so hard you forget everything else?”

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper against the overwhelming stimulation. “Yes, Sunghoon, don’t stop.”

You bring one of his hands up to your throat, a silent plea for him to fulfil your fantasy. His eyes widen for a moment, and then a dark smile spreads across his face. “You want it?” he asks, his voice a dangerous whisper. “You want me to choke you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need. “Please.”

Sunghoon’s grip tightens around your throat, the pressure just enough to make your head spin, adding a delicious haze to your already overwhelming pleasure. Each of his thrusts feels like a shockwave of ecstasy, stretching you and filling you in ways that make your entire body tingle with need. His cock throbs inside you, the thick, hard length gliding in and out with a relentless rhythm.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he growls, his voice a guttural mix of pleasure and dominance. His free hand slides up your body, brushing over your sensitive skin, and his fingers tease at your nipples through the soaked fabric of your t-shirt, making you grateful that you wore a mesh bra today rather than your usual beat-up t-shirt. The contact sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core, heightening the sensations.

Your nails dig into his back as you cling to him to stay against the wall, leaving marks that make him hiss and drive his thrusts even harder. Every push, every pull, feels like it’s unravelling you completely. The pressure around your throat makes your breathing shallow, and the world outside this small room seems to blur into insignificance. All that exists is the raw, primal connection between you and Sunghoon.

Clamping your walls down on him, you mewl out as the tip of his cock reaches a depth no other man has been able to reach, kissing your cervix with intimacy and urgency as you suck him in with each clench of your core.

Hissing, Sunghoon’s head burrows into your neck, his palm now pressed against your jugular in a beautifully punishing manner. “Fuck, Y/N, your cunt is so greedy for it.”

The words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and your moans become more desperate, more pleading. You arch your back, pushing yourself further onto him, needing him deeper, harder. “Sunghoon, I’m so close,” you whimper, your voice breaking with the intensity.

He responds with a fierce, primal growl, increasing the pace of his thrusts. Each movement is forceful, almost punishing, but it’s exactly what you need. “Cum,” he commands, his voice rough and demanding. “I want to feel you cream all over me.”

With that final command, the pressure around your throat and the relentless pounding of his cock push you over the edge. Your body trembles violently, and you cry out his name as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you. Your orgasm is all-encompassing, a dizzying mix of pleasure and release that leaves you gasping for breath, clinging to him.

Sunghoon’s own release follows almost immediately, his body tensing as he buries himself deep inside you, groaning your name with a raw intensity. His cock pulses with each spurt, filling you completely. The heat of his climax mixes with the remnants of your orgasm, creating a deliciously overwhelming sensation.

He holds you tightly, his breath ragged against your neck, as both of you ride out the aftershocks of your climaxes. Slowly, he eases his grip on your throat and pulls back slightly, his eyes still dark with desire but now softened with a trace of concern.

Sunghoon’s gaze softens as he looks at you, his breath still coming in short, ragged bursts. He brushes the damp strands of hair from your face, his touch tender against your flushed skin. “You okay?” he asks, his voice a gentle murmur, filled with concern and dissipating lust.

You nod, a satisfied smile on your lips despite the trembling of your voice. “More than okay,” you breathe out, your body still trembling from the intensity of the climax.

Sunghoon’s eyes hold a mix of tenderness and desire. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. The contrast between the gentleness of the kiss and the fierceness of what had just transpired sends a shiver through you. “Good,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and soothing. “Because we’re far from done.”

He slowly lowers you to the ground, his hands steady and careful. As he kneels before you, a look of wonder crosses your face, mixed with a lingering haze of desire. His fingers, still slick with your combined release, gently part your folds, teasing and exploring.

You gasp as his fingers find their way to your sensitive entrance, carefully stuffing his dripping cum back into you. The sensation is both intense and oddly comforting, a reminder of the connection you’ve shared. Your breath hitches as you feel the warmth and slickness inside you.

“Sunghoon-” you start, but his gaze, both commanding and affectionate, cuts you off.

“Keep that there until our shift is over,” he instructs, his voice firm but laced with an underlying promise of more. “I don’t want a drop of it out of you.”

His words send a fresh thrill through you, a combination of pleasure and anticipation. “When we clock out, you’re coming back to mine, end of story,” he continues, his tone brooking no argument.

You look up at him, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of surprise and eagerness. “Okay,” you manage to say, your voice steadying despite the rush of emotions.

“Great,” he smiles innocently, as if he didn’t just fuck you so good you thought you saw Jesus marking you off the gates VIP list. “Now help me with this keg.”

_____

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