#episode 1: i've turned into her! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

animeismyhappyplace · 4 months

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My Deerest Darling

Synopsis: When Alastor's rut hits he needs someone he can truly trust to help him out, luckily for him Y/N just arrived at the Hazbin Hotel.

Set around episode 1 of Hazbin Hotel and may contain some spoilers for the series.

Word Count: 5K (5,045)

Trigger Warnings: 18+!!!

Platonic friends who share a close bond and care for each other, tiny pinch of angst at the start, possessive behavior, swearing, a deal is made, pet names (dear, darling), his demon form is here, marking and love bites, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, rough sex, porn with some plot, ambiguous ending I suppose 😜

Authors Note: I know that Alastor is AroAce canonically so I wanted to write this like he's in a stressful situation, one he can't really control, and chooses to experience it with a close friend.

I've never written an Ace character before so I hope I do him at least some justice ☺️.

I've taken the route, after a little bit of research, that over time he could form a sexual attraction if it was the right circumstances and he'd known the person for a very long time but it'd still be something that rarely happens.

Y/N walks down through the streets of Pentagram City frowning as she walks past more fires and explosions than she could count, she'd even had to side step past a bird looking sinner screaming about being doomed come the next Externation Day.

She was making her way to the Hazbin Hotel to see an old friend. She walks up the large wooden doors somewhat hesitant, it's been a long time since she last spoke to Alastor but more information was needed about Pride Ring's next steps given the recent news.

Giving herself a moment to calm the nerves drumming across her veins she takes a moment to smooth out her outfit and tuck any flyaway hairs back into place before giving the door a few sharp knocks.

She waits for a few moments with seemingly no activity inside the large hotel until she hears a gruff voice complain “... Why the fuck do I have to answer the door? Not enough that I'm already the fuckin' bartender…”

Her eyes widen as she instantly recognises the voice, almost laughing as a rather grumpy looking cat reluctantly answers the door “What the fuck do you wa...Y/N?”

Husk's wide yellow eyes stare at her his jaw basically hanging on the floor, the awkwardness of the situation making her rock on the balls of her feet nervously “Hey Husker, long time no see”

Y/N swallows the lump forming in her throat as she notices his body is still somewhat stiff “uhh didn't realise you were back in the Pride Ring”

The woman simply nods at his statement “came back when I heard the announcement ‘bout the angelic fuckers dropping on us faster than usual”

“Right…” he answers guardedly, his eyes looking her up and down, making her own drop to the concrete leading up to the hotel's entrance “is Alastor here?”

Husk clears his throat gesturing for her to come in while stepping aside, she gives him a tight lipped smile entering cautiously.

Her eyes flit around the room as she takes in her surroundings, her soft gaze settling on some portraits of Lucifer and his family. She gets so lost in thought she almost doesn't realise a certain demon is watching her with intrigue.

Static fills the air making her blood run cold as her eyes snap to the radio demon himself, Alastor.

“Well well well, you're certainly the last person I'd have expected to see here, my dear”

Nervously she wrings her hands together, unable to look at him as his red eyes bore into her face “can we talk?”

A wide smile spreads across Alastor's face as he stares at his old friend. His head tilts slightly as he looks her up and down with curiosity, his piercing red eyes glowing ominously as he nods.

"Why of course my dear~ come, let's find a quiet place to talk"

He turns his back on her as he gestures for her to follow him with a simple point of his long finger.

Y/N nods following silently, passing through a few vacant corridors before stopping at a room Alastor finally seems happy with.

He again gestures for her to walk in, letting her go first like the gentleman he is with a large smile on his face as he shuts the door behind them.

Turning to face her, he tilts his head expectantly waiting for her to speak but when nothing but silence fills the air he clears his throat "so to what do we owe this rare pleasure?"

A frown sets deep in across her forehead as she sighs "you needn't be so formal with me Alastor, we've known each other a long time..."

Rolling his eyes he clicks his tongue at her "yes, until you suddenly disappeared"

His eyes narrow as he spits out "how fun that was"

She visibly winches as his words cut at her heart, her head hanging in shame "I know... I'm sorry…”

Alastor's eyebrow raises as she explains herself. His eyes narrow slightly, a look of distrust glittering across his large orbs but it quickly fades as he watches her body language.

She's clearly uncomfortable at having to face him returning from an absence just as long as his own. He steps a bit closer to her, his movements are slow and deliberate as he meets her eyes curiosity getting the better of him.

"Hmm yes well I must ask..."

The corner of his mouth curls up into a predatory smile as his voice lowers with an air of menace in his words. "Where have you been hiding my dear?" He says in a low tone, hand grabbing at his mic.

She goes to speak but then notices his shadows beginning to move around the room, almost touching her legs as they surround her, raising her eyebrow at him she finally gives him the answer he's been looking for.

"Wrath, a friend of mine told me something very interesting. I'd be happy to tell you what they said, you know since we're so close" she smiles almost wickedly.

A hint of laughter escapes his lips at her words before he raises his eyebrows at her with genuine curiosity.

"Please do go on my dear~ don't leave me in such suspense" Alastor leans forwards resting on his mic.

A small chuckle leaves her lips at his rapid mood swing but she concedes nodding "while scavenging for weapons they found a body, a rather holy looking body wouldn't you say?"

She walks close to him, handing over a picture of a headless exterminator.

The Radio Demon stares down at the picture, his eyes widen as his smile broadens. His lips curl into a menacing grin as he slowly nods his head.

"Yes...I would indeed"

His eyes light up with interest as he raises his eyebrow, a curious glint sparkling in his cherry red eyes.

"Tell me my dear, how did the creature meet its gruesome end?”

A deep sigh of disappointment leaves her lips at his question, her arms folding in front of her stomach "ah that I don't know, my dear Alastor"

A wide smile stretches over her lips pulling tightly at her rosy cheeks "though I figure if anyone could find out what happened, it'd be you"

A small chuckle escapes his lips as he considers her words.

"Hmmm..."

He paces around the room, his long legs striding effortlessly with a soft hiss of static sounding with each step.

"Yes. That's quite possible indeed"

He walks over to her stopping just in front of her body and smiles, the glint in his eyes becoming more intense as his voice drops into a lower tone.

"I suppose could do a bit of investigating, for the right price of course~"

His long fingers curl over her hair patting gently as his hand settles on her head.

She turns her head to look up at him humming softly at his words "a deal? What'd you have in mind?"

A smug grin crosses his lips as he raises an eyebrow. In this moment, his presence is intense, his aura of power and danger surrounding her like a heavy blanket of shadows.

"Simple enough~"

He pauses before continuing in the same suave voice, his eyes narrowing as he leans down towards her face.

"I'll get all the information I can on the dead angel and you... will owe me one small favour to be cashed in any time of my choosing”

"Simple enough until I know what it is you want from me" a small pout settles across her lips as she thinks over his proposition and in the end she holds her hand out to him.

The aura in the room drastically changes. Green stitches appear along Alastor's mouth covering his sharp teeth, his eye colour changing to bright green, his pupils shifting to radio dials and his dark antlers growing in size curving around his head.

"Is it done?”

His demonic form disappears as quickly as it appeared. A chuckle escaped his lips as he reached out to gently stroke her hair humming almost softly.

"Good girl~ we have ourselves a deal"

His voice becomes more even as the quiet of the room returns.

"I don't suppose you could do me a favour? work your magic and convince that little princess you're helping to let me stay here?" she chuckles under her breath.

A sly grin spreads across the handsome demon's face as he chuckles softly. His eyes light up with mischief and he taps his mic as his voice softens.

"Why yes I believe I could. Come with me my dear and let's go see Charlie”

She smiles at the taller demon appreciatively as they begin walking to the door.

"Would it be strange for me to say I've missed you and your mysterious ways?" She asks with a small giggle falling from her lips.

A low chuckle escapes the demon as he teases her "how sentimental of you"

"Not at all my dear"

His eyes soften for a very brief moment and he's clearing his throat.

"Please. Follow me”

Charlie had accepted Y/N’s presence quicker than she'd expected but it worked in her favour so she hadn't questioned it much simply looking towards Alastor who shrugged his shoulders with his ever present smile spread across his face.

She worked hard to dodge Husk's probing questions during breakfast, anxiety rising until he'd finally dropped the subject after multiple prompts from Charlie and Vaggie.

Her worries now shifted to Alastor who'd been strangely quiet since they made their deal, his eyes darting around the room rapidly almost as if he was waiting for something.

She had decided to corner him in the afternoon after realising he'd spoken only twice so far all day, it was concerning to say the least.

She steadily ascends the winding stairs leading up to his radio tower, finding him hunched over the console, his back rising and falling rapidly as his breathing looked laboured.

“Alastor?” She asks with a soft tone.

As she speaks, his body jerks up with a sharp intake of breath. He straightens himself, and his breathing becomes more controlled as he turns to face her. Alastor's expression remains neutral but his eyes narrow as he stares at her.

"Yes my dear? What is it?"

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his long claws digging into his skin as he continued to stare at her, still not quite meeting her eyes.

She stares at him for a moment brows knitting together in a small frown as she watches beads of sweat trail down his cheeks from his forehead "just wanted to check on you, you've been awfully quiet today"

Questioning eyes wander down until they stop at his clenched fists "you seem out of sorts"

He looks down at his hands as his breathing becomes slightly more erratic. His body seems to tense up as he realises she's watching him intently.

"No no I'm fine, probably just... the time of year"

His eyes narrow in annoyance glancing over her shoulder towards the large red door.

She doesn't seem convinced as she slowly moves closer "you sure? Cause you really do seem-"

She teaches her hand out to touch his forehead wanting to check his temperature 'can demons even get sick?' she wonders as his body reacts quickly, reaching out to grab onto her arm stopping her as his hand tightens its grip.

His skin feels hot to the touch, almost burning her skin as he holds her hand firmly, gripping it so tightly it almost hurts.

His breathing grows sharper as his eyes bore into her own, his ears flattening against his head.

"S-sorry Alastor, too close?" She whispers as she tries to pull away, fearing she's made him uncomfortable.

The demon seems to snap back to reality, eyes wide and blinking rapidly before letting go of her hand looking at her with a slightly irritated expression.

He doesn't reply, just shakes his head, pushing past her to grab his mic before storming away back to the hotel.

Y/N stands in the silent radio tower frozen in pure confusion at his actions.

She looks down at her skin wondering if there'd be a burn mark left behind from his touch but of course there wasn't, shaking her head she sighs before leaving the tower herself.

✨ Later That Day ✨

The next time she sees Alastor his behaviour is even more strange. She had been having a few drinks at the bar with Husk and Angel Dust, telling the friendly spider demon all about her early days as a sinner and how she'd managed to slowly befriend the standoffish overlord.

Alastor had entered the large space calm as ever, his eyes finding the trio quickly, red eyes narrowing at Husk as he handed Y/N a new drink, his hand momentarily brushing against her fingers but it's enough.

A loud and low growl rumbles in Alastor's chest as he storms over to the group, startling Y/N so much she jumps dropping the glass.

His long slender fingers wrap around her wrist as he pulls her off the bar stool and into his chest, his left arm winding around her waist in an almost protective manner making her yelp as her face is thrust into his chest.

Red eyes narrow at the two men as his pupils transform into radio dials, large antlers growing as his chest shakes with anger “ĐØ₦'₮ ₮ØɄ��Ⱨ ⱧɆⱤ” black shadowy tentacles shoot out and grab onto Husk's red bowtie pulling him into the edge of the bar as the radio demons smile widens in demonic glee.

Y/N's hands grip onto Alastor's shirt tugging harshly “Alastor! Alastor STOP” she shouts trying to push him backwards to get his attention.

His body stiffens as the shadows recede dropping Husk onto the floor, his pupils changing back to their regular shape as his gaze shifts down to her body still pressed tightly against his own.

A look of panic crosses the demon's face as he pushes Y/N away from his body. His eyebrows furrow for a moment before he's stalking out of the room, slamming the door as leaves. Y/N's breaths are shallow as her heart thunders in her chest.

“Uh what in the fuck was that?” Angel asks incredulously while helping Husk to his feet, his eyes flicking between her and his friend.

“I-I don't know… I've never…” her mind is racing as she tries to think back to their many years of friendship but she'd never seen him act that way before and it scared her.

Without realising her feet are moving to follow in his footsteps, she needs to find out what was going on.

She searches all around the hotel but doesn't find a single trace of her friend. Giving up and finally trudging back to her bedroom for a much needed rest, she kicks the door open, not even bothering to shut it before flopping face first onto her bed.

Her temples are pulsing wildly with pain at the headache she's given herself trying to figure out Alastor's strange actions, her fingers rub deep circles against her head making her groan until the sound of her door slamming shut makes her jump up so quickly she almost falls off her bed.

The door slams with a rather loud bang showing Alastor walking further into the room, a small smirk playing on his lips as he steps toward her.

"Đīđ Ī ꞩȼⱥɍē ɏꝋᵾ đēⱥɍ? You should really be more careful leaving your door open like that anyone could walk in"

His eyes darted over her body as sweat drops from his fringe to the floor, his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of red matching his hair.

"Alastor? What's going on? You're not acting like yourself" she shifts backwards on the bed until her back hits the headboard, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Alastor continues to walk towards her with an unsettling grin plastered across his face.

"Ah...You're quite right about that my dear, it's that time of the year for me unfortunately."

In a sudden move, he's leaning over her, placing a hand underneath her chin gripping it tightly.

He is so close to her now she can feel his warm breath on her cheeks.

"That time of year?" She asks confused, her eyes looking up to watch his facial expressions.

Alastor leans in closer resting his forehead against hers as their breathing synchronises.

"Mating season my dear, I'm in rut"

Shock paints across her face as she starts to stutter ‘rut? As in…’

"I-I thought you didn't usually like se-”

His voice is low, breathing laboured as his breath tickles her skin causing her cheeks to heat up at the close contact.

"you're right I don't usually enjoy... physical touch... but my instincts are becoming too difficult to control"

His body almost trembles as his claws grip her bed sheets "you're one of oldest and closest friends my dear if it's going to happen... I want it to be you"

She shakes her head slightly as he rests his nose against her own "don't want to make you feel uncomfortable or make you do something you'll regret"

"I'm slowly losing my mind here dear"

The demon pushes her back as his voice drops to a whisper.

"I've managed to resist as much as possible but it physically hurts"

He raises his hands slowly to brush her fringe away revealing her forehead as he almost nuzzles against the soft skin.

"please..." he pleads as his voice cracks.

Her eyebrows furrow unsure if this is something he actually wants.

"Only if you're sure Alastor, I don't want..." she whispers slowly, lifting her hand to push the soaked hair away from his eyes.

Alastor shakes his head, growing frustrated and desperate.

"I want this. I need this"

His voice trembles with desperation as his body shakes, the heat coming from his body almost burning her own as she attempts to soothe him.

"Be a doll darling and help me…”

"Okay" she whispers, hands trailing down his cheeks to rest on his jaw as she tugs his face down ever so slightly to brush her lips against his in a feather light kiss.

Alastor tries to hold back, tries to be gentle with her but he's feeling so needy his body has a mind of its own, his fingers grasping at her arms pulling her body close to his own

A whine leaves her lips as his body dwarfs her own, pushing her down onto her back. Her hair is splayed out over her pillows as his large body leans over her own.

His breath becomes ragged as his body reacts to their close proximity. His hips rock forward, the growing tent in his pants pressing against her body and causing her cheeks to flush brightly.

"You're body is so soft my dear"

His voice breaks as he trails kisses along her neck, his large sharp teeth nipping at her throat moving down to her collarbone.

Alastor can't help but groan as his heated body touches hers, need drumming through his veins as he rocks his hips into her body showing her how desperate he is for release.

His long fingers have her hands pinned down so he has full control.

His tongue slips out to softly lick the underside of her collarbone, his breath hot against her skin as he moves one hand to grip her own, his claws sinking into her flesh.

His mouth leaves her neck as he trails kisses along the side of her nose, neck and cheeks before finally settling back on her lips, his breathing growing heavy.

Once satisfied he pulls back, tearing off his red blazer jacket throwing it somewhere to the side before starting on his bow tie and shirt letting them land beside his jacket.

With his heated chest exposed Y/N uses the opportunity to let her fingers explore, they trail over his pecs to his sides before travelling upwards to his neck pulling his body back to her own.

Alastor lets out a low groan as his body reacts to her hands, his breath growing deeper as she moves her hands over his body.

His claws bite into the bed sheets causing small rivets to appear in the fabric.

"Dear" He mutters as his voice breaks

"I don't think I can resist much longer…”

Her slender fingers move quickly, lifting her shirt over her head and throwing it off to the side. Next she unclips her bra sighing in relief as cold air hits her nipples.

She gives Alastor a small smirk as she sees his eyes raking over her bare body.

Alastor's pupils contract as she removes her clothing, he takes in every inch of her exposed body as he watches her movements with an intense gaze.

His eyes trace her curves, looking her up and down with a look of approval before he opens his mouth to compliment her, his voice cracking.

"You've got to be one of the most beautiful creatures I've ever seen"

A low possessive growl leaves his throat as he uses his clawed fingers to shred her skirt, throwing the pieces on the floor.

"Mine”

She nods whimpering softly, trailing her hands down her body rubbing over her nipples then moving down to her panties.

She pulls them down and throws them off to the side, spreading her legs for Alastor to see how soaked she is, her small fingers rub small circles against her clit as Alastor's hungry eyes watch every moment.

A growl leaves his chest again as he watches her fingers move over herself spreading the wetness over her folds, his breathing rapidly increasing as she toys with herself.

"So adorable..."

His words leave his lips as low rumbles as he stares at her body, his jaw growing tighter and the muscles in his body tensing as he watches her with such a hungry look.

Alastor moves his hands to her thighs spreading them impossibly wide so he can slide between them and better watch her movements, tongue peaking out to lick over his lips.

Having Alastor's dark eyes watching her makes her heart thud rapidly in her chest, tilting her head back as she enters two fingers into her dripping pussy.

With her head tilted back Alastor can see every mark he's left across her neck making his hands clench down on her thighs possessively.

Alastor's eyes flicker between the marks he's left on her skin and her wet heat.

His fingers are digging into her thighs as he watches her with hunger, Alastor's breath catches in his throat as he watches her movements, his teeth gritting with each thrust of her fingers.

"Need a taste…”

Wrapping his fingers around her wrist he pulls removing her fingers from her body, groaning as he watches her slick dripping from her fingers.

He moves quickly, pulling her fingers forward and into his waiting mouth, his tongue lapping at the digits with a moan as he tastes her juices.

Alastor grunts in approval as his tongue laps at her fingers, his chest heaving as his body reacts to her taste.

"More..." he grumbles greedily before his teeth drag along the soft skin of her hand as his tongue continues to lick away at her juices.

His body is growing more desperate for release, his breath becoming more shaky.

Watching the demon almost devour her fingers sends fresh need throbbing through her body as she whines "need you Alastor"

His lips curl into a cruel smirk as he lets her hand drop to the bed.

"So eager~"

He grins leaning down over her body making sure his growing length is pressed against her bare body, his eyes growing hot as he meets her gaze.

"I'm going to make you scream darling"

His voice is heavy with desire as he starts to lean in for a kiss.

Y/N reciprocates his kiss greedily as her own need grows, her hands drop to his pants tugging them down along with his boxers, finally releasing his length as a long moan leaves his lips.

Her fingers wrap around his dick, moving her hand down his length feeling it throb in her hand.

The demon's eyes roll back in his head as he feels her warm hands wrap around his length, a groan rumbling deep in his throat. He arches his back into her touch, his hips bucking slightly as she begins to stroke him “don't be a tease now dear”

Alastor growls low in his throat, thrusting his hips forward as he feels the tight heat engulf him causing them both to moan loudly as he fills her to the brim.

His fingers curl around her legs wrapping them around his hips as he starts to thrust into her.

Y/N's eyes roll back as Alastor sets an almost bruising pace, her arms looping around his head to keep her steady.

Her breaths come out as little hiccups as Alastor's thrusts push her further up the bed.

The demon's thrusts grow harder and faster, his hips slamming against hers as he takes her with a feral growl. His monocle slips from his eye, clattering to the floor as he loses himself in the primal need to claim and breed.

His hands reach out to grip onto the bed, his claws sinking into the mattress as the pleasure overwhelms his body.

Sharp nails nip into the skin of Alastor's neck as he pounds into her, her head tipping back burying into the pillows as all thoughts fly out of her head.

"A-A... Al..." her soft moans are muffled as his head dips to press needy kisses to her lips.

His growl vibrates throughout his body as he feels her nails dig into his skin, her voice sending shivers down his spine.

He bites down on her lip, his tongue flicking over the wound, licking up the blood he's drawn as hunger claws at his chest.

Alastor's rough and fast pace starts to rock the bed against the wall, every thrust causing the bed to shake. Her moans and whines increase in volume.

His hips slam into hers over and over again, his cock buried deep inside her as he takes what he wants.

“Look at my good girl, taking me so well…”

With a feral growl, Alastor picks up the pace even more, his hips slamming into hers in a primal rhythm. His eyes wild with lust and possession as he takes her, his body trembling as he tries to control his demonic strength.

"QɄłɆ₮ ĐɆ₳Ɽ, your sweet sounds are for my ears Ø₦ⱠɎ”

Alastor's deer-like ears twitching madly as they react to each sound that leaves her throat.

Y/N's so lost in the pleasure the demon is giving her that she doesn't realise the long dark antlers that have started to sprout from his red locks.

Her eyes squeezed shut with her hand slapped over her mouth as she attempted to quieten down her noises.

Y/N's muffled whines pitch in volume as pleasure courses through her veins.

"A-Al... 'm c-close" she whimpers, pulling his body down to hers, pulling him so close his chest is slotted against her own.

Her fingers slip between their bodies to rub tight circles against her swollen clit, her walls clenching down on Alastor's cock as her thighs shake against his bucking hips.

Alastor feels the pleasure building within him, his body tensing as he reaches his climax. His eyes squeezed shut as he thrust harder into her one last time, his hot seed filling her up with each thrust.

Feeling Alastor come undone and throb against her walls sendings her over the edge, her body stiffening as she cums hard with Alastor's cock bullying her sweet spot.

Almost instinctively as he's climaxing Alastor buries his face in the crook of Y/N’s neck, licking a long stripe up the sweaty skin before his long sharp teeth sink into the soft supple skin. He keeps his teeth in place until she's finished cumming on his cock, finally pulling away he licks up the blood that slowly weeps out of the holes. He's smirking proudly while looking at the marks that are scattered across her upper body.

She's panting hard, her fingers trailing up to her neck to feel the marks Alastor has left behind as she's held close to Alastor's body, they stay slotted together until both of their breathing starts to settle down.

As their breathing slows, Alastor opens his eyes to look down at Y/N, a satisfied smirk on his face. He leans in to place a gentle kiss on her forehead before pulling out of her with a soft pop, flopping down on the bed beside her.

Y/N turns to lay on her side, head propped up on her hand as she watches his face.

"Feeling better?" she can't help but giggle as his head turns to look at her.

"Much," he replies with a chuckle, humming as he runs his fingers through his hair, smoothing it down. He glances back at her and smirks "for now”

He chuckles softly, enjoying her wide eyed reaction to his words. His long arms reach out cradling her to his body as he strokes her hair "come rest for now dear, you're going to need it”

She gulps as he smiles at her deviously.

Back in the main seating area of the lobby the group sat together looking thoroughly traumatised at hearing the pairs… activities.

Sir Pentious is covering the ears of his little egg boys, Angel has a knowing smirk on his face watching as Husk shakes his head muttering curses under his breath, Nifty thankfully is nowhere to be seen and Vaggie is holding Charlie close as Charlie's eyes are wide, her mouth dropped open in shock.

The room is eerily quiet, no one daring to break the uncomfortable silence until Charlie clears her throat “at least they're done now, right?…” She looks to Vaggie for moral support as Angel Dust bursts out laughing "who knew tall, dark and creepy could fuck" He's holding his stomach and shaking his head as he walks to the bar.

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#hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader smut #alastor x reader #Alastor #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #Alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #animeismyhappyplacewrites #18+ account #18+ content #18+ blog #18+ only

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ohmymalice · 3 months

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Schlatt finding out reader watches edits of him (this is incredibly self indulgent)

"I'm too tired for this." He mumbled, feeling a bit groggy from waking up. He heard some music come from your end of the bed and looked over.

"Y/n...Y/n god you need to stop your midnight scrolling..." He yawned, shuffled to your side of the bed, holding you close as he watches you panic and quickly swipe away at the edits of him that you watched.

"Oh? If you wanna see me so bad you can just turn to my side of the bed, Bubba." He pressed his lips up to your temple, feeling a small smile as he kisses you.

"Thought you were asleep, didn't wanna wake you." You didn't hesitate pulling him closer, kissing his cheek. You nuzzled your face in the crook of his shoulder, letting his scent fill your nose.

"If you think I'm gonna move past the fact you were scrolling under #jschlattedits you are incredibly wrong." He chuckles as he grabs your phone, looking at your most recent favorited tik toks and seeing a wave of edits of him.

"I'm never gonna let you live this down."

And he stuck to his word indeed because the very next day when they filmed a chuckle sandwich episode, Ted brought up the topic somehow and Schlatt immediately lit up the moment he remembered the events last night.

"Ted— I got quite the damn story for you." He smirks as he remembers your sleepy face, how completely engrossed you looked as you watched edits, not knowing he was right behind you.

"My girlfriend— Y/n we've been public for a few months, she recently got into tik tok and started watching edits. I don't know how she found them, but she found edits of me and started saving them and I swear I've never seen her look at anything like that. It was as if she was trying to burn that shit into her memory, I couldn't help but laugh."

Ted stared into the lens of his webcam, a look that clearly stated how invested he was.

"Does she know she can make a folder on tik tok—" Ted asks and Schlatt cackles at the memory.

"Oh you fuckin' bet, god I'd make fun of her for it but if I was in her spot and she was famous and people made edits of her, I'd watch all of them too, folder n' all."

"You heard it here folks, Schlatt wants you guys to make edits of Y/n!"

A week passes and the new episode is out and soon everyone started making edits of Y/n (since schlatt requested)

It was late at night, she looked to their bed side table and saw it was around 1:11 am, she heard a familiar tik tok audio that made her snap her head towards Schlatt's side of the bed in interest. It's the audio of her favorite Schlatt edit.

She sits up a little and squints her eyes, trying to adjust to the lighting in front of her and realizes someone made an edit of her and Schlatt has been watching it on loop.

"Look who's watching edits of me now."

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x you

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villadiodatis · 2 months

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Welcome to level 13, Bad Kids!

The stress of escaping Baron and the nightmare briefcase Mordred Manor has boosted the Bad Kids up to level 13! Let's take a look at what's new. (And if you're curious about what they did for levels 11 and 12, I've got you covered!)

Adaine: Wizard 13. She learns two new spells, which can now be 1st-7th level, and gets a 7th-level spell slot (in addition to the new spells she got in her downtime). We know one of these spells is Plane Shift! She has a bunch of options, and some of them are nasty, so I'm very excited to see what's in store. She can also now prepare 18 spells a day (previously 17).

Fabian: Fighter 6/Bard 7 (was Fighter 6/Bard 6). He learns a new spell, which can now be 1st-4th level, and gets a 4th-level spell slot. Options for him include Freedom of Movement, Dimension Door, Greater Invisibility, and Polymorph, among others.

Fig: Bard 10/Paladin 2/Warlock 1 (was Bard 9/Paladin 2/Warlock 1). She learns a new bard cantrip, gets a 6th-level spell slot, gains expertise (double proficiency bonus) in two skills, her Bardic Inspiration goes from a d8 to a d10, and she gains Magical Secrets--she can learn two spells (1st-6th level) from any class list!

Gorgug: Barbarian 6/Artificer 7 (was Barbarian 6/Artificer 6). He gets a third 2nd-level spell slot, as well as Flash of Genius, which lets him use a reaction to add his intelligence modifier (+3) to any ability check or saving throw made by him or by a creature within 30 feet of him. He can do this 3 times a day (equal to his intelligence modifier). We already saw him offer to use it this episode!

Kristen: Cleric 13. She gets a 7th-level spell slot and access to 7th level spells! These include Plane Shift (which we've already seen both her and Adaine use), Fire Storm, Resurrection, and Conjure Celestial, plus a few more. She can also now prepare 18 spells a day (previously 17).

Riz: Rogue 13. His sneak attack damage increases from 6d6 to 7d6, he gets two 3rd-level spell slots, and he can learn a new 1st-3rd level Enchantment or Illusion wizard spell. He also gains Versatile Trickster, which allows him to use a bonus action to distract a creature with his Mage Hand cantrip and gain advantage on attacks against them until the end of his turn.

Everyone's HP goes up and they get another hit die, but biggest at level 13 (total class level, not individual, so our multiclass kids aren't left out) is an increase to their proficiency bonus! Everyone's proficient skills, attack rolls, saving throws, and save DCs go up by one. For those of you enjoying Reliable Talent, this means Riz's minimum stealth roll is now a 25. My god.

Hope you enjoyed, see you next time, and as always please let me know if I’ve missed anything!

#fantasy high #dimension 20 #d20 #d20 spoilers #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #fantasy high junior year #adaine abernant #fig faeth #fabian seacaster #gorgug thistlespring #kristen applebees #riz gukgak #zoe does stuff

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not-the-cheese · 11 months

Text

one sentence(ish) summaries of every magnus archive episode PART 2

(eps 61-110) thank u for the funny comments and tags on the last part i love u guys

the rest of these may take a while as i've caught up to where i am currently in the podcast but i will finish them like in a month i promise

----

61. the thrilling sequel to man does not open coffin: man DOES open coffin.

62. surely this doctor can find an easier way to scam people out of money than putting them in a little book.

63. THE DARK ATE MY BROTHER IN LAW.

64. this is possibly the plot of laura croft tomb raider

65. mmm crumchy

66. what's the opposite of an unboxing video

67. as close to a coffeeshop au as you're going to get from this podcast

68. Doctors hate him! Man REFUSES to die from tuberculosis!

69. your college's psych department has the worst idea ever.

70. reverse death note

71. not even death will stop this woman from taking the british subway

72. man doesn't want to be low key racist in his last moments before getting eaten

73. police versus the second coming of dark jesus

74. lady is haunted by an ad for coffee

75. mike crew says "uh fuck it let's just put this guy on a skyscraper forever"

76. ryan from buzzfeed unsolved breaks into a train yard and suffers consequences

77. you're not a enough of a bitch to be my real mom

78. man gets harassed by his cousin and then exorcises him

79. you know that chase scene in scooby doo with the doors

youtube

80. stupid idiot motherfucking jurgen leitner

81. i have been personally victimized by the sequel to the hungry hungry caterpillar

82. pov: elias threatens to cancel you

83. mannequin takes matters into its own hands after people don't like its pitch for a new window display

84. a hoarder put newspaper on my friend's face :(

85. hey there's maybe a little man upon these stairs?

86. man gets got by a squiggly thing in the dark.

87. plumber is so oblivious to spooky happenings around him that it possibly saves his life.

88. guys i think this guy likes to dig

89. lesbian investment banker finds a new, less evil job: arson!

90. guy who turns people's bones starts a gym where he promises not to turn your bones! (he is lying)

91. i was stalked by lightning for 10 years and i all i got were these stupid scars

92. jonah magnus is a bad friend // another day another elias slay

93. ocd is no match for purple fuzz

94. let the bodies drop gently to the floor let the bodies drop gently to the floor

95. im so sorry my brain refuses to remember what the war ones were about but i think one guy got gently kissed on the forehead so that's pretty nice.

96. diversity wins! the not-quite-human delivery men who stole your identity and business are maybe gay?

97. man gets gaslighted by an entire town about a hole

98. 🎶mister sandman bring me a dream, actually don't, please stay far from me 🎶

99. another one bites the dust

100. archival assistants face off against the general public (they lose)

101. jon finally levels up high enough to unlock an eldritch horror's tragic backstory

102. LOCAL MAN MARRIES BUG

103. peppa eats a clown and they cover her in concrete instead of congratulating her.

104. pennywise stole my brother's skin

105. it's world war z baby

106. Something Big Is In Space.

107. man is interrogated about the time he saw thomas the train roasts people alive and also sans is there

108. actor is stalked by mask who liked his monologue so much that it tells its mask friends to come watch.

109. sometimes a family is just a serial killer's daughter and that guy who maybe killed some vampires

110. yeah man those spiders be eating

Part 1 |

#tma #i hope this convinces you to listen to tma #the magnus archives #sasha james #jon sims #podcasts #gay podcasts #elias bouchard #peter lukas #melanie king #gerard keay #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #funny #one sentence summaries #sillyposting #Youtube #queer

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lost-and-ephemeral · 4 months

Text

Series: In Her Shadow, pt.2 (ft. main trio)

Part 1 | Part 2

Slowly but surely she replaced you in his heart.

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)

Tags: angst, hurt no comfort, reader is not MC, breakup

A/N: I recieved a lot of comments and request asking me to continue, so here we are! I've tried my best. Ty everyone, I appreciate every message, even if it would be hard to mention every single one of them in this post. Also, if you want to be tagged in future fics, let me know!

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´-

Rafayel

You began to notice that Rafayel was spending less and less time with you, choosing his bodyguard over you.

It wasn't obvious at first, yeah, but as time went on, everything became so noticeable that you couldn't ignore it anymore. Especially when he forgot about your plans with him and didn't even consider apologizing for it.

The smell of someone else's perfume in his studio, the way Rafayel would leave you at home and take her to all the important events because "you probably don't like spending time among journalists and annoying guests." It seems that he didn't even notice the moment when you were completely estranged from each other.

And all your attempts to talk to him about it ended with nothing.

"She's my bodyguard," he'd say. "No wonder I take her everywhere I go. Is there anything wrong with that?"

Yes, a lot of things were wrong.

But he was completely unwilling to notice it, and you were tired of collecting the shards of your broken heart from the floor day after day. Those warm feelings that brought a sense of lightness and happiness in your heart suddenly turned into pure torture.

You had to end it all, even if it'll hurt so much.

When you arrived at his studio this morning, you came face to face with "Ms. Bodyguard" herself. She was just about to leave, and didn't even hesitate to embrace your beloved. Right in front of you.

Maybe you would've exploded from all these negative emotions, if you had any strength left to be mad or to cry. But there was only emptiness in your heart.

You became strangers to each other.

"I'm breaking up with you," you said without any regret and pushed him away as he tried to hug you. "I don't want to be a second choice after your precious bodyguard."

"W-wait, why? What... But I didn't do anything!" he replied confused, apparently not realizing how much he's been hurting you all this time.

"Maybe that's the point. That you'd do anything for her, but not for me."

He looked at you with the same confusion in his eyes, trying to figure out if it was a joke, but you continued before leaving this place forever.

"You were everything to me, Rafayel. But for you, I was just a small episode of your life. I'm tired. You've been spending all your free time with her, like I didn't exist. It'll be better this way. Goodbye."

No matter how long he was calling your name, asking you to stop, to come back and talk with him, you didn't.

Zayne

Loving a cardiac surgeon with his busy schedule is hard.

But it's even harder when he no longer cares about your existence and spends a significant amount of time with his childhood friend.

After Zayne forgot about your reservation at the restaurant, making you feel like you were the last fool in this world, some more time has passed.

Yeah, he apologized. No, he didn't start spending less time with his "friend".

It's hard to count how many evenings you spent alone when he stayed late at work for her or was invited to a "friendly" dinner with her. But it happened often enough so finally your love turned into suffering.

At first you tried to convince yourself that you're too jealous and he's just happy to finally reunite with someone close to him from his youth. You care about your friends too, don't you?

But it only got worse.

All your plans were constantly adjusted to his friend's wishes. She wants to take him to a cafe at the same time you were planning to go to the cinema? "Sorry, love, let's reschedule our date for another day". You've made him his favorite dinner? Too bad, his friend already brought him dinner at work and he's not hungry.

Eventually you started feeling like he stopped enjoying your time together and just continued to exist in the same apartment with you out of habit.

Talking didn't get you anywhere, because Zayne didn't notice how much he was hurting you (or he simply didn't want to notice it) with his actions and only distanced himself from you even more.

At some point you felt like he put an ice wall around himself again.

He stayed late again this evening, completely forgetting his promise to spend time with you. You packed your things with tears in your eyes, ready to say goodbye to life with Zayne once and for all.

And he showed up at the doorstep of his apartment just as you were ready to leave.

"What's going on?" his voice didn't betray a shred of emotion. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to leave you and your lovely friend together so I don't have to be an unwanted addition to your life."

Zayne was taken aback at this statement and was about to say something, but you interrupted him.

"You were the one who brought happiness and comfort into my life. You were the one who made me feel loved and wanted. But now I realize that I wasn't good enough for you. Goodbye."

You walked away and closed the door behind you, leaving him all alone.

Xavier

Before, you without a doubt would've said that your relationship with Xavier was the ultimate dream.

But now it wasn't actually true.

Yes, your beloved still showed care and attention every spare minute he had. Just not to you. It seemed as if his colleague started to occupy his every thought.

During dinner, on a walk, after missions. He was always talking about her, how strong she is, and how lucky he is that she chose him as her partner. His eyes were shining with delight you had never seen before.

You were happy for him, but only until it crossed the line. Only until you started to feel like he was in love with her, not with you.

One day you found yourself completely miserable. Xavier texted you that he would be late because they had "decided to celebrate another successful mission". Except that you were usually the one he shared his joy with. But things have changed.

Even though you were the brightest star in his world, you were inevitably lost behind the glow of the Moon.

You were trying to be better, to be more interesting. Trying to reach an unattainable ideal. But you couldn't. After all, maybe you were never meant to be together if it turned out like this. Maybe you weren't enough for him.

You couldn't remember the last day you didn't cry. Sometimes alone, sometimes locking yourself in the bathroom after another conversation about this "super-strong collegue". But Xavier didn't seem to notice it at all.

"I thought maybe you'd be interested to know what happens during missions," he said when you brought up this painful topic.

And, yes, you were interested. But all you heard was, "She took down that Wanderer so easily, I couldn't take my eyes off her." Or, "she's so good with her weapon, it's amazing."

He distanced himself from you so much that you hardly spent any time together.

He wasn't even home the day you left.

Xavier sent you a message saying he'd be late again. As usual, with her. Even though he promised to have a movie night and you had already prepared everything you needed for it.

Maybe it's even better if you don't see the look in his eyes the moment you tell him you're breaking up with him. You packed your things and left a note on the table, next to the snacks you bought.

"Maybe in another universe I would be worthy of you so you could look at me with the same adoration. I can see that you enjoy spending time with her much more. And we should break up so you don't torment my heart anymore. Goodbye."

You glanced around his apartment one last time before leaving it forever.

♡ tags: @skyowlz @prettytemis @aishasreality @randompersonwhoexist @kreishin @reni502 @moonyzstarz @chin-chii

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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fluentmoviequoter · 4 months

Text

A Family at Your Side

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!paramedic!fem!Buckley!reader

Summary: You, Evan Buckley's sister, are a paramedic with the 118. When you're called to a fire, it quickly becomes a crime scene when someone opens fire on you. Your boyfriend Tim Bradford and your fire station family have to work together to save you.

Warnings: angst, fluff, injuries (r is shot), depiction of arson/shooting, lots of teasing. [While r is Evan's sister, I don't put anything specific in here past some teasing, so it could be viewed as adoptive or some other relationship dynamic!]

Word Count: 2.6k+ words

A/N: I've only seen a few episodes of 911 (season 1), so I hope my characterization of them isn't completely terrible. I really like this dynamic though; it's so fun and complex!!

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

“There’s no escape,” you whisper under your breath, desperately wishing for some relief.

“Oh, c’mon, we’re not that bad,” Buck replies, knocking his fist against your shoulder. “We’re better than the cop.”

“In every way!” Hen adds, smiling at you. “Why you started dating him is one of the two things I will never understand about you.”

“What’s the other?” you ask.

“How you-“ she turns to point to Buck as she continues, “and him are related. He can’t shut up and you can’t make eye contact.”

“I got all the good genes,” Buck explains, smiling.

“Yet none of the smarts,” Hen argues, pressing her lips together as she tilts her head.

“Or looks,” Nash calls from his place in the kitchen. “Now if you’re done bothering her, can someone set the table?”

You stand to help, and Nash points a spatula at you as he says, “Not you. You do it all the time. Make your brother do something for once.”

“She has no power over me!” Buck yells dramatically. “I have leverage. Like that time she-“

Chimney hits the back of his head, telling him to stop, as your chin drops to your chest. The alarm goes off before you can wonder which embarrassing story he was planning to use, and as you rush to the ambulance with Hen, you’re glad Chimney stopped him. Their attention was bad enough without him divulging your personal information.

✯✯✯✯✯

“This is a suspected arson, meets the MO of a few previous fires. We need that fire out before the police get here so they can get in,” Nash announces.

“Anyone inside?” Hen asks.

As Nash answers, someone screams in pain, and you look at Nash. He hesitates before nodding, and you grab your bag before running into the clear side of the duplex.

“Los Angeles Fire and Rescue,” you call. “Is anyone in here?”

“Yes! I need help!” a man yells from the back of the dwelling.

Rushing through, you radio to the rest of the 118 that you’re looking for an injured resident.

“We can’t get the fire under control,” Buck answers, his voice tight. “You need to get out of there.”

“I see him. Keep trying, Buck. Sir, are you injured?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he answers shakily. “I smelled the smoke and- and I have asthma, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, and I was scared to leave.”

“Okay, take a deep breath, sir. I’m a paramedic, so I’m going to get you out of here and then we’ll make sure your airways are clear. Do you understand?”

He nods but refuses when you gesture for him to stand.

“It’s on fire!” he argues.

“Sir, we have a clear track to the front door, but the fire will spread with the Santa Anas blowing outside, so we need to go now,” you explain.

Something crashes outside, and you pull the man to his feet.

“Get out of there! If I don’t see you in ten seconds, I’m coming in after you,” Buck radios.

“We’re coming, Buck,” you answer, pulling the man along.

More sirens become audible as you reach the door, the fire much closer to the front of the building. Several police cars approach, and you breathe a sigh of relief. The man stops, and you turn toward him quickly.

“Sir, we’re almost there,” you remind him, pointing to the ambulance.

“He’s still out here!”

“Who?” you ask, your voice quieting again as the adrenaline wears off.

“The man who set the fire!”

You freeze, a sudden cold rush contrasting the heat from the fire.

“Where is he?”

“I- I don’t know.”

A shot rings through the air, and you drop to the small porch, pulling the man behind the railing beside you. The fire is moving toward you, but with no idea of where that shot came from, you can’t move and risk your life and this man’s.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Everybody down!” Nash yells, ducking behind the truck.

“7-Adam-19, shots fired at my location. LAFD 118 and LAPD in need of backup, dispatch air support for possible sniper,” Tim calls, kneeling behind his shop before rushing to the fire truck.

“She’s still up there,” Buck calls, squatting behind the ambulance with Hen.

“Who?”

Buck and Nash look at each other and then Tim, and he immediately knows they’re talking about you.

“Backup is on the way, but we can’t do anything yet,” Tim explains.

“Bradford, the fire is spreading, we can’t stop it with this wind!” Nash adds.

“Or a sniper taking shots at us!” Buck yells. He drops his head to his radio to ask, “Sis, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s going on?”

“Bradford and Thorsen are here, they called for backup but we can’t do anything until-“

Another shot cuts him off, and you move back against the railing.

“Talk to me!” Buck yells into his receiver.

“I’m okay, Buck,” you reply quietly. “Our- uh- our guy passed out after working himself up, so…”

“He’s not our primary concern right now,” Buck responds.

“Careful,” you warn, your voice nearly inaudible.

“No, I happen to agree,” Nash adds to the conversation.

Tim pulls Chimney’s radio from his chest to say, “I do too. You take care of you, and we’ll worry about him when we can get up there.”

The radio stays quiet, and Tim looks around the end of the truck. He can’t see you, but knowing you’re out of sight and safe makes him feel better.

“Uh, Tim?” Aaron asks. “Eyes on our shooter.”

Tim turns quickly, looking up. He sees the end of the rifle, and when it lowers suddenly, he doesn’t think before yelling at you.

“Stay down!” he screams.

You drop lower, your face to the concrete as the shooter releases several rounds, making a line of bullet holes across the front of the duplex. The fire is moving slowly, but it’s still closing in on your hiding place.

The cold feeling hasn’t gone away, and as you look at the unconscious man at your side, you can only hope to make it out alive.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Where is your backup?” Buck asks Tim, leaning forward to look past Hen.

“Still a minute out. Aaron and I are going to go through that building, find a way to the roof,” Tim answers.

“Be careful. We all care about the woman stuck back there,” Nash reminds him.

Aaron and Tim nod before moving between the shop and the fire truck, rushing to the main entrance and entering quietly.

“Go left, I’ll go right,” Tim whispers.

As they move up the stairs, Tim hears their backup and the airship approaching. He hopes that the shooter doesn’t do anything stupid when he sees the police and gestures for Aaron to go faster.

“LAPD, put the weapon down!” an officer demands over the speaker of the airship.

“Thorsen, go!” Tim yells, kicking the door open to walk onto the roof.

The man turns the rifle up, shooting toward the helicopter before it moves. Aaron and Tim approach from different sides, and when the gun suddenly drops and the man begins emptying his ammunition toward you, Tim doesn’t hesitate to shoot.

“7-Adam-19, suspect is down,” Aaron radios. “Tim, go get her.”

Nodding, Tim stands, rushing down the stairs and out into the road. The fire has worsened, and the 118 is still in place.

Evan sees Tim and clenches his jaw, stepping toward Tim to yell, “This is your fault! It’s all on you!”

Tim’s brows furrow, looking to Nash for more information.

“She’s, uh- she’s not responding to the radio calls, and we can’t get up there until we get part of the fire out, enough to get through with our gear,” Nash explains.

“You should have brought enough backup to begin with or gone up there sooner!” Buck continues.

“You think I don’t know that?” Tim snaps. “But she was already stuck when I got here, so work on getting to her and getting her safe, and then you can get mad at me!”

“And if it’s too late?” Buck demands, his chest heaving in anger.

Tim looks away, and Buck moves forward quickly, causing Nash and Chimney to lunge forward and hold him back.

“I’ll kill you if we’re too late!”

“Buck!” Tim yells, walking to him. “I know this is my fault and if she doesn’t make it, her blood is on my hands. I’m sorry, I really am, but there is nothing I can do now except keep people back so you can get this fire out and find out if- and make sure she is okay.”

Buck relaxes slightly, pushing Chimney and Nash off of him.

“Let’s get her out!” Nash calls, directing everyone to their positions.

✯✯✯✯✯

The man beside you groans as you tug him further against the wall. You’re caged in against the fire, and you dropped your radio, watching it burn as you kept your head down.

When water sprays onto your face, a steady stream coming from the street, you force a smile, hoping to get out, get warm, and hug your brother and Tim for as long as you can before they make you shy away from them. You love them for it, you remember, reminding yourself to think happy thoughts.

“Where’s the ambulance?” the man slurs before coughing.

“Just a minute, sir, keep your head down and breathe.”

The fire is driven back by two hoses, and when several feet are clear on the side of the railing, people begin yelling.

“Sis! Can you hear me?” Buck asks loudly, appearing in his turnout gear a moment later.

“Get him to the ambulance,” you reply, standing shakily as he pulls the man over his shoulder.

You walk into the small yard, looking for Tim. The persistent cold feeling is just beginning to concern you, and when you grow dizzy and stop in the yard, you realize that something is wrong. Raising your hands to press against your stomach, you begin to run through a mental list of potential injuries.

“Hey, hey, gorgeous, c’mon, we got to get back,” Tim calls as he jogs to your side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, ducking away from his hands on your face.

“Good,” Tim replies, laying his hand on your upper back and directing you to the curb.

“You got lucky,” Buck grumbles, joining your other side across from Tim.

“We all did our jobs, Buck, she’s safe, just leave it,” Tim says lowly.

“No thanks to you!” Buck responds, stepping forward.

You recognize the look in his eyes, an anger he seems to reserve for you. Without thinking, you move a hand from your navel and push it against Buck’s chest to stop him. He and Tim look at your bloody hand before yelling your name as you tip back.

Buck catches you, lowering you onto the grass as he rips your shirt open.

“Hen!” he screams, a pained, guttural sound that draws the attention of the entire 118.

Hen sees you on the ground, unconscious between Buck and Tim, and rushes to you, her bag thrown over her shoulder.

“GSW,” she decides quickly, looking at your stomach, a mess of tattered fabric and blood. “Roll her over, carefully.”

Tim keeps his hands on your side, helping Buck tip you onto one side as Hen runs her hand down your spine.

“No exit wound, we need to go. Now.”

Leaning back, Tim gives Buck room to lift you, running to the ambulance as fast as possible.

“Are you coming?” he yells, raising his arms as he looks at Tim.

“Go!” Nash, Chimney, Aaron, and newly arrived Nolan yell.

Tim nods, rushing into the ambulance and sitting as it lurches into motion.

“I didn’t mean it,” Buck says, looking at you while he speaks to Tim. “It’s not your fault, but I can’t- I can’t lose her.”

“You won’t. We won’t,” Tim promises.

Hen works quickly, muttering under her breath about needing your help.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you open your eyes, you first notice the unmistakable feeling of someone looking at you and touching your side, a gentle touch as fingers drag up and down your skin.

“Is he okay?” you ask, blinking against the harsh light above you.

“The man from the duplex?” Buck asks. “Yeah, he’s fine. Had an asthma attack and then a few panic attacks, but he’s good. You- you got shot and didn’t tell anyone.”

Tipping your head down, you’re surprised he’s standing at the end of your bed. This means the fingers on your exposed side belong to…

“Tim,” you whisper, glancing at him.

“You scared us, baby,” he replies softly, spreading his warm hand over your skin.

He smiles when your muscles tense beneath him, but it quickly disappears when you groan in pain.

“I didn’t mean not to tell you,” you say quietly, pinching the blanket between your fingers. “I didn’t know I got shot.”

“That’s kinda- that’s pretty epic, really,” Buck says, laying his hand on your foot. “Makes a good party story.”

“I don’t go to parties,” you grumble.

“I mean for me,” he replies happily.

“Are you two fighting?” you ask, looking between them.

“No,” they answer together, both squeezing you reassuringly.

“We were scared and upset, didn’t have anywhere else to take it out,” Buck explains with a shrug. “He’s just lucky you stopped me from hitting him. I would’ve removed him from active duty for six weeks minimum.”

“You wish,” Tim scoffs.

“Stop,” you say, chuckling when they look shocked at your bold demand. “Please.”

“You were in surgery for a long time,” Tim tells you. “How’s your pain?”

“It’s fine, manageable. I mean, I can feel it now, but it’s not too bad.”

You glance down, your brows furrowing as you realize why you could feel Tim’s skin directly on yours.

“Wondering where your hospital gown is?” Tim asks, a smile you know all too well on his face. “I put in a special request.”

“Gross. That’s my sister,” Buck interjects. When you look at him with wide eyes, he sighs and fills you in: “They couldn’t get to your stomach well enough with one on. If you want to cover up, we’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, gently tugging the band of your sports bra down.

“More than okay,” Tim says, quiet enough that Buck can’t hear.

You look away quickly, and Buck makes a ‘tsk’ sound.

“The shooter is in custody,” Tim says, giving you a break from his ‘abuse.’

“Will I have to testify or anything?” you whisper.

“No,” Tim and Buck answer together.

Buck pulls his phone from his pocket, nodding before shaking your ankle, his hand still resting on you.

“I have to go, we’ve got a call, but when we’re done, everyone wants to come by,” he says.

You nod. “Be careful. I love you.”

“Love you, sis!”

Looking at Tim’s chest rather than his face, he takes the chance to tease you. “Maybe you should get a shirt before your team gets here.”

“Get out,” you mumble. “Or give me yours.”

“Whoa! You get shot once and become a whole new person.”

“Wasn’t worth it.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Tim replies, taking your hand. “And I’m sorry that I couldn’t do anything to keep it from happening.”

“’S not your fault.”

Turning your attention back to the blanket, Tim asks, “You get this shy with your patients?”

“No. But they’re not as pushy.”

“Hey,” Tim calls, using his hand to gently turn your chin toward him. “I love you. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I love you, too. Thanks for being here through all of it.”

“Try to get rid of me.”

“I do. You never listen.”

Tim laughs, loud and happy, and you smile, turning your face into his arm where it holds your hand, glad he’s at your side, and you have a whole team, a family, to be with you through everything.

#tim bradford x reader #shy!reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #evan buckley #the rookie #911 abc #team shy!#fem!reader #requests

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ohwaitimthewriter · 11 days

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The Memory Keeper

Chapter 1 : List.

Pairing : Noa x human reader

Warning : A bit of mourning. Otherwise, all clear for this one!

Summarize (please I'm so bad at writing these!): A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.

Words : 3.2k

A/N : It has been a long time since I've written something and it feels pretty good to get back at it with this story! I hope you'll like it and do not hesitate to share your thoughts or like/reblog, it's always appreciated! As English isn't my native language, I'm sorry if you find mistakes or weird wording in there, let me know if you find some and I'll be glad to correct them!

Enjoy your reading 😊

The Memory Keeper masterlist.

It wasn't going to be a difficult day. The list was ready, the tasks the same as the day before and the day after. You had to go to the river: catch a fish, fill the flasks with fresh water, bathe… You had to get on your horse and on the way back, stop at the 16th tree on the right, get off, walk 30 steps and fill the bag with blackberries. You had to avoid the brambles and avoid tripping over the prominent root. Get back on the horse and ride home.

Prepare the fish: remove the head and tail, the skin, gut it and remove the bones, light a fire to cook it. Yes, evolution had done many things, but it must have missed the episode where it was necessary to improve the human digestive system. So the fish still had to be cooked.

The garden had to be tended. Over the years, it had evolved too. It had been a long time in the making. A vegetable garden, tomatoes, green beans and, you couldn't quite remember how, artichokes had found their place too. An apple tree was easy to grow. It took time, but it was easy. And then there was this little gem you'd stumbled upon one day: a rosebush. It was an important one. You had to take care of it too.

You always had to do something.

Your hands knew what to do and how to do it. Your legs took you where you needed to go, and at that particular moment, they had led you to your horse. You had to remove his saddle and bridle, check his hooves and remove any stones that might have got stuck on them. Run your hand over his belly to loosen the skin compressed by the girth. And don't forget to give him a drink. When it came to eating, he found everything on his own, except perhaps an apple, which you gave him from time to time to thank him for his help. He knew how to ask, too. In fact, he huffed and gave you a nudge.

Okay, an apple.

He followed you to the apple tree and you climbed onto his back. You could reach the branches, but it was always difficult to keep your balance. Especially when your right hip wasn't working properly. And you sighed. It really wasn't convenient.

You had to go on with the list, what was next?

“ Hearing my voice at least once and speaking so I don't forget.”

This was important. You had to remember how to speak. The world had forgotten, but you must not. You had no right to forget.

“Say something new.”

And you looked around.

“It's cloudy today.”

Which meant rain wasn't far off. Your horse was now grazing beside you.

“You should take shelter.”

You smile, you'd said one more sentence today. Your horse's ears twitched as if to say “I do what I want” and you shrugged. After all, he was the one to decide. But you didn't want to get wet in the rain. You patted his neck and went off to find shelter in your wooden hut.

You've lived here for a long time. A very long time. So long that you no longer needed a torch to light up the big room when night fell or when the clouds darkened the place. You knew exactly where the shaky table was, the armchair with its deformed, hollowed-out seat and even the little plastic pot you kept forgetting to put back on the table to avoid getting your feet caught in it. And despite the years, you never tripped over it.

You were right to come home. You'd just had time to put the water flasks and the cooked fish on the table when a torrent of water hit the floor. The end of the list would have to wait. The timing was perfect, as your stomach signaled that it was time to fill up, and the smell of the wood-fired fish made your mouth water.

Settling back in your armchair, you ate the fish, watching the rain fall against the hut's only window. Eating with your hands was no longer as disturbing as it had been at first. There were a lot of memories that had slipped away over time, but you almost smiled when you thought back to the embarrassment you'd felt the first time you'd had to eat like that. If you'd known back then where you'd end up…

A sigh.

Drops tumbled against the window and some seemed to challenge themselves to get to the bottom first. They were following the path traced by others before them, but obviously not all roads were good ones to take. Some raindrops went straight down, others tried to cut off their opponents' path, and still others weaved in and out to create their own path. Then a raindrop caught your eye. It seemed the most likely to win the mad race. It glided and slalomed proudly until it landed delicately on your windowsill, blending in with its sisters who had landed there before it.

You turned your eyes to the last piece of fish, which you brought to your mouth.

You took one last look out the window, and that's when you caught sight of it.

A shadow.

A shadow had just moved past your window. The rain kept on pounding against it and you could see the trees in the distance stirring in the wind, and you were sure you saw the shadow moving, quickly to the right, but the shadow was gone. There were only raindrops, only the wind, and you could even hear the dull roar of an incipient thunderstorm.

A deep breath. You had to.

Then a sigh.

The rain and wind must have played a trick on you. If the storm picked up, you definitely wouldn't be able to finish your outdoor to-do list. But that didn't matter, there was still plenty to do inside.

First you had to tidy up. Keeping the interior clean and tidy was important, so you couldn't leave the water bottles on the table. You grabbed them and stepped over the little plastic pot that stood between the table and what you could call a kitchen. At least, that's what you would have called this part of the hut back in the day, because there was only a broken sink and a cupboard without a door. You passed the front door and it rattled against the latch in the wind. You had managed to install a branch across the door, allowing you to keep it closed in bad weather. However, as it didn't close very well, the wind always managed to rattle it between the branch and the latch. But you got used to the noise. So you walked past the shaky door to put the water bottles in the cupboard, and when you heard a suspicious rustling sound, you jumped, staring at the door.

You frowned at the unusual sound. You had been holding your breath, but the wind suddenly whistled through the doorframe, which was sorely lacking in hermetic seals. So you breathed out, taking a calmer breath. The wind. Mother Nature was definitely testing your nerves tonight.

Well, you still had to change your clothes. Night was coming on and you couldn't possibly sleep in your day clothes. You stepped over the little plastic pot again and made your way to the wooden chest beside the fireplace to find a t-shirt and a pair of jogging shorts with a hole in the left knee. Maybe one day you'd find a stray piece of fabric while walking through the forest, so you could mend it. But you hadn't yet got to the list asking you to explore the surrounding area.

There were 7 lists divided into 4 sections, themselves arranged in 12 categories. It was your way of keeping track of time. You no longer counted the days, let alone the years; you'd long since lost the very notion of time. But to grow crops, harvest the fruits of the forest and simply follow nature's millimetric events and be able to anticipate them, you needed a reference point. The lists, though mostly identical, were that reference point. Hanging on the wall with pieces of wood you'd carved yourself, they determined your days and the things you had to do.

You didn't really know when or how you'd started making these lists. But judging by the ink, half washed away by the years - some of the lists had even gone back to being blank - it must have been a long time ago.

You put the current day's list back in its place. Tomorrow, you'd have to complete it while carrying out the next one. But there was one more thing you needed to do indoors before settling into your armchair for the night. One last important thing.

From the chest, you took out a picture frame. The corners were worn, the wood had crumbled and you had to handle it carefully to avoid getting splinters in your hands. You set the frame down on the floor by the fireplace, knelt in front of it and reached into the jar on your right to pick a rose petal, which you placed carefully in the right-hand corner of the frame.

You struggled to swallow.

That's where it always got complicated.

Once again, you reached into the jar and pulled out 7 petals. You always needed 7 petals. You placed 6 of them in a circle on the dry twigs in the fireplace and began humming a song whose words you'd long since forgotten. But you remembered the feeling. You felt a lump in your throat, and you often wondered how you managed to keep the song going.

You hummed, and on the last petal, with the help of a needle, you delicately traced his initials. You had to be careful not to press too hard, you shouldn't pierce the petal, just brush against it enough to see, if you concentrated hard enough, the outline of the letter you were drawing. You also had to blink a few times to see clearly what you were doing. It was important to get it right. Once you'd written the letter on the petal, you laid it at the center of the circle.

It was always at this moment that your hands shook. You needed a moment. Just a bit of time.

You had to wipe your hands over your eyes, the most important thing was to handle the two flints on the floor with care. Your hands had to be steady, not shaking. You interrupted the song to get your breathing under control.

Inhale.

Breathe out.

Grab the flints.

Inhale.

Exhale.

A sharp stroke.

The clatter of the stone threw sparks onto the pile of twigs and a flame sprang up. You started humming again as the fire slowly consumed the wood until it reached the petals of the circle.

A tear.

The fire continued to progress and you stared desperately at the petal in the center, quickly ridding yourself of the tears that were blurring your vision. The flame touched the edge of the petal and you watched the letter “C” burn away and disappear into the ashes.

The flame faded as the twigs gradually disappeared and, once gone, you slipped the petal on the frame back into its jar.

Now you had to put the frame away. Your fingers brushed the edge of the picture inside of it. Despite the years, you had managed, by some miracle, to keep the photograph almost undamaged. At least, sufficiently intact that you could still distinguish the shape of an ape in the center of the picture, despite the cracks.

He was a force of nature. You had taken this photo on a December day, you still knew because you could still discern the white flakes clinging to his dark fur. Back then, you loved taking pictures.

What did they call you again?

The memory keeper.

Even after all this time, it still made you smile. You gently squeezed the frame between your fingers, keeping it balanced on the knees you'd just tucked in towards you. This way, he was a little closer to you.

You made an extra effort to remember the day. He was standing high enough to see everyone around him. He must have been talking about something important; he always had that powerful, soul-piercing stare when he was saying something important. But he always looked…

“Grumpy.”

You concluded your thought in a whisper that knotted your throat. Grumpy. You almost expected to hear him growl, his ego bruised, every time you reminded him that he was sometimes a little too grumpy. “Grumpy because a lot on my shoulders,” he'd snap back at you. “No, grumpy because you're old” you'd always reply, your eyes always playful. And you were the only one who could say such a thing, with the only result being an amused snore coming from him.

And you felt yourself take a deep breath. Of all the pictures you'd taken, this was the last one you had left. You had to put the frame back in the chest, so your fingers tightened even more around the wood. Your head tilted slightly forward, closing your eyes as the wood touched your forehead.

Tonight was difficult.

You took another deep breath, and before the knot in your throat hurt too much, you straightened up and went to put the frame in the chest.

“Caesar, tonight is really difficult,” you whispered, watching the shadow of the lid close over the frame.

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

It had been a restless night. When your eyes opened the next morning, they felt heavy and swollen, and you found yourself rubbing your eyes to try and make the heaviness go away.

Today, there was much to do. After changing from your night clothes to your day ones, you removed the branch blocking the door and let the sun shine in, warming your skin. The fresh early-morning air caressed your skin and you took a few seconds to smell the distinctive light scent that follows a thunderstorm.

No sooner had you taken a few steps forward than your feet bumped into something hard, causing you to lose your balance. In a fraction of a second, you found yourself on your butt on the ground, a stabbing pain in your right hip that had failed to move to stop you from falling.

“Ouch!” was the only thing that slipped out of your mouth.

You straightened up slightly, remaining seated in the grass, to see what had caused your fall and a pile of apples laid exactly under the wobbly small porch that covered your front door.

God, what a dummy not to have put that away last night. You thought to yourself, looking down at your hands full of dirt. You'd have to go to the river to clean it up, and now you'd just have to take your night clothes with you because you'd also have to wash the ones you were wearing-the mud from the storm must have dirtied your current clothes.

A pile of apples. You thought as you rubbed your hands together.

A pile of apples. You glanced at your right hip. Pfft, if you'd made Caesar break it to put it back in its place, you'd never have fallen today. In fact, you'd have avoided more than one fall.

All because of a misplaced pile of apples.

A pile of misplaced apples.

And like a light bulb switching on, your gaze suddenly fell on those apples that actually had nothing to do there. You hadn't gathered them the day before.

Then you heard it. A muffled purr came gently from behind you. Surely you should have turned around, stood up and dealt with it, but you'd found yourself rooted to the spot, eyes glued to those apples, waiting as an orangutan appeared in your field of vision.

And you refused to look at him, your hands balled into fists to keep them from shaking. You weren't afraid. No. But for some obscure reason, your brain had simply decided to freeze.

The orangutan once again let out a rumble, softer this time, and held out his hand to you.

“I'll help.”

His voice made you blink several times. You did your best to snap out of your stupor, but this time your eyes agreed to look at him, and the orangutan seemed delighted.

Just one more moment. It took another second, just one, to see your hand slip into his and before you knew it, you were back on your feet.

“Raka, we must go.”

The second voice surprised you a little. It sounded familiar and your eyes fell on a chimpanzee, a little further away, who had just finished saddling a horse. You frowned, your horse? You were trying to determine whether it was really yours, but the distance didn't allow you to be sure. There was only one way to find out.

So you whistled.

The horse shook its head and the chimpanzee didn't have time to grab the reins before your horse galloped off to meet you. They were going to take your horse… in exchange for a stack of apples?

You grabbed the reins and stroked the horse's neck as he snorted. He chewed the bit and blew heavily through his nostrils.

For a fraction of a second, you forgot about the two large apes who, from the sounds they were making, weren't particularly happy to have lost a chance of obtaining a second means of locomotion: in your peripheral vision, you could see another horse quietly grazing.

Your hands still knew what to do, and it didn't take you long to remove the bridle and bit from your horse's mouth.

“He doesn't like it.” you said simply.

And only silence answered you, so you showed the bridle to the two apes.

“The bit, he doesn't like it, he's not used to it.”

Your answer didn't seem to convince them. They stared at you, dumbstruck, and if you paid close enough attention, you could almost see their mouths hanging wide open. And that left you bewildered. What didn't they understand? You'd heard them talking, so that certainly wasn't the problem.

“You can't take my horse.” You went on, starting to remove the saddle.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that they were staring at you as if you'd just landed from the sky.

“If you want a horse, there's a wild herd to the south, past the river.” And you pointed in the right direction.

They remained silent as tombs, but the chimpanzee followed the direction you pointed with his eyes.

“Just be careful, the group's stallion isn't very friendly.” You thought it important to tell him.

Your gaze fell back on them and the orangutan, Raka, if you'd heard correctly, hadn't moved a muscle. The chimpanzee, on the other hand, was staring at you thoughtfully, as if he was trying to put together a puzzle with a missing piece. He then moved towards you inquisitively, perhaps, confused?

“Echo, speak?”

It was certainly the most surprising sentence you'd ever heard in your life.

#planet of the apes #kingdom of the planet of the apes #fanfiction #noa x human reader #noa x reader #pota #kotpota #oc/reader

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muchosbesitos · 9 months

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el arreglo part 2

pairing: arranged marriage miguel x fem reader

warnings: miguel being less of an ass than last part (still an ass), implied fingering, oral (f receiving), bit of angst 🧍🏻

author’s note: sorry it took me so long to get it out but i hope you all enjoy <33

word count: 4052

el arreglo pt 1

The next couple days had been spent in awkward silence and tension, until Miguel approached you while you were watching a episode of your favorite series. His hair was disheveled and he was wearing his workplace attire, making your heart skip just the tiniest bit. However, that all stopped as soon as he opened his mouth. "I'm sorry that i've been treating you so coldly. The day that i slept with you was a mistake, you were just another warm body to me," he started off but was interrupted by your bitter laughter. "Just another warm body? This apology's really going places," you muttered, placing the tv on pause as you turned to look at him. "The day that we slept together was because I saw my ex wife that day. She was out with some guy at a restaurant, a restaurant that i showed her. And I guess I just needed someone to help me forget," he added, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. You felt yourself growing angrier at this apology, if you could even call it that.

"So the first time you decided to sleep with your 'wife', it was solely because you needed something to forget? You're a real asshole, Miguel. I thought you were starting to like me or at the very least tolerate me," you responded, trying to keep your anger in check just so he wouldn't see how much it affected you. He was about to say something else but you decided to cut him off before he made you angrier, telling him, "I'm leaving. Give you some time to re-evaluate this marriage and find out if your business is truly worth all this. And please, by all means, invite as many warm bodies as you want." You got up from the couch after speaking and grabbed your suitcase from the closet.

You knew it probably wasn't the best idea to run away from Miguel the way you did, but you knew that if you stayed in the house, it wouldn't make much of a difference. As you brought your suitcase into your old apartment, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of disappointment and relief. You were glad that you'd been smart enough to keep your old apartment in case of an emergency like this one, but you felt disappointed at the fact that you even had to resort to this. You felt your mind clouded with thoughts about getting a divorce, but you quickly pushed them away as you unpacked your clothes from your suitcase. You wanted some kind of validation from your father, found yourself craving it to the point where you'd stick in this godawful marriage at least a little while longer.

The next couple days were spent and solitude and burying yourself in work, hoping that it would get your mind off how hopeless your marriage felt. One morning while you were getting ready for work, you realized that you'd left your favorite necklace back at the house so you decided to head back, knowing that Miguel was probably off at work already and you'd be able to avoid any awkward conversation. Despite that, you still found yourself sneaking into your room like a teenager, hoping that none of his staff would find you in the house.

You opened up your bedside drawer, grabbing the necklace and clasping it on, letting out a small sigh of relief at how well it seemed to be going so far. You jumped a bit when you heard some snoring coming behind you, grabbing the tv remote as a form to defend yourself before turning around to see a lump on your bed. You had gotten so caught up in getting the necklace and leaving as soon as possible that you hadn't realized Miguel was sleeping on your side of the bed, clutching one of your shirts tightly. You had recently worn that shirt, about a week ago, so your scent was still fresh. You felt some sort of hope blooming deep inside before pushing it down, suppressing the need to turn this into something more important than it was. However, you left a featherlight kiss on his cheek before leaving his house.

Even though you'd found Miguel in that vulnerable position, neither you or him made any effort into making amends or reaching out. That was, until Friday night when you got a call from him at midnight. You were waking up from your slumber, rubbing your eyes as you answered the phone, immediately hearing music blaring in the background. "Hello?" You mumbled groggily, slightly annoyed that he'd woken you up. "Heyyy! So Miguel got really drunk and he kept babbling about how much he missed you," a man spoke into the phone, slightly slurring his words. You recognized the voice as Peter Parker, one of Miguel’s best friends, (even if he'd never admit that) and the man your husband would rather talk to at galas instead of you. "I think you have the wrong number," you replied, feeling pretty sure that Miguel didn't like you enough to actually miss your presence. "No, no! You're his wife right? Anyways, I wanted to ask if you could come pick him up," Peter replied before hanging up abruptly, leaving you to think about what to do.

As you drove to the bar, you couldn't help but question why you were really doing this and why you were willing to help Miguel out despite all that he said. A part of you felt some hope after seeing him in your room and what Peter had said, but you still couldn't help but doubt his intentions given what he said after you two were intimate. You went inside the bar, shaking your head as you looked over to see Miguel singing karaoke with Peter. You felt like you were given an opportunity to see another part of Miguel, another intimate part, since you'd never seen him act this freely so you decided to sit down while he sang.

Miguel glanced over at you, a bright smile on his face as he walked over, like he didn't recall any of the horrible things he'd said. He placed his hands on either sides of the counter, holding up the string of your nightdress with one finger as a scowl formed on his face. "Why'd you come to the bar dressed like this?" He asked, keeping his tone even despite the look on his face. You rolled your eyes, feeling stupid for even having to explain yourself. "Peter woke me up and I didn't have time to change," you replied, watching as he covered you up with his body. "Nobody's supposed to see you like this except for me, mi dulce esposa," he whispered in your ear, his words slurring as he stumbled forward. "Okay, let's go home." (my sweet wife)

The drive home was mostly silent, apart from some remarks from Miguel about how slow you were driving. He cleared his throat, his cheeks wet with some tears as he turned to look at you. "I'm sorry for pushing you away. You deserve more of a man than me," he spoke, rubbing your thigh with his hand. You let out an exasperated sigh, tired of hearing men use that as an excuse for their shitty behavior. (whoops) "Look Miguel, I never asked for someone better. I just wanted you to be better," you replied, pushing his hand away as you kept your gaze on the road. Miguel’s stare on you lingered for a while before looking out the window as he let out a small sigh. "Y'know, the house feels so empty without you listening to Selena at ungodly hours in the shower or your laughter filling the atmosphere," he said, looking at you with so much longing in his eyes. You decided not to say anything, knowing Miguel would probably go back to being an asshole by the time the alcohol wore off.

"We're here," you spoke up again once you pulled up to the front of his house, looking over to see him sleeping facing you. So that's what you needed to do for him to sleep with you. You pushed the thoughts aside and turned off the engine, opening up the passenger door. You gently shook his shoulder, watching as his eyes flickered from you to his house. "I was hoping there was more traffic," he mumbled, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car. "You need help getting back to the house?" You asked, holding onto his arm to offer him some stability. "I'd like that," he mumbled, walking next to you as he fiddled with the keys to the front door. You two walked up the stairs in silence and you helped take Miguel’s shoes off when he laid down. You were about to leave when you heard Miguel clear his throat, only turning around out of curiosity. "Stay," he whispered before he fell asleep.

As much as you wanted to, you didn't trust that Miguel wouldn't go back to acting shitty in the morning so you decided to leave. As you drove back home, you couldn't help but think about Miguel’s words and if he was being genuine. Even if they were a drunken man's words, you still wished with your being that it would be true. As you lay in bed alone, your thoughts kept lingering back to Miguel and if your marriage could be saved.

A knock on your door woke you up the next morning and you rolled out of bed, rubbing your eyes as you opened the door. "Sorry for waking you up, tesoro. I wanted to bring you these flowers as a thank you for taking me home," Miguel said, extending the bouquet out to you with a smile on his face. "Sunflowers?" you asked, opening the door a bit so he'd come in as you went to put them in some flowers. "Yeah, I read somewhere that they're like a little sun panel so it kinda reminded me of you. I’ve been reaching for things that remind me of you because I miss you," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. After he noticed that you were silent, he decided to speak once more. "I'm sorry chiquita. I don't know how many times i need to say that but I am. I'm sorry that so fundamentally screwed up that I couldn't maintain our marriage." (treasure/little one)

You turned to look at him, a scowl similar to the one he wore on his face constantly showing on yours. "Look Miguel, all you've been doing is giving me excuses for your shitty behavior. And yes, you're screwed up but I don't see why I should be impacted by it. You haven't given me one apology," you spat out, rubbing your temples in annoyance. "And yes, you've been telling me how sorry you are but I don't trust you. I don't trust you not to wake up in the morning and not act cold towards me," you added, opening the door as you looked at him. "Chiquita, I'm sorry," he murmured, holding your hands in his. "There's only so much a sorry can do, Miguel. Just get out of my apartment and give me some time to think about it."

Truth was, you'd gotten tired of justifying Miguel’s shitty behavior after a while. Sure, you could admit that it would take him some time to trust again after he lost his ex wife and daughter around the same time, but he wasn't even trying. You could see it in his eyes, from yesterday at the bar and today, that he did long to have your presence again but you didn't feel capable of trusting him with your heart again.

After a while, you got an email announcing that you were invited to one of those extravagant galas. Despite the fact that didn't feel up for making small talk with entitled men, you still found a thrill in getting ready and feeling like a princess whenever you attended those galas. You found yourself quickly clicking the accept button and making plans to get a dress after your day at work, feeling excited about going out to one of those events despite the fact that people would talk about your failing marriage. You settled on a green dress that complimented your curves to perfection along with some gold heels and emerald jewelry.

You had fun getting ready for the party but your social energy quickly drained after a talk with one of your father's business associates, who kept rambling about the ship he was planning on taking out to the Bahamas. You sat down, taking a sip from your champagne glass before looking up to see Miguel sitting across from you. "What are you doing here all alone?" He asked, the scene mimicking that of your first encounter. "My father's too busy to acknowledge the fact he has a daughter and my husband's a huge dick," you replied, swirling the glass of champagne in your hand as you looked at him. "Sounds like he doesn't know how to appreciate you enough, hermosa." (beautiful)

Even if you were still pissed off at Miguel, it was still entertaining to play along with his story and pretend like you two weren't angry at each other at least for one evening. You two headed out the balcony, using the music as an excuse to head out alone. "So, did you manage to close the deal with the corporation in Italy?" You asked, leaning against the balcony as you looked over at Miguel. His eyes flickered with surprise as he leaned against the balcony, looking over at you too. "I didn't think you'd remember that. But yeah, I did. He's found that my company can give him the kind of attention that he needs," he replied, sipping on his champagne. "I'm glad you can give them the proper attention," you mumbled, taking a sip of your own glass. "You were right, hermosa. I’ve been self-critiquing but I haven't made any effort to change. I'm sorry that I treated you like shit and I'm sorry that i didn't give us too much of an effort," he said with a small sigh as he placed his cup down, stopping you before you started to speak. "I know I haven't been the best partner to you but I promise I'm going to do everything in my power to change that. And if you don't believe me, I’ll just prove it to you, chiquita," he added, holding your hands up to his face as he kissed them.

"Forget that you hate me just for an hour and dance with me, hm?" He asked, extending his hand out as he bowed his head slightly. "Always dancing with no music on," you teased, grabbing his hand as he started to sway you two on the balcony. You rested your head on the crook of his neck, letting yourself enjoy the proximity before you had to go back to the cold reality of being in your apartment alone tomorrow. "¿Qué piensas en esa cabecita hermosa?" He asked, his hand on the small of your back as he continued to dance with you. "Just how nice it is to pretend that we're not separated for once," you replied, your hands now wrapping around his neck as you looked at him. "Then let's stop pretending and let me show you, tesoro," he replied, looking at you with a serious expression on his face. (what are you thinking in that pretty little head?)

As you waited for the valet to bring Miguel’s car around, you couldn't help but feel a surge of hope swirling through you. "Why haven't you filed for divorce? We've been living apart for almost a month now," You asked, breaking the silence to get an answer for the question you so desperately had. You wanted to hear him say that he wanted to have you around, something that would've made the pain worth having. "I've grown to like your company, a lot. Which is rare for me, since I'm kind of an ass. And when I think about my life without you anymore, it feels incomplete. Like all the sunlight's gone from my life," he responded, holding your hand with his. "Very self-aware assessment," you responded, feeling your heart beating faster at the admission that he liked spending time with you.

Once you and Miguel settled into the car, the silence was no longer unbearable between the two of you, rather comforting instead. His fingertips gently stroked your thigh, his touch warming you up through the fabric of the dress. "Miguel, I don't know if I'm ready to sleep with you again," you spoke after a couple seconds of him touching your thigh so delicately, watching his expression for any signs of change. His face remained even as he spoke, his brows softening just the tiniest bit, "I know you're not ready. You're barely ready to start trusting me again. But I want to show you how much you mean to me, tesoro. I want this to be about you and not me." you felt your inner thighs growing wet with his admission, your slick coating your lace panties. "Then why don't you get a head start?" You asked, spreading your legs for him as you watched his eyes darken the slightest bit, the hand that was on your thigh now making way towards your pussy.

You arrived to Miguel’s place with flushed cheeks fifteen minutes later, looking over to see Miguel licking his fingers with no shame. "What a slut," you teased, letting out a small laugh as you saw a bit of drool coming from the side of his mouth. "It's not my fault you're so tasty, mi corazón," he replied, rolling his eyes playfully at the remark. He opened the car door for you, extending his hand out as you started to get out. You took it gratefully, letting him lead you into the place you once called home as well. You let go of his hand as you walked over to the living room, sitting down on one of his arm chairs with your legs spread open, the wet patch from earlier coating the front of your panties. (my love/heart)

"Get on your knees," you spoke after a couple moments, the power dynamic in the room completely changing after he did so. You weren't much of a dominant in the bedroom but something about bringing a 6'9 man to his knees for you made your pussy even wetter. "Now, crawl to me," you ordered, looking down at Miguel as he crawled over to where you were sitting. You placed a foot out, watching Miguel struggle a bit with how little the clasp was on your heels. He quickly slid them off, placing them down on the floor as he waited for your next order. "Show me just how much you've missed my presence."

Miguel began to kiss up your calves, the bulge in his pants becoming more prominent as he leaned in to really take you in. His tongue glided over the smooth skin perfectly, only stopping when he reached his thighs. He moved your dress up, exposing your lace panties to him. He settled in between your thighs, gently biting on the skin, Like he wanted to mark you up once more. "Just in case you get any ideas about leaving this house again," he mumbled, his fangs grazing the skin as he nibbled. His hands massaged on your thighs, rubbing small circles on them as his mouth focused on your inner thighs, kissing and nipping them. You felt yourself growing impatient at Miguel’s teasing, thrusting your pelvis towards his face as you let out a small whine. "I thought I said show me how much you missed me, huh?"

He let out a low chuckle but leaned in, pressing a kiss over your panties. His tongue darted out as he felt your scent completely overpower his brain, only working on autopilot to provide you with the pleasure he knew you desperately needed. Your hands tangled in his hair as he ate you out through your panties, letting out a soft mewl as he flicked his tongue over your clit. He only pulled away to remove your panties, his fingers hooking over the waistband as he pulled them down. He started to kiss up your legs again, but didn't linger on your thighs like he'd done so, instead his mouth instantly attached itself to your pussy. His eyes closed as he tugged on your folds gently, sucking on them to get the juices that leaked out from his past teasing. Your back arched as you felt his tongue go inside of you, your fingers tightly wound on his hair as you tugged. "That's it, take what you need," he whispered, letting out soft moans in your pussy as he felt you grind against his face. He had no objections to it, in fact, he loved being the one providing you with such intense pleasure right now.

Two of his fingers slipped inside you, moving in a scissoring motion as he tried to ease his way in. "Tan bueno que me apretas," he mumbled, his mouth closing around your clit, the vibrations going straight to your core as he spoke. Your mouth was parted in an 'o' shape, letting out broken pleas and mewls of his name as his fingers pushed deep inside of you. You gripped his hair tightly, letting out a moan at the groan he let out as you started to grind on his fingers, moving your hips up and down. His fingers curled as he found the spongy spot inside of you that had your toes curling and back arching. "Too much!" You moaned out, your legs twitching as you felt the familiar coil building up inside of you from the stimulation to your g-spot and your clit. You came with a loud moan of Miguel’s name, slumping against the couch as you watched him retract his fingers, licking them clean. He leaned in, starting to lick your release off and you started to grow overstimulated. "What are you doing?" You mumbled, coming down from your high. "Who said we're stopping here? I have a lot of making up to do." (you squeeze me so good)

You lost track of the amount of orgasms Miguel had given you just with his tongue or the concept of time when it ended as your legs shook. You tried to get up from the arm chair but Miguel quickly scooped you up in his arms, pushing your hair back from your face. "You did so good for me," he whispered, dipping his head down as he kissed your forehead. You watched as he walked up the stairs, showing no signs of struggle as he headed into his bedroom. He set you down on the bed, grabbing a spare set of clothes for you and himself. You looked at him change out of his formal attire, a frown forming on your face as you laid down on the bed. "Talk to me, what's wrong?" He asked once he looked over at you, sitting down next to you. "I'm just nervous to fall asleep is all. I’m scared that I'm gonna wake up and you're not gonna be there," you replied, remembering the sting you felt when he'd promised he would stay. He gently stroked your shoulder, placing a kiss on your cheek as his expression softened up just the tiniest bit. Something you quickly learned he reserved just for you. "I'll be here when you wake up."

You felt a sense of relief when you rolled over on the bed, seeing Miguel still asleep on the bed with one hand splayed on your stomach. You leaned in, placing a small kiss on his cheek as you let yourself enjoy the moment just for a little while. You looked at him as he opened his eyes, a lazy smile forming on his face. "Good morning," you whispered, feeling his hand forming small circles on your stomach. "I feel like you should know you will always be my favorite business arrangement."

@chshiresins @cheerrioeoz @buggaboorenegade @undertale-anomaly20 @bouquetoflove @nekojovichuu @francesca-the-1st

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blorbosinmyheadcentral · 1 month

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Hey Val!

So (if you've seen it) what do you think of episode 2?

Here's some thoughts!

GANGLE

When will Gangle know happiness...

KINGER

Kinger was adorable as always. I like how the others can rely on him when they're feeling emotionally vulnerable. That scene with Ragatha and her self-doubt, and how Kinger reassures her? I'm glad he has these moments of clarity. Old man even tries to help Pomni, even if he's bad at it. He's so well intentioned. <3

JAX

Jax is a terrible person. He was already very bad before, but somehow got worse. No care for his companions (Pomni and Gangle mostly), no care for the NPCs (he was very eager to see them die horribly). There's some indication Jax might have cared about Kaufmo, but overall, his attitude is so dissonant. It's hard to understand what's really going on inside his head.

RAGATHA

I like that Ragatha didn't hold any grudges over Pomni abandoning her in episode 1. Ragatha is just so sweet. Constantly worrying for Pomni's well being, being considerate enough to try to cheer up Jax of all people. She makes a huge difference in this group, like a glue that keeps everyone together.

GUMMIGOO

LOVED Gummigoo. Yeah I wasn't prepared for him. I didn't know what to expect of him (he looked like a serious bad guy type?), but what we got was so good. Loves his two gummy gator friends (wants to preserve their minds from the weight of self-awareness). His connection to Pomni, the way they could relate, it was all believable and palpable. Nice guy.

POMNI

Pomni herself was my favorite. Compassionate, empathetic, expressing her thoughts calmly and sincerely. Determined, inventive - trying to find ways to get herself and Gummigoo out of that place.

I think the fact that she spent most of these two episodes physically separated from everyone else was no coincidence. Pomni was disconnected from them. The dream sequence at the beginning? A reflection of her own doubts and fears. That she's nothing, or that no one in the circus would care if she was gone. So she, either intentionally or by happenstance, distanced herself.

I'm super happy that the episode ended on a hopeful note. Pomni found that her companions would care for her and remember her, and so it turned her views on her head. She's not alone. She has people that she can rely on.....

KAUFMO

(The Kaufmo funeral was very touching too, especially with Zooble organizing it. I've seen jokes that no one cared much that he died in episode 1, so seeing otherwise was pretty cool.)

FANDOM

I hold no ill will against Caine, and this is coming from someone who really really liked Gummygoo (literally screamed a big NOOO when he poofed). It's a little concerning how feral people are getting about Caine.

CAINE

Speaking of Caine, I need understanding between them, I need it SO bad. He keeps making these little decisions that impact the human characters. Especially Pomni. And he's not even aware of how much it hurts them, or that it's harmful at all!!

The way some of them are so dismissive (Zooble waiting for him to go away), annoyed, or only see Caine as a bot that fixes things when everything goes wrong... it makes me think they've tried to reason with him before, and it didn't work, so now they treat him like the machine he is to them.

As of now, Pomni understands him as much as everyone else does. She's frustrated, she's livid, and she has every reason to want to punch his teeth in. But after episode 2???? Considering how sympathetic Pomni was with Gummigoo, an NPC/AI himself???? I have a little hope that Pomni can actually get through to Caine in the future.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc spoilers #tadc caine #tadc pomni #showtime #caine x pomni #I mean. kinda.#sorry... they're always on the back of my mind when writing...#platonic showtime would be sick yo #Anonymous #rambles

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h0nkch0c0late · 8 months

Note

Oh my goodness finally someone who wants to write for Gen v 😛😛 I was wondering If you could write about a really clingy reader ? Like when they went to that party in the first ep, and the reader was just clinging onto Jordan

YES ABSOLUTELY OH MY GOD. Also, apologies if this is a little skewed I've only watched episode 1 like once so far and only remember a few things AAAA.

Clingy

Jordan Li x Reader

SUMMARY: you were never one for parties, and Jordan knew that well. When you agreed to go with her this time, though, she wasn't at all surprised when you clung to them the entire night.

WARNINGS: Gen V spoilers, swearing, major fluff, drugs

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

When it came to parties, you would rather stay in your dorm room and read a book. Which was ironic, since your partner and their friends did it on a nightly basis.

But when you had heard from Andre that he invited Marie Moreau (one of the newest freshmen to join Godolkin), you decided, "why not?" As it was a good chance to meet the girl.

So, when you found yourself in Jordan's room like usual, with her arm wrapped around your waist, body pulled close, you decided to drop what you thought was surprising news.

"I think I wanna go to tonight's party." You said, turning your head to look at them.

Jordan smirked, eyebrows furrowing together in curiosity, "oh really? Didn't take you as the party type."

You rolled your eyes, nudging her in playful annoyance as you yanked her arm off of your waist.

"Hey!" They wined, putting their arm back around but you didn't protest, only huffing at them to ensure that you were upset at their reaction (you weren't).

"I thought you'd be more surprised." You sighed, turning your body towards them as you looked down. She chuckled lightly, sitting up with you but keeping her arm around your waist.

"Why would i be surprised? You're practically attached to my hip like, all the time." She snickered.

"Yeah, but never at the parties." You shrug.

"That's because you hate people. And the whole drug thing." They pointed out with a small laugh.

"Okay, well, I'm still going."

"Good."

"Great!"

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

As you made your way to the top of the Seven tower, you made sure to stick to Jordan's side the entire time.

And of course, Cate, Andre, and Jordan went straight for the things that get you high as fuck, snorting it right up their nostrils.

And look, it's not that you didn't WANT to do that stuff with them, it's just that you couldn't.

Here comes the irony again with the fact that your parents pumped you full of a drug when you were a baby, but whatever.

As you clung to Jordan's side, with their arm wrapped tightly around your waist as they laughed along with their friends, you watched Luke as he made his way over to Marie.

She was a nice girl, as far as you could tell. The two of you had exchanged hi's and names, a bright smile on the girl's face the entire time. You would have talked with her more had she stayed with the group, but you understood.

Your head laid against your partner's shoulder as you sighed, knowing that this was only the beginning of the party.

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

...and you were correct!

Soon enough the six of you had entered a club, Cate taking one of her gloves off and using her powers of persuasion against the host guy that had asked for a reservation from them (to which they did not have).

Looking back at Marie as you gor dragged along by Jordan, you could see the amazement on her face at Cate's actions.

"Dont worry, you're gonna see that more often, and soon enough it won't be as impressive." You joked, saying it loud enough for Cate to hear through the crowd.

She turned around, her eyebrows furrowed, "Hey, I heard that!" She grinned.

You nodded, "you were supposed to, Cate." You chuckled, causing the rest of the group to erupt in a wave of chuckles as well as you were led to a table.

As you all sat down, Marie took notice of your clinginess with Jordan, "Is she always attached to you like that?" She asked them as Andre took out a small baggy of molly, Jordan immediately snatching it from his hands as he grinned.

Cate answered the question for Jordan, "yes, yes she is. She won't admit it but one second away from Jordan, and she is WORRIED. She's clingy because she has attachment issues." She smirked.

You rolled your eyes, "I do not have attachment issues, Cate. I just hate being without her for too long. It's called being clingy." You respond snarkily as you pressed closer to them.

Marie held in her laugh as she noticed the baggy, "is that cocaine?" She asked.

"We finished all the coke," Jordan began as he opened up the baggy, "this is molly."

"Hey, I don't really fuck with powders, but.." Luke pulls out a baggy from his pocket, waving it at Marie, "I do microdose shrooms."

"So, what do ya say, freshman?" Jordan smirks, their arm moving to their girlfriend's shoulder as Andre waves the baggy of molly at Marie.

Marie looks around at all of them, you seeming to be the only one other than her not interested in the drugs, "Uh...no thank you."

After some persuasion from Cate, and a little nod of reassurance from you, Marie took the jump and took some of the molly, the group cheering as she does.

"Cmon, let's dance!" Cate exclaims as she drags Marie off to the dance floor, leaving the other three at the table.

"See? I told you." Andre said, looking towards the couple beside him.

"Yeah, super nice." You smiled, picking up Jordan's drink and taking a sip from it.

You weren't much for alcohol, but you thought that tonight was special enough.

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

You and Jordan had split from the two boys for a bit, coming back from wherever you had gone and nodding at people that you passed by.

You clung to Jordan's arm, and just as the two of you passed the doorway back to the main room, Jordan felt comfortable enough to change.

"Oh, my girl's back~" you purred jokingly, "oh, how I missed you~"

Jordan rolled her eyes at you and laughed lightly, "you're so lucky I love you."

You smiled at them, "oh, boy do i know it."

As you joined the boys back at the table, you were now accompanied by two more trays of drinks (courtesy of you and Jordan).

"There she is." Luke greeted as the two sat down.

"You changed. Why?" Andre questioned.

"Because I fucking felt like it." Jordan responded as they felt you snuggle into their side, and you tuned out the rest of their conversation.

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

Eventually your group had split up, the drugs and alcohol finally taking into affect.

Luke was somewhere near the bathrooms, Cate and Marie were still enjoying themselves on the dance floor, and Andre had endulged himself with the flirting activity at the bar area.

Jordan had somehow convinced you to join her on the dance floor, the two of you absolutely not following the beat as you slow danced to the club songs.

Your enjoyment was ended when screams erupted from the bar area, and suddenly you found yourself getting dragged out of the club by Jordan, Luke, Andre, and Cate joining you both.

As you passed the bar area you had noticed the woman bleeding to death on the ground, and Marie standing there.

You tried to call her name, to get her to follow you and the rest of the group, but your calls were drowned out by the rest of the crowd.

Who knew the day you decided to be extra clingy would end up a very messy and bloody night.

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

RAAAGGEEEE THE FIRST DRAFT DIDNT SAVE ��😭😭😭😭😭😭

the ending is a little different and a bit quicker than I had planned and I am so sorry for that but I hope you enjoyed <33333

And yes I did in fact lie when I said I didn't have access to prime video I'm just a little stupid Ok.

#x reader #imagine #jordan li x reader #jordan li #the boys tv #gen v fanfiction #gen v #gen v spoilers

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genericpuff · 7 days

Note

hey gen p! i was reading a post of yours where you mentioned LO's age rating and briefly mentioned that minthe was verbally abusive during sex which surprised me bc i didnt really remember her being accused of doing so outside of the slap/havent come across any other accusation since, so i've been defending her against abuse allegations, maybe mistakenly, bc i stopped reading the comic at some point. is it too much to ask for some instances where she *was* abusive so i can correct my outlook?? thx! :3

oh so it's really just one scene and it's waaay back in Episode 8-

like i'm gonna assume this isn't a consensual kink play thing LOL but also like. I wanna make it clear also that people don't necessarily defend Minthe as not being abusive, many people who defend her are well aware that she's done abusive shit. They defend Minthe because 1.) she has a lot more potential for well-written character development than Hades and Persephone (as she's actually genuinely flawed as per the narrative vs. Hades and Persephone who are flawed but we're still expected to believe they're perfect, so unlike H x P Minthe actually has potential to do better and grow like characters should!) and 2.) a lot of Minthe's abuse towards Hades isn't necessarily justified but is a lot more understandable when you really analyze Hades and realize that he is, in fact, a piece of shit LOL

like don't get me wrong, I don't think Minthe was in the right by treating Hades like shit and escalating it to the slap, there are FAR better things she should have done... but I and many others defend her on the basis that she doesn't have the self-respect or resources necessary to look out for herself in a more productive way, much of which was facilitated by Hades trapping her in a financially abusive relationship. When you're worried not only about losing your partner, but also your house and your job with it, that's gonna turn into some unhealthy coping mechanisms and responses like physical and verbal abuse as we see in Minthe. She's someone who's not in control of her situation but is trying to maintain her control through unhealthy means.

Hades, on the flipside, has no excuse when he assaults people or acts like an asshole - he's just able to get away with it through the narrative, its characters, and the readers, because he's the rich and powerful main protagonist.

Minthe is an incredibly flawed person who was self-aware enough to understand what she was doing wasn't right but not equipped enough to do better. She's lower class (according to Rachel, all the nymphs are considered lower class compared to the gods) and was originally written as someone with untreated BPD, which Rachel later retconned (note: the episode where Minthe slaps Hades is literally called Splitting, which is a symptom of BPD, like it's not some assumption or misinterpretation, Rachel literally wrote BPD into the script and then tried to quietly backpedal on it later through Discord.) Hades is an incredibly flawed person who is self-aware of what he's doing, but doesn't see it as wrong and therefore doesn't see any reason to do better. But we're expected to root against the former as an irredeemable villain who can't do better and root for the latter who is an actual monster whose actions are justified and excused by the narrative and its creator.

So yeah, that's why a lot of us defend Minthe. She's not perfect, she's done abusive shit, but unlike Hades and Persephone, she has the capacity to grow and change for the better.

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

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animeismyhappyplace · 4 months

Text

The Devil's Salvation

Synopsis: Lucifer's heart is hurting due to the recent extermination. In an effort to help shift some of the pain Y/N, his assistant, attempts to distract him with her body.

Set around episode 1 of Hazbin Hotel.

Word Count: 5K (5,930)

Trigger warnings: 18+ only!!!

Boss/employee relationship, power imbalance, biting, marking, hickies, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, brief oral (m.recieving), sex on furniture, cowgirl, dick riding, possessive language, cursing, pet names (sweetheart, baby, sweets, dear), fluffy ending, some Dom/sub/switch undertones, descriptive sex scene, Lucifer is a total cutie, some very minimal angst directed at extermination day rather than the characters.

The sky in Hell is dark and bleeding red as another extermination comes to its gruesome end.

Lucifer is slumped over his desk with a sour expression on his face as he throws one of his rubber ducks across the room "another year, another fucking blood bath" he grumbles to himself as he hears footsteps coming to his invention room.

He hears a few knocks as a soft voice breaks the silence "it's over Lucifer, can I come in?" His assistant Y/N asks quietly.

Lucifer's red eyes light up as his mood perks up "of course dear! Come in, come in~" He leans back in his chair, letting loose a small yawn scrunching his nose as he does.

He glances at the rubber duck laying on the ground, and then back at the woman in front of him "what brings you to my office?.." His voice remains soothing as he finally looks at her properly for the first time that day, she's wearing a red dress shirt with a matching striped skirt pretty similar to what he is wearing ‘cute, very cute’ he can't help but think with a small smile. Her dog-like ears flat against her head as she bows to him.

"I wanted to check on you sir, I know extermination days are taxing on your health" she frowns as she takes in his appearance, his hat has been placed on his desk, his staff nowhere to be seen and his eyes have large bags under them.

Lucifer gives out a soft chuckle, before putting one hand to his temple "yes, yes thank you for your concern, my dear. You are right, these kinds of days can be exhausting to say the least"

He glances at her noticing her ears still firmly pinned to her head so he tries to offer a small smile but it doesn't seem to work very well, she can see right through him.

"It's reassuring to know that someone cares about me in this shit hole, you're truly the best assistant I could ask for”

A small blush settles on her cheeks and her ears perk up a little as she shakes her head dismissively "it's my job to worry about you sir" she chuckles softly almost under her breath.

"As per usual for this time of year I've cleared your schedule so you have no commitments for the rest of the day" she's smiling as she speaks but Lucifer notices her brow is furrowed ever so slightly.

Lucifer raises his eyebrow, taking notice of the sour look on her face.

“Your concern is appreciated, and I’m grateful to have you by my side"

He pushes himself forward in his rather large chair and sighs.

"It’s nice that you cleared my schedule for me... I need a rest”

His tone remains soft with a subtle hint of affection, but his attention is captured by your worried expression.

"What’s wrong?" He asks in a soft tone.

Her eyes slide off to the side focusing on one of the mountains of rubber ducks, she sighs as she collects her thoughts before looking back at his scarlett eyes.

"The head exterminator, Adam, has made contact sir and he wants to meet. Wouldn't tell me why though" her brow furrows again more deeply this time as anxiety sinks into her heart.

Lucifer frowns as he processes the information.

"Adam made contact?" He takes a moment to collect his thoughts.

"And... he didn't tell you why?" Lucifer's voice has a slight hint of suspicion, and his expression turns more serious as Y/N shakes her head solemnly

"No, he refused to answer my questions, just said "arrange the meeting bitch" and flew off with the others" her nose crinkles in disgust as she thinks back to the arsehole angel.

Lucifer grunts in frustration as he stands up from his chair.

"That man sure is arrogant... but this is rather suspicious” Lucifer strokes his chin, pondering this sudden event.

"I'll take care of it, no need for you to worry~" Lucifer offers a reassuring smile and a gentle pat to her head, although the frown on his face shows a hint of his frustration.

Y/N starts to speak but thinks better of it as she watches Lucifer pull out his phone while walking into the hallway.

He comes back a few minutes later and explains that his daughter Charlie will be taking charge of the meeting so she can pitch her hotel to the angels. Y/N nods in understanding as he speaks.

"I'm sure she'll do brilliantly sir" Y/N smiles and Lucifer can't help but smile back at the young assistant, and chuckles at her words.

"Charlie will do great," Lucifer agrees "She's certainly more than capable of handling the meeting"

As Lucifer talks, he starts to pace around the room, his gaze distant as he thinks to himself.

The young woman tilts her head to the side slightly as she watches her boss "what's on your mind sir?" She presses gently, taking note he seems more lost in thought than usual.

Lucifer's eyes trail back to his assistant.

"I'm just thinking, my dear. It's strange that the head exterminator would make contact as opposed to showing up at the doors" Lucifer's brow was still in a puzzled expression.

Without much detail he continues to speak, sounding more concerned "It's.. not a great sign.. something's wrong, I feel it in my bones..”

Y/N walks towards Lucifer and takes a hold of the cuff of his pearly white jacket gently.

"Please stop worrying sir, I'm sure Charlie will do fabulously at this meeting and you'll know soon enough what Adam's plans are. Please sit and rest"

She pleads as she gently guides him back to his chair. Lucifer's eyebrows raise at her sudden action, but his eyes warmth and comfort as she urges him to sit back down.

"You're right.. I'm just letting my depression get the better of me HA HA” he tries to fake a laugh but it's hopeless, and walks back to his chair, sitting down.

There is a long stretch of silence, but he gives her a charming smile, offering one last glimpse of comfort.

“Thank you, my dear”

"of course sir, let me get you something to drink"

She bows as she leaves his study to find something to calm his nerves

Lucifer leans back into his seat, the tension slowly receding as he waits for her to come back. He glances at the rubber duck still lying on the floor, and rolls his eyes with a small chuckle. Despite his efforts to stay calm, he couldn't help but feel a bit anxious about this whole predicament.

Y/N returns quickly with some tea "this should help soothe some of your worries sir" she smiles as she pours him a cup of the warm beverage. Lucifer nods, his smile growing as he sees the cup in her hands.

"Thank you, my dear. You know, you're very perceptive of my needs.. I'm quite lucky to have you as my assistant" he says as he takes the cup from you.

She smiles brightly while nodding "I should hope so Lucifer sir, I've been working for you pretty much since I arrived in Hell"

Y/N clears away some of the papers scattered across his desk, keeping them safely to the side so as to not potentially spill tea on them.

Lucifer chuckles as he takes small sips of the tea, his eyes taking in the details of her movements as she clears up his desk.

"Indeed you have, you've been the best assistant I could ask for.."

Lucifer's tone is much warmer now, and he takes a big sip before continuing.

"Although I suppose I've never asked, how long have you been here in Hell in total?”

"Only a few years now but I guess it's not so bad down here, especially since I get to work for you" she smiles as she holds the tray the tea was on to her chest waiting for him to finish up. Lucifer's cheeks heat up as smiles, taking a few more sips and finishing up the tea.

"Well... I suppose I can't argue with that, especially when you say it so sweetly" Lucifer chuckles, brushing his hand through his golden hair.

"It's good that you feel right at home here. I'll admit, Hell can be a bit... overwhelming when you first get here”

Y/N clears away his used cup and places it off to the side as she's cleaning up she notices him walking up to a large window, looking down at the carnage left behind by the angels with a deep frown set into his usually delicate features.

"Sir?" She asks softly as she sees his shoulders tense up.

Lucifer pauses at the window, taking in the destruction as the bodies litter the streets.

His mood seems to have shifted dramatically from his previous lightheartedness, as his expression becomes very serious.

He glances back at Y/N, taking notice of her concerned glances.

"Hm?..." Lucifer says, his tone sounding rather calm "oh, it's nothing. Just.. observing, is all.”

Y/N sighs sadly before joining him at the window to see what he's looking at and when she does, she understands.

She can see the devastation left behind, sinners dead bodies piling up, the streets ablaze as overlords fight for new unclaimed territories. She can see the weight it leaves on his heart.

"This was never what I wanted you know all those years ago" he sighs but doesn't look at her, even with his attention fixed outside she can see the hurt swirling in his usually shining eyes.

Y/N lifts her hand tentatively to Lucifer's back in an effort to comfort him, even if it's only for a moment.

Lucifer turns his focus from the carnage back to the younger woman, and is caught slightly off guard by her sudden and kind gesture.

Lucifer’s red eyes are full of sorrow as he looks back at her, the weight of his burden clearly settling on his soul.

As her hand rests upon his back, he finds himself calming down, almost as if just her touch was enough to soothe some of his suffering.

"you can't blame yourself sir, you couldn't have known what would happen" ears twitching as she frowns at his pained expression, rubbing slow circles against his back.

Lucifer sighs sharply, leaning his back against her hand as she calms him with soft circular motions.

"You're right, I couldn't.. but I still do..." Lucifer mutters, his voice sounding much softer now.

There is a brief moment of silence, where he appears to just absorb the comforting warmth coming from her touch.

"That's a lot of weight to carry... even for a king" her hand stills on his back for a moment as she pulls away moving back towards his desk away from the window.

"I have a feeling things are going to change, very soon sir. Thanks you and your family" Y/N smiles as she rests against the edge of his desk.

Lucifer’s eyes dart over to her as she steps back and leans on his desk, his smile returning slightly at her optimistic words.

"Yes, I have that feeling too...."

Lucifer mutters thoughtfully.

"But regardless of what comes, I hope that you will always be here by my side, helping me carry whatever weight the future holds..." Lucifer says, his voice sounding slightly solemn yet also reassuring.

"You're my king Lucifer, I will be here as long as you desire" as silence slips between them Y/N clears her throat before speaking again "I'd say you use a distraction right about now sir"

A sweet and genuine smile touches Lucifer's lips as he raises an eyebrow.

"A distraction?.." Lucifer's voice is

playful as the gears start turning in his head.

She hums sweetly as her fingers drum anxiously against Lucifer's desk her eyes on his carpeted flooring "well Lilith has been gone for years now, you've been alone all that time"

Her eyes flit up to look at him "you must have been so lonely sir, you should look into fixing that" she watches for any changes to his body language with a barely hidden smirk.

Lucifer takes a moment to digest her words letting out a quiet chuckle, the corner of his lip twitching upwards.

"You're being rather bold my dear..."

Lucifer smiles softly while shaking his head with his eyebrows raised and a blush spreads across his pale cheeks

"Ah.. well.. I've not been entirely alone now, have I?..." His tone is playful, but she can feel the flirtatious nature behind them.

She bites her lip while smiling "you're right Lucifer, I've been right here"

She bats her eyelashes at him acting as sweetly as she can whilst pushing herself just off the edge of his large desk "and I'll always be right by your side sir"

As she bats her eyelashes at him he chuckles, a blush deepening his cheeks slightly.

There's a brief pause as his eyes scan over her body, taking notice of the cute way she's leaning on his desk. He speaks coyly back at her.

"Is that so?"

"Tell me dear, if I... needed someone to lean against.. would you be ready?”

Y/N leans forward to grasp his hand gently so he could pull away at any time "haven't I already shown I'm ready to stay by your side?"

She looks into his eyes as she tugs on his hand prompting him to come closer "I know how much Lilith leaving hurt you but I wouldn't do that ever"

Lucifer's heart skips a beat as he watches her take his hand, tugging him inches closer.

It takes him a moment, but Lucifer gently pulls her closer, until she is right in front of him, their bodies almost touching.

His breath catches as his eyes stare back at her doe like expression, he can't quite believe how cute she looks right now, her nose almost touching his own. Lucifer pauses, and glances down at her lips. His eyes flicker from her lips, and back to her eyes.

"You really won't, will you..?" Lucifer mutters quietly, sounding a bit breathless.

"The sweetest sinner in all of Hell" he almost whispers with a smile as his hands cup her face, his thumbs rubbing little circles against her cheeks

His tenderness shocks her though it really shouldn't for how long she's known him and she closes her eyes for a moment, enjoying their closeness and his tender touches

Her hands sneak up to his red striped dress shirt, pulling him ever closer bridging the gap between their bodies. Her lips stop just short of his own, so close she can feel the warmth of his breath.

She looks into his eyes and waits for him to decide if he really wants this, wants her.

Lucifer's heart almost stops as she pulls him close, his mind spinning rapidly making him dizzy as he realises how long it's been since he's felt affection like this. His eyes fixate on her cherry red lips, watching as she gets so close he can feel her body heat. He hesitates for a moment as he worries what will happen if things go wrong but he leans forward needing to take this risk.

Lucifer closes his eyes and presses his lips to hers. He kisses her so tenderly as though she'll break the second he lets go, and his hands grip her body tightly, pulling her even closer.

Y/N's hands grip Lucifer's waist as his hands move to pull her face closer, deepening their kiss.

Her chest is heaving slightly as he kisses her with more passion than she's ever felt, leaving her breathless.

Her cheeks are a deep shade of pink when Lucifer finally pulls away, she giggles as he bites his lip red irises watching her intently

Lucifer's breath is still staggered as he pulls away from her lips, red-faced and blushing. He pulls himself away from her, as a light-hearted grin spreads across his cheeks.

His eyes glance down to her lips, and his brows raise.

"It seems my assistant has gotten a bit too familiar with me~..." Lucifer teases with a playful smirk.

She gasps pushing at his chest playfully while giggling at his teasing words "who in Hell could blame me when my boss looks like this"

She bites her lip as she intertwines their fingers pulling him towards the lavish chair seated behind his desk, she gestures for him to sit as her hungry eyes rake down his form.

Lucifer chuckles as he allows her to pull him towards the chair. As he sits down comfortably, he notices the way she's looking at him and he smiles, his golden eyebrows raising up in a flirtatious manner. He gives her a playful wink.

"You're a real handful, my dear.. I hope you know that?”

She smirks as she climbs into his lap, licking her lips as he lets out a surprised grunt "oh I'm counting on it sir"

A sly smile forms on Lucifer's face as he glances up at her.

He lets out a little laugh, amused at her boldness. His hands trail softly up and down her sides, his fingers tracing little circles against her skin as he bites his lip muttering with a grin "fuck sweetheart you're going to be the death of me”

Y/N shifts slightly once in his lap, wiggling her hips as she gets comfortable, looping her hands around his neck as she steals his lips in another kiss.

Her tongue licks over his bottom lip as he hungrily accepts her affections.

Lucifer's body immediately responds to her touch, his entire frame heating up as she kisses and nibbles softly at his lip.

His fingers tighten around her hips, pulling her closer, and his other hand trails her body from her hips all the way to her neck.

Lucifer pulls back ever so slightly, his breath staggered, feeling as if he might melt from the heat rising between them.

"You're lucky I don't get visitors often sweetheart, who knows what vicious rumors would be spread if you were caught in my lap" Lucifer mumbles in between kisses.

Y/N's kisses trail across Lucifers lips to his rosy cheeks then down to his jaw as she starts nibbling at the delicate flesh "I'm sure you'd find a way to silence them"

Hearing Lucifer's sinful groans, her hips start to gently rock back and forth as her tongue laps at his neck, sucking harshly in the places that make his groans deepen.

Lucifer's breath catches in his throat as his back arches slightly with every gentle kiss. Just the feel of her breathing heavily against his neck drives him crazy, the heat rushing through his body and spreading like a fever.

He bites his lip to prevent himself from letting out any more noises, his head lolling back slightly as she sucks on his neck. A breathy groan escapes him without notice, as his breathing grows more rapid, his cheeks redder.

"f-fuck I need..." He whines as his hands fly out to grip steady onto her hips, grinding the growing tent in his pants up against her.

Her skirt starts to ride up as his body jolts from the stimulation, her breaths leaving her throat in hiccups as she feels him poking at her inner thighs.

"L-Luci~" she moans breathlessly, her hips stuttering as he rubs against her clothed core.

Lucifer's jaw muscles tighten as he grips her body tighter, almost going mad listening to her sweet sounds.

Her voice sounds like a soothing melody to his ears, and he can't hold himself back any longer. He begins to kiss her throat, and even licks the skin between her neck and shoulder biting softly.

Y/N whines as he teases her body, lolling her head back to give him more space to mark her neck and shoulder.

Lucifer pulls back once he's satisfied with his work eyeing the claim he's laid on her body. Her breath catches in her throat as he lifts her from his lap onto his desk.

"My dear, I dare say you've never looked more divine than you do right now" he bites his lip as she's laid out before him, her chest heaving and her legs spread as he slots himself between her thighs.

Y/N runs her fingertips along the edge of her skirt before she starts to slowly and teasingly tug it upwards revealing more of her body to her king.

Lucifer watches her slowly and teasingly tug your skirt up with interest. His eyes trailing up her body, taking in every inch of her skin as she reveals more of herself to his greedy eyes.

A breathy groan escapes him at the sight as he grips the meat of her thighs tightly. Spreading her legs out as he licks his lips at the damp patch on her underwear a low whimper escapes his throat "you'll surely drive me mad, sweetheart"

He utters softly, as a blush spreads across his cheeks. His tongue slipped out to wet his lips. Her cheeks heat up at his sultry words making her whine in embarrassment and hunger "Luci please"

Her hands reach out to grasp at this forearms, gripping tightly as she tries to wiggle her hips looking for some attention to be paid to her heated skin.

Lucifer's mouth twitches at the pure desperation in her eyes, his hands trailing up and down her legs before moving back to the top of her thighs to her thighs. He gives them both a quick squeeze, drawing her attention back towards him.

His soft whispers carry a hint of playful teasing.

"Pretty desperate for my attention huh?" Lucifer asks in a low voice as his red eyes watch her reactions carefully.

She nods helplessly as her eyes fog up with unshed tears, his teasing touches pure torture as his fingers leave heat and desire everywhere they touch.

"N-need you to do something, anything... Please baby" she pleads as her arms reach up above her head to grasp at the edge of his desk.

Lucifer bites his lip, and he can't help just how much her words excite him... her hunger is so apparent, so raw, and the way she begs for what she wants does nothing to help the problem in his pants.

He leans in closer, his eyes darting to her neck and jaw before he quickly dips his head down, his mouth placing a short peck of a kiss just above her collarbone.

His kisses continue down her body until he reaches the band of her panties. He gives her one firm look, as if to say ‘tell me know if you need to stop’, but she shakes her head and lifts her hips, wiggling them teasingly making him smirk.

"Who knew my soft spoken assistant would be so greedy?" he mutters with a smile as his thumb pushes into the wet spot on her panties making her gasp at the sudden stimulation. Enjoying her reaction he moves his thumb up slightly to rub against her clothed clit, grinning widely when her thighs tremble.

"This is what you wanted right sweetheart? wanted my fingers to play with your cute little pussy?"

Her head nods aggressively as she bites down on her tongue to stifle the wanton moans waiting to escape.

She can't help but rock her hips forward against his hand wanting more, needing more as her skin feels like it's been set alight with passion and desire.

Lucifer chuckles softly as he watches her squirm under his touch, licking his lips as he feels her slick coat his thumb.

"Ah ah ah, you need to use your big girl words if you want something from me" he grins wickedly.

"Need your fingers Luci" she pouts cutely when he raises his eyebrow at her.

A smirk spreads across his pink cheeks as he pulls her panties down her legs and throws them off to the side, sucking in a breath as he admires her naked body, wetness and need shining across her skin "Yeah? where do you need me hmm?"

A stray tear streaks down her cheeks as she whines "n-need your fingers in my pussy, fuck please Luci! I-I need-"

Lucifer grins wickedly as he watches her squirm under his gaze, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the tip of her nose then to her cheek and he even places a soft kiss on her fluffy ears before straightening back up. He smirks at her desperation, sliding his fingers into her dripping pussy and grinning widely as she lets out a shaky moan.

Y/N's head lolls back and her eyes roll as she finally gets the stimulation she needed, whines tumbling out of her strained throat as her hands turn white from her gripping so hard at his desk "f-fuckk..."

Lucifer watches her closely, his fingers curling inside her wet heat, relishing in the way she squirms and begs for more.

He leans down once more, his lips brushing against her neck as he murmurs, "Talk to me sweetheart... Tell me how good I make you feel?"

His fingers curl upwards his thumb swipes across her clit making her almost cry as the pleasure wrecks through her shaking body.

Her thighs shake as sweat starts to pool against her forehead, her hips bucking wildly at the onslaught of pleasure Lucifer is giving her "I- you- fuuck so fucking good, love your t-thick fingers Luci”

Lucifer chuckles softly, pleased by her response as he starts to move his fingers in and out of her wet pussy faster, his thumb continuing to tease her clit with feather-light touches.

He can't help but lean down to place another kiss on her collarbone. His teeth graze along the soft skin, eliciting a shiver from his lover.

Y/N's sweet moans and the wet squelches of her abused pussy fill the quiet room, a strangled cry leaves her chapped lips as his fingers bump a spongy spot in her tight walls, he almost stops his movements as the realisation hits making him chuckle "Theree it is, that's the spot yeah sweetheart?"

She rocks her hips in time with the thrusts of his fingers as her moans pitch up in volume, she can't help but babble as the pleasure builds "there.... fuck d-don stop" another desperate whine "gonna cum... fuck! fuck! FUCK!”

Lucifer smirks as he watches her lose control, her body arching off the desk in search of more pleasure. His fingers curled deeper inside her, finding that spot again and again as he relished in the power he held over her.

Her eyes roll back as her walls clamp down on his fingers, his thumb rubbing tight circles over her throbbing clit until her high slowly ends.

Her breathing is erratic as her high tingles over her limbs before slowly ebbing away leaving her body limp, when her eyes can fully focus she sees Lucifer slurping up the wetness coating his fingers.

The sight alone is so sinful it sends fresh waves of need flooding through her veins as her hands reach out for him.

Lucifer grins mischievously, watching her every move. He licks his fingers clean with a soft moan, savoring the taste of her on his tongue.

"You're irresistible," he murmurs, his voice rough with need.

She gently guides Lucifer down to sit in the plush chair "your turn baby~"

Y/N licks her lips as she sinks to her knees before him, running her hands over his strong thighs. Slowly moving her way up until her fingers hit his pristine white belt, she discards it off to the side of the room as she works on pulling down his suit pants, smiling sinfully as she notices the wet spot soaking through his boxers.

Lucifer groans softly as he feels her hands on him, his cock twitching in anticipation. He watches her with hooded eyes, a mix of desire and possession in their depths. Her thumb rubs over the wet spot making his hips jump at the sudden pleasure.

"You like making me cum on your fingers this much Luci?" she grins as she flicks her tongue over the wetness moaning softly at the first taste of his pre.

"I love seeing you so submissive, it drives me wild," he answers, his voice deep and husky. He watches her hungrily, his eyes locked on the sight of her teasing his cock “and those cute little moans you let out? Truly sinful baby”

She hums to herself as she pulls the suffocating materiel down his legs joining the growing pile on the floor, her eyes widening as she takes in the size of his cock for the first time mumbling more to herself than to him "such a pretty cock”

His eyes squeeze shut tightly as her delicate fingers reach out to explore his body, her pink tongue licks up the length of his cock so suddenly it makes Lucifer suck in a breath as he groans "definitely going to be the death of me sweetheart... f-fuck~"

His cute reaction makes her smile and raises her confidence. This time she flattens her tongue, rolling it over his slit taking the time to lick up all the precum drooling over his cock head, moaning as it coats her tongue and bottom lip.

Lucifer's breath hitches at the sensation, his hips jerking forward almost involuntarily. He bites his lip, trying to keep control as she lavishes him with her attention "such a good fucking girl f'me"

His soft grunts and groans raise in volume as she starts to suck on his swollen heads, flicking her tongue over his slit as her hands pump his length "f-feels too good baby... You gotta stop or I'll cum too quick, wanna cum in your pretty little pussy"

She giggles but concedes giving him one last long lick up the length of his cock following the thick veins she finds before she allows him to lift her onto his lap.

Once settled she gives him a deep passionate kiss tasting herself on his tongue as his hand dips between their bodies to line himself up, rubbing his cock over her clit once then twice before finally sinking into her tight pussy.

Lucifer's hands grasp her hips tightly as he feels himself sinking into her wet heat, his fingers digging into her soft skin. He groans deeply into their kiss, his tongue dancing with hers to muffle their sounds of pleasure.

He holds her hips tightly in place as he fills her up fully "y'gotta stay still for me sweets or I'll finish right now 'kay?"

She nods as she sucks his bottom lip into her mouth, nibbling on it as she adjusts to his massive size.

Her body shakes as his thumb rubs on her swollen clit making broken moans slip from her throat as he suddenly thrusts his hips upwards making them both groan " 'kay you can move now, you gonna ride me pretty girl?"

Her arms loop around his neck as she starts to slowly lift up then sinking back down so he's filling her to the hilt. After a few slow movements her desperation increases, finding a place to steady both of her feet she starts to bounce on his cock, the angle making his head hit her sweet spot with every thrust.

Sweat starts to coat both of their half naked bodies, pain starting to set into her limbs but the pleasure he's giving her is too good for her to break, her head falls back and his hands grip her waist tight helping her to rock up and down at a steady rhythm.

Lucifer's hands tighten on her waist, one sliding down to the small of her back while the other grips the flesh above her ass cheek as she rides him.

He groans deeply, watching as his cock sinks into her tight walls with every movement and rocking his hips in time with hers "love this tight little pussy~ could have been fucking you like this for years if I'd known how well you take me sweetheart"

Y/N preens at his praise, doubting her efforts. Her throat constricts with every moan but if feels so good she couldn't care less "need you to keep fucking me Luci, love your cock sooo much feels too good”

Lucifer's eyes glow a dark red with lust as he looks up at her, one of his hands sliding up to grab her breasts, pinching and rolling the nipples between his fingers the other dripping lower to play with her clit, drilling his hips up into her dripping pussy "I'm not stopping until you cum on my cock sweetheart~”

The pleasure he's giving her is too much for her spent body, her thighs start to shake as the coil tightening in her stomach threatens to snap "yes yes yes Luci baby shit!~ m'close so fucking close" her walls start to calm down on his cock.

"Fuck" he grunts, his thrusts becoming jerkier and harder as he feels her start to tighten around him "Come on sweetheart, let go~ need to feel you cum on my cock~"

He gives her two more powerful thrusts, mumbling words of encouragement in her ear nibbling on her earlobe.

"that's it pretty~ look how your walls are clamping down on me, I'm fucking you so good your body won't let me pull out"

Gasps fall from her lips like the most unholy prayers as her body stills the pleasure flooding wildly through her veins, shaky moans tumbling from her lips as she cries his name over and over until she can barely speak any longer.

Lucifer's thrusts match hers, pounding into her as he feels her walls start to spasm around him. He groans deeply, his own pleasure starting to build as he watches her cum hard on his cock.

He can't help but whine loudly as her orgasm triggers his own, his body shaking as he dumps his load into her quivering walls crying her name as he holds her tight to his body.

Lucifer places soft kisses on each spot of her skin he can reach as she comes down from the high, she returns his affections leaving purple and red blotches down his neck and the along his jaw wanting to show all of Hell her handy work, possessiveness shining in her eyes as she watches his blissed out face.

Lucifer smiles softly at her, his eyes filled with pure adoration. He nuzzles against her neck, leaving a trail of kisses down to her collarbone.

He hums lowly in his throat, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin as he leans in to nip at her neck gently.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs, slowly pulling out of her body and readjusting so they're more comfortable.

"You're truly mine, aren't you sweetheart?" He whispers, his voice husky with tiredness.

Her fingers reach upt o cup his face gently as she looks into his eyes "for as long as you'll have me, sir" she winks cheekily at him placing kisses along his jaw hiding her heated cheeks.

Lucifer chuckles softly, his fingers trailing down her sides to soothe her sensitive skin.

"That's my girl," he breathes out before leaning in to capture her lips in a slow deep kiss, lifting her body into his arms to carry her to his bedroom.

Beautiful banner by: @/saradika

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thelastofhyde · 1 month

Text

you cut your hair, and take some space (2)

pairing. narcos!javier peña x fem!reader

synopsis. an anthology of events that precede and procede the termination of you and your father's best friend's sexual relationship. this is part 2 of 3! (part 1)

warnings. no use of y/n! all spanish text is followed by immediate translation ( please note that i am fluent in castilian spanish, therefore some words/phrases may differ from that of other hispanic countries ), age gap , student!reader, dbf!javi, post-s3!javi, policeofficer!javi bc i said so, break up au, mutual pining, forbidden lovers kind of vibes, reader has a healthy relationship with her parents, violence, nondescript depictions of sa ( not javi ), pedro-ception aka there's a small cameo of another pedro boy, vomiting, mentions of pregnancy, reader is described to have hair and celebrates christmas ( but no mention of the reader's religious beliefs )! smut ( creampie, breeding kink through the roof, domesticity kink?? javi just wants to love and be loved and start a family, dacryphilia, indecent use of a credit card, spanking, dirty talk, prostitution kink?? i feel like i'm making these up at this point, + a hell of a lot more ) this fic is based on bsc by maisie peters except this has a happy ending bc im a sucker for mr. peña :( not all warnings listed here appear in this part, these are warnings for the fic as a whole !

word count. 14.3k

hyde’s input. hey... hey... how y'all doin'?🧍remember when i said part 2 would be posted a few weeks after part 1? yeah, that was a fucking lie. and, remember when i said it would be 2 parts in total? that was also a lie! the universe is praying on my downfall ( i had a fun mental health episode and fell into a black hole for a few months <3 ) unfortunately, i am very much still alive and kicking, so this is me trying to get the ball rolling again when it comes to posting fics. as the fic has surpassed 40k words, meaning it would likely crash the tumblr site for anyone trying to read it + tumblr will not allow me to post it as a whole due to it's paragaph-count limit, i've decided to post it in three parts. the fic will be posted in full on ao3 once all three parts are available on tumblr!

if you see any typos, no you didn't 🫣

“...wouldn’t have to be serious,” he’s speaking, finishing off a sentence you don’t quite catch the start of. “huh?” “this. us. it could be casual, y’know?”

Golden boy, you dropped the ball I am Annie fucking Hall

The year moves too fast.

It’s like you blink, and suddenly it’s Thanksgiving.

Leaves turn brown. Pumpkins are carved only to rot upon front porches. A gathering of friends, young adults getting their first taste at hosting a thanksgiving meal.

You’re put on dessert duty, which culminates in stressful tears and your mother’s hand rubbing soothing circles into your back, reassuring you that it’s okay, everyone burns their first pie.

No one at the party needs to know the pumpkin pie you brought was a product of your mother’s gentle care.

Then there is actual Thanksgiving, which you celebrate, as always, at your aunt's.

The highlight is, and forever has been, the road-trip out of state, your father making it his mission to deafen you and your mother with his horrific singing.

As they drop you back at your apartment, your father has no qualms leaning out the car window and calling after you.

“I expect to see you cheering me on at the Thanksgiving Touchdown event!”

Which brings you here, to said event, sweater sleeves tugged over cold fingers and a wandering pair of eyes who refuse to comply with your wants.

You want to focus on the ongoing football match- Fire Department vs Police.

Your eyes prefer to follow him, striding up the field, his hair soaked in sweat and his t-shirt long removed.

You’ve no valid reason to roll your eyes at the other women who seem to prefer spectating the sport of Javier Peña. You’re no better than them.

Yet, as one of them let’s out a joyous shriek as he takes a pass at the ball, your eyes roll.

"He’s a show-off, that boy.”

At least you have company. An older gentleman, who you caught struggling to pick his wallet up from the floor. He’d smiled as you returned it, and conversation had flowed easily from there.

As the whistle blew, commencing the final match of the local community services’ football league- or, Thanksgiving Touchdown, as your father so aptly named it-, he’d patted the empty seat next to him.

“Hmm?”

He points, and you follow the direction, realising he’s speaking about Javi.

“Him,” he says it with a teasing tone to his voice. It’s like he’s mocking the agent. “Think’s he’s God’s gift, takin’ his top off like that.”

The more you sit with the older gentleman, the more you enjoy his company.

On the field, your dad bellows something at Javi. He replies with a curt salute, and shoots off down the length of it.

He’s fast, agile, stealthy.

A force to be reckoned with, keeping pace with rookies half his age.

The vision of him, gun strapped to his leg and a tact vest on his chest, speeding down streets in the columbian heat conjures in your mind.

You wonder how it felt to know him then, if worry kept his companions awake.

It had certainly kept you awake in recent months, and that was with him safe, in Laredo, cooped up in some bachelor pad.

“Surprised he’s not thrown his top to the crowd of screaming ladies!” The gentleman continues his mocking, and it rouses laughter out of both of you.

A whistle is blown, your eyes return to the field and, though he’s quick to look away, you catch the tail end of Javier’s eyes on you.

Fifteen minutes pass, in which you do your best to not stare at him.

You’ve made worse attempts in the past.

Eventually, the man next to you coaxes you into getting him a lemonade from the food truck.

You oblige, of course, and deny his attempts to hand you cash, insist it’s on you.

He’s kept you smiling on a rather gloomy day.

You tell him you’ll be right back, smile, and realise you don’t know his name.

“Chucho,” he tells you, and waves you off.

You join the queue, keep your head down, ignore the gossiping women three spots ahead of you, claiming to have each shared an encounter with Javi.

You don’t need to know what he’s been up to.

You don’t want to know who he’s been up to it with.

It happens when you’re finally being served.

There’s no longer a queue, just you, smiling as sweetly as possible. The service industry is rough enough, nevermind on holidays.

You order successfully, both Chucho’s lemonade and a hot chocolate for yourself.

The guy working the truck- young enough, a bit too traditionally good-looking, with coiffed hair and a shaven face- he’s talkative.

Friendly.

Too friendly.

Till it crosses the border into flirty.

You’re not interested.

At all.

But it’s flattering, to feel wanted.

Even more so after a something that means nothing yet everything ends out of the blue and you’re left reeling over whether or not some part of you is to blame.

So you let him shoot you his dashing smile, and throw in unnecessary pet-names that just feel forced into every sentence he speaks to you, and write his number on the paper cup of your hot chocolate.

“Here you go, pumpkin,” he winks. The pet-name feels a little too on the nose for the season. Couldn’t he have called you sweetheart instead? “A sweet treat for that sweet smile.”

You wonder if he’s allowed to gift the free donut he slides your way.

Your stomach growls and begs for sugary release before you can fully bring yourself to care.

An awkward thanks. Hands reach up to grab the to-go cups, three fingers curling up the bagged donut.

He helps you get a grip on the beverages, placing them in your hands.

His touch lingers, more than necessary, fingertips brushing over your knuckles as if trapped in slow-motion.

“So, a pretty girl like you got a boyfriend, or are you gonna let me take you out to-”

Gasps fill the air.

Half the crowd boos.

Your father screams one name, loud and clear, down the pitch.

“Peña, get your head out your fucking ass and pick up the ball!”

Turning on your heal, the scene unfolds.

The ball, abandoned on the ground.

The players, scrambling to grab it before one another.

Javier, frozen in place, face an unreadable maze of emotions, eyes staring right at you.

They follow you all the way back to your seat, even as the game picks up again.

Even as you congratulate your dad on another victory for the police department, now the four-time consecutive champions of the Thanksgiving Touchdown.

Even as you head off to your father’s car.

Even when you’re home, curled under a blanket and watching a televised copy of Annie Hall, you feel his eyes on you.

The look of betrayal on Javier Peña haunts you even once you fall asleep.

If you don’t love me, What was April?

You’ve always been organised.

Everything has it’s place, from the books that line your bedside table to the memories inside your mind.

You compartmentalise.

Tucked deep into the right side of your brain, there’s a box.

It’s contents, memories you’ve yet to process.

Moments you know that, if you wish to move on, you’ll have to relive.

Caution tape holds the lid shut.

Fragile stickers cover every corner.

And, scribbled in bold red marker, April ‘99.

A late night.

You, wide awake, laying on your back and mapping out stars in his ceiling.

Javier fell asleep hours ago and now snores softly against your neck, muscled arm curled around your waist as his legs entangle your own.

The agent is a fiend for cuddling, and so often wraps himself around you like a vine.

You find yourself nestling your hand in his hair, and take note of the sharp breath he intakes.

Go still.

Worry you’ve woken him.

Relax when you feel him snore and press himself even deeper against your naked skin.

He’s tired. Exhausted.

Work was getting to him as of late.

He hadn’t told you that, but he didn’t need to.

You know him. You can read him.

Can tell in the way he moved slower against you.

In the way he let you take the lead, resting back against the couch to watch how your hips wound down on him.

In the way he got even clingier than usual, dragging you into the shower with him just to have you near, holding you from behind as you washed up the plates he’d used to serve you dinner (a trade-off he’d reluctantly agreed to months ago: he cooks, you clean), laying his head on your lap as you curled up to watch some cheesy horror movie- one you’re bound to fall asleep during and he’s counting on it, glancing up till he spots you slumped over and eyes closed, granting him the perfect excuse to carry you to his bed and nestle himself in beside you.

Unlike other nights, you’re trapped awake.

Something feels off, makes you queasy.

There’s something nagging at your mind.

It’s like you’ve forgotten something, misplaced something, and can’t even figure out what it is.

You just know its absence is wrong.

Javi mumbles something, dreaming away, and you feel the subtle press of his lips against your skin.

Fingers curl tightly into the fabric of your (his) shirt.

He can’t get you close enough, it seems.

Playing against his wants, you pull back, slowly, trying to catch a glimpse of his face.

There’s a pinch between his brows, furrowed in worry.

It’s not fair, you think.

Sleep is usually where you see him at his calmest.

It’s a selfish act, born purely from your own desire, but you find yourself pressing a kiss against his forehead.

His grip loosens, though slightly.

It gives you enough time to feel a stir between your thighs, a calling coming from your bladder.

So you do your best to slip out his hold.

It’s a struggle that leaves you topless and feeling a pinch of cruelty, standing over the bed as you watch his hand grabbing at the vacant spot you once occupied, your scent and shirt the only traces you leave behind.

You don’t bother turning on a light, make your way to his bathroom with practiced ease.

Pad your way across the cold linoleum floor, sink down onto the porcelain seat- he’d stopped leaving it up when your overnight visits became more frequent. You hadn’t asked- didn’t need to ask-, he’d simply done it.

Closing the door over, yet not enough for the hinges to squeak and the handle to lock, you pray the wood muffles noise of the flushing toilet.

When it stops, you wait a few seconds, until you’re sure there’s no rustling coming from his bedroom.

Then, you open the tap.

The water is barely a trickle, yet you tell yourself its enough.

Lather your hands in soap, sit them under the constant drip of cold water till you feel the suds wash down the drain.

It’s hard to stop yourself from sneaking a glance at the mirror, just as it’s hard to recognise the version of yourself you see.

Your hair frames your face, though messy.

Your eyes are bloodshot, yet carry less bags.

Your cheeks are rounder, fuller.

You look different.

You feel it too.

Yhen come the thoughts of Javier, and how he sees you.

Has he noticed a change?

Is he the reason for it?

Does he feel different, too?

Your stomach flips.

He’s not said anything. Or done anything, to make you notice a change.

But, then, Maybe it’s been subtle, slow, dragged out long enough it’s not drastic enough for either of you to take note of.

You eye the spare toothbrush he keeps in his bathroom, and try to remember when it became yours.

You don’t remember.

One moment, his toothbrush sat alone. And, the next, you were standing side by side, laughing as you raced to see who could make a foamier mess of the toothpaste.

Corazón, you look like a rabid animal, he’d called you once, laughing through tears as he wiped away the white suds dripping off your chin. You’re lucky that you’re just so cute.

You can recall, even now, how quickly his mouth had found yours that night, with no ulterior motive other than to bask in the minty taste of one another.

The stir in your stomach becomes more intense.

Eyes refocusing, you find yourself in the mirror again.

Only, sweat lines your forehead and your face seems drained of colour.

You make it only two steps back before you’re hurtling across the bathroom floor.

Your knees crash down first, harsh and unforgiving against the tiles.

The first wretch burns, has you coughing over your own gag.

In the dark, it’s hard to see what exactly comes out of you, but you know where it came from.

Your stomach.

Another wave of nausea hits, this one harder, and you’re gripping at the sides of the bowl, spewing into the water below.

A splash meets your cheek, but you’re too out of it to care, wave after wave of nausea leaving you a coughing, gagging, crying mess.

You feel lightheaded, only managing a moment to catch your breath before another wave hits.

It feels like you’re suffocating.

It’s in your throat, in your mouth, in your nose, in your hair.

It feels like it’s never stopping and you’re doomed to spend the rest of your days submitting to the horrors of throwing-

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” warmth, against your naked back.

It’s a nice warmth, not like the one that has you covered in a cold sweat.

There’s a soothing motion over your skin.

Up, down, up, down.

You try to follow it, match your breathing to the tactile comfort.

“That’s it, baby,” cool air meets your neck, the hairs that stuck to your skin now pulled up and pushed back. “I’m right here, I got you.”

Eventually, all that’s left is the burning of bile at the back of your throat and the dull ache of eyes gone raw with tears.

You’re pulled into a solid mass, naked chest pressed to naked chest as you go slack upon the bathroom floor.

You’re exhausted, and covered in your own sweat, tears and vomit.

Javier doesn’t care, pulling you tighter against him and whispering sweet words you don’t quite pay attention to.

“Woke up and you weren’t there, corazón. Don’t do that again,” even in his attempts to chastise, he’s gentle, brushing the remaining strands of sweat-slicked hair off your face. You must be an awful sight, yet his expressions don’t give way. “You wake up, you wake me up too. ‘Specially if you’re gonna hurl, okay?”

You glance at him, swallow back a lump and deal with the realisation that dawned upon you ten minutes earlier, as you sat hunched over the toilet’s bowl.

“Javi,” he smiles at the way you call his name.

You feel sick all over again at the thought of that changing, everything changing, as you build the courage to speak.

He calls your own name back to you.

“I’m late.”

You await the sharp inhale.

And the unwinding of arms.

You imagine he’ll stand up, pace the floor.

Run his hands through his hair, rant over every thought he has.

Ways to get rid of it, the dangers of your dad finding out.

Then he’ll turn the blame to you.

That’s what men do, right?

He’ll ask why you weren’t safer, why you forgot to take that morning-after pill, why you played so fast-and-loose with your body.

None of it arrives.

He stands, yes, but only to pull you up with him, tired limbs leaning into his strong build as he drags you both under the heat of a warm shower.

You watch the remnants of your own vomit wash down the drain, and question how he can stand there, not disgusted with you.

He dries you off, delicate drags over your skin.

He’s rougher with himself, scarcely drying properly before he’s carrying you back to his bed, a replay of hours earlier as he lays you down, crawls in behind you and tucks you both under the soft comfort of his worn-out sheets.

Only, this time you’re wide awake.

He so easily nestles himself behind you, dragging you back against him and committing himself to the role of big-spoon.

His hands have always felt large, their touch always electrifying, but nothing compares to the feeling of him splaying one across your lower stomach, a subtle press into where part of him could be growing within you.

“Javi,” you whine, fighting off the sleep your overwhelmed body so badly needs. “I’m sorry.”

You say it because you feel obligated, like it’s your place to be apologetic.

After all, the blame is yours, surely.

“No seas boba (Don’t be silly),” there’s a fresh set of tears already sliding down your cheeks by the time he replies. “Don’t need to be sorry, baby.”

“But I-”

“But, nothing,” his tone feels final, one that tells you you’ll get nowhere arguing against him. “You’ve done nothing wrong, corazón.”

You fall asleep, eventually, soothed by his gentle breathing and the repeated motion of his thumb stroking over your belly.

Yhe next time you awake, there’s a crack of sunlight creeping through his blinds.

Javi’s still in bed, only he’s propped up on his elbow and staring down at you.

His smile stretches a little wider when he spots your open eyes.

Lips press against your own, soft and subtle.

A quiet greeting, a wordless goodmorning.

“I gotta go, corazón,” is met with a protest from you, rolling over to curl into his solid chest.

Expecting it, he wraps you up tighter in his arms, presses an array of chaste kisses to your head.

You don’t want him to leave this bed.

Or this apartment.

You don’t want him out, in the real world, where the hours you’ve spent cooped up together become more scandalous than the peaceful nature of them.

“I know, I know. Don’t wanna go either, baby,” you wonder if you spoke your thoughts aloud, or if Javi simply knows you so well.

Eventually, he peels himself away from you.

You watch him dress.

Tell him which tie to wear.

Help him tie it, the comforter pooled around your naked waist as you sit criss-cross-apple-sauce and Javi’s at the side of the bed, legs bent at the knee.

He thanks you with a kiss, then asks you to pass him his cologne.

It’s on the other side of the bed- his side of the bed- and you lean over to grab it.

You don’t bother handing him it, spraying it directly onto your own wrist and dabbing it into the skin of his tanned neck.

He lets you, a gentle smile on his face and eyes that pull you in for a hug, burrowing himself between your naked breasts.

He presses a kiss between them, hums in enjoyment.

“You’re gonna smell like me all day, cariño (darling),” he tells you.

“Good,” you reply.

Another hum, this time of approval, and a squeeze to your hip.

When he pulls back, he looks even more reluctant to leave.

Reality rears it’s ugly head, but he pushes it out your mind with the pressing of his hand against your stomach, the same spot he’d held onto all night.

Leans down, brushes his lips against it.

Your hands instinctually curl in his hair, and you like to think you leave it a little messy, enough to ward off any of the women he works along side, hopeful eyes hoping to get a taste of the handsome, unmarried cop.

“Stay,” he mumbles against your skin, as if you’re the one who’s about to leave. “Don’t go, ok? I’ll call around lunch.”

He keeps his word.

Calls you, a few minutes past two, interrupting whatever daytime TV you were pretending to watch.

Answering leaves you feeling lightheaded, like you're trapped in a daydream.

Listening to him croon down the line while your finger anxiously tangles in the phone’s wire as you stand in his apartment, it feels domestic, like you’re waiting for him to come back home, a place you share together.

The thought has you pressing a hand against your womb.

“How bout you, corazón?” He knows how to make you melt, picturing him smiling at his desk. “Have you ate yet?”

With a grimace, you admit you haven’t.

“You need to eat, baby,” you don’t like the fact he uses that pet-name, not right now. “There’s plenty in the fridge. Could make yourself a sandwich, or some toast. Might even have some of that pasta left over. You know, that one you said you liked? Oh, wait, maybe don’t eat that, don’t think uncooked salmon is good for pregn-”

You don’t want him to say the P word, so you cut him off.

“I’ll probably just have toast.”

He says ok, then you hear him take a bite of whatever his lunch is.

The call goes on a little longer.

It’s mostly him talking.

He tells you a quick story, something about one of the younger guys accidentally stapling his tie to an arrest warrant.

That rouses a laugh out of you, makes you forget all about the massive P word he almost said.

“I’ll be home soon, okay?”

That sounds nice coming from Javi.

Home.

Not his home, just home.

A place he feels his soul at rest.

A place he’d begged you to stay this morning, safe and tucked away.

“Was thinking we could drive out to the clinic, find out for sure if we’re pr-” he cuts himself off this time, like he knows you’re not ready to hear that word. “Then we’ll take things from there, okay? Whatever you decide you wanna do, corazón, you call the shots.”

He keeps his word, again.

Comes home barely three hours later.

He walks through the door and welcomes the way you coil yourself around him, humming in delight as he peppers a few kisses over your face.

“Still smell like me,” he says it with approval, takes a purposeful whiff at you as he pulls you tighter against him.

You still smell his cologne on him too, buried beneath a few layers of sweat and cigarette smoke.

Near clinging to one another, it’s a miracle you two make it out his apartment and down the elevator.

An arm around your waist, he guides you over to his car.

Pulls the door open for you, stops you from bumping your head on the way in.

He practically runs round the car’s hood, jumping into the driver’s seat and thrumming the engine to life with the turn of a key.

“You remember to eat?” He asks as he pulls out onto the street.

You nod, then audibly reply.

Tell him you did in fact eat toast, leave out the part where you spewed your guts again twenty minutes later.

The drive is quiet.

Not uncomfortable, just relaxed, with the radio playing gently and his window rolled down enough to let in some air.

At some point, his hand slides over the console and rests against your thigh.

You welcome it, covering it with your own.

As you watch out the window how he drives past the turning for the local hospital, he must catch your questioning gaze.

“They, uh,” he clears his throat, rings his hand over the steering wheel. A small stain of sweat marks it. “Know your dad pretty well in there. And me. Figure you’d rather he not find out about us like that.”

He’s right.

So you relax back into your seat, accept the fact you’re both driving out of town together.

At some point, the beginning notes of your favourite song play through the stereo.

You instantly perk up, sitting up straighter in your seat and tap your foot a little to the beat.

Javi says nothing, simply peels his hand off you to turn the volume dial up.

Seconds later, he turns his head and throws you a look just asking if he’s done good.

You smile, and thread your fingers between his own.

A soft squeeze before he pulls them up to his lips, eyes back on the road.

The clinic is bright.

And squeaky, each step you take making you a little more nervous than the last.

Javier, by all accounts, is solid as a rock, signing you both in, picking up a few pamphlets, buying you a can of soda, all while you curl up in some plastic chair and just focus on not spewing your guts out.

You only relax once he’s sat beside you, helping you get a sip of the sugary drink and wrapping a protective arm around you.

You don’t mean to but you fall victim to sleep, the past 24 hours getting the best of you.

You come-to likely not much later, but to the sound of a childish giggle.

Cracking one eye open, just slightly, you notice you’re slumped into Javier, head on his shoulder.

There’s a giggling little girl in front of you both, in purple overalls and with two pigtails to hold her curly hair.

One of her hands is on Javi’s knees, using him to keep herself standing.

“First time?” You snap your eyes shut as a stranger’s voice fills the quiet bustle of the clinic.

A confused sound leaves Javier.

“Yeah, could tell from the look on your lady’s face,” the man continues. “Same one my own wife had during our first visit.”

You want to pay attention to Javi’s response, but you’re a bit busy dealing with the fact he’s not correcting the man, telling him you’re not his lady nor his wife.

His thumb soothes over your hip, and you wonder at what rate you’ll melt away into a pile of nothing thanks to his soft touches.

“You hoping for a boy or a girl?”

You tell yourself to try harder, to actually pay attention.

You succeed, catch as Javi replies, “a girl.”

“Yeah?” the stranger seems genuinely invested, it almost makes you want to open your eyes, see him for yourself.

But you don’t want to ruin the moment.

“Wanted a boy, myself,” that same little girl giggles again and you can’t fight the temptation to peek once more, catch as she crawls into her faceless-father’s lap. “Doc told us it was gonna be a boy, too. Then this one came along and, wouldn’t ya know, not a boy.”

“Surprise!” the little girl squeals, and you feel Javi’s shoulder shake under your head.

God, you want to look at him, see if he’s looking at her with the same adoration that’s festering in your heart.

“Yeah, baby, you’re my little Sarah-Surprise,” the man coos and, despite his rough accent, it suits him. Like he was only ever meant to speak with gentle words and a soft heart, all for his precious daughter. “It’ll get easier, on your lady, just so ya know. Less scary, more exciting. ‘Bout to welcome our second one, and I’ve never seen my wife so happy.”

Javi’s still not correcting him.

It makes you nauseous for a whole new reason.

“Mr. Miller?” A voice calls out.

A nurse, you imagine.

A chair squeaks as pressure is taken off it, the stranger standing.

You peak your eye open in time to see him picking his daughter up, her little legs dangling off his hip.

He takes a few steps, till Javi interrupts him.

“What,” he clears his throat, and you wonder if it’s of emotion. “What are you hoping for this time?”

“A girl.”

Eventually, it’s your turn.

You’d pretended to wake up to Javier’s coaxing.

Shuffled into some room, reluctantly separating from Javi.

A smiley nurse handed you a cup, talked you through what you needed to do for your tests.

Took your blood pressure, complimented your earrings, and stepped out the room to give you privacy.

A short while and a reunion with Javi later, you sat in a doctor’s office, both a nervous wreck as you clasped each other’s hand.

“Mrs. peña,” again, Javier does not correct the doctor. And you realise it’s because he filled out the forms, he signed you in. He wrote you down as Peña. “You and your husband are not pregnant.”

What should have followed was a sigh of relief, from both of you.

But all you felt was led drop in your stomach and Javier’s grip tighten on your hand.

“You are, however, displaying symptoms of acute food poisoning, likely salmonella.”

The doctor continues on, detailing a prescription you’re being given.

But it falls on deaf ears, the world around you gone blank as you wrestle with conflicting emotions.

You’re not pregnant.

You should be elated. Jumping, and cheering, and dancing all over the place. Instead, you’re silent, letting yourself be guided back into the car by Javi.

This time, the drive is silent.

Not quiet.

Silent.

You watch him drive past the turning into your street.

He doesn’t explain that he’s taking you back to his place.

Getting you back in his bed, switching off the lights, he curls himself in behind you and splays his hand over your stomach.

Over your empty womb.

For some reason, you find yourself sobbing into your pillow, unaware of the tears from him that stain your neck as he tries to hush you.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” the irony of him repeating those very same words last night is not lost on you.

It’s hard to move on, when every month there’s a stabbing pain in your abdomen and a trickle of blood staining your underwear to remind you of April.

And so you keep it locked in it’s box, slapping another caution tape over it’s lid as you groan and roll out your own bed, trudging your way into your bathroom to check if the wetness between your thighs is your monthly visitor.

You played a game But I run the table

You’re avoiding your dad’s calls.

It’s not because he’s done anything to warrant your rejection, but, rather, it’s the forthcoming actions he’ll be guilty of.

See, you know why he’s calling.

Your mom let it slip, over brunch and a few too many glasses of wine.

He’s hosting another poker night.

He wants you there, as always.

Some baseless theory of you being his good luck charm.

Or, at least, that’s what you were until the last poker night he’d hosted, way back in March.

He slips away, phoned by your tipsy mother and obligated to drive three towns over to go pick her up because she misses him.

“Fill in for me, will ya, kiddo?”

It was less a suggestion, more of a pleading, his hands already scraping the seat back and awaiting you to plop yourself down.

He leaves you with his hand, his winnings so-far, and a kiss to the top of your head.

“Watch out for Peña,” he whispered, as if you hadn’t been keeping an eye on the agent all evening, clouded by his own cigarette smoke and sitting looser each sip of his whiskey, no ice. “His poker face is dangerous.”

He turns out to be no threat.

None of the officer’s are, really.

Rounds end and rounds start, and you father’s pile of winnings grow more and more.

It’s an ego boost, taking money from these cocky men who look at you as though surely you have no clue what cards you’re holding.

But, taking from Javi?

That’s something else, entirely.

Each time you win, he gets more agitated.

Flinging down cards, muttering curses, shoving his cash across the table.

All whilst glaring, at you, eyes black with ire.

And intoxication.

And something else.

Something you know all too well on Javier.

Lust.

Nearly an hour’s past since your father left, someone else leaves the table.

Says he needs the toilet, you point him in the direction of it.

You all call for a break, and then you graciously offer a refill on drinks.

It’s what your dad would’ve done, kept them all drinking and lowering their inhibitions, their focus disappearing alongside it.

“I’ll help!” One of the officers exclaims.

He’s on the younger side.

Practically a rookie, it’s only the second poker night he’s attended.

He’s sweet, with his large-framed glasses and his nervous smile.

You both make your way out of the basement- refurbished to be your dad’s man-cave- and head towards the kitchen.

You open the fridge, grab however many bottles of beer you need.

He heads to the liquor cabinet, pulls out a bottle bourbon.

You beat him at grabbing the whiskey, an unvoiced need to be the one who refills Javi’s glass.

Maybe, he’ll offer you a sip.

Conversation flows naturally between you, in spite of him being a near stranger.

He asks about college.

You ask about working with your dad.

You both agree on the fact he’s a pain in the ass.

He tells you about a new bar, downtown.

You tell him where to go to get the best club sandwich.

It’s light, it’s easy, it’s friendly.

You’re enjoying his company.

nNeither of you can tell who causes it, but one of you mispronounces a word and you both wind up in a pile of giggles, falling over yourselves and banging into counters.

His hands grip his sides.

You’re clutching your chest.

Through wheezes, he repeats the phrase that left you both in this state.

You laugh harder, louder, warn him to stop before you lose control of your bladder.

Something thuds in the hallway, your eyes shoot up to the kitchen entry and you swear you see Javi’s retreating figure.

Blink a few times, realise there’s no one there.

You both gather some decorum.

He grabs as many of the beer bottles he can manage, and looks at your empty hands in question.

You tell him to head back without you, that you just need to go to the toilet.

Parting ways, you find the both the downstairs and upstairs bathrooms occupied.

Sigh in frustration, only to remember your parents en suite.

It’s empty, because of course it is. No one would feel comfortable enough invading the privacy of your parents' bedroom.

You do your business, wash your hands, fix yourself in the mirror.

Decide your lipstick needs a little touch-up, your clothes need straightening out.

And, when you’re done and ready to head back down to the poker table, you hear a thud.

Pull open the bathroom door, expect to find your father struggling to put a tipsy, giggly, clumsy version of your mother into bed.

Instead, there is only a brooding look and disapproving grunt.

A firm grip, on your arm, dragging you right back into the bathroom.

The door slams shut, a little harsher than you’d like, the sound of it surely reaching the ears of those regrouping for the next dealing of the cards.

He doesn’t pounce, like he so usually does when he’s wearing that look of frustration.

He’s simmering in it, teetering on the edge of boiling anger as he smooths a hand over his chin, visibly clenching his jaw, swallowing back whatever it is he wants to say to you.

He takes one step forward, and you go one back.

Then two steps, which you also match.

Your hip smacks into the sink’s counter on your fifth step backwards and it’s enough to finally put his hands on you.

He tugs you right into his chest, one hand soothing over where you’d banged your hip.

It’s alarmingly gentle for his stoic features.

When he speaks, you nearly melt into a puddle, the heat of him invading your space, face inching close to your own, enough to have you questioning the sanctity of your parents en suite.

“What’s going on with you, huh?”

“Could ask you the same thing, officer,” you make the fatal mistake of giggling, but you’ll blame it on the fruity cider you’d helped yourself to.

He clearly finds no humour, not even as you fiddle with the top button of his shirt and shoot him your best look of innocence.

“Think you’re real fucking funny, don’t you?” His hand, warm and imposing, grips a hold of your face.

It’s almost painful, but you like it, squirming a little at the blunt stab of his nails and the way he smooshes your cheeks, forcing a pout onto your lips.

You try shake your head, his grip won’t let you.

“Sitting in a room full of men, making yourself the centre of attention,” he huffs a breath out of his nose, and you can’t help but compare him to an angry dragon.

He’s worked up, frustrated, angry.

And it’s hot. A turn-on.

“What’s the matter, Javi? Jealous you’re not the centre of all those men’s attention?” You’re poking the dragon, teasing him, and it’s an act that may leave you burned and scarred.

Or, as you’re hoping, it’ll win you the ride of a lifetime.

He doesn’t even grace you with a verbal response.

No, he scoffs, as though he’s in physical disbelief at the words you’re saying.

Spins you around, pins you to the sink’s counter, tugs your hair till you’re forced to stare at your reflection.

He’s right behind you, seething in anger, fire in his eyes.

His head dips between you neck and shoulder, brushing his lips against your pulse point.

“Not all of us are attention whores like you,” it’s fleeting, and he’ll deny it if you dare mention it, but he smiles.

Just a second, but you feel it, see it even though he tries so hard to turn his face into your neck.

It’s what lets you know he’s playing, teasing, egging you on to push him over the edge.

“I’ve been with real whores, corazón,” he confesses a sin you already know, eaves-dropping one too many times on your dad fishing stories of Colombia out of him. “Fucked them so often they started doing their nails in colours they knew I wanted to see wrapped around my cock.”

Involuntarily, your back arches, brushing your ass against him and providing him the perfect access to wind his hand up between your heaving breasts, all the way up till his fingers curl round the base of your throat.

In the mirror, the image is one of ownership, of Javi seizing your bodily autonomy. A whore and her gentleman caller.

It’s arousing to think about, Javi and his whores.

You wonder what positions he put them in.

How many rounds he lasted with them.

How often he made them cum.

“And not one of them took half the money you’ve taken from me tonight.”

Oh.

So that’s what this is, his pretty ego, bruised at the hands of you?

Poor Mr. Javier Peña, humiliated in front of all his peers round after round, hundred bill after hundred bill.

You almost taunt him for giving into the temptations of the fragile male ego, but you’re stopped in your tracks.

By him, hands squeezing at you a little tighter as he grinds the unmistakable outline of his hardened cock against you.

That single action changes the game, entirely.

Because this isn’t about you stealing his money and his ego.

No, this is something far filthier, that has your panties growing wetter beneath the skirt of your dress.

“I’m worth every dime though, aren’t I, officer?.”

The grip tightens.

He shoves you harder into the counter, so hard a tub of your mother’s moisturiser topples off.

The hard outline of him is still there, ever-present.

“‘S that what you like, huh, taking my money? Wanna be Javi’s personal little whore?”

Every ounce of feminism evaporates within you.

Who could deny such a tentative offer?

Certainly not you, reflection mimicking the way you eagerly nod, teeth biting down on your bottom lip in a failed attempt to hold back a grin.

Javi notices- of course he notices- and takes his victory, hips rocking even deeper into you.

There’s too many layers between you, a feat on which you both agree, yet neither of you do anything about.

You just savour the friction, instead, pushing and pulling one another to the axis of pleasure.

Your panties, soaked.

His jeans, tight.

“What’s it gonna cost me to get you bent over and stuffed full of my cum, corazón?” One hand leaves your body. The mirror snitches on him, exposing how he’s reaching into his back pocket. “This?”

He smacks something down, into the bowl of the sink.

It’s his wallet, and you watch the worn leather of it shine with the residue of water on the linoleum.

The hand at your throat pulses a squeeze, his knee nudges you from behind.

“C’mon, don’t be shy.”

His mouth, right by your ear, lips tickling you with the subtlest of brushes against it.

His hand guides your own, down into the sink, flipping the wallet open and putting it’s belongings on display.

Bills, some placed neatly, others stuffed in forcefully, edges spilling out the pockets. There’s less in there than when he arrived, courtesy of you.

There’s a few miscellaneous cards. A library card, an ID slip you’re sure he uses for something in the sheriff's station, a loyalty card to some record store.

The picture of his mother sits centre stage, radiant smile and loving eyes grabbing the attention of any who dare open it.

He has his mother’s eyes, you notice.

And then you notice something else, peeking out from behind his mother’s picture.

You dive into temptation, dart your nosy fingers over to tug at the object, till you realise it’s another picture.

A picture of Javi, and you.

Taken on a polaroid you found under a box of his belongings, you remember the day clear as ever.

The two of you had messed around, captured your sins on film with the promise of destroying it after. It would be too risky a thing, to allow image evidence of the intimate ways in which you knew each other’s bodies.

Javi’s fingers on your skin, your nipple in his mouth, his cock’s outline bulging within your lower abdomen.

There was no point risking your father ever finding it.

But this picture, this one you do not remember.

Fully dressed, eyes fixed on his television, your head lays in his laps while his fingers card through your hair.

It’s captured from above, as if Javi’s own eyes had made a permanent record of his view.

The sweetness of this living on, of Javi taking something sacred for himself to keep hidden in his wallet distracts you for a moment.

He does good to bring you back into the room.

“Take how much you think you’re worth, corazón,” whispered into your ear, as he rips a few of the notes out his wallet.

They sit in the sink, growing wet.

And you are too, frozen on the spot.

You glance down, count over the different bills.

Five dollars.

Twenty dollars.

Hundred dollars.

With each bill you count, your internal price shooting up within your head, you try picture his reaction.

In the mirror, he’s watching.

Not the sink bowl, no.

You, your face, looking at your expressions in a way that reminds you it’s his job to read people.

You decide to be bold, dig into his wallet and, even though your insides twist in anxious turmoil, hold up your hand to present him with your answer.

Resting neatly, between your fore and middle finger, a shiny credit card.

The gleam in Javi’s eyes just about match it, blackened and blown out with lust.

The card is plucked out your hand.

The hand on your neck leaves, in search of your waist.

The fabric of your dress bunches, wrinkling and creasing as his fabric-straining grip inches it’s hem higher and higher.

You feel sexy like this, face heated and breathing heavy.

It’s an effect he has on you, has had on you, forcing you to look at yourself in new lights, in new angles, admiring every out-of-line trace of you for what you are.

Desirable.

And attractive.

And pretty.

And smart.

And every other word under the sun that Javi whispers into your skin with innocence as his body commits sins within you.

At the bottom of the mirror, you watch as the white cotton of your panties comes into view.

Wet, as you both expected, the thin fabric now turned almost sheer, exposing the delectable view of your cunt hugged cutely by the cotton’s tight seams.

Javi hisses, muttering something to himself.

There’s a strain to his voice, one that would have you worried he’s in pain if it weren’t for the way you’re watching as his face contorts with lust.

His eyes are dark and you study them like he studies his card, contemplating something.

A few seconds pass.

Tension is puffed out his chest with one exhale, through the nose.

You feel the air tickle your skin.

He nods curtly, to himself, and flickers his gaze back to meet your own in the mirror.

It’s unwavering, even as he brings the black plastic down and smacks it against your mound.

You squeal, he hushes, and you both know he doesn’t mean it at all.

He likes when you gift him noise, a private aria only he has tickets to.

Just as easily as the first time, he snaps the card against you again, a jolt of pleasure shooting straight through your clit.

Just as loudly as the first time, you squeal, a jolt back into his warm, steady, hard embrace.

“What’re you running from, hmm?” His face turns, burrowing itself in the tresses of your hair.

A shallow sniff, and you wonder if he notices the smell of his shampoo on you.

There’s a pressing of lips, against your scalp, and it’s far too gentle of a juxtapose to the imagery of his fingers pulling your panties to the side, exposing your pussy to the bathroom’s cold air and the two pairs of hungry eyes in the mirror.

“You say that this is what you’re worth, and then you don’t want to take it?”

The third spank of the card against your bundle of nerves is harder, louder, echos in the confined space. A moan, minuscule and muffled, slips past tightly shut lips, a look of fear flashing through wide eyes.

Javi’s quick with his reassurance, gentle with his comfort, a hand stroking over your collarbone.

“Don’t worry, no one’s gonna hear you. You just be as loud as you need, hermosa, they’re too busy encouraging that boy-cop to ask you to dinner.”

There’s a tint of jealousy to the way he says boy, and you’re reminded of the image of him in the kitchen doorway.

Smack!

The card strikes down, once more, this time eliciting an open-mouthed gasp.

He doesn’t let up, repeating the action twice more.

It hurts, in a way that makes your core throb and your toes curl, squirming aimlessly in a grasp he knows you don’t truly want to escape.

But he mocks you, with a hushing noise in your ear and gentle it’s okay, corazón, Javi’s got yous against your neck. His thumb swipes through your folds, coating it in your wetness and dragging itself up to your clit, soaking it in soothing rubs.

His gentle nature lasts mere seconds, his wrist flicking back only to smack the credit card down again. This time, it’s a pattern of three, repeatedly crashing down on your sensitive nerves one after the other.

In the mirror, you watch him observe as he twiddles the card between deft fingers, contemplation on his mind.

The room’s quiet, apart from your shortened breaths and his deep inhales.

You hear a cheer.

From the basement.

It must have been a loud cheer, for you to hear them all the way up here.

And, suddenly, the stakes feel higher than when you were sat at the poker table, counting Javi’s coins with every passing round.

If you can hear them, they could hear you.

This doesn’t seem to cross Javier’s mind, who merely twists your head away from the bathroom door and back to the mirror, to where his hungry eyes await.

All contemplation is gone, he’s decided in what he’s going to do, and so you watch as he takes the card and swipes it through your cunt.

It’s not a pleasurable act, in itself.

In fact, it’s rather uncomfortable, the solid plastic hard on your delicate skin.

It’s the arousal of him doing it that gets you weak in the knees, to have him perform such a mundane act- the swiping of his credit card- in such a crass, dirty, wrong way.

Like he’s paying for you, committing a physical transaction in exchange for your body.

It doesn’t matter that he could have you for free, has had you for free.

He wants to pay, wants to reward you in a way that aligns with the capitalistic world.

“Javi…” You whimper, softly, head lulling back against his shoulder as he swipes the card again.

Your eyes, slowly slipping shut, shoot right back open as you feel the rounded corner of the card prod at your opening, as if trying to notch itself within you.

“Think she could take it, corazón?” Javi bites at your ear, teeth clamping down and pulling at it’s lobe. The card sinks in, not even an inch. You nudge back into, your cry circling the room around you both. “I know, baby, I know. It’d be a wide stretch, but ain’t that all pretty whores like you are good for, hmm?”

It’s automatic, the way you bend to his every whim, head nodding without direct orders from your brain, every part of you, conscious or not, ready and willing to prove you could fit his card inside of you.

For him, you can do it.

“Fitting big things in your little pussies?”

Surprisingly, the hand between your thighs retracts and you watch as he brings the card up to your mouth, glistening with your arousal.

“Open,” the directions are unnecessary, your mouth already dropping open for him in an act of muscle memory.

He hums approvingly, yet his eyes are still fury filled as he slots the card between your lips, lathering your tongue in your own taste.

“You’ll take anything I give you, won’t you, corazón?”

The statement rings true, both ways: as much as you’ll take anything, he’ll give anything.

You don’t tell him that, though, finding it much easier to rest your palms on the countertop, backing your sopping core into him, enticing him with the wiggle of your hips and whines from your lips to take you already.

“Shh, shh, don’t you worry that pretty head. Javi’s gonna feed this greedy little cunt, ok?”

The unbuckling of a belt.

The unzipping of teeth.

The shucking down of-

Something smashes, in the basement, and it’s enough to have you flinching.

Javi’s touch soothes you, a hand running over the curve of your shoulder as he presses yet another kiss into your neck.

“S’okay, probably just a beer bottle.”

He doesn’t move another inch, not till he sees you nod, melting back into him.

You hear, more than you see, the way he tugs his trousers down, just enough to free his hardened cock from its jean-clad confine. The risky business of a quickie in your parents’ en suite calls for clothing moved aside, and not removed.

Much to your annoyance, his all-encompassing warmth drifts away as he moves back, hands clamping down on your hips.

He tilts them to the angle he wants, the angle he knows gets him brushing all your sweet-spots.

He tugs the skirt of your dress up, and then readjusts your soiled underwear.

You hear him draw a deep breath and watch his eyes in the mirror, glued to that spot between your legs, entranced.

The drag of his cock over your folds is familiar, the way he smacks the head of it against your clit is welcomed.

He spears you no gentle coaxing, no stretching around his fingers first, coming undone just for him to fill you right back up, this time with his cock.

No, this is a vengeful touch, the kind that’s meant to display his irritation, his fury, for reasons you’ve yet to confirm yet you’re more than willing to accept.

A man like him, so unfairly selfless, taking something in this world for himself, how he wants to and how he likes to.

You’ll be his vice, so long as he grants you his virtues.

Javi fills you with a single thrust, grunting low into your ear as you feel the way the air is physically knocked out both for your lungs.

He’s still, head buried in the crook of your neck as he works on steadying his breathing, giving you time to adjust to the delicious stretch.

You whine out some version of his name, feel yourself pulse around him.

A hand, reaching up to cup your cheek.

A kiss, gentle and longing against your mouth.

He’s making you wait for it, you think, torturing you with an impending paradise.

He’s savouring the feel of you, he thinks, taking advantage of the few moments alone he wins with you.

"Javi,” he barely lets you part from him to speak, chasing a trail of kisses down your jaw. “This isn’t the time to develop patience.”

The snide remark earns you a bite, his teeth nibbling on the sensitive skin of your earlobe. You squeal, try remind yourself to be quiet, only to squeal louder when his hands tickle at your waist.

“I’m a very patient man, corazón.”

You scoff.

“Just not when it comes to you.”

His hips roll back, slowly, but it’s better than nothing, better than when he wasn’t moving at all.

Still, he makes you squirm a little longer, moan his name a little louder.

Only then does his fake resolve snap and he’s fucking into you at a brain melting pace in the blink of an eye.

Javier does his best to keep quiet, at first, biting down on his lip and your neck just to contain all those melodies he usually makes.

You can’t say the same for yourself as, despite your efforts, broken moan after broken moan tumbles out your mouth and into the sink, filling and filling and filling it in sync with how Javi your cunt.

You wonder how long till it all spills over the edge.

“Joder (Fuck),” he groans as you unconsciously squeeze him tighter, pulling him deeper into your walls. serves him right, for the teasing and the torturing. “Tienes el coño más lindo en todo el mundo. (You have the prettiest cunt in the whole world.)”

You feel lightheaded.

Warm, sweaty, covered in the fingerprints of a lover you shouldn’t be with.

The bathroom fills with an array of sounds. The slapping of skin against skin, the broken cries of an agent’s name, the mindless rambling of a man drunk on pleasure.

“So good to me, baby. Always so fucking good to me.”

“Gonna stay here forever, fuck. That sound good to you, corazón, hmm? Full of my cock always?”

“Look at yourself… Pura belleza (Pure beauty).”

He consumes you, mind, body and soul.

There’s no worrying about the happenings around the poker table, no listening out for your father’s car pulling in the driveway, no worrying about your tousled hair or sweating skin.

There’s just Javi.

Beautiful, gorgeous, deserving Javi.

“Please, please, Javi-“ The words all melt together, pleads becoming his name, his name becoming pleads.

You’re not sure what you’re begging for.

It’s okay though, Javi always knows what you need.

“I know, amor (love), I know,” he murmurs into your skin, butterfly kisses so gentle you wonder how they come from the same man that’s pistoning his hips into you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get. “Let go, c’mon. Show me how much you love this cock, how much you love-”

He’s cut off by his own groan, you cunt fluttering around him as you inch closer and closer to the edge of euphoria.

Hands hurry off your waist, slipping between your thighs.

It brings a welcomed cushioning, shielding you from repeatedly bumping against the marble of the countertop.

Your legs part further, eagerly, an easy pathway for his yearning fingers to seek out the wonders of the female body as they brush over your clit.

The gentle tactile that he strokes over your bundle of nerves, partnered with the repeated brushing of his cock against that spot that makes you weak in the knees, drool out your mouth, it’s becoming too much.

Eyes glancing in the mirror, you wonder if yours is the same image of the whores who’d warmed his Colombian nights: sweat soaked skin, hooded eyes, messed up hair, wrinkled clothing.

He tilts your hips, a deeper angle to fuck into you that has you perching up onto the tips of your toes, fighting with the chance of losing balance.

He’d catch you, if you fell.

Wrap you up in an embrace that’s more familiar than your own.

“I’m gonna- Fuck! Corazón, need you to cum. Now, please. Please. Need to feel you-”

He’s babbling, losing composure and revealing the side of him you pray he never showed those other women: the side that needs, the side that longs, the side that begs to see you cum before he allows himself to, before he’s able to.

“Javi,” it’s a struggle to speak, but you endure, fighting off your orgasm and holding back tears. There’s something you need from him too. “Cum with me. Wanna be full of you, all of you-”

“¿Sí? (Yeah?)” He pleads back, thrusts already getting a little sloppier, hands a little shakier in the way they touch you. Much like his poker face, you know how to read the face he wears moments before he falls apart. “¿Eso es lo que quiere mi corazón? (Is that what my sweetheart wants?) Want me to cum in you, hm?”

“Yes, oh god yes! So bad, Javi, I want it so bad!”

“Ay, bebesita, no llores. (Aw, baby girl, don't cry.)” He coos, a condescending lilt to his words that has you falling into a bigger mess. “Shh, don’t worry, baby. Gonna fill you right up, so my cum’s dripping down your thighs when that poor kid asks you for your number. Thinks he’s got a shot with you cause he made you laugh, poor boy wouldn’t know how to deal with all the noises I get out of you.”

Javi divulges into a spine-tingling rant of burning hot jealousy, the kind that leaves your cheeks burning and your heart scorching, lit under a flame of your desire for more of him. To have him, equal parts physical and emotional.

You try warn him of the bubble that’s about to burst, the feeling in your loins building and building till it’s seconds way from toppling over.

“That’s it, baby, squeeze my cock. Lemme feel it,” He urges, heart pounding out his chest against your back, hands tightening their grip on your hips. “Need to feel you cum, ‘s all I want.”

You both crash and burn, together.

You fall first, a chaos of unfinished words, crying out for Javi.

He follows close behind, body pressed against your own like he’s willing you to fuse together, to become to entangled in one another that all possibilities of separation become void.

“Take it, cora-” He’s in your ears, in your head, in your heart. Inside of you, consuming you, as eagerly as he’s willing to be consumed by you, fingerprints on hips and teeth-marks in necks. “Take it, take it, take it.”

Arms envelop you from behind, crossing over your chest to pin you back against him.

He’s nearly stagnant, nothing but the twitch of his cock and the shallow thrusts he fucks you deeper with, filling you with another, another, another pump of his cum.

“So good,” Javi’s voice persists, teeth gritting as he bites back the need to be loud, to be heard, to lay a claim on you so blatant no one could deny hearing it. Your relationship with your father is the only thing that holds him back. “Good to me, baby. Always… Good… Díos. (God.)”

Craning your neck to the side, you manage to pull him in for a kiss.

It’s something he accepts easily, lips parting and melting into a dance against your own.

One of his hands falls over your jaw, twisting your face even closer to him.

The kiss dies slowly, with each of you refusing to truly part, pecks being splattered messily against the other’s mouth.

“Was I,” Javi interrupts you with another kiss, his free hand smoothing up and down your side, his hips still slowly rocking into yours, a delicious sting of overstimulation biting at your core. “Am I worth it?”

He pulls back, tired gaze warm as it takes in your messed features.

With the smile that stretches over his lips, however, one would think you were the prettiest creature in all the world.

He calls your name, calmly, slowly, like he’s trying to memorise the shape of it on his tongue. “You’re worth everything I could give, and more.”

There’s something behind the ways he says it that makes you believe him.

With little will to do so, you peel apart from each other, his hands moving quick to adjust your underwear as his cum starts to leak out onto your folds.

He exits the bathroom first, a final kiss placed on your cheek before your left alone, forced to confront the wrecked version of you that will never see your parent’s en suite in the same light.

Your dad arrives back just in time to see you slipping back down to sit at the poker table, no seat left for him to take but the one between his sweet daughter and his loyal best friend.

If only he knew he was placing you both where you most wanted to be when he suggested Javi give you a ride home, waving you both off through the car window with no idea Javi's cum sat dripping out your cunt, staining the car seat.

Your phone buzzes to life in your hand, slipping you out of your memories.

Your father’s contact name reads clearly on the screen.

Hitting decline one more time, you roll over and try ignore the gathering slick between your thighs.

Damn Javi and all the memories he haunts you with.

Mr, I don’t want a label You made me a little miss unstable (And it)

Days grow colder.

Nights grow longer.

You change your bedsheets, stuff a comforter back inside.

Pick out a tree, synthetic, and lump the box up the countless stairs to your apartment.

Try not to think of how he would’ve insisted on helping, refused to let you carry it.

Even if it culminated in him doubled over in pain, clutching his lower back.

Lights, baubles, action.

The tree’s smaller than you expect, barely reaching your hip, but it’s green, tree-shaped and festive. It’s enough.

Your decorations are minimal, a few inconsequential things you picked out your parents’ stash. There’s a Santa hat, frayed with time. A few cracked baubles, with string so thin you suspect they’ll snap off. A gingerbread man ornament, a glass snow-flake. A crooked star, missing one of its points, tops the tree.

A homemade snowman, one you’d gifted your parents after a busy day in nursery. Neither of them had the heart to tell you you’d made its nose a rather phallic shape.

And then there's the red phone-box, nestled somewhere in the middle, an etching of LONDON brandishing it as a reminder of your trip.

You’d picked it up in a tiny bookstore, right next door to The Distillery Club.

The winter season has never felt so lonesome, tucked away in your grown-up apartment.

There’s no fireplace to warm your hands, no hot cocoa boiling on the stove. No cheesy hallmark movies to laugh at with your mother, no racing past your father to grab the last slice of dessert.

It’s just you, alone, with only your wandering mind as company.

Sometimes, more often than not, it wanders to him. To if he’s alone.

To if he’s filling his heart as easily as he fills his bed.

To if he’s finally bought a second seat for his dingy balcony.

“Is this some tactic of yours?”

He hums, brows furrowing, lips pouting, smoke dragging into his lungs.

The cigarette sits perched between two fingers of the hand resting on your knee, his other curled around your waist.

“Some what?”

“Tactic,” you repeat. Watch him blow a puff a smoke, taste his ash at the back of your throat. “Only having one chair, so pretty girls have no choice but to sit in your lap.”

He lets his gaze wander away from the streets below and up to you, sitting pretty in his lap. Like a cat, draped over his thighs.

Nothing but his own rumpled, inside-out shirt to cover your skin.

Bare legs, messed hair, smudged lipstick.

Fingerprint bruises littering your hips, bitemarks etched into your collarbone.

“I gave you a choice,” he speaks with a reservation he didn’t have before, when he’d offered you a ride home from the bar. There’s an etching of something that’s diluting his expressions, sinking him deeper and deeper into his own pensive mind. “You were the one who insisted on sitting on me.”

“You weren’t complaining earlier.”

Nails pinch at your thigh, causing a squeal out of you.

A few birds fly off a nearby wire, a head or two turn in the street below.

They don’t see you, or Javi, or the lack of clothing that sits between you.

“Neither were you. In fact, you were a little busy fucking my fac-”

“Stop!” Your sudden modesty feels unearned, yet that does nothing to stop you from placing your hand over his mouth.

He licks at it, you grimace, he licks again.

Then takes another breath of nicotine, as you wipe the remnants of his spit onto his naked thigh.

When he offers the cigarette your way, you hesitate.

Picture your father, disappointed to see you smoke.

The whiff of Javi’s post-sex smell- muted cologne, matted sweat, burnt ash- steals your senses, reminds you you’ve already done enough to disappoint your father, a cigarette can’t do much damage.

So you let him hold it up to your mouth and inhale it’s poison.

You and Javi were never meant to happen.

Sure, the line had already been crossed weeks ago.

But that was supposed to stay in Vermont, tucked between snowy slopes and wooden cabins. Existing in a timeline separate from your reality, where you are your father’s precious daughter and Javi is his trustworthy colleague and friend, that is where it should have stayed.

And it had, for two weeks. Sixteen days, specifically.

You’d returned to classes, to sharing lunch breaks with your father in his office, to slowly moving more of your things out the family home and into your new apartment.

And Javi, from what you heard, had returned to keeping civilians safe, to sharing a drink or two with your father at the end of the work week, to flirting with every secretary within a mile radius.

Neither of your crossed paths and, when you nearly did, the other made the effort to turn a corner, shut a door, hide behind a wall.

Until tonight.

Until you ditched your mediocre date, some lame excuse of having a last-minute paper due.

Until you’d gone to console yourself over your failing love life, unknowingly sliding into a bar stool right next to the most desired cop in town.

Until he’d turned to you, tilted his head, and asked “d’you wanna get out of here?”

He’d offered to take you home.

The drive was quiet, tense, until his hand drifted over the gearstick and you dragged it down onto your thigh.

He squeezed.

You inched it further up, till the tips of his fingers brushed at the edge of your dress.

He took the invitation, took a turning towards his own place.

Brought you into his apartment, drowned you in his fountain of kisses, begged you to sit upon his face. He’d made you see stars beneath a roofed sky, eyes rolling so far back they threatened to get stuck there.

With barely a moments recovery from a third blinding orgasm, he dragged you down the expanse of his body, sat you down on his cock and refused to help your overstimulated, puddle-brained self ride him, grinning cunningly with his back pressed against the mattress as you struggled through shaky legs.

Eventually, he tired and launched himself, arms tangling behind your back, feet planted flat behind you, hips fucking up into your battered cunt until you both came to a haltering crescendo.

He’d layed you down to rest, cleaned you of any mess, and then wandered out to his balcony, inviting you to join him when the feeling returned to your legs.

Which brings you here, fifteen minutes later.

“...wouldn’t have to be serious,” he’s speaking, finishing off a sentence you don’t quite catch the start of.

“Huh?”

“This. Us. It could be casual, y’know?” Another puff of smoke slips right through his lips. “If that’s what you’re worrying about… your dad, and all that other stuff. I don’t need a label, not if it means I get to have… We could keep it casual, if that’s what you want.”

It takes a few moments for you to fully register his words, and then a few more to formulate a response.

“Is that what you want?”

He shrugs.

Pulls in another breath of his cigarette.

Stubs it out on the arm of the chair.

And says nothing.

You assume it’s a yes.

Because what else could Javier Peña, notorious womaniser, want with you if not a casual, no-strings-attached permit to sleep with you, as many times as he sees fit, without the risk of losing his job or, worse, his best friend?

Silence falls upon you both.

You twist in his lap.

He tightens his hold.

Within a half’s hour, he’s got your hands white knuckling as they grip the metal bannister of his balcony, his own hands busy pulling your hips back to meet each of his desperate thrusts, not even the cool air of the night enough to soothe the flaming desire that burns between you.

Your stomach twists, your mouth dries, your eyes water at the thought of him out on that balcony now.

Somebody else, some new body sat in your spot, upon his lap as they exchange smoke rings and warm mouths.

Broke me big time It’s funny and I’m laughing baby You think i’m alright

The Laredo sheriff’s department is known best for three things: its lack of parking, its swoon-worthy ex-DEA agent, and its office holiday parties.

Each year, it’s the same.

The station, decked out in decorations.

A Christmas wreath, mistletoe hanging from every doorway, egg-nog and mulled wine.

It’s not just Christmas.

It’s menorahs, and ficus trees, and a statues of different gods.

Each piece of culture, tradition, holiday that makes up the people that inhabit the station, day in and day out, behind desks and in cop cars, filing paperwork and fetching coffees, represented in some way, celebrated.

Each member of staff is encouraged to bring their friends, their family.

Their spouse, their mothers.

Anyone, and everyone, is welcome.

Then there’s the gift exchange, a Secret Santa system, optional for each member of staff.

It’s the part you look forward to most.

Crowding your dad the minute he gets home on the first of December, poking and prodding till he lets it spill who he’s got.

Fishing out a pen, some paper.

Drawing up a list, made of details and anecdotes your father remembers of his target.

Dragging your shop-avoidant father down to the mall, for a day of gift hunting and sweet-tooth indulging.

Getting to watch your father’s coworker open their gift, eyes lighting up as you once again knock the ball out the park and gift them something perfectly tailored to them, winning your dad the spot of top gift-giver year after year.

This year, there was none of that.

No list of pros and cons for each gift option.

No trying to crack just what exactly your dad should gift his person.

No waiting with baited breath to watch them open it, heart racing with that little fear of them not liking it, of you failing.

No, the moment that name fell from your father’s mouth, you knew what he needed to get.

Hinted at it, slightly.

Claimed you’d smelt it on a friend, thought it would be a good idea.

Sipping on some wine and picking at the buffet, you watch him pick up his gift.

Hold it up to his ear, shake it.

Look down at the box, confused, then tear into the wrapping paper.

The whole room stops.

Not really, but it feels like it does, as somewhere across the room Javier Peña holds up a bottle of that damn cologne.

And, when his eyes instinctively find yours, it feels like everything else fades away.

Fades to grey.

It’s just him, and you. The only two within the room, holding a secret too heavy on the tongue to ever speak it aloud.

He knows.

Of course he knows.

Knows you’d watched him spray it on his skin, day in, and day out.

Knows you’d worn it on your own, sunk it deep into your pores after intertwining your souls upon wrinkled sheets.

Knows you’d watch its contents decrease over time, time you’d spent with him.

That bottle of cologne reminiscent of a timer on you both, that morning before the hospital trip becoming the last few sprays he got out of it.

Colour returns to the world that surrounds you as your dad steps into view.

He’s hugging Javi, pathetically tipsy and ignorant to the lipstick stain on his cheek, no doubt ingrained to his skin with how hell-bent he is on having your mother kiss him beneath each mistletoe.

They’re exchanging words you don’t hear, slapping one another on the back.

You turn on your heel, insides twisting as nausea overcomes you at the scene.

The next time you see Javi is hours later.

You’re trying to leave, tempted to take the good old Irish exit and just slip out a back door.

But your parents- ne, your father- are so busy show-ponying you around the room, that you fail to take a single step that goes unnoticed.

“There she is!” Your father calls out, somewhere behind you, as you slip your hand into the arm of your coat. This act sparks outrage, a frown birthing onto his face. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving too.”

You say you’re tired.

He boos, loudly, like he’s not the chief of police and a whole grown adult.

Grabs at you, lovingly, trying to pry the coat out of your hands.

The effort is minimum, and you know he’s only messing around.

You can leave, if you want to, even if he’d rather you stay.

“It’s not even midnight and you two buzzkills are leaving!” He wails, all the while he’s reaching around and helping you slip your other arm into the coat.

That’s when Javi’s face comes into view, over the arch of your dad’s shoulder, sporting a smile and a pair of keys dangling off one finger.

You try your best to counter his smile with your own, though your throat feels dry and your cheeks feel tight.

“I can’t believe I’m being betrayed like this by two of my favourite people!” The smile slips before you can catch it, eyes widening at your father’s words.

Words you’d spent months agonising over the thought of hearing. Picturing the circumstances in which he’d find out. Imagining the horrendous fallout, a red slash over Javier’s reputation. Swearing you’d quit it, quit him, and then winding up tangled in his sheets again, head pressed to his chest, eyes closed in the soundest of sleeps.

Javi plays it cool.

Nudges your dad’s shoulder, shakes his head and tells him to “quit the dramatics, viejo (old man).”

“I gotta head out to my pop’s first thing in the morning, he’s wanting me to help him rewire some of the fences.” Comes out as his excuse, one your dad can’t really argue against.

He knows better than anyone that Javi drops everything for his dad.

Well, better than anyone but you.

Your excuse, however, falls a little short, a consequence of the last minute conjuring of the lie.

“I’ve, uh, got an early class. Don’t wanna flunk out in my last year, right?”

Your dad stares at you.

Your mum stares at you.

Javi stares at you.

And that’s how you know you’re screwed.

“Class? I thought you were on winter break.”

Javi takes the momentary distraction to shrug his coat on, over those broad shoulders.

Shoulders that twist with the rest of him, as he makes space for you in the doorway, nodding you over. Here, he’s saying without really speaking, escape with me.

So you do, tiptoeing past your parents as though, the slower and quieter you move, the less they’ll notice your approach to the exit.

“Oh! Yeah, I- Sorry, I meant that I-”

“The library, it’s still open for the graduate students,” Javi swoops in effortlessly, dragging the spotlight off you.

He takes hold of your jacket, too, slipping the zip into place and dragging it up the length of your torso, over your chest, till it rests snuggly at your sternum.

A little too snug, making each new inhale deeper, harder, practically heaving the air into your lungs.

At least that’s the reason you give yourself.

You don’t get to dwell on it too long, fortunately, for your mother lets out a gasp.

She points, eyes a little widened by excitement, at the both of you and nudges at your father.

“Look!” She tells him, and you watch in confusion as he displays her same reaction, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Then comes the laughter, straight out the depths of your dad’s belly and right to your weak heart, a melody that reminds you so much of easy Sundays and curling up next to him on the sofa, watching kids’ shows that seemed to entertain him more than you.

“Oh that’s just,” he takes a laugh break, doubling over slightly, his own finger joined in pointing at you two, beneath the doorway. “Too perfect!”

Before you can inquire on either of your parents bizarre reactions, Javi’s eyes are staring into your own and pointing upwards.

Wrapped with a red bow and barely hanging onto the door frame with a single strip of tape, a mistletoe stares down at you, two white berries like mini eyes.

When you glance at the agent once more, it’s hard to read what he’s thinking.

His shoulders are tense, his lips are pursed, his brows are furrowed. But, his eyes.

His eyes burn you with an unspoken intensity, a look he should never possess in front of your parents.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” You mom, camera in hand, urges you both, a wide grin cast upon her face.

You dad is in no better state, rushing forward to squeeze you both closer, one hand clasped over the back of Javi’s head.

When the once-agent exhales a nerve-striken breath, the warmth of it, of him, hits your neck.

“Dad, c’mon, stop-” you’ve never imagined yourself stuck like this, your mother and father both urging you to kiss a man you spent months tossing and turning in bedsheets with behind their back.

The creatively deviant part of your brain tells you this is how it could be, maybe, in some other life.

Some other life, where Javi’s not a cop, you’re new in town, and you both bump into each other at the grocery store.

Both of you reaching out for the same apple, or box of cereal, or bottle of milk.

Your hands, brushing.

Your eyes, meeting.

He’d charm you, easily as he always has.

Get your number and then, the next day, a date.

One date leading to two, three, four, more dates.

Till you bring him home to meet your parents at last, squeezing his hand tighter when he tries to pry it away as the door opens to your father’s stern face.

It would take a while, you reckon, for your dad to see past the difference in years.

Your mother wouldn’t care, wouldn’t spare a second thought to it, not when she notices how much he makes you laugh and how he can’t keep his eyes off of you in any room you occupy.

This could be your first Christmas together, your parents begging for one sweet photo of you under the mistletoe, before you both head off to spend the rest of the holiday season with Javi’s father.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“C’mon, it’s bad luck not to!” Back in the present, in reality, your dad’s found his way over to your mother’s side. “Peña, just kiss the girl on the cheek for Christ sake, I ain’t gonna bite your head off for it this one time!”

His lips brush your cheek like an autumn breeze.

Gentle, a hint of warmth, a tickle from the wisps of his well-groomed moustache.

“Get a bit closer, you’re not fully in frame!”

The flash goes off on your mother’s camera, and the two give a little cheer, and Javi wraps an arm around your back, squeezing you a little closer.

When all is said and done, your mother’s forcing you both to stare at the camera screen, a perfect picture of the most doomed couple to ever grace this Earth.

Such dramatics in your thoughts reminds you of the copious glasses of prosecco you’d downed throughout the night, and of your intentions to get yourself home before you done something stupid.

Like stand under the mistletoe with your former casual lover, the very same man your father calls for golf matches and March Madness debriefs.

Javi offers you a ride home, an idea your father approves of.

“I’m heading that way anyway, gotta pick up a few things before I drive out to the ranch.”

A part of you thinks he’s lying, wanting any excuse for a moment alone with you, but then that’s the kind of delusions you shouldn’t be feeding into.

You and Javi don’t spend time alone anymore.

You and Javi do not exist together anymore.

Maybe you never did.

“It’s okay, I already called a cab.”

You part ways at the door, your father watching you from inside.

Javi calls your name, before you can take more than a few steps.

For a second, he just looks at you.

Then his arms are pulling you in, and he’s got you right against his steady chest, and he’s resting his head atop your own, arms squeezing tightly at your sides.

“Get home safe.”

He walks away before you can tell him to do the same, the door slamming to his car the last thing you hear as you pull out your phone and call a cab.

It takes twenty minutes for it to appear, in which the rain starts and your clothes get soaked, but all that and the fifteen dollar fare are a cheaper price to pay than the torture of letting Javier Peña drive you home.

Crawl up the stairs, unlock the apartment door, drop your clothes onto the floor.

You find sanctuary under the shower, soap suds and boiling water, a dynamic duo that scrub off any remnants of his skin against yours.

Even as you step out, fully cleaned and towel wrapped around yourself, you catch a hint of his cologne, the very same one you’d made sure your dad picked out for him.

And as you pick your coat off the ground, a distant voice that sounds much like your mother scolding you for leaving such a mess, you notice it.

First, just a little extra weight.

Then, scratchy paper as your hand dives into the left pocket.

The wrapping is haphazard, with an uneven bow tied atop it, but that’s not what matters.

You tear away at it, let the paper fall to the floor at your feet.

Then you’re met with a small box, which you tear open too.

And find it sitting neatly among balls of yarn, the prettiest, most delicate looking glass bauble.

It’s ribbon a deep green, and it’s centre an image of mountain slopes, backed by a green forest and a valley full of wooden lodges.

It shakes in your grasp, and you spy the snowglobe-esque white foam that dances around within it.

In it’s centre, in bold, italic and green, Vermont.

One more glance in the box.

There’s a note, tucked at the bottom.

You fish it out in one breath, hold it up to read what it says.

Corazón, For your tree. I hope there’s still space.

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