#it’s deeply fucking unnerving

[itstimeforstarwars]

Taking a break from the old mutual's whumptober novella because my old friend is sososo good at whump and emotion and if the boy gets hurt I WILL cry about it.

[thewhizzyhead]

you know when you get a friend that was even more "tomboyish" than you were in your teens and then as the both of you grow up and enter college, you see them explore expressing themselves more femininely and absolutely fall in love with it and with the concept of womanhood - while you on the other hand become all the more estranged with "being a woman" because good God you really don't fucking get it and that seeing your once-tomboyish friend find joy and an emotional connection to womanhood makes you really realize that you have no such connection whatsoever, hence making you feel left behind in actually "becoming a woman"? Anyways what I'm trying to say here is I'm definitely not fucking cis-

[worldofetos]

the sisters of the black sun, the dragonsmark

a mysterious order located deep in the dragonsmark mountains, the black sisters are a quasi-religious order dating back pre-sundering. they currently serve as one-third of the solarian triarchy, advising Pontifex Ludovene VI in all matters along with the Knights-Cleric and the Maestral Assembly. sometimes the black sisters even mean the advice they give, but their own goals are a secret known to themselves.

[muqingists]

plays stressful game at night. gets so scared. hm who could have known

[kitconnor]

watched the most recent tlou and i dont think. im going to sleep tonight

[doks-aux]

The idea of William Afton genuinely loving his children is so much more interesting to me than the alternative, not just because it's more tragic and makes his motivations make more sense, but also because it's fucking hilarious.

You are about to be obliterated from this Earth by a six-foot-something zombie rabbit, and your last moments are spent terrified and deeply confused as he shows you pictures of his kids in a blood-stained wallet: a clearly haunted bear costume, a limitlessly unnerving chrome clown doll, and what looks like Grimace's corpse left to shrivel in the sun.

[ladylightning]

i’m so serious why the fuck did kripke not commit to the bit and make sam and dean completely feral unsocialized freaks. they grew up completely isolated from other normal people AND other hunters. they barely have a formal education in the public school system given how much they moved around. they were raised by tv and left unsupervised in backwoods motels for weeks at a time. their dad was a paranoid obsessive widow vigilante that trained them to shoot first and ask questions later. they essentially escaped a fucking cult. oh yeah and one of them is the antichrist. they’re meant to be deeply unsettling and profoundly unnerving giant creepy men with knives and guns that loom around active crime scenes and ask too many questions. they are cryptids they are ghosts they are monsters and yet they are human. and like you just put them in jeans and call it a day?

[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

⌗︙・⚠︎ fuckbuddy blade becoming obsessed and possessive ⚠︎ ♡⸝⸝

The arrangement you have with Blade is simple. Meet up in secret when either of you is feeling horny, and when you're both satisfied, you can part ways until the next time. No strings attached whatsoever. It's the perfect little arrangement for someone like Blade, and you get to enjoy having the best sex you've had in a while.

But of course, someone like Blade isn't so simple.

Kisses aren't allowed, they never will be. But that doesn't stop Blade from tracing his lips against your skin at the end of another vigorous round with him, or when he hugs you against his chest, trapping you against the bed. No matter how many times you squirm away or reprimand him for getting too cozy with you, he doesn't listen. He never listens.

The hickies and bites that Blade leaves all over your body are a huge pain, especially when he leaves them in more noticeable spots. He's begun to bite so hard that he's drawn blood, teeth breaking past your skin and leaving you momentarily frozen at the pain. But Blade has found a way to twist that pain into pleasure, and it scares you. It scares you that your body has become so susceptible to change, so quick to morph itself into whatever Blade desires.

Every time you move, it causes you to wince from the stinging that pulses across your skin. Something gnaws at you from inside the pit of your stomach when you see the way Blade looks at you, covered in his marks. His gaze feels so wrong—you swear you can feel his stare even when you're not with him, creating a sinking feeling deep within your stomach— like there is just something... twisted just festering deep inside of him.

He's starting to make you second guess becoming fuckbuddies with him.

Blade grows bolder with each of your meetups, using his immense strength to pin you down so you can't run away. He grows more... unsettling. The things that he says as he's pounding into you unnerve you once the pleasure dissipates and clarity begins to sink back into your once-fucked out mind. How you're all his, how nobody else but him can ever satisfy and touch you like he can, how he'd gladly keep you all to himself if he could, how—

How he can longer live without you anymore, the thrill and addiction of watching you beneath too much to simply cut off.

"Bla—" The faint whine of his name is quickly swallowed up by calloused lips against yours. It takes you a few seconds to process what's happening, to fully realize that Blade is kissing you. But once it sinks in, your immediate reaction is to squirm, to try and pry yourself away from the man above you.

No matter how much you struggle against him, Blade doesn't budge, holding your bare body hostage beneath his as he continues to fuck you into the mattress. The unrelenting good is weakening you, destroying your resolve to push him off, to yell at him and ask him what the hell is wrong with him.

You're becoming too weak to fight him off, and the frenzied kiss is making it so hard to breathe. Your body has become so accustomed to Blade's touch, so used to welcoming him without so much as a second thought. He has twisted your body into something he can claim.

Tears well up... the tears spill over, and you simply close your eyes. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, because you know that he loves watching you snivel and whine more than anything else. But a small, morbid part of you wants to open your eyes, to see the face of the man ravaging every single part of you with primal hunger, to—

No... maybe it's a blessing in disguise that your eyes are closed now. Because you won't have to see the sick darkness that swirls in Blade's red eyes, the utterly maddening glee as he forcibly kisses you. Because you won't have to see the way his entire body, in all of its brokenness, shudders as he finally has a taste of your lips. Because you won't have to see the way his chest heaves so deeply, his heart beating so rapidly that it may break past his ribcage, spilling forth all of his blackened love and twisted obsession. Because—

Because you won't have to hear his sick thoughts, the goal of finally claiming you surely come to its rotten fruition.

© latimeriafellfromheaven

[booksofstars-replies]

just had an extremely uncomfortable reblog on one of my posts on booksofstars

[malewifeharem]

sex with danheng IL

彡- ,, brainrot???? small fic????? of sex with danheng IL hehe

cw ⁞ afab!reader, nsfw filth (duh), dragon features (two pp but only one goes in ha?, size diff, FANGSSSSSSS), mention of prey/predator dynamic, marking, breeding kink IF YOU SQUINT, scent kink IF YOU SQUINT EVEN HARDER

an ⁞ YALL FR GONNA FIND A WAY TO REPOPULATE THE VIDYADHARA CLAN ;D (idk how im gonna play hsr the same way after writing this...) im not very happy with the intro but its wtv.

@cloudshuffle my amazing awesome proofreader <3

after getting intimate with each other a couple times, danheng and you have discussed taking things up a notch. i imagine him coming back to the astral express, incredibly frustrated after a stressful mission (after seeing his ex in xianzhou), and he really just needed you. you excitedly welcome him back but you're suddenly pinned down — wrists enveloped by his hand and his tail coiling itself around your leg.

"d-danheng? what's wrong...?"

he growls carnally, his cerulean eyes hazed with lust. he dives in for your chest, inhaling deeply before lightly nipping at your neck with his fangs and branding you as his with a few hickies.

"need you now. you know your safe word, yes?" he huffs impatiently, tugging at your shirt.

you nod before hurriedly ridding yourself of your top and bra, exposing your upper half to your lover.

"so beautiful," he whispers in awe.

danheng's hands immediately lock in on your tits, gently squeezing them before giving each of them a sweet suck. your cute little whimper just spurs him on even more! you're so much smaller than him, it's adorable. but it really doesn't help his innermost desires to manhandle tf outta you. it's just part of his animalistic urges as a dragon, after all.

his hands quickly trails down to unclip your skirt and pushing your panties aside to finger you. you let out a small gasp at this, slightly unnerved by his hastiness but you weren't complaining at all. it's not long till he adds another finger, coaxing a low moan out of you. with your walls clenching so deliciously around his fingers, the dragon wondered how you would feel around his cock instead.

"cant take it anymore... please 'heng..," you whine.

"hm, my baby's so needy all for me? i'll give you what you want since you asked so sweetly."

danheng chuckles before discarding his own slacks, revealing his erect cocks. (yes, two ehe) it's so pretty, being tinted a light turquoise at the base and a pink-ish fleshy color at the tip. he slides one of them in slowly — the stretch being so much bigger than his fingers. you both moan in unison once his length is fully buried in your wetness, with his hand pressing down on your spine, putting you in a mean arch. he waits for your signal before moving his hips, thrusting slow and deep — allowing you to feel every vein, every inch. your skin flushes in embarrassment when you notice how lustful danheng looks in the moment, eyeing you hungrily as if you're meek prey, who've fallen into the beast's domain. (omg so alpha) as he picks up his pace, your cries of pleasure only grow louder and you're sincerely hoping march won't call you both out on it later.

you wrap your arms around danheng's neck, hungrily pulling him in for a kiss while your legs encircles his waist — forcing his cock to drive deeper into you.

"mmfh— fuck, you're sucking me in... feels so good, darling," he pants in between sloppy, wet kisses. it's so messy, the way your pussy squelches sinfully with each thrust — your juices coating his girth with a layer of slick and even spilling onto the sheets below. he continues rutting into you ruthlessly, knocking all the air out of you as your hands find their way onto your boyfriend's back, leaving searing marks — staking your claim. the pain only turning him on even more, he hisses as his breath grows erratic, warning you of his impending release. you're on the edge of your own climax too, a familiar coil tightening in your abdomen.

"haah... i can feel you clenching around me, let's cum together," he groaned in your ear, enveloping you with the essence of him — body, soul, and mind. to him, you look best all fucked-out, guts rearranged and your mind filled with only thoughts of him and his dick. one particular prod to your g-spot sends you to your climax, your cunt clamping down impossibly harder on your poor boyfriend's dick. your words coming out as broken, incoherent sobs as your body quivers from the intensity of it all.

with your pussy milking him for all he's worth like that, how was danheng supposed to hold back? he shot ribbons of pearly white cum inside of you, making sure to fill every crevice of you with him — his cock twitching with each pulse.

"i would've never expected cumming inside of you would feel so good... could we go one more round? gonna fill you up real good again, i promise."

[dyeher]

“Gentlemen,” Mikey says.

His voice doesn’t rise above its regular volume but the single word is enough to quiet the room of executives settled around the conference table.

He's standing at one end, a hand in the pocket of his slacks, the other tapping a random rhythm into the mahogany surface of the table as he regards his...what did you say these men were to him?

They're your friends Mikey.

His friends. Right.

He eyes Ran Haitani who balances on the back legs of the chair he's sitting on precariously. His loafer-clad feet crossed at the ankles on the table. Next to him, his brother sighs deeply, his thumb and forefinger massaging circles into the bridge of his nose.

Opposite them, Kokonoi and Kakucho appear deceptively calm. Kokonoi is chewing diligently on a piece of gum. His attempt at quitting cigarettes. Kakucho has one arm slung along the back of Koko's chair, his legs spread as he slouches in his chair. His eyes are closed, his head tipped back against the headrest. If Mikey didn't know better he'd think Kakucho was recovering from a night out drinking.

Of course, the truth is much wilder than Kakucho spending a night on the town.

Takeomi is absent. Naturally. Sanzu is sprawled in his own chair at the other end of the table. His guns are on the table as he shines his katana.

Mikey considers everything he's been through with the men in this room.

If you can let me in, then you can let them in.

He shudders as your words wash through him. You're like his fucking conscience. It's simultaneously the most unnerving and wonderful experience he's ever had. A voice of reason that isn't being paid in his blood money. He glances at Kakucho again quickly.

If you think these men have stuck around because you're paying them then you're dumber than I thought, Mikey.

Sanzu gently places his katana on the table and shakes out the little cloth he was using to shine it. He gives Mikey his full attention. the action seems to stir the others who also turn to him. Kakucho lifts a single brow at him in question.

And the action sets of something akin to...gratitude in Mikey. It's a wildly unfamiliar sensation and he has to quell the urge to rub his chest.

They would die for you, Mikey.

Yes, they would. He catches a glimpse of a cut running along Rindou Haitani's chest as the man shifts in his chair. The skin is shiny and puckered from healing and a pang goes off in his chest that almost knocks him on his ass.

These men would die for him.

A sudden clarity comes over him and he has to blink several times to reorient himself. It feels almost like someone has ripped whatever ill-fitting glasses he was wearing before off and he can see clearly now. Jesus Christ, these men would die for him.

He sinks heavily into his own chair. The weight of his previous oversight anchors him to the cushion.

"I have news," he blurts.

The words suck the air out of the room. Silence ensues for a handful of seconds and then...

"Oh my God, you knocked her up!"

Rindou reaches Ran before Mikey can react to his exclaimed words and slaps his brother in the back of the head.

"I-" Mikey starts, blinking in confusion. What?

"Jesus Christ Ran, so what if he has?" Rindou interrupts, glaring at his brother.

"I di-" Mikey tries again, his brows furrowed.

"That actually...that makes sense," Kokonoi says slowly, nodding. "I saw her eat half a cake by herself the other night."

Kakcuho is gaping at Mikey. But there's a twinkle in his eye that makes Mikey nervous.

"Wait a min-"

"I thought you'd never notice," Sanzu laughs from the other end of the table and Mikey's skin chills.

What?

"What?" He zones out. Something in his voice must get the others attention because the room goes quiet.

"That's not...the news?" Ran squints at him, his chair making a thudding sound as he settles onto all four legs.

Mikey swallows around a ball of spit that seems to be stuck in the back of his throat. Pregnant.

No- she can't be- she- but- but the crying...and the sensitive breasts. the cravings.

"I was going to say I'm getting married," he says, hollowly.

"Oh shit," Sanzu breathes.

"Fuck, Mikey."

"I thought it was obvi-" Kokonoi shrugs.

"She agreed to marry you?" Ran interjects. "Without-" he pauses to glance around the room quickly and then lowers his voice as he finishes his question "-putting up a fight?"

That gets the rooms attention.

"What the fuck kinda question is that?" Kakucho frowns. "She's in love with him."

That seems to throw Ran for a loop. His eyes narrow on Mikey who's still stupified by the realization that he might become a father and husband in the same breath.

"Maybe there is hope for me," Ran says.

Sanzu snaps at him. "Are you implying Mikey doesn't deserve her?"

Ran splutters. "What? No- Why the fuck would I-"

"Just be quiet," Rindou sighs.

"You really think she's pregnant?" Mikey asks, interrupting their squabble.

"Yes," Koko nods.

"Absolutely,” Rindou agrees.

"Half a fucking cake Mikey...in a single sitting."

Mikey blanches. “She’s pregnant.”

Koko chuckles.

“She’s fucking pregnant,” he repeats. There’s a note of distress in his tone. “With a baby. A child!?”

Kakucho gives him a knowing look. “Congratulations, Manjiro.”

Sanzu, who has been uncharacteristically quiet stands. “This means she can’t say no to a protection detail anymore.”

Mikey’s brain stutters. Protection. Because shes pregnant with your child and about to become your wife. She’s singlehandedly the most important person to Bonten. And to him.

“Oh fuck.”

Rindou shakes his head. “We need to start personally vetting Bonten members now.”

“Why did it take a child and a marriage to convince you of that and not the two times we’ve been double crossed?” Kakucho questions.

“Do you want to deal with a Mikey whose wife and child are hurt or murdered?”

The room falls quiet as all eyes fall to Kokonoi. A heavy tension settles on Mikey’s shoulders. He’s having a child. Maybe. And getting married. Definitely.

And he runs one of the most dangerous organizations in the world. With over a hundred thousand employees worldwide. And stakes in every major and even some minor pies, in every industry.

He’s not sure of much except his own success and frankly, inhuman work ethic. But as the realization that his life is changing. Developing into something better, something more. He’s sure that if anything ever happens to you or his unborn child…he would unravel.

“Can we circle back to her wanting to marry him?” Ran asks, breaking the tension. “Without being coerced?”

[mamawasatesttube]

one of my favorite things with unreliable narrator kon is him just describing tim as soooo cute and cuddly. there's a weird shadow in the corner of the ceiling and kon is just blowing kisses up at it. there's some weird guy perched on the back of a chair with bony elbows and a deeply unnerving stare and kon is like "that's my cuddly and squishable timmy-bear. you know, like a teddy bear, but it's tim!!!" he's in cargo shorts and a ripped sleeve t shirt over another shirt on a skateboard and kon is just like "i mean, who wouldn't wanna fuck him???? he's so universally attractive!!" it's funny every time

[cal-flakes]

dealer!rafe catches reader touching herself

╰┈➤ rafe catches reader touching herself

warnings: dom/sub implications, intimidation, masturbation (f).

summary: rafe comes home from a stressful day to find y/n breaking his rules.

rafe exhaled deeply as leant against the now/closed front door, grateful to be gone finally. it was a long day with back to back meetings and shipment schedules. sighing, he quickly removed the pistol from his waistband, fortunately unused for the day, and placed it in it’s regular place, inside the locked draw in the hallway dressing table.

removing his suit jacket, he flexed his forearms as he stretched his arms out to run a hand over his buzzed head. his eyes flitted around the house in confusion, slightly unnerved by the unusual silence. rafe was used to coming home to his sweet girl either dancing around their shared home, or causing some sort of fuss about rearranging furniture. “baby?” he called, yet still met with nothing.

starting towards the kitchen, his head quickly turned as a quiet whimper drew his attention, swiftly turning to tread up the stairs.

“y/n, princess?” he called again, still nothing.

his brows furrowed as he noticed the bedroom door was closed, causing him to slow his footsteps, instead creeping towards the doorway. his eyes narrowed as muffled moans could be heard through the door, he leaned closer, pressing his ear up to the wood. “fuck..” she cried, desperation apparent in her voice.

his jaw ticked as he hurriedly reached for the handle, swinging the door open in a flash. her eyes widened in fear as his frame appeared in the doorway, his muscles bulging as he folded his arm over his chest. “shit! rafe..i- i didn’t think you’d be home so soon?” she muttered, a sweet smile plastered on her face as she snapped her legs shut.

“didn’t you?” he queried. unconvinced, he stepped closer, his hands wrapping around her ankles as he lingered at the end of the bed. “what were you doing baby?” he asked, intimidating her as the underlying sinister tone rang through her. “i- um, i was just-” she stumbled over her words as she looked around the room frantically.

cutting her off, he swiftly pulled down the bed by her ankles, earning a quiet shriek. “you were just breaking my rules while i wasn’t home huh? didn’t think you’d get caught?” he teased, placing the words in her mouth.

her mouth fell agape as she stared up at him, dumbfounded. rafe tutted as his ring-clad fingers trailed up her legs, lingering dangerously close to her throbbing core. “rafe i’m- i’m sorry..” y/n breathed, quick to give over once she’d weighed her options, coming to the conclusion that it was no use to try and lie her way out of this one.

“show me” he demanded, his teeth grinding as a low growl pushed it’s way out of his throat. “show you?” she whimpered as she blinked up at him through her lashes.

“open these legs, and show me what you were doing” he ordered, pushing her knees apart.

nodding quickly, she trailed a shy hand down to her wet folds and began rubbing gentle circles on her clit, causing her hips to buck. he stepped back, allowing himself to see the whole scene in front of him, staring her down as she threw her head back, moaning his name softly.

he fought the urge to take control,as his suit trousers emphasised the strain in his boxers. “look at me” he snapped, quickly gaining her full attention, in turn causing her to pull away from her heat. “i didn’t say stop, i said look at me” he snarled, his head tilting tauntingly.

“you broke the rules baby, you know what happens when you break the rules..” he spoke, a sly smile inching across his lips as she bowed her head, pulling her bottom lips between her teeth.

he closed the space between them, perching on the end of the bed next to her as she watched his movements with wide eyes. “over my knee pretty girl, c’mon..” he sighed, his tone indicating this wasn’t the first time he’d done those. “no, rafe…i’m really sorry, i was just so lonely, and i thought you were going to be gone for ages..” she plead, pouting as she shuffled to kneel beside him.

“i know sweetheart, i know..” he cooed, cupping her face with his large hands, drawing her into a false sense of security as she leant into his touch. however, his eyes suddenly darkened as he pulled away a hand, landing a soft smack onto her already flushed cheeks, her eyes squeezing shut at the impact. “but you broke the rules princess, and i can’t have that..” he grinned, mocking her for a moment.

y/n’s chin fell once again, fixing her eyes onto her hands in shame. this only frustrates him more as he swiftly tangled his hand in her hair, tugging her head back up. she gasped at the pain while an embarrassing pool began to form on to blankets beneath her. in attempt to cover it up, she shuffled around, yet only drew his attention to the wet patch quicker.

“oh, you’re enjoying this? well let’s see what you think when i’m done with you..” he spat, using his grip on her hair to pull her over his knee. “remember to count them, m’kay pretty girl?” he cooed once more, rubbing soft circles into the exposed skin of her behind.

[narcissistshandler]

Hi! I was wondering if you do yandere reader if so could do yandere male reader x Rin itoshi please ignore this if you feel uncomfortable

𝗠𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗟 𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗠

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 male reader x itoshi rin

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 top!amab reader, bottom!rin, yandere!reader, reader and rin are friends with benefits, violet thoughts (about killing, sharing intimate videos, hurt, make bleed), implicit reader filming sex with rin without consent, stalker behavior, reader is delusional, cumming inside without consent, implicit reader ripping condoms, hint of kidnapping/false imprisonment.

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 I do! i just can't promise to be good at writing yandere, but this was fun anyway. 1.2k words ahead, read warnings and proceed with caution

You wanted to treat Rin better, like fragile porcelain under your hands and every time after he was gone you found yourself fantasizing about treating him like the divine thing he was, not knowing why those thoughts never came when you had him under your thumbs.

But when you rub your already hard cock again against Rin's well-worn, leaking lube hole, grip his hips until your nails dig into the skin and push in, you remember why it's always so hard to treat him like a fragile doll. The sense of power, the notion that he was at your mercy was too unnerving to deny.

You loved him more than anything in your life and nothing and no one was worth even a piece of his nail, not even you or your life. Still, when his head flew back and you could see the hint of teeth sinking into the hand held against his mouth, your love turned into a selfish, cruel little thing, again.

You wanted nothing more than to treat him like a pig at the slaughter.

He spread his legs wider, offering himself fully to your dominion, his body an instrument begging to be played, by you. It is a testament to you control over Rin, no one could give him what he wanted ── only you, only you had the right to see these expressions and hear these sounds. One of your hands finds its way away from his waist, across the lower part of his stomach where you were deeply seated, and lower until it touches the pulsing edge where your bodies connect as one.

There were marks of your belongings all over Rin's body, red fingerprints on his thighs, scratches on his stomach, gross hickeys on his legs, bloody bites on his shoulders and a menacing one near the base of Rin's cock that cost you a clean punch on the cheek. Blood still smeared your teeth from the punch and each time you leaned in for the kiss you made sure to share the metallic taste with Rin, your head spinning whenever you thought you were inside him now, in every way possible.

In the dark you couldn't very well see his face and neither could he see yours, but it was Rin's strict rule that the light must always be off and even when you were outside the four walls of a cheap motel you had to wear a cap and mask and after falling on the puke and spit-smeared floor and making him cum in your throat or after fucking his pre-prepared ass you had to stay behind while he walked away. Rin was ridiculous like that, he was apparently afraid of you following him, as he always turned around and purposefully took two meters wrong before finally heading towards his own house and the number he used to talk to you was disposable, even his real name he never gave you, but you knew it all the same, because he was yours and it was your right to know.

Outside these walls he wore the mask of a complete stranger to you and you desperately wanted to change that, lock him to you so he could never walk away, carve your name into his belly, take the footage you took of your encounters and put it out there so that his career was over and he only had you to go back to and you would hold him in your arms and let him cry and say 'it's going to be okay, my love' as people shared and talked about the video.

Your hands gripped his neck, cutting off his breath. Rin's entire body tensed, feet tucked into the mattress and hands gripping yours to stop you. His hole tightened, hot, just for you, just for you, no one else should be able to see him like this and for a moment you wondered if there were other guys who fucked him, who got into his hole and made him come.

Your hips moved harder, thrusting as deeply as they could inside him, pressing through the deliciously contracted walls to you, wanting to make him bleed, wanting to mold his insides to your form. You could keep him like this forever, yours and nobody else's. An eternal sleeping beauty who wouldn't get up and go as soon as he was sexually satisfied. He should be embalmed so his skin never sags, his flesh doesn't putrefy and the sparkle in his green eyes doesn't fade. It could take hours, days, the hard work would be worth it of course, but...

The grip loosened and Rin immediately gasped for air, hands flying to his throat, staring at you with those dark eyes... You hated the anger there, but you would never complain about anything Rin gave you, even if it was anger and disgust.

"I'm sorry," you pleaded, kissing his hands placed protectively around his neck, enjoying the smooth skin of his long fingers, the tense vertebrae. His hand lowered slowly and you came, immediately, shamefully fast when you saw the red marks on his fragile skin, your fingerprints implanted in his body.

You kissed each and every one of the marks, licked the hot, cool bruise as your entire body shook and your cock writhed inside him, spilling everything you had inside him. You kissed his chin until you reached full, soft lips. Kissing Rin was always a divine experience, the lips sweet as honey, the saliva intoxicating like the most potent drug, everything started and ended in his mouth and your bodies joined as one soul.

Rin was the first to pull away, panting against your mouth and you wanted to kiss him again until his lungs were no longer able to take in oxygen, but you didn't. You shouldn't cross that limit.

"The condom," Rin murmured, his chest rising and falling under your. "Change the condom."

You pressed your lips against his one last time before pulling away to comply, sitting back on your heels between Rin's spread legs and the clock on the wall reminding you that your time with him was running out, you glanced at your bag dumped on the couch. You had prepared for this, no one would look twice when you walked out with him passed out in your arms and your house was far enough away that you could take him.

"Hurry up," Rin demanded.

Snatching the used condom from your still red and hard cock, you discarded it in the trash, seeing the torn latex and white liquid starting to threaten to ooze out of Rin.

"The condom broke," you warned, your fingers against the damp, taut rim, your voice sounding strange and husky in the hot air of the cramped room.

Rin tensed, hand shooting to his own hole, bumping against yours there before a finger slipped inside.

"Fuck," he cursed, thrusting three fingers inside himself to pull the semen out. You watched it with delight. When he realized this wasn't going to work, he removed his hand and stood up, throwing his shaky legs over the side of the bed. "I'll clean up, I'll be right back."

You nodded, watching Rin walk into the bathroom as you opened yet another pack of condom, your attention darting once more to your bag and then to the clock, your teeth sinking into the latex. Your time was running out, what to do?

[moreau29]

jeremy knox

ik this fandom has long been split between "jeremy knox is so perfectly normal it's unnerving. sunshine incarnate." and "jeremy knox is secretely fucked up, could've made the fox lineup, his sunshine persona is a complete façade" but i could not be happier with the secret third option we got in canon

it's not a complete façade. jeremy knox cares deeply about other people and he would do almost anything to make them smile. obviously he puts on a show for the cameras, he's a fucking human being, but he genuinely believes in what he preaches.

he has some baggage. this might turn out to be even darker than what we've seen so far, but i highly doubt it would be something that could potentially qualify him for the fox lineup. his family isn't perfect, he'd rather live with his friends. his sister clearly blames him for "ruining their family" and he avoids his older brother and the police like the plague.

jeremy carries these secrets and keeps them from jean, but he clearly has been open about them with cat and laila. even coach rehmann sknows about his trouble with the police (whatever that is about..) and assumed jean knew about it too !* he's clearly not carrying whatever it is completely on his own

he's not the kind of sunshine character that buries everything and secretely kinda loathes everyone and feels trapped in this cage they've made for themselves, while simultaneously not being all rainbow and sunshine 100% of the time.

he's human.

*post-grayson when they go back to the house, rhemann says he would call the police for jean if he wanted and says "i'll send jeremy away first", thinking jean is saying no because of jeremy

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Six

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

I can't believe it's already the halfway point for A Baker's Dozen, Pedro boy number six is waiting in the wings. But before I let him in I just want to say a massive thank you for all the love all you lovely people gave Ezra. It was a bit sadder than others but there always a chance of him re-appearing...

I'm dropping chapter today seeing as tomorrow is New Year's Eve, from next week I'll be back on my regular Sunday evening posting.

Also, don't miss all the #pickledpena fics that'll be posting on January 1st! And follow @pickled-pena to see them all in their pickled Peña glory.

Happy 2024 all you lovely people!

Series Master List

He puts out the cigarette just before he steps through your door on a quiet afternoon. You’re busy placing some fresh coffee cake in the display case and he’s the only customer in the shop. Crouched down, almost out of sight, it gives you a few seconds to observe him as he looks around the shop. He’s handsome, dangerously handsome, and holds himself with a nonchalant air of confidence that makes you think he’s aware of how good he looks. No man would wear jeans that tight if he didn’t know his body could pull it off, his generous package clearly framed by the crotch of the dark wash denim. A black, short sleeved, shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, one too many buttons undone, yellow aviators nonchalantly hanging from the neckline. And as you drag your eyes away from the freckles of his chest and up to his face, you’re met by his dark eyes, an almost scowl marring his handsome features as he locks eyes with you. 

You stand up, placing the now empty tray on the counter and put your customer service smile on, squashing a nervous squeal in your belly. 

“Hi, welcome, how can I help you?” you say, wiping your hands on your apron as the man approaches. 

“I’m lookin’ for a bakery that does Mexican things, I need a Tres Leches cake,” he says, his eyes leaving yours and scanning the shelves of your display case as you shake your head. His Texas drawl is subtle but the low register of his rich voice emphasizes it and sends a little shiver down your spine.  

“I’m afraid I don’t have any for sale today, but I can make one for you, if you’d like to order?” you reply and you’re surprised when his face seems to fall and he sighs deeply, annoyance rolling off him like the warm scent of his aftershave. 

“Do you know any Mexican bakeries in town?” he asks, “I’m sure yours is good, but I really need the cake today.” He puts his hands on his hips and you’re momentarily distracted by the way his shirt stretches, the buttons hanging on for dear life as his wide shoulders spread even more. 

“Sorry,” you reply, “there’s not exactly a big Mexican community in this town, so no bakeries that do Tres Leches regularly. Maybe you can find another cake that will suit the occasion?” 

The man drops his head, briefly looking at the toes of his dress shoes before he meets your eyes again, his brow furrowed.

“It’s got to be a Tres Leches, sorry.” 

“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you,” you say, shrugging and expecting him to turn around and leave. But instead he remains in front of the counter, looking at you as you start straightening the cups on the counter, just to have something to do, the man’s intense gaze is unnerving.

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath, sharp enough for you to startle, and his eyebrows shoot up, “Sorry, that wasn’t at you. And thanks anyway.” 

He turns and yanks open the front door, exiting out onto the street where he stops, looking left and right before glancing back at you through the window. He locks eyes with you for a beat, and then he stalks off, long legs in tight jeans disappearing down the street. 

He stays on your mind for the rest of the afternoon, not because of the need for a specific cake, but because of the way he’d reacted to being denied it, disappointment that seemed to hit something more than just missing out on what, you supposed, was a special request from someone close to him. Women, especially brides-to-be, could be very emotional and stressed about the specifics of their cakes, but you’d never heard a man curse when he couldn’t get the cake he wanted. You wonder if you should maybe make a Tres Leches cake, just in case he comes back, but decide against it. There are plenty of bakeries in town capable of making them instead of you, he’s probably not even coming back to your bakery anyway. 

By the next day you’ve forgotten about him, the day running past fast as your shop assistant handles the steady flow of customers that Saturday’s always bring. You’re busy in the kitchen baking the last batches for Sunday and planning the week ahead, getting your orders in. As a spur of the moment decision, you add a couple of cans of evaporated milk and condensed milk, the Tres Leches man popping up in your mind as you scroll through the whole seller's website. . 

On late Sunday afternoon you start cleaning the shop and the kitchen, the foot traffic always dies down the last hour before closing on Sundays and you send your shop assistant home.You use the last hour to reset everything for Tuesday, Monday being your day off. 

The sound of the bell on the front door rings as you’re on your hands and knees in the kitchen, wiping out the back of a counter under your workbench.  “I’ll be out in a second,” you call out to the customer. 

“No rush,” a dark voice comes back to you, the Texan lilt familiar. You stand up so fast you almost bang your head on the bottom of the shelf, stumbling to your feet and smoothing down your apron and your hair. There’s a small mirror on the wall just by the door into the shop, so you give yourself a quick glance, hastily wiping the sweat off your forehead and rubbing away a dusting of flour on your cheek. 

“Hi,” you say as you step into the shop, “how can I help you? I’m afraid I still don’t have any Tres Leches cake.” 

The handsome man is still wearing jeans so tight they look painted on, but this time they’re a light wash denim and his short sleeved shirt is white, the yellow aviators hanging even lower in the deep V of his chest. 

“I wanted to apologize for that,” he says, stepping up to the counter, “And I’d like to order one, if that’s alright?” 

“Sure, that’s fine, I’m closed tomorrow but I could have it for you by Tuesday afternoon if that works?” 

“Whatever suits you,” he replies, some of his earlier confidence coming back as he not too subtly lets his eyes give you a once over. “I’m sure it’s worth waiting for.” 

“Didn’t seem like it on Friday,” you say, biting your tongue as the words slip out. The man gives you an unreadable look, you’re not sure if he's insulted or not. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, “that was uncalled for, I’m sure you had stuff going on that made the cake an essential part of your Friday. 

“No, I apologize, I was rude,” he replies, shaking his head, “I was just having a bad day, I…” he trails off, rubbing a large hand over his clean shaven cheeks under his neat mustache, dropping his eyes to the floor before he looks up at you, his eyes suddenly doleful and tired, “I’ve just been a bit homesick lately, and Tres Leches was my mom’s favorite cake, and mine too, she used to make it for my birthday. She passed a few years ago and I just wanted to be reminded of her.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’d be very happy to make you one, but it probably won’t be as good as your mom’s.” 

“I look forward to trying it though,” he gives you a crooked smile, “All your stuff here looks delicious.” He waves his hand over the display case but he’s looking at you and your apron suddenly feels very warm around your body. 

“S-so Tuesday afternoon works for you?” you ask, clearing your throat and the man nods with a smile, like he knows the effects his looks, and his tight jeans, are having on you.

“What name should I put on the order form?” you ask as you grab a pen to fill it in.

“Javier Peña,” the man replies, stepping forward and leaning on his forearms on the counter, watching you note down his name, “I think you should write down my number too,” he says, looking up at you, “just in case you need to call me, for whatever reason.” 

The image of a baby cow looking up at you through thick lashes flits across your mind as he smiles, his eyes are deep brown and suddenly very innocent looking despite the very suggestive tone of his voice. 

“Oh you’re good,” you chuckle, letting him take the pen and jot down his number, “Do you really want the cake, or are you just flirting?” 

“Can’t I do both, cari��o?” he grins, pushing off from the counter and winking at you as he comes to his full height, making you look up at him again. 

“Sure, but you’re only getting the cake,” you smile back at him and now it’s his turn to chuckle, a dimple on his cheek as he regards you with a playful look. 

“I’ll be happy with just the cake, but I’ll keep hoping,” he replies, still grinning as he pats down his jeans, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket, “What do I owe you?” 

“Pay on delivery,” you say and he arches one of his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk. 

“So that’s how I get you to use my number, will you chase me down if I don’t turn up on Tuesday?” 

“Something tells me you’re used to women chasing you down,” you say, trying to keep your heartbeat under control as he cocks his head, another arched eyebrow, “so I should probably just play it cool and count on your turning up for the cake.” 

“When do you close up on Tuesday?” he asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up, as he puts away his wallet. 

“Seven, but the cake will be done before then,” you reply and he nods. 

“I’ll be here before seven,” he says, “you can count on it, cariño.” He winks at you again and you curse the butterflies that immediately take flight in your belly. 

He gives you a wave as he takes a nonchalant step back towards the door before turning, his tight jeans giving you a perfect view of his tiny butt, you’ve really never seen any guy wear jeans that tight and you can’t help but let your eyes linger. 

‘Really…’ you think to yourself, ‘how does he even walk down the stairs in those jeans?’ 

A Tres Leches gets better the longer it can sit in the fridge and absorb all the liquid that’s poured over it, so you get started as soon as Javier leaves. By the time you’ve cleaned up the kitchen and done your usual Sunday night prep, the sponge cake is cooling on the counter. 

Ordinarily you wouldn’t come in on your day off but the Tres Leches needs three types of milk poured over it, so at lunchtime on Monday you stick your key in the lock and turn off the alarm to the shop. 

“Hey, I thought you weren’t open today?” a deep voice says behind your back just as you punch in the code. 

“Oh shit!” you shriek and spin around, your hand on your heart, as Javier’s hands come out to steady you. 

“So jumpy, cariño,” he chuckles, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“You’re sneaky, jeez,” you gasp, hitting the off button on the alarm that’s still beeping, “please, give a girl a warning before you jump out like that.” 

He follows you into the shop, apologizing again as you flick the lights on. 

“I’m sorry, I was just on my way to grab some lunch and I saw you open up the shop, I wanted to say hi and thank you for making the cake,” he smiles and you feel his hand come out and gently brush over the small of your back as you walk past him into the kitchen. The warmth of his hand makes you stutter, trying to keep your cool at his proximity. 

“T-that’s fine, but the cake isn’t done yet,” you say, “and the shop isn’t open, I’m just here to pour the milk mixture on it.” 

“You should’ve told me to pick it up on Wednesday instead, I don’t want to make you work on your day off,” Javier says, leaning against the door frame of the kitchen as you open the fridge and take out the cake. 

“It’s fine, this is quick, I’ll be done in ten minutes, then I’m leaving again,” you say as he watches you with those dark eyes, they follow you around the kitchen as you take out a pan and the three types of milk needed. 

“You have plans for the afternoon?” he asks, crossing his arms and the blue shirt stretches tight across his shoulders. You can’t help but glance at the way it hugs his biceps and he notices, his body settling into the pose a little bit more, thick fingers drumming against the taught fabric over his arm as he smiles at you. 

“Yeah, I have a date at the fair,” you say, pouring the milk into the pan and turning on the heat, from the corner of your eye you see him shift and straighten up a little. 

“A date huh…” he says, “Your boyfriend?” 

“No, just a blind date, a friend set us up,” you reply, stirring the condensed milk into the regular milk. 

“Ok, I hope you have a nice time then,” Javier says, his brow furrowed, standing up and thumping his fist lightly on the doorframe, hesitating for a few seconds, “I’ll come by for the cake tomorrow, have a nice afternoon.” He abruptly turns and you hear his footsteps retreat through the shop before you have a chance to say goodbye, leaving you surprised at his sudden departure. After finishing the cake and cleaning up the kitchen again, you leave the shop and lock up. Javier’s sudden departure still seems strange to you, you don’t know him at all, but he’d suddenly seemed offended by your date, even jealous. He’s a flirt, and you couldn’t help flirting back a little, but you really don’t think he’d be jealous of your blind date. Would he be?   

The next day you’re not sure if he’ll come for his cake after all, but you are hoping he will. The blind date had been a miserable affair and you bowed out after suffering through a painful hour of stilted small talk about small business taxes. Javier’s crooked grin and tight jeans had been on your mind throughout the afternoon as your date droned on.. 

Towards the end of the day you take the cake out and cover it in whipped cream and decorate it with fresh strawberries. And thankfully, a few minutes before seven the doorbell jangles and you look up to see Javier walk through the door, giving your heart a little jolt of excitement. But although he’s not exactly scowling, the yellow aviators cover his eyes and the corners of his mouth are downturned under the edges of his neat mustache. It’s a stark contrast to the bright pink shirt he’s wearing today, the color clashing with the apparent mood he’s in. 

“Hi Javier,” you say, giving him what you hope is your flirtiest look, wanting to coax him back to the flirtiness he’d displayed on previous visits, “I guess I won’t need your number after all,” you say, giving him a sweet smile as you watch his lips quirk up in response. 

“Maybe you should hang on to it, in case that new boyfriend doesn’t work out,” he smirks, coming up to the counter and leaning on the display case, long legs in tight jeans casually crossed as he gives you an appreciative glance up and down. You’d removed your apron a little bit earlier, changed into a nicer top, fixed your hair, only stopping yourself as you considered adding lipstick. 

“No, that was a bad date,” you scrunch up your nose at him, “I had to make up an excuse after an hour.” 

“Too bad,” he says but his crooked grin leaves you in no doubt about the fact that he’s very much not sorry about the failed date, “You should’ve let me take you out instead, I would’ve made sure you didn’t need any excuse to leave.” He gives you a quick wink, taking off his aviators, and you feel your cheeks heat up as he smirks and swipes a thumb over his bottom lip. 

“About that cake, querida?” 

The casual pet name ramps up the heat in your cheeks another notch and you’re grateful for the chance to turn around and head for the kitchen.

“Yeah, sure, let me get it,” you throw over your shoulder and yank the fridge door open, carefully sliding the cake box out. 

“Here, I boxed it for you, but have a look, make sure it’s what you wanted,” you say, putting the box in front of him as you get back to the counter 

“I’m sure it’s perfect,” he replies, but he still slips the paper lip from its hold and flips up the lid. He looks down at it for a beat and the casual confidence slips from his face, replaced by something you can’t place, almost as if he suddenly disappears from the shop, finding himself in another setting, looking at another cake. 

“Is…is it as you expected?” you ask timidly when he doesn’t move, his eyes still on the cake, and he blinks and looks up at you, his eyes soft and warm.

“It’s perfect, just perfect, thank you,” he replies, his tone suddenly sincere and raw in a way you didn’t expect, it’s just a cake. But he looks down at the cake again and there’s a play of emotions across his face, as if the thoughts in his head are dancing across his features in the space of a few heart beats. You let him have his moment and carefully start tidying up the counter around the till and turn to start cleaning the espresso machine when he clears his throat. 

“This is…uhmm…” he trails off and you look back at him, he’s still got his eyes on the cake but as he rubs a large hand over his jaw he looks up at you, “Do you wanna have a coffee with me? And some cake?” 

“You wanna cut the cake now?” you ask surprised, you thought it was for a special occasion but he nods. 

“Yeah, as a thank you for going out of your way to make it, coming in on your day off and everything,” he gives you a nod towards the coffee machine and grabs a couple of plates from the counter, “Although I should really be serving you but that coffee machine looks pretty advanced.” 

“I’d love to have coffee and cake with you, Javier. But are you sure you want to cut it now? I thought it was for something special?” 

“It was, or it is,” he says, coming round the counter with the cake and putting it next to you. “My mom used to make it for me and on Friday it was ten years ago since she passed….” 

He pauses and adjusts the cake with one hand, the other hooked into the pocket of his jeans, fingers drumming against his leg as you wait for him to continue. 

“I was feelin’ kinda homesick, wanted something to remind me of her,” he clears his throat, looking up at you again as you put down the cloth you’ve been wiping the machine with. His mood on Friday makes sense now, but you never would’ve you have guessed the reason behind it, and you push down the urge to put your hand on his arm. But he seems to shake out of his reverie and he gives you a crooked smile. 

“So how about that coffee, cariño?” 

“Sure,” you smile back at him and you see his eyes soften again, “How do you take it?” 

“Strong and black,” he replies, “Show me where you keep the knives and I’ll get us some cake, at least I can serve you that.” 

You show him and he gives a low hum when he slides the first slice onto a plate, “It smells just like I remember.” 

“Good, I hope the taste reminds you of her too,” you smile. It feels like he’s a different person now, still confident and flirty, and dangerously handsome, but you’re seeing a more human side, something underneath his winks and smirks as you watch him expertly wipe the knife and cut another clean edged slice and slide it onto the plate. 

“If you ever need a part time job, let me know, with those cake skills I’d let you serve my customers,” you remark, jumping up onto the counter next to where Javier’s standing. 

He snorts at your comment, picking up one of the plates and hands it to you, “Trust me, cariño, you don’t want me anywhere near your customers.” 

“No, true, those tight jeans might be a bit distracting for female guests,” you say, “I’d never get anything sold.” 

You bite your tongue, trying to stop your giggle, as you see his eyes widen, the spoon hoovering in the air over his cake slice as he tries to process your words.

“Really, cariño,” he says eventually, shaking his head as he pushes the spoon into the cake, “I didn’t think you minded them, considering the way you’ve been staring at my ass,” he gives you a wink as he puts the spoon in his mouth. 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying, I know how distracting they are,” you laugh, “It’s a good thing you left yesterday, I would’ve messed up the cake if you’d kept hanging around my kitchen in those jeans.” 

Javier hums, distracted by the cake as he looks down on it, waving his spoon at it as he chews and swallows. 

“This is delicious, cariño, just as good as my moms, it tastes just like hers.” 

“Thanks, that’s the best compliment I could get,” you smile at him, taking a mouthful of the cake for yourself as Javier reaches for the cup of coffee you’ve placed next to him. 

“Mhm…” he grunts, “strong coffee and Tres Leches, best thing I’ve had in a long time, hermosa.” 

He smiles at you over the edge of the cup, his chocolate brown eyes making you feel flustered as he keeps eye contact when he’s put the cup down. 

“Relly, the best I’ve had in a very long time…” he says, “and the best company I’ve had in a long time too. Tell me, would I really distract you that much in the kitchen?” He takes another spoonful of cake and keeps his eyes on you, staring you down as he cocks his hip and leans on the counter, suddenly very close, making your nerves thrum just under your skin. You can smell the cake on his breath, the coffee from the cup on the counter and his faded aftershave, still lingering on the collar of his pink shirt. 

“You…I-I think you know what you do with those tight jeans, Javier,” you reply and his lips quirk up in response, the corner of his mustache twitching as his eyes move down to your lips and linger there. 

“Why don’t you tell me, cariño?” he smirks, “What do my tight jeans do?” 

You almost roll your eyes at him, the confidence is oozing off him but you can’t deny that he can back it up as he parts his soft looking lips and moves around your legs, stepping in between them, trapping you up on the counter. Your breath hitches as he looks up at you again, his eyes leaving your lips as the tip of his tongue comes out and lightly wets his own. 

Quietly inhaling, you decide attack is the best tactic, and reach out, putting your hand around the back of Javier’s head. 

“Are you going to talk about your jeans or kiss me, Javier?” you ask, and you just have time to see the glint in his eyes, before he leans forward. 

His hand comes up and grabs your jaw, cupping your cheek as his thumb moves across your lips, holding it for a beat before he’s on you. His lips are as soft as they look, molding to your mouth, gently probing to let him in. Your hand tangles into the thick hair at the back of his head, holding on as he pushes forward, widening your legs around his hips, pressed against the cupboard. With a low moan you part your lips to his tongue and he responds, a groan, as he wraps his free arm around your waist, his hand finding your hip and pulling you towards him. The jeans do nothing to hide his growing arousal as you slide right up against his crotch, his kisses are soft but the way he holds you tight, is heated. 

You hook your hand into his belt loop and tug him closer, feeling him roll his hips against you as the taste of the cake and his strong coffee overpowers your senses, his tongue sliding around yours. He’s exploring, his large hand sliding over your jaw, the rough pad of his thumb caressing your skin and finding spots that make you moan and tremble under his touch. It doesn’t take him long to figure out that a gentle nip on your lower lip makes you arch your back and press into him. He makes the most of it as his hand slides up to splay flat over your shoulder blades, holding you close as he continues to explore your mouth.. 

Heat is making your core ache, he’s hard against you, the texture of the denim rubbing against you with each lazy roll of his hips and you have to pant into his mouth, pulling back from him to catch your breath. 

Javier kisses the corner of your mouth as you tip your head back with a groan, drawing a deep breath, and then moves over your jaw, his teeth scraping over your skin, his tongue coming out to taste and lick as he trails kisses down to your neck. When he sinks his teeth into the flesh just under your ear you whimper and grip hard at his hair, hearing him groan against you. He places a wet kiss on the mark his teeth have left and straightens up, looking down at you with half closed eyes. 

“I fucking hated that blind date guy,” Javier growls, still standing close enough for you to feel every twitch of his hard length between your legs, “I should’ve told you to ditch him and asked you to come out with me instead.” 

“I would’ve ditched him, Javier,” you reply, letting your fingers trail over his five o’clock shadow and brush the edge of his mustache.

“So let me take you out tonight instead, finish what we started, cariño.” 

His hands are distracting, one rubbing firm circles over your back, down to your hips, kneading the soft flesh. The other one still on your neck, caressing your cheek, your hair, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips as he keeps his eyes locked on yours. 

“I have to get up at three am, Javier,” you whisper, his lips finding yours again and you lose your train of thought. 

“Rain check,” he mumbles against your mouth, “What are you doing on Sunday night? You don’t work on Mondays.” 

“There’s this guy,” you reply, smiling as he pulls back a fraction to look down at you, one eyebrow raised, “He wears these really tight jeans and I think I should find out if he’s got the goods to back them up”.

“Oh he does,” Javier growls, tugging you closer and making you open your mouth to his eager tongue, pulling a breathless moan from you as he wraps his arms around you again.  

Part Seven

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