#Strange Practice Spoilers

[legally-allowed-to-slime]

in the name of SCIENCE! (dies four times in a row)

[absolutelybatty]

This series means a lot to me

[elveny]

Oh, I did not like the start of Strange New Worlds S2 *at all*. Especially the second episode. That was such bullshit in every aspect and the whole thing they tried to convey just didn‘t work in the least. They really shot themselves in the leg with that whole thing. Ouff.

Who the FUCK thought that drawing a parallel between “people that are genetically modified to be Better Than Others” and “people that were persecuted for beliefs or skin color” was a good idea?! They really went down the road of saying “I was genetically engineered without any reason to be stronger and faster and deadly viruses can’t hurt me and I’m less killable than others, I’m such a sad little miaow miaow”. What. The. Fuck.

[skeletonlvr22]

Alright soooo you've mentioned that the monster in your AU have enhanced senses (sight, smell, hearing, etc.) And you've mentioned that different monsters might have different enhancements on their senses depending on what type of monster they are, but do the differnt versions of the skeletons have different enhancements to their senses?

Like would Wine have different capabilities with his 5 senses than he would with Blue, who is another version of himself?

Or would they be pretty much the same??

Does this make sense!? I'm so sorry I'm terrible at wording things in a way other people will understand😭😭

It makes sense, don't worry! This is such a great question as well!

For the senses, no, all the skeletons are the same. That's just how their subspecies is so it's all the same!

However, depending on the skeleton (and monsters in general), their magic (remember, magic is weird and adapts to the world around it) gives them lil special enhancements.

For example (I'll use Blue and Wine for simplicities sake) Wine sometimes just picks up on things and events a few moments (sometimes minutes, sometimes seconds) before they happen. Coffee's the only person that can wiggle his way around it, mostly because Wine gets a strange distant look on his skull, or he speaks slightly differently, and Coffee's the only one able to even notice that Wine's being strange (let alone that he's about to predict/be aware of the future).

With Blue, his underground was one of the nicest, so his magic didn't need to adapt to be able to do the same things Wine's does (or any of the others for that matter). Blue's a sweetheart, so his main thing is healing. He really does just want to be helpful. Though, Blue's got a lot of energy on top of that, so his healing magic would feel different from someone else's! He's also one of the few monsters who can make healing food with ease!

These enhancements aren't related to the fact that their skeletons at all, just that their monsters. Their smell and hearing is specific to their subspecies, but not their enhancements. Some monsters have them, some don't, it just depends! I hope this all answers your question, lol.

Sorry if I've over explained anything, but thank you for inciting the info dump with such a wonderful question. I hope I see you pop up again soon! 😊☕️

[shouyuus]

doctor, doctor

zayne; 3,377; fluff and smut, no "y/n", knowing use of sex drugs, handjob, oral (f!receiving), face riding, shockingly soft intermission, missionary, internal creampies, banter (it's zayne duh), needy!zayne

summary: zayne volunteers as a guinea pig to test out an antidote to a new love drug. spoiler alert: the antidote sucks.

a/n: phew! i haven't written this much porn in... /checks watch/ well ever really. but im not that mad about it! it's a genre i've always felt a bit weak in so im glad to get some practice :) pls enjoy!

aphrodite made me!! masterlist

─── 黎深 YOU KNOW SOMETHING’S WRONG the second he gets home. There’s a bright flush to his cheeks, a glassy look to his eyes, and he reaches out to brace himself against the counter almost as soon as he’s through the door, sucking in a deep breath.

“Z-Zayne? What’s wrong?” you rush up to him, reaching out to press a palm to his cheek, lashes fluttering as you pull it away, startled. “Oh my god, you’re burning up!”

“No — it’s fine. I’m fine.” He tries to push you away, but can’t help the soft groan that leaves his lips as he nuzzles into your touch. You frown, letting him press into the palm of your hand before he turns to drop a kiss to your skin, looking down at you with hooded eyes. “It’s… not what you think.”

“Not what I…” you blink up at him, worry slowly being eclipsed by a trembling uncertainty.

Something’s not right, you think, but judging by the way he’s still able to hold himself steady, he’s not that sick. So then —

“Ah… fuck —” he curses, leaning forward to bury his nose into your shoulder, tugging you to him in a sudden embrace that has you squeaking, startled by the strength of his hold. And you’re not imagining it; up this close, you can feel his thready heartbeat reverberating through his chest to yours, and his arms around you — is he… trembling?

“Zayne?”

It’s so rare that he curses so easily, so openly. Usually, this kind of language is reserved for the bedroom but —

You go still in his arms, heat washing up the back of your neck into your cheeks as you feel the unmistakable hardness against your hip. Your mind grinds to a startling halt as you try to reconcile these two pieces of strange, incompatible information.

He’s sick… but he’s hard?

“Sorry — I just —” he tries to pull away, shaking his head as if to clear it but his eyes are still glazed when he stumbles back and lets himself sag against the closed front door. You let your eyes take stock of him — his ruddy cheeks and fluttering lashes, the shiver in his limbs, the clench in his jaw as he looks anywhere but at you.

“Zayne. What’ going on?”

He almost hisses at the sharp edge to your tone.

“There’s a new drug out on the market,” he says, his voice thin even as he cards a hand through his hair and tries to take a steadying breath. “It’s… being sold underground, and it’s a potent —” he swallows, tugging at his collar, and it’s only then that you notice the thin sheen of sweat glistening over his skin, “— a potent love drug.”

Your eyebrows skyrocket as you blink up at him.

“A… love drug?”

Zayne sighs, frowning slightly as he jerks at his tie, pulling the knot loose to let it hang around his neck as he thumbs at the top button of his shirt. His fingers, usually so quick and nimble, seem strangely uncoordinated. And after a second, you reach out to gently swat his hand away, popping the top button for him, blushing as he hisses out a breath and lets his head thump back against the door.

“Yes,” he answers, his voice clipped as he tries to look anywhere but at your face. “Our R&D department has been developing a cure and —”

“And?” you ask, letting your finger trace down the thin band of his exposed chest to catch on the next button of his shirt.

“And…” he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he purses his lips, “they needed willing participants to —”

Understanding floods through you like a wash of cold water. You let out a disbelieving laugh.

“You volunteered to test the antidote,” you say, staring up at his flushed face, his sweat-slick skin, the unfocused fracture to his eyes, the way his pupils are blown so wide they look almost entirely black.

You lick your lips, feeling another wave of heat crest through you as tingles shoot down your spine at the thought.

“Yes,” he answers again, sounding aggrieved and relieved both that you’ve finally understood.

“But…” you let your words trail off, letting your eyes rake down his trembling body and back up again.

Zayne sighs, shaking his head, “Well, it’s a work in progress.”

“Mm,” you hum, biting back a laugh that you know wouldn’t be entirely appropriate, given the desperate look on his face. Still, that forbidden knot had started to twist in your gut as you assess the situation.

It’s not every day that chance delivers your boyfriend so pliant and willing to your literal shared front door. And you’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“So?” you say, taking half a step back and folding your arms, reveling in the way he tips forward immediately to chase your warmth. “How do we —” you wave a hand towards him, feeling a strange, impossible fit of giggles threatening to spill from you at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Zayne slates you a rueful look before leaning back to pinch at his nose bridge.

“T-the researchers say that the effects —” he pauses to take another deep breath. You can’t help noticing the increasingly obvious bulge in his work slacks and you feel your own thighs tense as the knot in your stomach twists just a tad tighter. “The effects should wear off on their own in a few hours but…”

“But?” you prompt, lacing your hands behind your back as you teeter on the balls of your feet, feeling an ever-familiar tingle race from the nape of your neck to the tips of your toes.

“But… there’s nothing much to do except to —” Zayne’s fingers twitch as he forces himself to open his eyes and stare at a nondescript point over your shoulder, “to ride it out, as they say.”

At this, you break — you fall into a fit of giggles that has Zayne sighing again as he pushes himself off the door and making his unsteady way to the bedroom.

“W-wait! Where’re you going?” you ask, tugging at his arm.

He twists to stare at you, “I — to bed. Or I can sleep on the couch tonight if it’ll make you more —”

You roll your eyes and yank him down for a kiss. He can’t even pretend to protest as he moans and melts into the heat of your mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair and feel his palms gripping at your waist, tight, and then tighter.

“Y’know… for a smart guy… you’re really kind of clueless sometimes.”

“Y-yeah?” Zayne asks, his breath hot against your lips. You nod, letting him tug you both back towards the bedroom, him nearly stumbling in his haste, you biting back another fit of giggles as he sits down hard on the edge of the bed and slots you between his legs, running his hands up and down the backs of your legs, fingers dancing towards the lace trimming of your panties.

“Did you really think that I wasn’t going to help you?” you ask, your voice low.

He lets out another thick groan as you cup his cheeks and tilt his head back to look at you.

“I — I don’t — I thought that maybe —” he stutters, but you shake your head.

“C’mon doc,” you say, grinning as his eyes narrow. You give his chest a light push and watch, satisfied, as he allows himself topple back onto the mattress. “Tell me where it hurts.”

He sucks in a breath between his teeth, staring at you with a look of such unadulterated love that you find yourself almost getting shy. Almost. You crawl onto the bed, nudging apart his legs, walking your fingers up this thighs as he jerks, head falling back into the pillows.

“Please…” the plea leaves his lips parted, and you feel the heat pulse between your own legs, feel your mouth water as you look down at the pliant, panting form of Zayne’s body, spread out on the bed, his chest rising and falling at quick intervals as he watches you from beneath hooded eyes.

Briefly, you consider teasing him, but disregard the thought after realizing that he’d probably driven home feeling much like this. And you reach up to tug loose the belt, making quick work of his trousers, pulling down his boxers to reveal his cock — thick and leaking so much precum that your hands come away sticky.

“A-ah — fuck.” Again, he swears, as you tentatively wrap your fingers around his girth, and it’s not the first time you’ve done this, nor will it be the last, but it never fails to surprise you (just a little) how thick he is in your hands — how your fingers don’t reach all the way around.

You give him a few solid pumps, feeling the angry veins pulse beneath your palms as you try to work up a tempo, his hips jumping as he lets out a string of deep, throaty moans that have you clenching around nothing.

“Wait — wait —” he reaches for you, his thighs jumping slightly as your rhythm slows, and he hisses out a long breath, his brows furrowed as you tease your thumb around the underside of his cock hood, allowing yourself a tiny, devious grin as he whimpers high in the back of his throat.

“Yes, doc? Did you have any… complaints?” you drag your tongue across your lips before leaning down and letting your hot breath fan over his purpling head, feeling the heat between your own legs spread through you as thick beads of precum ooze from his slit.

“Come — come here —” he motions up the bed and you cock your head, glancing back down at what you’re certain is quite the painful erection.

“You don’t want…” you tighten your hold around his shaft as he catches his lips in his teeth and groans.

“I — I do. But I want —” he swallows, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief second, “I want to taste you.”

Desire curls solid at the base of your spine as you feel yourself throbbing at the thought. Zayne’s never been anything but a devout lover, and you’d often reflected that it really does pay to have a boyfriend who has a truly occupational knowledge of human anatomy.

“Yeah?” you ask, your own voice going breathy as you inch up the mattress, his hands settling so easily on the plush of your thighs, his eyes flitting up and down your body almost as if he doesn’t quite know where to look. You lift up your skirt and tug off your panties, with the full intention of lowering yourself slowly, but with a wretched moan, Zayne pulls you down over his face hard enough for you to gasp, your weight tipping forward so hard that you have to brace your hands on the backboard to stop yourself from toppling right over.

You feel his tongue lick a long strip along the seam of your cunt, the sting of his fingers digging into your thighs as he holds you over his mouth, groaning into the sopping heat of you, his tongue already pushing into you as he gives your clit a hard suck that has your mind fizzing out into tv static.

“Z-Zayne — oh fuck —!”

He strains against you, pressing his face so far into you you’re almost afraid he’s going to suffocate, but he only holds you tighter when you try to pull away, his mouth chasing your puffy lips. You grind yourself against his face, feeling his nose nudge at your clit as he sinks his tongue ever deeper into you, fucking it into you with a perverse need.

And it doesn't take long like this, not when he's so intimately aware of all your softest parts, all your most sensitive places.

“I — ah — ah — I’m s-so —” you stutter, as you feel the familiar tightening in your belly, the coil twisting as thin tendrils of heat start to skitter up through your limbs and you feel your orgasm building inside you.

Zayne lets out a debauched moan, letting it rumble from his mouth straight into your cunt and it’s enough to have your eyes fluttering shut as you break over his mouth, whimpering, hips stuttering as the white-hot fire chases washes through you in a great wave, leaving you feeling boneless and slightly winded.

Zayne pulls away panting, licking his lips, his eyes dark as an oil spill, completely devoid of light as he stares up at you, his gaze more licentious than you’ve ever seen it before. Even in the champagne-bubble weightlessness of your post-orgasmic haze, you recognize the crystalizing need in his movements as he releases your thighs, his handprints inked into your skin, red and fresh — you’re sure they’ll still be there tomorrow.

“H-how do you want me?” you ask, your voice a little slurred as he reaches up to wipe a thumb along his bottom lip, collecting the remnants of your slick there, only to lean in and press his mouth to yours. You groan against him, the messy tang of your own juices sharp on your tongue as he kisses you, pressing you back into the mattress till you’re pinned beneath him.

“Just like this…” he whispers, and you marvel at the restraint still in his actions, even as he quickly sheds the rest of his clothing, tossing them off into the careless dark of the room.

There’s a moment, caught in-between one kiss and the next, where he pulls back and looks at you, his eyes so soft, his expression unguarded, where you wonder if you’ll ever be able to see yourself through his eyes, and a tender warmth spreads through you as you realize that this is what love has always meant to feel like. There have been fireworks, yes, and whirlwinds. There’ve been storms and sunny days. But there will always be moments like this, caught in the almost light of a moonless night, when you are so much more than the sum of your parts, added together.

When your bodies are more breath than air, skin and share, and all the parts of you that you might’ve wanted to hide from the world are here, collected in the negative space between your bodies, held and loved like buried treasure.

“I love you,” he says, quietly, simply.

You gasp as you feel him pushing into you, his cock stretching you till you’re nearly breathless.

“I — I love you too.”

Zayne nods, fucks into you till he’s bottomed out, and though you can feel his arms trembling with the effort, he holds still to let you adjust. And it’s not till you give him a tiny nod that he puffs out a held breath and pulls back to fuck right back into you again. You keen, head tossing back into the mess of sheets, feeling every vein and ridge of his cock as it drags along your clenching walls.

“I don’t — I won’t be able to —” he can’t make out a full sentence, but you don’t care, just the size and weight of him are enough to make your vision blinker out at the edges.

“Mm — h-harder — please Zayne —” and its his name more than anything that proves his undoing. He lets out a clipped grunt before straightening and pulling your legs up, shifting your hips till you’re flush against him.

“Y-yeah — I’ve got you —” he gives you calf a quick kiss before rucking his hips down, his cock ramming into your g-spot hard enough for you to see stars. And then hammering into you with a desperate speed, chasing his own pleasure and it’s all you can do to keep from being tossed over the edge, too far, too fast.

“Yes — yes — yes!” you’re babbling something, nails scrabbling at his arms, his chest, his back, at anything you can reach as he pummels your abused hole, bullying his cock deeper and deeper into you till you clench around him, your orgasm blazing through you even as he shows no signs of slowing down.

“It’s — you feel — so — tight —” his pace stutters, his voice breaking over your name as he hoists one of your legs over his hips, “I’m —”

You nod, reaching up to tug a strand of hair away from his sweat-slicked forehead.

“I-inside — you can — want you to fill me up —”

Zayne keens, thrusting forward one last time before you feel him pulsing inside you, the warm spill of his cum stuffing you full till you can feel the remnants leaking down the curve of your ass. You bite your lips, swallowing hard as Zayne jerks into you a few more times till he finally stills, the pair of you both panting, your bodies sticky now with too many bodily fluids to count.

You let out a breathy laugh as he hisses, casting you a reproachful look.

“Y-you’re still hard…”

He sighs, nodding, “Yes… it’s one of the… more tedious side effects of the drug.”

He makes to pull out but you stop him, tugging him into your chest and running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

“You need to tell your R&D department that their antidote is very ineffective.”

Zayne chuckles, rolling onto his side and pulling you with him, the pair of you now curled into each other, his arms around you, his twitching cock still pressed inside you.

“Yes, I’ll be sure to send them a memo.”

You nuzzle further into his chest but your eyes catch on the clock hanging on the opposite wall and you frown.

“It’s only been… 43 minutes?”

Zayne glances at the clock as well before turning his gaze back towards you.

“Seems so.”

You lick your lips, feeling your mouth go dry as you feel him throb once more inside you.

“How long… did you say the effects last for again?”

Zayne heaves a very serious-sounding sigh even as you adjust yourself to be sitting over his hips, his cock sheathed inside you as you plant your hands on his chest.

“The R&D department said anywhere from a few hours to…” he lets his words trail off, a devious glint flashing behind his eyes, “in the worst cases, a few days.”

You shiver as he casually settles his palms on your hips, rocking you forward and back. You let out a hitched moan as your over-sensitive clit drags along the skin of his lower abdomen and his cock jerks inside you.

“D-days?” you echo, swirling your hips around in a soft figure 8 that has him sucking in a harsh breath, his brows furrowing with pleasure.

“Y-yeah… I’m assuming your offer of help still s-stands?” he does his level best to keep his voice dry, but his breath hitches as you pull yourself up the length of his cock before slamming back down. And already, there’s that self-same hunger eclipsing the light in his eyes as he stares down at the place where a thick ring of white has formed around the base of his cock, more liquid seeping out of you with every moment you make.

“Mm — maybe I’ll need a f-few breaks but —” you whimper as he thrust up into you, his thighs clenching beneath you, “like you said w-we just n-need to ride it out, right?”

Zayne purses his lips in concentration as he roots his feet into the bed before fucking up into you once, twice, three times, bouncing you on his cock with the sheer strength of his legs and thighs.

“Right.”

all taglist pt 1: @faeryminnyx @trashkitty @sorapricots @tricia816xoxo @nayo3ns @veetallla @notfr0mh3r3 @sh4nn @animecrazy76 @celestialforce @celestialzdiviner @m00nchildwrites @glitching-wren @ivana013-blog @rafayelsgf @pikachuzhc @angellinnie @stardewy @zombigirlfriendsblog @storyland-ofstars @xxfaithlynxx @crazy-ink-artist

all taglist pt 2: @wowunreal @boobearymuch @livonianmaia @celestialmoni @colorfulgardenerduck @bunnylechef @rikiwaify-blog @deepspacewithrafayel @nogitsune-the @carrotsandkoos @stardustwtx @yaoduriaa @queen-serena88 @stunies @simpingdailyforthem @love-and-deepstrays @small-fry28

the rest of the tags will be in the reblog!

[lifetimeoftired]

Thought more on the 'Batfam in Danny's world' stuff.

Red Robin: What is this? -holds up a clunky early 2000s device he found in Danny's room between his pinched fingers, like it might bite him- Danny: Oh, my PDA? Tucker insisted on buying it for me but honestly I'm not really that great with tech so I don't use it much. He usually follows me around trying to manage my schedule with it. Red Robin: Concerning but, more concerning, this thing... Works? Danny: It's the latest model, so it should? Red Robin: Latest... -trying not to cringe- How do you connect to the internet on it? Or take pictures? Danny, with genuine excitement: Your PDA can do that!? Man, that sounds way cooler than the plastic that lets you see all the stuff inside! Red Robin: I'm In Hell.

Spoiler: Having villains for parents is the worst right? Danny: I mean, my mom accidentally brings the food to life and it tries to bite us. But the keyword is 'accidentally'. They're mostly harmless. Spoiler: They literally just shot at you??? Danny: They shot at Phantom. They don't know it's actually me you know? Also I don't even worry about it. They don't have very good aim since I'm not a danger to them and Dad only gets badass when mom is in danger. Mom's always a badass but it's good dodging practice. Besides, I'd be more worried about them dissecting me, what with the whole, I'm technically an entirely different species that they've been studying their whole life and don't think I'm sentient anymore. But y'know it's whatever. They're not actually all that bad and I know they love me deep down. Spoiler: I'm not sure whether to borrow Hood's guns and shoot you myself or kidnap you away from here and force Batman to adopt you. Danny: Wha-

Danny: Alright a few more adjustments aaaaand there! Signal: Oh wow! Thanks! It's nuce to be able to see again without getting black spots on my vision. There's so many ghosts around it can be hard to see. Danny, biting his lip trying not to laugh: No problem. Signa;: .... What? Danny: Nothing! You look great dude! Signal: ....... Danny: ....... Signal: What did you put on my face!? Danny: Sun glasses! Signal: -skids to a halt in front of mirror and sure enough they're sun glasses. But they're triangular and the hooks go aaaall the way up to hook around the bat-ear points and look completely ridiculous- Danny Why :( Danny: -trying to say 'sorry' through his giggles, but he's not really sorry-

Danny: Uuuuh Red Hood I can't see your face, but I'm kinda worried about how many guns you're loading right now. Red Hood: I just want your 15th birthday party to be safe, okay? Danny: I'll be fine? It'd be nice if the other ghosts gave me a day off sure, but fighting them seems safer. I don't really want my mom to bake a cake anyway. Knowing her it'd just come alive so if they forget this year it's fine. I'm just, those are real guns man. They're dangerous. Red Hood: They are. -cocks gun- For Them.

Robin: >:( Danny: It was a nice try. Robin: Do not patronize me Fenton! Danny: I don't know why or how, but that sounds even more insulting than when Dash does it... Robin: This is an indignity! Fighting immortals entities that cannot be harmed by blade is one thing- but I will not accept being spoken to like a child! Skulker will return and taste my fury! Danny: Hey calm down alright? Robin: Do not test my patience! Danny: I heard you like animals. Wanna meet my purple back gorilla friend? She's really nice and is easy to talk to. Robin: .... The gorilla... doesn't speak does she? Danny: Haha no of course not! I learned her language instead. Robin: ... You are a strange man. However I will accept your proposal for now and I insist you teach me every form of communication with her.

Orphan: :( Danny, who's always been able to understand Cass perfectly, much to the mystery of the batfam and her delight: Aw Cass, I love you guys too. It's been great having your family around- and really I'm flattered! But I can't be your new brother, I'm sorry, but we do live in different realities. Besides, I think I've had enough of people trying to adopt me. Orphan: ? Danny: Yeah my godfather is a total fruitloop. Always trying to kill my dad and marry my mom who hates his guts and get me to call him father instead. Like, he even tried to clone me and copy my brain into a new body right? Or that time he rigged the election to become mayor just to mess with me. And hiring actually competent ghost hunters so I'd quit (kinda wish I could quit actually but it's fine). His obsession with me can get out of hand sometimes you see. Orphan: >:( -cracks knuckles- Danny: What? No! I don't need protecting really! I can handle him just fine. Now that I'm thinking about it though, I dunno what he'd do with Jazz. He never seems to actually talk about her beyond that one time he tried to get her to attack me- huh? Orphan: -disappeared- Danny: ...... That probably won't come back to haunt me.

[heizlut]

Little Lamb

ꕀ cw: public (no one is around though), one mention of kidnapping

ꕀ tags: sub fem!reader, dom!scar, creampie, rough sex, oral m!receiving, minor spoilers for rover’s 1st encounter with scar, mostly proofread

ꕀ nsfw under the cut

ꕀ m!list here

Scar stalks circles around you as you stand there in the abandoned village that was decimated by a ritual done by its own people, “Don’t you wonder whatever happened to the little lamb in my fable, love?” Your eyes track him as he moves around you, as if you were the prey to a very dangerous creature, “Maybe you should enlighten me.” He smirks down at you then moves behind you in one smooth motion, “Gladly…”

His hands travel down your body slowly, sending tingles down your spine. His fingers trailing lightly over every curve, pausing only to linger on your breasts. He didn’t squeeze them as you had expected but the lingering touch ignited something inside of you. Scar’s fingers trailed lightly over your pebbled nipples that poked through your top, making you let out the softest, breathy moan.

His smirk widens at your reaction and he bends down slightly to whisper huskily in your ear, “Did you like that, my sweet lamb?” You capture your bottom lip between your teeth, not trusting your voice to answer as you arch your back against his chest. Scar chuckles lowly, “That’s what I thought.”

His hands continue down your body, resting at your hips when he suddenly pulls you flush against him. His hardened cock pushing against your ass as he whispers down in your ear once again, “Such a helpless little thing… Whatever should I do with you?” The feeling of his cock against your ass practically has you reeling, “Please…” Scar raises a brow and chuckles once more, “Please what, little lamb?” You whimper at his response, hoping he would just read your mind and get on with it instead of relentlessly teasing you.

A resounding laugh falls from Scar’s lips and his grip tightens on your hips, “Come on, love, tell me…” He grinds his throbbing, clothed cock against your ass, making you moan and your eyes flutter, “Please… I need to feel you inside of me.” Oh, if you could only see the smirk on his face, you would’ve crumbled within his grasp even more than you had already done, “Anything for you…”

With that, his hands were tugging down your skin-tight pants. Maybe a part of you was silently thanking the fact that no one else was around, but truthfully, your thoughts were a muddled mess. You are held against him, in just the cutest red panties Scar had ever seen. His fingertips trace the edges with a feather-light touch, his hot breath fanning over your ear, “Did you wear these in anticipation of meeting me? How cute~”

You wanted to shake your head and deny his claims, but that would’ve been a lie. You’d heard of him briefly through others from this strange new world, but you would swear it was just your subconscious preparing yourself for an encounter such as this. He laughs again, it’s a husky sound that drives deep within you, “You can’t even deny it~”

You shiver under his touch when he begins to slowly pull those panties down, already dripping in anticipation for his more intimate touch. Scar of course does not give you what you want as you expect it; his fingers slowly moving down and teasing your inner thighs, oh so close to where you were desperate for his touch, “Is there something more you want to ask from me?~” Scar’s voice is low and teasing as he speaks. All you want are his fingers on your clit and inside of you, pressing into your most sensitive spots, “I.. want your touch..”

Scar laughs, his eyes darkening, “Cute… To think such a powerful being would fall so weak to little old me~” If you had been lucid enough to respond properly, you would have rolled your eyes and maybe even walked away, but it was as if you were under a spell… His spell… Maybe you wanted this. Maybe there was something about him that made you utterly weak to him. That had to be it, why else would you be here? As if you’d view him as an actual romantic interest…

The calloused pad of Scar’s middle finger presses against your clit, making you weak at the knees as you suck in a sharp breath. One corner of his lips curve up, “Just trust me… I’ll make you feel pleasure you’ve never experienced before.” Who were you to deny him?

His finger rubs in slow, sweet circles on your clit. Your back arches once more against him, your breathing heavy. Scar uses his other arm to hold your upper body close to his, his free hand gently squeezing your breasts.

He relishes they way your breasts squish and mold into his touch. His tongue darts out and licks the shell of your ear, sending a new round of hair-raising tingles throughout your body, “Your reactions are simply too delicious for me to stop… I should just take you away into one of my domains and lock you up so I can have these reactions all to myself… whenever I please.”

Before you can even try to get your thoughts straight to respond to him, Scar’s finger dips into your dripping entrance, immediately curling against your sweet spot. “S-scar..!”, you whine as your eyes threaten to roll back from pleasure. His breathy, low chuckle fans over your ear as he continues his motion, “Oh how I love when you say my name~”

He removes his finger from your warm walls and forces you to face him. Your eyes take in his scarred face and mismatched eyes, making Scar’s lips turn up in a dangerous smile, “See something you like?” If this had been any other interaction with him, you definitely would’ve scoffed and spat back some witty retort. But this interaction wasn’t normal. And maybe you were completely fine with that.

Rough fingers trace along your jaw, his thumb pausing on your bottom lip then presses down gently on it, “Open up, little lamb. I want a taste…” The way he spoke was so low, twisting with an aura of danger and pleasure. You open your mouth only for him to make another demand, “Tongue out.”

Once you stick your tongue out of your open mouth, Scar leans down and flicks his tongue against yours before sucking on the tip. Once he released your tongue, he straightens back up with a devilish smirk, “Mmm.. so sweet, I could just swallow you whole~”

You stand there almost gawking at him, trying to comprehend what just happened. You had expected a kiss, not the strange sensation of his tongue licking against yours and the feeling of your tongue sucked between his pretty lips. You can definitely understand why people would follow him with his magnetizing aura. It made you tremble in both fear and excitement.

The sight of you pulls a husky laugh from his lips and he tilts his head slightly, his shaggy white and red hair following his motion, "That look in your eyes tells me I've got you right where I want you..." With that, he grabs your thigh and lifts your leg, making you more exposed than you already were. He wraps his other arm around your waist to support your now off-kiltered balance.

Scars lips almost graze yours when he speaks again, "Why don't you be a good girl for me and take out my cock, yes?" You blink, wide-eyed as you process the request, bringing back that devilish grin on his lips, "Go on... Unless you'd like to stay in this position til someone finds us here~"

You gulp at the thought and his voice lowers to a hushed teasing tone, "Unless that's what my little lamb would like?" That snaps you out of it and you make quick work of the zipper of his full-body suit. A stray thought crosses your mind that this would've been so much easier if he had been in a proper outfit with pants you could just tug down, but you would have to make do with this.

You didn't know how much time either of you had before some random adventurer wandered through this village. You fumble slightly as you reach in through the zipper and your fingers make contact with the soft, velvety skin of his cock that was throbbing to be pulled out.

Scar sucks in a sharp breath when your fingers wrap around his length and pull it out, the tip already oozing with pre cum. With your hand wrapped around his cock and the way he inhaled so sharply made you feel like you had some semblance of power over him, if only but for a moment. You rub your thumb across his slit, the pre cum wetting the pad of your finger.

Scar bites his bottom lip at the feeling and his grip on you tightens, "That's enough playing." Not allowing you to linger in your newfound sense of power, he pushes his hips forward, the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit and through your folds, "I"m going to fuck you so hard your pussy will only be able to take my cock, no one else's."

The motion and his words seep into you as you subconsciously let go of his throbbing length that twitches and bobs from its own weight. Scar clicks his tongue and your eyes find his mismatched ones yet again, "Gonna make me do all the work huh? Grab it and position it correctly while I'm still playing nice, yeah?"

You let out a choked whimper and wrap your fingers around his cock once more, lining it up with your dripping entrance. You let go once you feel the mushroom-like tip push into your awaiting gummy walls. With a breathy chuckle, Scar pushes in hard, sheathing his full length inside of you as you quickly wrap your arms around his neck for support, "What a good girl~"

Scar wasted no time as his hips begin to thrust up into you at a rough pace that you could barely handle. It was silly to even think that he would give you a moment to adjust to his thick length. He was a villain after all. You felt stuffed full beyond belief as his cock ruts into the deepest parts of you, hitting in all the right spots.

All you can do is hold onto him and babble his name between the lewdest sounding moans and whimpers. Scar's hair begins to stick to his forehead from sweat, his abs flexing with each thrust as he holds your leg up. The angle made his cock feel even bigger than it truly was and you were not about to complain.

His hot breath fans across your lips. You mouth falling open in a sweet moan. Scar takes this moment to capture your lips in his, his tongue twisting and moving against yours. His thrusts become shallow and remain deep, not due to an impending orgasm, but with the need to be as closely and wholly connected to you as humanly possible.

Your clothed breasts bounce and squish against his broad chest in time with his cock fucking into you. Scar's voice is raspy and breathless as he speaks, "Need to feel your pussy squeeze around my cock. Come on, little lamb, milk me for all I'm worth."

Everything was overwhelming your senses and his words drove you over the edge, "Ngh! Scar!" You cry out his name, letting it echo through the abandoned village as you cum hard on his cock. Your wet, tight walls squeeze impossibly tighter around his length, causing Scar to let out a deep, resounding groan from his throat. He was about to fucking lose it.

Everything about you made him wish he could have you all to himself with 24/7 access. Gods be damned if he couldn’t make that reality. From the moment he saw you in this very clearing, trying to make sense of the tragedy that occurred in this poor village, he knew he would make you his. His cock throbs and pulsates within you, unintentionally pressing up against your sweet spot which made your eyes flutter shut.

Scar clicks his tongue once more, “Eyes on me, sweetheart.” Your eyes gaze deep into his as he gives a particularly harsh thrust up into you. Your pretty eyes on him is his undoing as ropes of cum spill into you as a ragged groan falls from his lips.

The way he’s holding you so tight is sure to leave bruises, to which he hoped you would proudly flaunt. His cock twitches with the residuals of his orgasm, his cum already leaking out past his length that was still resting inside of you.

Gently, he releases your leg, but being back on both legs after such a brutal fuck had you literally weak in the knees. You would have collapsed if it weren't for his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he smirks down at you as if he wasn't just as affected by the occurrence, "See? You need me."

The weak whimper that claws up from your throat just boosts his ego even more. He pulls you against him as he looks down at you, almost nose to nose with you, "Follow me, little lamb, and you'll be granted everything you could ever wish for..."

🂲🃍🂶🂲🃍🂶🂲🃍🂶🂲🃍🂶🂲🃍🂶🂲🃍

a/n: this is what i would like to think would've happened if we had been given a third option in our dialog with him while he tried to get us to look for clues😌 (i chose to fight him after looking at the first two clues, i couldn’t resist lmao)

[temiizpalace]

☆┊YOU DREAM OF ME??

SUMMARY: entering the dream world was such a strange feat.. especially seeing yourself in somebody else’s dream.

CHARACTERS: jade leech-centric

GENRE: fluff, crackfic

WARNINGS: you act cringe because jade leech is a cringy guy with wattpad fantasies + BOOK 7 SPOILERS + canon divergence (some dialogue is not exact cause i lowkey forgot, some moments didn’t actually happen, and i shortened it a lil so i don’t have to write too much)

NOTES: while writing this, it turns out someone else had a similar idea so i was hesitant to upload the writing. however, I’ve decided to anyways. that being said, crediting said individual is still in order since they had the idea first.

please check out @.paralleljoys post here (IF ANY ISSUES PLEASE SEND ME AN ASK, TY!)

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

🐬∘˙

you didn’t expect this. nobody expected this, actually.

jade leech, cunning, observant, quiet, and mysterious. he was one to keep his cards close to his chest and play it safely to ensure the best outcomes. and yet, here we are, in said eels dreams. a look inside of his thoughts, how he truly saw people, how he—

“jade you’re so cool! i love love love love loveeee the way your mind works sooooo much!” a voice, sounding similarly to yours, chimed. “fufu, you flatter me, my pearl..”

your jaw dropped, grims jaw dropped, you can hear idia falling out of his seat from behind the screen, jamil’s eyes had never been opened wider, floyd cringed, silver looked away, ortho could barely compute, and sebek had the most genuine disgust written on his face.

was that you? you thought azul and floyd looked stupid, BUT THAT WAS YOU? jamil slapped a hand over grims mouth, preventing the direbeast from cackling his lungs out at the sight of your pathetic image. “MYAHAHA, HENCHMAN YOU LOOK SO STUPI—“ “keep quiet.” jamil mutters, slightly smirking. you could tell he was also containing his laughter, making your face change in hue.

“eww, no way. i knew jade was all lovey dovey with the prefect but i dont wanna watch it. what a sap.” floyd groans, looking at dream you, real you, then at jade. “i dont wanna watch this either! if you guys are embarrassed how do you think i feel?!” you murmur, hiding your face in shame.

“my pearl, open wide.” jade grins, holding a piece of shrimp in his hands. “oh my, jade you sweetheart!” you giggle, opening your mouth so jade can feed you. idia snickers, holding back a laugh. you can practically see his smug expression in your mind. “he has the fantasies of a trashy middle school fanfiction, what comedy gold.”

silver clears his throat, trying to regain the attention of the group in order to free jade from his dream. while everyone with a logical mind held an equally logical discussion, you, floyd, and grim were too focused on the scene before you. “jade, you and shrimpy should just get married.” dream floyd grins, pushing you two together.

“agreed. you both are a match made in heaven!” dream azul says in between sobs, wiping his tears away with one of his tentacles. “why, what a splendid idea! azul, please make arrangements right away. we shall wed at once, my dear.” jade chuckles, holding you close in his arms. “j-jade!? i don’t know what to say..”

“do you not wish to marry me?” he asks, his thumb tracing your chin. his voice was low, yet soothing at the same time. “it’s not like i don’t want to..” dream you mumbles, avoiding his eyes by looking at the ground with a pout. REAL you, on the other hand, can’t bear the sight of it anymore. neither can floyd. or grim.

“let’s continue to overcome hardships and conquer many mountains together.” jade laughs, pulling you all in by the shoulders. as the dream variants of jades loved ones cheer, floyd swims in and swoops down, attacking his brother and his dumbed down dream him.

“I CANNOT STAND IT ANYMORE!” floyd grunts, scowling at his dear brother, who held an expression of shock. “f-floyd? there’s two of you..?!” he stutters, looking at his dream twin and his actual twin. “they’re mirror images of each other! how can you tell them apart!” azul exclaims, wiping his eyes to get a better look.

“who is this? can i hug you and eat you? hehe.”

“i originally thought you weren’t interested in other people, but you have a limited memory. “i dont eat dance and eat shrimps stuck in between rocks.” floyd scoffs, staring at his dumbfounded doppelgänger. “floyd.. doesn’t eat shrimps.. or dance..?” jade ponders, feeling his mind begin to waver.

“jade! im scared!” dream you screams, curling up in the boys arms. your eyebrow twitches, tired of the humiliation you witnessed thanks to jades horrible imagination. following your impulse, you run out with floyd, despite the shouts of your name.

“PREFECT! GET BACK HERE! WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TRYING TO ACHIEVE?!” sebek shouts, but his voice falls on deaf ears. he made a point though, what were you doing? it’d be much safer to just stay back and watch this play out, so why the hell are you trying to get involved?! “p-pearl?!” jade gasps, eyes wide in disbelief.

“th-there’s also two of you.? what in the seven is going on here?” he swam back slowly, unraveling the scene before him. two brothers, two lovers (well not officially..), and a whole school of students that seem familiar, but unsure as to where.. you could tell jade was beginning to wake up! it’s only a matter of time..

“jade, don’t be fooled. floyd shouldn’t be that ugly bastard, he should be more innocent and cute. and look at [MC], they love you so much they don’t know what to do with themselves! don’t be tricked by that fraud.” azul sneers, pointing at you and floyd, much to your dismay. just taking a glance at floyd was enough to be able to tell he was this close to breaking every bone in dream azul’s body and frankly you don’t blame him.

“i see.. floyd has been very charming to his relatives and my pearl wouldn’t leave my side so quickly,” jade hesitates, glancing at his two brothers. “i should go. they all really need me.” he smiled politely, swimming towards what once looked like his loved ones, now forming into large piles of dark goo. as jade was nearly consumed by the darkness, floyd swims past quickly. you stood on the eels back, landing a hit on dumb dumb floyd, crybaby azul, and cringe wattpad you.

“I DO NOT SOUND LIKE THAT.” you finally yell, catching nearly everyone’s attention. “it’s no use. we have to help out.” jamil sighs, lifting his magic pen. “let’s go!” silver shouts, rushing into the spot where you and floyd had already began your attack. as the fight rages on, the others serving as a distraction for jade, floyd had continued to land hits on the watered down versions of yourselves with ease before they finally shouted for help.

“it hurts! help us, jade!” dream floyd cries. “rescue us, jade!” azul cries. “oww! protect us, jade!” dream you screams, finally catching his attention. “how dare you! you fake. get behind me, i got this.” jade hisses, attacking floyd directly. you felt your balance falter on floyd’s back, slipping before falling near the vents. “prefect!” ortho shouts, rushing over to catch you til you fell into jamil’s arms safely. “it’s not safe, the vents are crumbling due to the fighting. retreat for now!” he directs, running towards a safer location.

“your carelessness nearly got you killed, prefect.” jamil sighs, looking down at you with a concerned yet tired expression. “sorry, i just couldn’t take it anymore!” you groan, crossing your arms angrily. “you can set me down now, jamil.” you pat his arm, breaking him from his daze. “..right.” he mutters, placing you down gently. they began to discuss different ways to wake up jade, before sebek finally settled on just electrocuting them.

“be careful, sebek.” silver reminds him, patting his shoulder before the boy ran out. “pierce the cloudy sky, lightning! living bolt!”

the tweels stop their fighting, electricity trickling all over their body leaving them temporarily paralyzed and passed out. after a few moments, their eyes fluttered open, being met with millions of other stares. “jade!” azul shouts, pushing floyd at the way with a grunt. “thank goodness you’re alive! i could’ve lost my cute subordinate!” he sniffles, causing jades eyebrow to raise. “..cute subordinate?”

“i’ll cry if jade is gone! don’t go anywhere!” dream floyd sighs with a dopey expression. “jade you idiot! you could’ve gotten seriously hurt and id never forgive you!” dream you sobs, rushing over to hold his hand hastily. “hm. that’s strange. the floyd and azul i know would never say something like that.” jade scoffs, looking at the two with disgust.

“huh?” they gasp, staring at him as if he said something crazy. “was sebek’s lightning so powerful, jade is finally starting to awaken?” silver mumbles, raising a finger to his chin. “awaken.. why am i here in the first place..?” jade groans, recollecting his thoughts slowly. “so.. i am a student at night raven college.. on land? agh.”

“my head feels like it’s going to split!” he winces in pain, holding his head as he shouts. all his memories finally began to come back to him, all the moments he had during the year turning the gears in his mind til he was finally back to his senses. “how could i possibly have forgotten something so important?” he huffs, looking back at the doppelgängers behind him.

“floyd would never act so obedient, he’s much more domineering. azul would give orders to others without putting himself in danger as much as possible.” he pauses for a moment, staring at your fake before shaking his head. “[MC] would have never acted so defenseless. what an embarrassing feat. i was acting quite strange.” jade sighs, turning his back towards the trio.

they had all began to complain to jade, asking why he would believe such fake things. dream you broke into tears, curling in floyds arms with a sob. jade would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little jealous, but it’s not the real you so he’ll hold back. a little. they all clung onto jade, begging him to reconsider his decision before he finally spared them a word.

“can you please not touch me? creepy.” with a quick slash, the floyd and azul clones were reduced to goo. jade looked at the fake you, slightly hesitating at your trembling figure. alas, they were spared no expense and fell back into the darkness, crying his name and dragging out each syllable.

“no mercy..” idia stuttered, chewing on his nail. “he was protecting them with his life, only to end them once he realized they were fake.” jamil states, scratching his chin while replaying the scene back in his head. “scary..” idia murmurs. “finally awake, jade?” floyd punches his brothers arm, earning a chuckle. “yes, thank you.”

they share a laugh before hitting each other suddenly, startling each and every one of you. “floyd, you dare have hurt your own brother? i thought my whole body was going to fall apart. have you no mercy on your own blood? how terrible.” jade wiped away a tear, floyd not buying it for a single second.

“jade leech.” his banter was cut short by the sounds of your voice, your stern tone telling that this will not end well for him. “w-why, [MC]! how might i be of service.?” jade smiles, remaining his composure well. “don’t “how might i be of service” me! you have some serious explanation to do once we’re out of this stupid dream.” you scowl, staring him down with an intimidating glare.

jade, seemed unfazed. he was certainly embarrassed, but who is he to let it show? “oh dear, is it quite wrong for one to dream of their mate while asleep?” he shakes his head, catching you off guard. “mate?” everyone collectively questions. “uhm, yeah. do you guys not notice?” floyd scratches the back of his neck as if it were the most obvious thing.

what the hell is he talking about? mate? what.. when? that’s.. it’s not possible. “what are you on about, leech?” you sneer, causing him to grab your hand with a smile. “would you care for me to show you?” he grins teasingly, pulling you in til you rested on his chest. “hey! why you—“

“enough. you two are more than free to discuss this mishap after malleus is defeated. right now, we’ve got bigger problems to focus on.” jamil frowns, separating you two from each other. “..right. im not done with you yet.” you glare at the eel in front of you, much to his amusement. “i look forward to it.”

despite the topic being held for later, you couldn’t help but let jade’s words and fantasies linger in your mind for a moment longer. the statements he had said, the actions he had performed, all of it made you feel.. special.

“he dreams of me?”

A/N: i got lazy at the end whoops. anyways what if i write a jamil one?? double anyways what if jamil and jade love triangl— *gunshots*

im not used to writing long fics for characters by themselves and i think you can tell

date published: 8/22/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[11vr1]

Been Away ⭒ Miles Morales

Synopsis › You were tired of his secrets and lies, so you did the one thing you promised you’d never do and walked away. But Miles Morales wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

Pairing › Earth-42! Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

Inspo › “Been Away” - Brent Faiyaz

Includes › ATSV SPOILERS, Angst, the tiniest bit of fluff, pet names, spanish, a microscopic amount of manipulation, toxicity, going back to your ex, stalking, harassment, mentions being mugged, mentions being stabbed, mentions the police

P.S. › I do my best work when I’m sleep deprived.

P.S.S. › Reading comments and reblogs really make my day, even if you’re telling me my commas suck. Requests are also open.

Y/n pulled down the sleeves of her crocheted sweater as she stepped out of the bodega, white plastic bag of chips and candy in hand. The sun was close to setting behind skyscrapers and plunging New York City into its usual state of terror. It was dangerous to be alone on the streets, but Y/n figured she’d be fine walking a few blocks to her friend’s place. She pushed through sidewalk traffic, passing others who were just as eager to be safe in their homes.

Her phone chimed with a text.

Unknown: Turn left.

She paused, looking up to scan her surroundings. There was nothing strange or out of place. Just stores closing up for the night and people minding their own business. Despite how normal everything seemed to be, Y/n knew better. She spared a glance at the alley to her left, immediately deciding against it and kept walking.

Another chime. She ignored it and the next. Stopping wasn’t worth possibly ending up on the eleven o’clock news. At least that’s what she told herself. The less rational part of her mind had a thought. In some ways more terrifying than being mugged.

Tucked away in her pocket, her phone rang. This time she checked. Unknown. Y/n scoffed, rejecting the call.

Unknown: One more chance.

Unknown: Take a left.

Unknown: I won’t ask again.

Her phone rang once more. With a long, begrudging sigh Y/n swiped to accept. “I thought you weren’t going to ask again,” she said, her eyes darting warily to the darkening street.

“Make a left, Y/n,” a deep distorted voice ordered from the other line. Her heart dropped. Maybe the irrational part of her brain wasn’t as off kilter as she thought. The call hung up like she didn’t need anymore convincing.

The yawning mouth of an alley stared back at her. She took a calming breath, inhaling the morning rain before stepping away from any potential witnesses. Her footsteps echoed in the eerie silence of the alley. Her skin heated in either fear or anticipation, she didn’t know. “I don’t have all night,” she spoke into the open air. “I will leave.” Y/n attempted to hide the tremble in her throat.

Her ringtone was shrill in the alley. She jumped. The bright smiling photo of her friend illuminated her face. She did not hesitate to answer. “Hello?”

“Thank god! You’re still alive. Are you close?”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, Ellie,” Y/n began to exit the alley. “The bodega line was long.” She rustled her haul of snacks.

“It’s getting dark. I can send my brother to meet you. Ya know he’s always had a bit of a thing for you and now that you’re single…” Ellie trailed off. Y/n could practically hear her smile.

She rolled her eyes, laughing nervously, “You don’t have to make him come get me. I’ll be—” She was cut off by her own scream ripping from her throat. A streak of darkness and neon flashed in front of her, swiping the phone from her hand. Her grocery bag tumbled to the concrete as she stumbled over her heels. Cold metal met her back. A well defined arm snaked around her waist, held her impossibly tight.

“Y/n? Y/n!” Her friend’s voice rose over the speakers.

The smooth phone screen pressed against her cheek. “Tell her you’re okay then hang up,” the same warped voice demanded in her ear.

Y/n felt her lips move before he ended the call. Some quick lie about a monstrous rat. Blood thrummed through her skull along with her ragged breaths.

“Let me go!” Y/n wrestling out of his grip with no resistance, finally turning around. She halted. Pixelated eyes narrowed at her. What had she been expecting? Was a mask better?

Getting slashed for the money in her wallet and being left for dead by a dumpster was starting to sound more appealing than her current situation.

Mechanic panels whirred and parted open. Rich, penetrating dark eyes took in every inch of the girl in front of him, peeling back layer after layer in that calculating glare Y/n knew all too well. “Hola, mami.”

She hoped to never hear that name fall from anyone’s lips. Much less his. Y/n allowed a selfish moment to let her gaze wander. His braids were fresh, obviously not her work. Fade clean. Jay’s untied. Bronze skin annoyingly flawless. He was the same, except for the faint bags decorating his eyes. His chuckle bounced off the brick walls, catching her. It was sobering.

“You have one minute, Morales. One minute before I run screaming and call the feds on your ass,” she crossed her arms.

“Morales?” Miles raised an eyebrow. “Damn. Is that what we doin’ now?”

“Fifty.”

He circled her like the predator he was, each footstep deafening. “You look good, ma. Where you goin’ so late? It’s not safe.”

“You know where! You’ve been following me, remember? How long have you been doing that for? Just another secret, huh?” Y/n was on the verge of yelling, her initial fear replaced by pure rage. “You’re not even going to deny it.”

Miles dared a step forward. Y/n took two back. “You’re afraid of me.” Her lack of an answer was a shattering confirmation.

“I’m afraid of what you do, Miles,” she motioned to his suit, the spray painted insignia physically painful to see on his chest. The Prowler. She would have never fathomed the possibility if she hadn’t seen him in action herself. “You’re a criminal. You steal. You’ve killed people,” she choked trying to swallow back tears.

He dragged a gloved hand down his face. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right! I don’t get it. You changed and I don’t understand why.” Her waterline welled. Three months of suppressed feelings threatened to rear their ugly heads when he was near. Because of him, of course.

It was ironic how much he made her feel, even now. Ellie, other friends, Y/n’s family never fully warmed up to Miles. He was unfeeling, nonchalant, closed off. They couldn’t see how a girl like her could fall for him and stay. At least that’s the promise she made.

“So did you. You walked away. Left me. What happened to our forever, Y/n?”

“You expected nothing to change? In what world would I not react or feel some typa way?” She tensed. Another wave of anger seared through her veins. How dare he turn this on her? “Oh wait,” her laugh was humorless. “I was never supposed to find out.”

“I have to do this. The world ain’t right and I need to protect the people I care about,” he placed a hand over his armor, over his chest. “I couldn’t do shit about my dad, but you…” He stalked closer. This time she didn’t back away.

Miles grasped her hand, placing it over his heart. She couldn’t face his intensity for too long, not without air. He wore the same musky cologne she gifted him for Christmas.“Mirame,” he tilted her delicate face towards him. “Mi corazón, I can keep you safe. You gotta let me. If something happened to you I don’t know what I would do.” His chiseled features twisted, barely able to utter the words. He finally closed the space between them, resting his forehead against hers.

“One minute,” Y/n whispered. It had been more than one minute.

Without separating, he slowly slipped her phone into her back pocket, letting his fingers linger by the waist of her jeans. “Call them. I’ll stay right here and you can end this. You’ll never have to see me again. Prometo, mi corazón.”

She should have listened when Ellie told her to stay away. Undeniably gorgeous, genius level intellect, sexy accent. There was always a catch, she said. She was right. But there was one drawback not even her best friend predicted.

Y/n pulled away. Suddenly the autumn air was too chilly through her sweater. She unlocked her phone. Typed 9-1-1. She looked up through her lashes at Miles as if he would melt into the shadows and escape. She didn’t expect sheer defeat to paint his face, unhidden behind his usual mask of indifference. Her thumb froze.

Miles Morales had Y/n entranced. He’d woven himself into her being, hollowed out a space in her soul just for him. Those titanium claws were in deep and she didn’t know if she had the strength to pry them out or wanted to.

Y/n pocketed her phone. She resigned to every emotion she harbored for the boy in front of her. She chose every wrong decision. “Go, Miles.”

His grin was smug. “Should I call you?”

“Don’t push it, Morales.” He draped his arms around her shoulders, dragged her into his warmth. “I’ll unblock you. Sound good?”

Miles angled his head. His smile stretched to his eyes, showing those rarely seen dimples. “Sí, mami. Whatever you want.”

[astarionslittletreat]

Sunrise

Astarion x female reader/Tav

Rating: Explicit

You must be 18 years or older to interact with this post in any way

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags: smut, slight end game spoilers, Astarion good ending spoilers, mentions of past abuse/abuser, sex, piv sex, oral sex, cuteness, fangs, biting, over-stimulation, bleeding, blood, blood drinking

Summary: Astarion and the reader share an intimate morning together as they contemplate their past, present, and future together.

Read on AO3

It's the early hours of dawn, just before sunrise. The sky was deep purple just an hour ago, but now it’s transforming into shades of indigo and blue. A faint glow threatens to spill over the city walls, to wash away the final vestiges of night. It's been a while since you've greeted the sun like this, not that you never see her at all anymore. After all, if something needs done during the daylight, you take care of it without issue. But that's all business. Just fleeting glances as you move through the crowded streets of Baldur's Gate. This right now, during the quiet hours of dawn, this is pleasure. This is you waking, nude, on the forest floor after your first night with Astarion. This is the sun’s rays warming your bodies before the two of you sneak back into camp. This is Astarion’s eyes glinting in the light, like that shared goblet of Arabella Dry at the Tiefling party.

Your heart yearns for the sun like you yearn for the past. You see your small smile reflected in the window as you continue to watch the sky change. A dozen-dozen heartbeats pass, and then the soft golden honey of the morning sun caresses the rooftops of the city, before spilling down onto the streets below. The heartache in your chest fades to nothing as the sun fully crests the horizon to kiss your face, a mere phantom in comparison to what you have now. The moment is over for you. You’ve had your fill and you begin to feel the fingers of sleep coaxing you to rest.

“Do you miss it, darling?" Astarion calls out to you from your bed, well out of view from the sun. "The daylight that is.”

Untying your silk robe, you let the soft fabric slip from your shoulders to pool at your feet. Both the sun and your lover lovingly gaze at your sun dappled curves. "It's strange," you muse, holding your hand up as if to catch the morning light. "I have so many memories of you in the sun, but no. You're the only thing I ever miss." You take a few moments, eyes squinting through the brightness to watch the people begin to fill the streets before pulling the heavy curtain firmly close. “And besides–” You turn to your love. He’s artfully draped himself, nude, across the plush pillows that adorn your bed. A deliberate attempt at making himself look all the more enticing. “How could the sun ever hope to compete with my dear Astarion’s beauty?”

He beams at your compliment, practically preening at the attention. Reaching out, he proffers his hand for you to take. It fits neatly in his as you let him pull you, gently leading you back to bed, back to him. It's a gallant gesture as your eyes readjust to the darkness of the room. A yawn begins to creep its way up and you only just manage to stifle it as Astarion draws your back to his chest. His pale, strong arms wrap around you as he presses you close, holding you tight. There weren't any cuddles the first night, or in the weeks that followed as you let him feed on you, but back then there wasn't anything real between you at all. Just lies and illusions and unending uncertainty. But somehow, by some miraculous blessing, you were able to earn his trust, just as he earned yours.

“Now you know that’s not what I meant, darling.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Though, please continue to remind me of how beautiful I am. Your words almost make up for how useless mirrors are to me.” You hear the smirk in his tone alongside the underlying truth. Uncertainty. As much as Astarion tries to hide his past pain, to pretend he’s fine and not hurting, you know the scars will never truly leave. Even after death, Cazador still manages to find a way to torture Astarion, and it drives you fucking insane with rage. It takes you a moment to collect your feelings. There’s no room for this in the bedchamber, or in your heart. Anger and sorrow will do nothing but more harm and that’s the last thing you wish to bestow upon Astarion. All he wants–all he needs is an answer to the question he left unasked. It's not difficult for you to understand. He wants to make sure you don’t regret your decision to stay with him–worried that he’s not enough. He’s worried if this is what you truly want. That he’s not trapped you, or worse, that you’re staying with him out of some fucked up feeling of guilt or pity. He won’t admit that he’s terrified of hearing your answer even if he knows in his heart what it’ll be. That’s why he doesn’t ask what he really wants to know. That’s why he wears his mask of smiles as he plays with your hair between his dexterous fingers. He’s content to pretend, but there’s no way you can leave him like this. Just floundering inside his heart while he holds you in his arms. For the briefest moment you’re almost tempted to fall asleep like this. Wrapped in Astarion’s embrace, snuggled peacefully in your bed together, but you know that after all this time, a part of Astarion still seeks your assurance.

“I miss it, the sun, the people, our friends–” Astarion freezes, as still as a statue, and suddenly the room feels cold. His muscles jerk in a way that alludes to him not knowing whether or not to pull away or hold you tighter. Reluctant to let you slip away from him, he’s afraid that this will be the last time he has to hold you. Silly elf. “But it’s not in the way you think, my love. It’s purely nostalgia. I was just reminiscing about our early days. When we first met, when we first had sex, traveling together, and unsure which day was going to be our last." Your mind drifts, gravitating to fonder memories. “The first time we made love. Your grave. I–,” The threat of tears begins to rise in your throat so you cut yourself off. Again, there is no sadness in you. Just the overwhelming feeling of love for Astarion. Of feeling like you’ve found the place you both belong. 

"I wouldn’t stop you, darling. I won’t keep you here, all for myself, if that is something you no longer wished for. If you ever–do decide you've had enough of me. Or even if you could no longer stand to spend your waking hours in the cold night. I would understand."

"Astarion!" The incredulity in your tone is a good mockery of Astarion’s own frequent ostentatiousness. He’s gone too far. This line of teasing isn’t any fun and, truthfully, it hurts to imagine leaving after striving so hard to live your life together. After ensuring your love is real, and strong, and brighter than any sunrise you could imagine. You move to chastise him quickly, turning in his arms as best you can to face him. Pressing your palms to his chest, you glower, face set into an angry scowl before you realize. His red eyes are overflowing with sorrow and self-loathing. And all at once, your anger melts into nothing. “My love,” you whisper as you press chaste kisses to the shadows under his eyes, and even though you’re the one being held, you wrap your arms around Astarion’s neck to bring him close. Your bodies move instinctually, the embrace being frequent and familiar as Astarion rests his lips against your neck. You card your fingers through his silky curls. There’s no intention of feeding at the moment, though. It’s just the two of you basking in your gentle love, relaxing into the moment.

“Do you remember, before making it back to Baldur’s Gate together, that godforsaken shadow cursed land we had to traverse?”

“Shit, don’t remind me.” Astarion scoffs, pulling back to look at you. His eyes roll in mirth, fangs flashing from behind his lips. “I know our dear Shadowheart was right at home with all the doom and gloom, and while I too am a fan of darkness and the macabre–I prefer to be the only creature lurking in the night, hunting for their next meal. That entire place was far too crowded for my tastes.” 

“Not to mention Raphael, or the horrors of the Cult of the Absolute,” you trivialize in jest.  

Astarion leans in close. His soft lips brush over the sensitive skin of your neck as he speaks. “Or that vile drow who sought to use me because of what I am.” The venom in his voice is dampened by the reverence in the kiss he places on your neck. “There is only one person I feed on and I have her right–here.”His hand is in your hair, his breath is hot on your neck, and your heart is suddenly choking you, pounding in your throat. His fangs barely scrape your skin and you know that you only have to say the word–.

“Yes,” you breathe. There’s never any pain. Just a light pressure as Astarion’s fangs sink softly into your flesh, and then a swooping sensation as your blood is being pulled to his lips. The familiar feeling of lightheadedness begins to return. It’s nothing light that first night. No, this is controlled, worshipful even as he savors your blood on his lips and tongue. You don’t need to tell him to stop before your fingers go numb and your heart flutters in protest. He’ll stop long before there’s any danger, no matter how much he may tease otherwise. It’s easy to relax and go limp, trusting Astarion fully as he cradles your body reverently.

Far too soon Astarion stops feeding from you. “Delicious,” his moan makes you shiver. Blood begins to slowly trail from your twin puncture wounds, painting your neck crimson. Astarion isn’t one to waste a precious gift that you offer so freely to him, however. He makes quick work of the mess. Devouring it all until it’s just his tongue on your skin, traveling the length of your neck, chasing the way your body shivers. Overwhelmed from the unique mixture of pleasure and pain that makes your head spin and your body hot. Gods, you love this man. He’s so, he’s just so, so–

“W–wait. Astarion, wait,” you weakly plead for his attention, grabbing at his shoulder. You feel him smile before scraping his teeth on your skin, refusing to stop. The devious vampire did this on purpose and he knows he’s been caught red-handed, or well, rather red-lipped as he continues to playfully bite at you. Astarion just hums into the curve of your neck, refusing to acknowledge that he’s been found out. “Hey!” You laugh defeatedly as Astarion kisses the shell of your ear. “Stop trying to distract me!”

Astarion’s lips find your jaw before traveling over your cheekbones. You close your eyes and he places kisses there as well before finding your mouth. Trying his very best to lure you into parting your lips for him. “I rather think you’re the distracting one, my dear.”

“I’m trying to tell you something and I want you to listen, please.” Glaring, you hold his red gaze in yours and his perfect, bloodstained lips fall into a pout that’s just a little too perfect. Another ploy. Your head is still slightly spinning, but through sheer force of will you begin to collect your thoughts. The need to kiss away his frown, however sly it might be, is strong, but he needs to hear what you have to tell him. “As sad and as miserable as that entire place was–if for some reason that’s where you were, where Astarion decided to be, I would also–”

“You mustn't worry about that, darling. I wouldn’t be caught dead, or rather, undead in a place like that ever again.”

“Hush,” You try to quiet him by pressing your fingers to his lips. A poor decision in hindsight as Astarion instantly kisses them. Running his tongue along your fingertips, trying his hardest to distract you once more. “Stop! Listen–just wait a second. I’m trying to be sweet to you.”

“Oh, I know exactly just how sweet you are.” Astarion’s voice drops as he slips into seducing you. “So much so that I rather think I’d like another bite.”

“Yes, yes. I know. Your “little treat”.” Reclaiming your fingers from Astarion’s greedy mouth, you cup his too handsome face. Willing him to listen to you. “The only thing I wish for in life, in death, in whatever time I’m given, is to be with you. Wherever and however I can. I love you and never once have I regretted my love or wished it away.” You’ll tell him of your love every second of every day if that’s what it takes. If that’s what makes him smile like this, dazzling and warmer than anything the sun has ever graced you with. You stretch your head up and kiss him. You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. You kiss him until the need for air demands your attention and you break free to refill your lungs.

Astarion rests his forehead to yours, curly locks obscuring his hungry gaze underneath, as he catches his breath. Your chests heave in unison, breathing life into the fiery tension blazing between your bodies. One moment you’re both still, wrapped in each other's embrace, and the next the room spins as Astarion wraps a leg around your hip, rolling you until you lay on your back. He’s straddled your hip, pinning you underneath. His eyes are hungry as he looms over you, his disheveled curls haloing him in the dim light. Astarion drags a hand down your collarbone, delicately tracing the veins under your skin before gently cupping your breast. A flick of his wrist has you gasping as he plays with your nipple. You can’t help but thrust your hips up, seeking the attention that Astarion is teasing. He ignores your silent plea, stilling his hand until you follow suit.

“You’re not playing fair.” You halfheartedly complain, willing your body to calm. 

“I never promised that I would, my sweet.” You don’t know what god or goddess you should pray to to thank them for bringing you Astarion, but you’re a devout believer. “Now stay still, or I might bite.” He flashes his fangs at you. It’s not a real threat. He’d never actually bite you without your consent, but the tease still sends shivers down your spine. Coursing through your body until they land, pulsing deeply in your cunt. Astarion leans forward, an illusion of a predator cornering their prey. His soft cock begins to harden as he cups your face in both of his hands. Cradling you as if you’re something breakable, something precious. Astarion swipes his thumb across your cheek as he stares into your eyes–as if it’s the first time he’s seen the sunrise. “I love you.” 

Astarion pounces, taking you down with a devastatingly deep kiss. If kisses were ambrosia you’d have been drunk ages ago. And still you want more. You need more of him. His heart, his touch, gods above, you need his cock that’s pressed between your thigh and his abdomen, but Astarion refuses to stop kissing you or to move into a more accessible position. He slides his tongue into your mouth, licking you open until you writhe and squirm with a need that burns so hot it overpowers your senses. But even still, Astarion doesn’t relent. He presses on, moving from your mouth back down to your throat where he begins to suck bruises to your sensitive skin. Out of pure desperation, you grasp at his back until your fingers graze his scars before moving to grip his shoulders. You clutch him to you just as passionately as he kisses you. It takes everything inside of you not to bust and fade away into the Weave as Astarion uses his weight to keep you pinned to the bed. His lips move from your throat and for one solitary second you think he might give you what you need, but no. Instead, he works his way along your jaw, tracing you with his mouth until he finds the place under your ear that drives you wild.

“Fuck–please! Astarion—” His cock, hard and weeping now, rests on your stomach. Pressed between your bodies as Astarion rolls his hips. Clenching, you feel your arousal dripping out to stain the sheets below. You’re wet, so unbearably wet and empty and aching for him to fill you. You’re pleading and your moans do nothing to sway the elf, though you know the bastard hears you. His pointed ears twitch as you cry out for him, but he continues to hold you down. Unwilling to pull back even an inch to separate himself from you. You manage to angle your arm just enough to get a solid handful of his hair, and begin to pull. Slowly but firmly enough that his head raises just enough to make eye contact, and as you do, you feel his cock throb with need. He likes this.

“Oh fu–ck!” Astarion’s shameless cry comes out sticky sweet from his throat, Adam’s apple quivering prominently. He sounds drunk. He looks it too. The expression on his face is close to ecstasy before you accidentally lose your hold on his hair. Too turned on and thoroughly debauched to be able to concentrate on keeping your grip. Not when he shifts his hips to create a delicious friction between your slick pussy and his engorged cock. You chase the feeling, grinding against him as best you can, but to no avail. You’re still pinned beneath him. Hips and thighs locked. Both you and Astarion are reduced to base instincts as his rigid cock slides over your clit once more before contact is lost. This isn’t fucking working. You’re only briefly aware of the pillows being pushed to the floor, shoved away by Astarion to make better room for your head, before his hand reaches down. He shifts and forces your leg over his hip. He’s a man consumed by desire. His need for you.

Astarion hovers over you, his crimson eyes piercing you through your heart as you reach for him, aiming to pull him back down for another taste of his ambrosia lips. Instead he captures your hand in his and pulls it to his bloodstained mouth. He sweeps gentle kisses over your knuckles before intertwining his fingers with yours and pins it to the mattress. His other hand finds your thigh, grasping tightly before guiding your knee to your chest. Opening and exposing your pussy for him to slide his cock against your entrance. “That’s it darling,” he encourages you. Praising you as he slides against you, slowly dragging his cock along your wet slit. The head of his cock catches, and without hesitation, Astarion presses in. It’s blissful and devastating as Astarion finally fucking fills you. Sliding in on one long stroke to fully seat you on his cock. He doesn’t pull out, just gently grinds against you. His smooth skin and throbbing cock caressing you until your breath leaves. Whisked away by your lover, leaving you with blurry vision and a spinning room. “Now, now. We can’t have that.” Astarion rolls his hips, wonderfully grinding against your folds and bringing friction that your clit so desperately desires. The sensation makes you gasp, forcing you to gulp down air, reminding you that you’re here–now. Very much alive and not in heaven, no matter how much it feels like you are.

“Astarion–”

You’re not sure if he’s listening. Flaming eyes and a silent snarl are all that he gives you besides a deep guttural moan as he continues to fuck you. It’s slow and brutal and entirely different from any performance he puts on. This isn’t Astarion trying to pretend to be anything other than the vampire–the man that he is. Desperate and extraordinarily dangerous as he claims you for himself. Your orgasm taunts you. Haunting you from the edges, and you want it so fucking bad, but you also couldn’t care any less. It’s now, it’s this moment, it’s Astarion who holds your attention in his iron grasp. Ruining you with his love. You hear the wet sounds of your pussy as he fucks into you. Pushing more of your arousal out of your cunt with his cock. He lets go of your hand and leans in close, snaking his arm under the small of your back. Using his vampiric strength, Astarion pulls on you, just enough that your hips shift to a new glorious angle. One that has him hitting a spot that makes you go feral underneath him as his pelvis grinds against your clit on every stroke. He keeps his other hand firmly under your knee, pushing your leg into a position that stretches your hips. It all feels so fucking good. 

Astarion’s taut, muscular body moves over you. He’s graceful even now as he holds you, fucking you rhythmically. You clench around him, wordlessly asking him for more, and he raises his head. Fangs snapping in the air, muscles tensing in his neck as Astarion tries hopelessly to hold on to his senses. A half-baked idea forms in your dazed brain. You don’t stop to think it through, you can’t. You just act, throwing your arm around Astarion’s neck, pulling him close until you have him right where you want him. You sink your blunt teeth into the side of his neck. Your vampiric imitation pales in comparison to the true thing. Only biting hard enough to bruise his delicate moonlight skin. The moment you bite down on Astarion’s neck, you feel his cock throbbing inside of you. His breath hitches in your ear as you press your tongue against his skin and a soft moan escapes his lips. 

“Fuck–” he growls through gritted fangs. Dropping your leg, Astarion moves his hands to the curve of your hips. Holding on tight, and pinning you down as you continue your mock feeding. “Fancy yourself a vampire now, darling?” You bite down harder in agreement and Astarion melts in your arms. Moaning as you claim him as yours in return. “I think not,” he protests, and for a second you think it’s an empty threat. It feels like he’s close, like he’s struggling to keep from falling over the edge. That is until he starts to move again, fucking your pussy like a goddamn promise. “I’m the only blood sucker you’ll find in this bed, darling, and I’m going to eat you right up.” Before you know what’s happened, Astarion has hold of both your legs, knees propped over his strong shoulders. He circles your aching clit with his thumb as he savagely fucks you. Tits bouncing from the force, sliding you up the bed on every thrust. You feel the spit that streaks your lips as you gasp out for him. It’s too intense–too much all at once. You try to hold on, to stop your orgasm from slamming into. Astarion gives you a  saccharine smile. "You sound so adorable when you're trying not to come."

You beg. 

You curse. 

You come.

Gushing on his cock, your body is electrified, and you fall. Blood rushes in your ears so loudly you can’t hear anything. Your senses thrust you into a burning pit of pleasure as Astarion forces you down further. Spiraling until you find yourself caught, supported in Astarion’s arms. An uncomfortable wetness coats your legs and part or Astarion’s stomach but you can’t find the motivation to care because somehow, he’s still moving. He's held on long enough to fuck you through you orgasm. Giving your pussy long, even strokes as he chases his high. His ethereal face is close and so you take him with your lips. Kissing him, licking his fangs, until you feel his cock pulsing, overfilling you until his spend leaks out from around his cock. Adding to the mess.You feel like you’re floating. Exhausted, yes, but happy and ready to sleep. The mess will keep till nightfall when it’s time to wake, but Astarion shows no sign of slowing.

“No, my love. You're doing so well for me, but I’m not done with you yet.” Grabbing a pillow from the floor, Astarion cups your head, lifting it for you to place the cushion underneath before tenderly laying you back down. He slides down your body, lavishing you with attention. Forcing you to stay in the present with him by kissing your dips and curves. Any place he finds on your body he marks it for himself. Kneeling between your legs he softly coaxes you open. His spent cock rests half hard but bobs in excitement as he spreads the lips of your soaked pussy, licking his lips like he's being presented with a feast in his honor. The air from the room feels cold and uncomfortable on your wet entrance, covered in the sticky slick remnants of your lovemaking. It makes you clench involuntarily and more of Astarion leaks out of you. Astarion looks ruined at the sight of you. His perfect features contort into agonized lust before he leans in.

“Wait! No I’m too–” He doesn’t listen. Astarion leans down and wraps his lips around your mound. You can’t help the way your body jerks at the first swipe of his tongue on your oversensitive pussy. He’s cleaning the mess he's made of you. His sharp fangs are hot pinpricks on your skin that further blur the line of pleasure and pain you’re walking down. Another swipe of Astarion’s tongue has you twisting, kicking your legs to pull away. You move higher up on the bed, willing space for your body to recover. “Please, I need a minute. ”

Astarion reaches up, catches your ankle in his firm grasp, and pulls. His strength makes it look easy as he drags you, clutching at the traitorous bed sheets in desperation, to his parted lips. “I said I’d eat you up darling, and frankly, I’m still absolutely famished.” His voice is gravel but yours is fire as he begins to eat his fill of you. This time you’re unable to pull away. He’s wrapped his arms around your thighs, locking your cunt to his mouth so he can eat you like a piece of fruit that drips down his lips and chin. Saccharine sweet and delicious as Astarion consumes you. Fucking you with his tongue. Licking your nectar coated skin and sucking you between his teeth.

You lack any leverage to fight back, to twist away. Your entire lower half is being held up off the bed by the vampire feasting on your pussy. If you sincerely asked for him to let you go, to set you back down you know he would, but you can’t force yourself to say the words. You don’t want to. You want this. Astarion knows you want this as you gasp, muscles clenching while he sucks your clit between his lips. His breath is hot flames that lick along your scorched nerves. “That’s it, love. You can give me one more, can’t you darling.”

Yes, you think, or maybe you agree out loud because you hear Astarion chuckle before kissing his praise into cunt. For a second you’re confused as he pulls back again, wondering why he’s stopped. But then Astarion adjusts his grip on you, making sure your leg is solidly hooked over his shoulder, before he slides two fingers into your pussy. “Ah! P-please,” you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Astarion gives it to you all the same. Scissoring his fingers, he strokes your cunt. Gently trying to coax out your pleasure, caressing your insides until you sing. his lips find your folds once more. His devastating accuracy brings you over the edge in moments. You’re left gasping, head spinning as the position Astarion holds you in makes it hard to breathe. It takes him a few moments, his lips busy kissing your pussy, his tongue lapping your mess, before he eases you back down into the ruined silk sheets. His mouth finds yours and you taste yourself on his lips, bitter in comparison to how thoroughly sweet he’s being. 

You feel dazed–and elated. Your body floats somewhere between the heavens and the earth. Entwined together with Astarion who holds you close, refusing to let you go, but you don’t mind. His skin, though warm, is still much cooler than yours. It feels wonderful as your heartbeat begins to slow, your breathing returning to normal. Turning your head just so brings Astarion’s lips back to yours and the easy kisses you share almost bring tears to your eyes. Blinking them away is easy though as Astarion deepens the kiss, parting your lips so gently you don’t realize what’s happening at first. Not until you feel Astarion shifting his hips to slide his engorged cock along your entrance once more. You part easily for him, sending shivers of over-stimulation mixed with desire through every limb. There is no rush this time. Just a few languid strokes that have you gasping into Astarion’s mouth before he stills. Even while kissing you, you can see the smirk on his face as he allows you to adjust to holding him inside. Laying there together, connected in the deepest sense. Warming each other with limbs and lips entangled. “What the hell has gotten into you?” You don’t really expect an answer from Astarion as he seems to be preoccupied with lavishing attention across your collarbone.

“I’ve decided to reclaim the day for myself. It’s what I’m owed,” he sulks, looking up at you through his pretty eyelashes, but you can hear the sincerity behind his words. Yes. Yes, Astarion is owed the day. The sun. That and so much more, but not all of it is within your power to give. But this–this you can do. His ruby eyes sparkle in the candlelight as they dance along your face. Your answering smile stuns him into silence.

*************************

The sun has long since set as you stifle a yawn. Nostalgia returns once more. It’s been ages since the night meant it was time to rest, but the elf who’s at fault for keeping you up all day looks positively happy. So you let your complaints remain silent as you gaze at your lover. A heavy tomb rests in his lap and a gold chalice clutched in his delicate hand is filled with either wine or blood. You can’t tell from your position across the room. Reluctantly, you glance back down to the delicately looping script on the thick parchment in front of you. The letter is from Gale, back in his tower in Waterdeep. You’ve been trying to read it for the last half hour, but Astarion is just, so distracting. Honestly, anything could distract you from Gale going on about his Tressym, but Astarion seems to be especially good at it. That is until your eyes catch a few words that make you excited.

“Astarion.”

“Yes, darling?” He answers, eyes slow to leave the pages of his book.

“How would you feel about visiting with Gale for a bit?”

Astarion doesn’t try to hide the disinterest on his face at all as he turns his attention back to his reading. “No.”

“It’s just that–wait. No?” His answer takes you completely off guard. “What do you mean no?”

He heaves a sigh into his book. “I suppose if he were to come here that would be fine with me, but I’m far too busy this evening to travel all the way down to the Lower City just to visit with Gale.” 

“Busy?” you laugh. “What do you have planned that makes you “too busy” to see a friend?”

“First of all,” he interjects. Head raising until he adopts a pose of self-importance. “‘Friend’ is much too strong of a descriptor for my relationship with that wizard. At most we are merely,” his graceful fingers swirl about until he finds the words he’s searching for, “–former work associates at best.”

“Oh is that so?” you say, smiling up at the hill you know Astarion is about to come down from.

“And besides, what if I get a bit peckish later tonight?” He pouts, coyly looking up at you through his eyelashes. “Neither one of us would like Gale around for that.”

“Well you’re being very greedy tonight, and I can’t say I don’t like it either,” you shoot him a look before unburying the lead. “But Gale isn’t in Baldur’s Gate, love. He’s invited us to his tower in Waterdeep.”

“Why would we travel all the way to Waterdeep just to see Gale fawn over his cat?”

You hold out the thick parchment letter with Gale’s elegant handwriting for him to look over. “Apparently, Gale and Tara have a lead on a cure for your sun sensitivity–” Astarion is out of his seat, book falling heavily to the floor, and by your side in an instant. He snatches the letter from your hand, reading Gale’s words for himself. You put on an air of indifference. “But if you really don’t want to go visit an old ‘work associate’, I understand.”

“Now now now, my love. Let’s not be hasty.” You roll your eyes. “Gale is a dear friend of ours! And I hear that Waterdeep is beautiful this time of year, not as beautiful as I am, of course, but that would be expecting far too much I suppose.” You let Astarion read on, absorbing the message for himself. “Well,” he says as he reaches the end, signed with your friend’s love. “It seems our wizard has been busy. Very busy, if he has a possible solution for you too.”

“I’m not worried about that just yet, but it’s nice to know I might be able to stick around longer than I thought possible.” Astarion caresses your cheek, allowing you space in the same way you provide for him. “I think I’m ready for another adventure though. It’s been a while since anyone’s tried to murder us. What do you think, love?”

He bends down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m ready to have some fun,” he smiles. Fangs and all.

[grapejuicestyless]

Wishes Do Come True

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: It was just a legend, something out in place to make people believe in something that couldn’t be true. But when fate has its way, JJ learns that sometimes, wishes do come true. CONTAINS SEASON 4 SPOILERS!!!

Ryan shot the gun first. He shot it because Ward was charging at him, his teeth bared and his arms spread wide. How fitting that he would go out as a somewhat decent father, a man who took three bullets and threw himself over a cliff to save his daughter and her Pogue best friends.

JJ remembers the feeling of the earth bending beneath his feet as he practically sprinted over to the edge, looking down past his feet to see where the Kook and the henchman lay. JJ thought it was strange, how someone could be so crumpled up, he knew bones weren’t made to bend that way, so seeing the way his body twisted made him a little sick.

He can hear Sarahs soft cries and echoing hiccups clearly, how Kiara seemed to grab onto herself to steady her breathing. He remembers seeing how tightly John B’s arms were woven around Sarah’s body, as if he were afraid she would jump next, as if her body could save his. There was no saving that, as sick as it was.

But what he really remembers, is the softness of her voice calling out for him, the way her voice shook like it was hard to get out. Only then did the sounds of his friends stop ringing in his ears, and through some champagne party effect, he could focus in on just the quietness of her. Only then did he realize as he tried to wrap his arm around thin air that she wasn’t at the ledge.

A stray bullet, it’s a funny thing. The shots fire, four, the last four bullets the man has, and only three reach the sacrificial lamb. The last one reaches one of the seven targets behind it.

Her hands shook over her upper stomach, gripping her skin just below her ribs. Even with a shaky focus, he could see the tint of red beginning to seep past her once light blue nails, now chipped and digging into the cloth of her shirt.

“JJ, I…I don’t…” She stumbled forward, her eyes flickering from his to some distant thing over his shoulder. She could barely focus her vision. He remembers the weight of her head hitting his shoulder as he caught her, the feeling of an extra warmth seeping into his own clothes, something wet and sticky that shouldn’t be drenching the two of them, but was.

“No, no, no. Come on cupcake, come on.” He gritted his teeth, trying to hold her up, but his need to keep her up was wavering at the look of agony on her face. She laid in his lap, his hand holding hers as they both pressed down on the wound, though, it was no use because they had no way home, and the nearest hospital wasn’t for miles. They had no idea where to even begin to search for one in the middle of all the greenery.

JJ rambled in a panic, a habit he’d always done, but she couldn’t make sense of it anymore. Her hearing was fuzzy and her vision came in and out in waves of darkness. She tried to look at her friends, but her eyes wouldn’t tear themselves away from her best friend’s face.

She had just gotten him, their love was still brand new, discovered on an island they were sure they would never find again. It was barely a month since they had shared a kiss under the stars, one both had been dreaming of for years. They went back and forth for what felt like centuries and now none of it mattered, because JJ was holding his love in his arms as she helplessly spat up blood and tried to focus on the blue of his eyes and not the tears on his face.

“It’s gonna be okay, you just gotta fight, you can fight. You fucking…” JJ broke out into a bitter laugh, one he didn’t mean as his palms messily wiped away the blood that trickled down her jaw. Red smeared everywhere, sticking to every crease in his skin. It burned, and so he kept smiling because his laughter, as disingenuous as it was, brought a weak smile to her face. “You saved my life, when I fell off that boat. You kept me alive, and I’m gonna keep you alive, so don’t give up on me.”

The sight of the tears finally spilling from her pretty eyes would forever haunt JJ, because he knew as her chest caved in against his lap, that the pain was too great to make her stay and suffer through, when they both knew she was as good as dead as soon as the gun was fired.

“It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.” She had told him weakly, the initial throbbing turning into an intense burning, a mix of the powder and the blood that pooled around her, soaking his skin through his pants.

“N-no, come on baby…baby, cupcake, please.” He pleaded. “I love you, please.”

Her ears seemed to clear at his heavy confession, and a sweet smile, the sweet smile he had fallen for back in the third grade, graced her pretty, tired face one last time.

“I love you JJ.” She promised, blinking back the tears. Somehow, she found the strength to lift his hand from her wound and press her bloodied lips to his sticky palm.

He had to watch the way her eyes fluttered shut, one last choked breath that sounded similar to what Pope would later explain as death rattle breathing, escaped her mouth, and that sweet little smile faded into nothing as she laid dead in her best friends arms.

JJ was never quite the same after that. He still loved his friends, he was still reckless and loud and impulsive, but he seemed to do it all for her.

When they won their money finally, he thought of all the things he would’ve bought for her, all the beaches they could’ve surfed across. When he finally found a place to call home, he placed her pillow on her side of his bed, fluffed it up for her and swore some nights he could feel her head resting on his heavy chest.

He thought of how much she would have loved Poguelandia 2.0. It was bittersweet to see the flag because all he could think of was their first kiss under the white flag that waved proudly above them.

He missed their matching P4L stick and pokes, he hated that he had to look at his forever and know it no longer matched with anyone. He hated that everyone else around him had someone to lean on, a lover to come home to, when he knew he would never be able to love again. But most importantly, he hated how young she was. She was only nineteen.

John B told him it wasn’t about the time we had with those we have lost, but what we make of it, but JJ was too angry to care. He didn’t care, it was easy for John B to say when he had lost a best friend, but JJ had lost so much more.

He wore her charm bracelet on his wrist, even though it was tight and caused a lot of noise. He loved the charms on them because they were old and made of clay and they matched his rings and necklace. She made them when they were ten because they were too young for their tattoos.

He swore to never go after treasure again, he couldn’t risk it, but with the promise of a singular wish, JJ followed along like a duckling to Morocco, blood on his shirt and a new father to betray him.

“You know, they say the crown grants a wish.” Kiara broke the silence between them in the heat one day, looking up at the sky to avoid the awkwardness of eye contact. She didn’t have to ask to know he would wish for her back in a heartbeat, but she did anyway because truthfully she liked the way JJ talked about her. It made her feel like her best friend was still alive.

“Yeah?” JJ scoffed with a smirk. “What would you wish for?” He asked, leaning over the unstable ledge, bricks dusty and the cement breaking apart. It wobbled under his forearms.

“I’m not saying I believe it but…I’d wish to go back in time maybe. I’d try not to rush into everything.” She said calmly, her eyes finding JJ’s.

“What about you?” She asked softly, and JJ hummed.

“The thing about wishes is, they don’t come true if you say them.” Kiara laughed breathily at his words.

“Yeah?” She questioned for confirmation.

“Yeah.” He breathed out. “And I really want this one to come true.”

That phrase, “be careful what you wish for,” was made for people like JJ Maybank.

There’s this old game called “Monkeys Paw” that Y/n and JJ both loved when they were younger. One person would make a wish, and the goal of the game was to make that person regret that wish.

They would stay up for hours laughing about it.

If JJ wished for a pizza, the pizza was poisoned. If Y/n wanted a dog, it was rabid. They’d spend hours at a time waking up the neighbors just laughing at how outrageous they could make the faults.

Now that they were older, and now that Y/n was gone, JJ seemed to forget about the rules of the game.

He stumbled back, all air caught in his throat. He lost the crown, and he’d lost his girl, and now, here his biological father was with a knife twisted deep into his abdomen, pulling it out with a sickening crunch.

Kiara pleaded for him to keep fighting, her hands on the wound in a way that reminded him of the way he desperately pressed against Y/n’s all those weeks ago. Her cries were just as desperate, and they were just as fuzzy.

JJ now felt thankful he let her go peacefully, because living through the pain was insufferable, and he knew it would have been cruel to make her fight it any longer.

He cried a little, but he wasn’t sad. No, he was happy, even as Kiara screamed for Pope and John B, begging for help that would do no good because just like his precious Y/n, there was no way home and no help in sight.

He let out a hiccup, and his eyes focused on her brown ones as his vision cleared for a moment, the sting turning into a familiar burn.

“Kie, I never told you my wish.” He smiled, and she shook her head.

“No, Jayj, come on, you gotta fight it. I can’t lose you too.” She pleaded, and it was like he wasn’t even listening as he kept choking out words.

“I already got what I wished for.” He smiled.

All he ever wanted was a home, and though every sacred place he ever had to call that were short lived and destroyed, he had found it in the people who loved him, and the people he loved.

JJ wished for so much more than anyone thought, and he’d gotten all of it.

He had you at one point, and he was eternally grateful for every hug he ever received from your loving arms. He had Pope and John B, who made him laugh like no one else ever could, his ribs sore and his stomach shaking. Kiara and Sarah kept him grounded. He was grateful for how much they cared, how safe he felt around them. He knew he would miss his best friends more than anything else, he would miss them like family, because thats what they were.

The Pogues were his family, and his family was his home.

JJ wished for one last thing with the crown as the darkness took him. He slipped away from his body, his head lulling to the side as Kiara shook him, but he wasn’t there anymore, and he wasn’t afraid because there she was.

Kneeling beside Kiara and she didn’t even know, there she was, her sweet smile and her pretty eyes. She was holding both Kiara’s hand, and his hand, nothing more than wind to them on the ground, but now JJ could see her, and now he could hold her.

“Y/n? Cupcake?” He breathed out with a smile, the luckiest man in the world, even if his toes didn’t physically touch the dirt or the sand anymore.

“Jay…” She smiled back, a sweet sound falling past her lips, and it was simply half of his name.

As his arms wrapped around her tightly, his nose buried into her shoulder. It felt good to know that he would never have to let her go again, and that someday, his friends would have the same pleasure of holding him again too.

JJ’s wish had been a little greedy, because in addition to what he was already granted, he wished to be with Y/n again.

He guess he never really specified how but hey, wishes really do come true.

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 34

summary: It’s time to celebrate your nuptials with your friends and family, where they’ll witness some of your firsts as husband and wife—first dinner, first dance. Hopefully, they won’t notice your first time sneaking away to fool around. 

rating: E (18+!! This is very horny. No y/n, alternating POV, explicit smut, age gap (about ten years), two extremely horny newlyweds, Husband Javier Peña, sneaking around, unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, vaginal fingering, car sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, wedding ring kink, getting cockblocked (multiple times), singing “Lay All Your Love On Me” by ABBA as foreplay, oral sex mention (f receiving), accidental voyeurism | overheard spit kink, overheard degradation, overheard mention of choking (spoiler - it’s Robyn and Seb fucking) | feelings, first dance, second dance, father-daughter dance, Javier being so in love, body insecurity, anxiety, Javier being cute with kids, Chucho wanting to be an abuelo so bad, Javier going into protector mode (with a gun), special appearances by Daphne and Velma)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 24k

a/n: I apologize for how long this took, but I’m happy to finally share it with you! There’s a lot of music referenced in this chapter, and instead of listing out each song, I’ve made a playlist of ALL the music mentioned in the wedding chapters. Huge shoutouts to @devineconjuring and @kilamonster for betaing! You are lifesavers!!

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

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It was strange. 

The man you married was a bit of a local celebrity, known by everyone in Laredo for the good and bad things he’d done in his past. With the town’s obsession with him came their intrusive interest in his personal life, which led to fascination when the chronic bachelor began dating you. It was a regular occurrence to be gawked at or to hear hushed whispers and constantly find yourselves as the subject of town gossip. Yet, all of that attention never bothered you—it was annoying, for sure, but it never made you nervous being in the spotlight as the other half of Laredo’s most talked-about couple. Frankly, you ignored it all and went on living your best life with the man you loved.

The thing you found strange was, that attention out in public from strangers? Not a problem. But when you were the center of attention amongst your friends and family on the happiest day of your life? Apparently, it was anxiety-inducing.

Why? If you had to guess, it was probably them seeing you so vulnerable—you weren’t masking what you were feeling; those at the ceremony watched you cry and heard you bare your soul to the love of your life. Now, everyone here was going to witness the first hours of your marriage: your first meal as husband and wife, your first dance, the two of you being so sickeningly in love that at some point tonight, your best friend Robyn will fake gag and call you both disgusting even though she was a hypocrite who had it just as bad for her boyfriend. 

You weren’t nervous when you first got to Chucho’s to fix your makeup—the nerves hit when you saw the almost ninety people under the tent, and you thought about all the eyes that’d be on the two of you basking in your newlywed bliss.

And Javi knew you so well, he clocked your anxiety practically right out of the gate—he didn’t miss a beat giving you the reassurance you needed that you looked fine, he didn’t complain when you busied yourself with fussing over him to get your mind off the crowd, and he distracted you with his sweet singing and loving words. You had to admit, he was knocking this whole husband thing out of the park.

He had calmed you down, and knowing he would be with you every step of the way made it easier to walk to your table and made the attention much more bearable. 

The clapping continued with the occasional whoop and holler, your entrance music still playing in the background, and the excitement was palpable. When it hit you that this tent full of people supported your relationship and were genuinely happy about your marriage, it choked you up, and it took everything in you to hold back your tears. 

These were your real family and friends. 

Javi’s lips were still at your ear after offering you an escape if you needed it, and you kissed his cheek, resting your hand on his bicep—emotion had your words coming out thick when you said for only him to hear, “I love you too, and thank you, babe. I’m so fucking happy we’re married; you’re literally the best husband in the entire universe.” 

He was smiling when he straightened to meet your gaze, his large hands rubbing along your bare arms. “I’m really fucking happy we’re married, too. This is the greatest day of my life, and I’m so lucky ‘cause you’re the best wife in the entire goddamn universe.”

His response made you grin, circling your arms behind his neck, but he caught you off guard when you went in for a kiss—he pulled you into him, his arm around your torso like a band of steel, and as your lips met, he turned you, dipping you back while you kissed, his mouth swallowing your surprised sound. 

There was an uptick in noise the first time you locked lips, but this time? It was downright thunderous with the combination of applause, whistling, and cheers; so many people were taking pictures that you’d think strobe lights were turned on from all of the bright flashes of light. 

You held onto him for dear life as your mouths melded together, questioning in your head if his other hand on your ass was actually for support or if he was just copping a feel; it didn’t matter, though, because as quickly as he tipped you back, he was raising you, your lips separating for only a second to have you standing in front of him again and then he kiss kissed you. 

It was one of those kisses that made your toes curl and your head go dizzy. Everything around you faded away until all that remained was you and Javi—nothing else existed except him. As he held you close, hugging you to his body, your lips touching and tongues intertwined, you ceased being two separate people and became one—one heart, one soul, one future. There was no you and him; it was you both together from this day until the end of time.

Unfortunately, the kiss had to come to an end, and you chased his lips when he broke away from you—Javier chuckled, the sound warm to your ears, and you smiled when he pecked the tip of your nose, then nuzzled it with his own, those baseball mitts he called hands holding your upper arms. 

"I love you," he said. 

"I love you, too." 

You could feel the air move as he pulled back. 

"You ready to sit down?" 

Your eyes blinked open to find his tender gaze on you with a sweet smile beneath his perfect mustache. 

“That’s probably a good idea; you have me feeling a little wobbly after that kiss.” You winked. 

He smiled, giving you a quick peck on the lips. “Of course, mi amor.” He moved around you to pull out your seat, and you sat down, Javi pushing you in. He took the chair beside yours, and the moment he was seated, he made you giggle as he scooted, chair and all, closer to you until he was right against your side, his arm going over your shoulders—you were each drawn to the other, leaning into him as he leaned into you, looking at one another with smiles, sitting in your little bubble. 

The sound had died down, and the music had ended. Diego spoke through the microphone, reading from a piece of paper, “Los novios quieren agradecer a todos los presentes por compartir este día tan especial con ellos y quieren agradecer especialmente al padre de Javier, Chucho, y a sus tías, María, Rebeca, y Lupita por toda su ayuda para organizar esta increíble fiesta. (The bride and groom would like to thank everyone present for sharing this special day with them, and especially want to thank Javier’s father, Chucho, and his aunts María, Rebeca, and Lupita for all their help organizing this incredible party). ¡Démosles un aplauso (Let’s give them a round of applause)!”

Everyone, including the two of you, clapped. 

When you went to dinner with Chucho on Javi’s birthday and told him your wedding plans, your father-in-law insisted on paying for everything, which you both declined right away. This led to a bit of a heated argument in Spanish between your husband and his dad, where you discovered that in their culture, traditionally, the groom’s family paid for the wedding since he was the one to propose. 

The only way Javi could placate his dad and later his tías, who were also gung-ho about paying for everything, was to let them all plan and put the event together on your dime—which was a great idea, given how perfectly it turned out. 

“Y ahora (And now),” Diego continued, “es el momento de comer—for the English speakers in the house, that means it’s time to eat!” 

The food was set up buffet style on the opposite side of the room, and people started getting up. With everything going on, your only meal all day had been breakfast that morning with your father-in-law. The rest of the time, you snacked and sampled the dishes being served; now that you were thinking about it, you realized you were hungry, your stomach growling in confirmation. 

When you tried to push back your chair, Javi stopped you, and you looked at him confused. “Don’t get up,” he said. “I’ll get you food, mi amor.” 

“I’m capable of getting my own food.” 

“I want to get you food.”

An exasperated breath left you. “Fine. Thank you.” At your acquiesce, he smiled and quickly kissed you before getting up and heading across the room. 

It was odd sitting at the table alone, and you took a second to see who all was here. Chucho and his sisters were the first to fill their plates because they were guests of honor. Almost all of Javi’s cousins were here, and a majority of the men were staying at their tables with their kids while their wives went to get food, including Danny, who had his toddler daughter, Sofia, in his lap and his four-year-old son in the chair beside him, their six-months pregnant mother standing in line. 

The Murphys were over there, Connie carrying Nate on her hip and strategically holding a plate; Stevie stood between her and Steve, the father getting food for himself and his son, and Olivia was ahead of them all serving herself. Sebastián was taking a much-deserved break from recording, standing in line behind Robyn with his arms wrapped around her middle and whispering something in her ear that had her flushing and giggling. 

You spotted your other friends from work, Gil and Luis, the latter coming with his wife Cat and their four kids, all under twelve. Javi’s old friends from high school, Anna, Benito, and Ken, were here with their families—Anna did all of the baked desserts. There was the family that ran El Mercadito, all five members present, and Sheriff Arturo with his wife. His and Javi’s assistant, Joy, was here, too, and she brought her roommate, a lovely girl named Jamie who drove a Subaru—something rare in Texas—and was wearing a stylish pantsuit with a shirt that complemented the color of Joy’s dress; they were such cute best friends. 

People were patting Javi on his back and congratulating him, seeing his bright grin each time he looked back at you as he made his way to the opposite side of the room. You watched him beelining toward his tías and father, who were at the end of the buffet with their plates full of food, to speak to his tía María for just a moment; whatever she said made him chuckle and kiss her on the cheek. Then he walked to the back of the line, politely refusing anyone who told him to cut in front of them. He ended up between one of his tíos and Mrs. Pauletta Moore, who you first met at the Farmer’s Market when you started dating; every subsequent time you went to the market, you’d stop by her stall to chat because she was fun to talk to and you found it amusing that Javi got flustered when she inevitably brought up how handsome he was—you never made him suffer long, though. You always got him out of there after a minute. 

What she was saying right now made him blush and glance over at you from across the room every few seconds with a polite smile, his big brown eyes screaming, ‘Help Me.’

His gaze was locked on yours, his mouth moving as he spoke to the older woman.You started to get up to save him, but he slightly shook his head at you, and you frowned, sitting in your seat again. 

Things got better once it was his turn to get dinner. Minutes later, he returned to your table with two plates and immediately left to grab a couple of beers for you both. When he was finally back for good, he sat down and once again scooted himself as close to you as possible, his arm going over your shoulders again. 

When it came to choosing the food for tonight, you and Javi only had two requests: you wanted there to be little BLT finger sandwiches, made how you liked them—swap out the mayo for garlic aioli, use arugula instead of lettuce, and add avocado—since the tomato for a BLT is how you met; the second request was that they used his mother’s recipes, which his tías happily agreed to. 

The plate in front of you was loaded with a little of everything: a tiny BLT, three street tacos made with fresh, homemade tortillas, each filled with a different meat—Al Pastor, barbacoa, and carne asada—roasted pig, chiles rellenos, enchiladas mole, elote, a mini queso Oaxaca quesadilla, spicy rice, beans, a few extra tortillas, and some homemade salsas in little plastic cups.

“Thank you,” you told him, pecking him on the cheek. 

His head turned to press his lips to yours, and he smiled into the kiss. “You’re welcome—I love you, my wife.”

You matched his expression. “I love you, too, my amazing husband. God, I love calling you that.” Your mouth left his, and you looked at him, his eyes on yours. “Can you believe we’re married?” 

His free hand reached to grab your left, lifting it to kiss your rings. “I keep looking at my ring to make sure it really happened.” A happy sigh left him, and the expression on his face showed how much he loved you, the intensity of it making you go so soft there was a chance you’d melt like ice cream in the hot sun. “You’re my wife,” he said. “I have a wife. I’m your husband. And, shit, last week was our first shot at making a baby. I’m already on cloud nine, but imagine if we were successful.” He let go of your hand to put his palm on your stomach, and your heart squeezed at how excited he was about being married and potentially having a child—you really hit the husband jackpot. Javi kept speaking, “We could have a baby by the end of the year. Even if it doesn’t happen, this has been the best year of my entire fucking life because you married me.” 

“Oh, Javi.” Your upper body twisted in his direction as your hands gently held his face, pulling him in to crush your lips to his, wanting him to feel your happiness, your love, and your hope that he was right about the addition of a tiny Peña by the end of the year. You agreed that even if a baby wasn’t in the cards for 1999, this had also been the best year of your entire fucking life because he married you. 

When you broke the kiss, Javi’s cheeks were tinted pink, and he was smiling so big, his dimple was showing. After exchanging ‘I love yous’ once more, you both dug into your plates. 

As expected, the food was incredible, and there was no way you’d be able to finish the plate, but you tried a little of everything, loving it all.

A comfortable silence fell between you two as you ate, and once the hunger in your belly subsided, you wiped your mouth with your napkin and asked, “What was Mrs. Moore saying that was making you uncomfy?” 

He groaned around a bite, and as soon as he swallowed, he avoided looking at you, using his own napkin to clean his mouth. He answered, “She went on and on and on about how fantastic I looked and told me that if she were your age, she also would’ve snatched me up and married me as quickly as you did after the engagement.”

You giggled. “I’m sorry. I know you hate when she talks about how handsome you are.” 

He sighed. “It’s fine, and I corrected her that I was the impatient one who wanted to get married so quickly.” He looked over at you and smiled. “She also congratulated us and said we’re a great match and a wonderful couple. She’s loved seeing our relationship grow and can’t wait for us to have kids, which she says will happen sooner rather than later.” 

“‘Cause you’re such a hunk, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you?” You gently knocked your shoulder against his. 

“With how you can’t keep your hands off of me? Apparently, I’m the biggest hunk in the entire fucking world.” 

“Wow, your ego has been fed way too much today.” 

He laughed and kissed your cheek. You felt his hot breath as he whispered in your ear, “Nothing to do with my ego, Cielito. I’m stating the truth; you can’t keep your hands off me, and you know what? I can’t keep my hands off you—when she said we’d have kids sooner rather than later, I agreed because it is my fucking mission to get you pregnant.”

Something about his determination had arousal igniting in your gut. 

“Why do I find that so sexy?” 

He kissed the sensitive spot behind your ear, and you trembled. “Because you married a hunk who can’t keep his hands off you.” 

You giggled, turning your head to kiss him. “I married a ridiculous man,” you said into his lips, your eyes closing. 

His response was muffled. “A ridiculous man who loves you.” His lips left yours, and the tip of his nose nuzzled yours. “Mi amor?” he rasped. 

“Yes, husband?” 

His fingers slid along your thigh. “After the dances,” he said, “when they open the dance floor, sneak away with me to the laundry room—” It was at the end of the same hall the guest bedroom was down and secluded. “—I need you so fucking bad.” 

“After the dances, I have to change dresses...” 

“That’s not a no… Can I join you? Your clothes will already be off, and I can put you up on the bathroom counter or against it and slide right in. Imagine getting filled with your husband’s cock—the cock that belongs to you—and how it will stretch your perfect pussy—my wife’s pussy. We’d be quick; I’d fuck you hard and fast. I’ll probably have to cover your mouth to keep you quiet, and all of these people will have no fucking clue that while they’re drinking and dancing, my wife’s soaking my dick in her come, and I’m stuffing her full of me.” 

The proposition made you squirm in your seat and had your skin heating.  

Now that you were at the party, your nerves had settled, and his words had gotten to you—you did want him inside you, and god, to feel him stretch you open; the fingering in the truck was good, but nothing compared to how Javi fucked you, and the thought of doing it with so many people on the property had your inner exhibitionist frothing at the mouth. 

“Sold.” 

It was truly adorable how he giddily chuckled, then smothered the sound by kissing you, his hand leaving your thigh to press to your cheek. He’d been eating an Al Pastor taco before you interrupted him, the sweetness of pineapple and spiciness of chiles lingering on his tongue as he licked into your mouth, giving you another one of those toe-curling kisses that made your brain stop working—either you were just insanely horny for your husband and you couldn’t wait to be alone in a room with him, or some baser, primal instinct was telling you to go right that second to make a baby. 

There were wolf-whistles again, and you couldn’t make out what Olivia asked, but you sure heard her father’s answer. “If you must know,” Steve said, “yes, I do kiss your mother like that, but not in front of you or your brothers—those kinds of kisses are between two adults who love each other and should only happen in private.” The girl made another comment, and Steve replied, “Well, your tio loves your new tia very, very much, and getting married is one of the happiest days of someone’s life—they’re just so happy, and in love, they keep forgetting there’s an audience.” 

Your mouths separated, Javi pressing his forehead to yours as he sighed. He quietly said to you, “I’m aware there’s an audience, and I don’t give a fuck because we’re not doing anything inappropriate—it’s just kissing for Christ’s sake.”  

You pushed your fingers into the hair at the back of his head. “He’s being an overprotective dad. When we have kids, you’re definitely going to be overprotective, but not when it comes to affection because it’s normal for us to be all lovey-dovey—our babies will be used to their parents being disgustingly in love.”

“Yeah, they will.” 

His hair is soft to the touch, and you lovingly scratch your nails against his scalp. “Something that I love is that your parents shaped your view of what a healthy, loving marriage should be like, and we’re gonna do the same for our children, so when they’re all grown up, they’ll hopefully have something like us and their abuelos (grandparents).” 

You didn’t have to see his face to know he was frowning when he spoke. “I don’t want them to grow up… I want them to be my babies forever.” 

“Oh, babe.” You pecked his lips. “They’ll always be your babies, and this is a reminder that when we finally have one, we need to savor every moment because they're gonna grow so quickly, and I know you’ll hate that.” 

Seconds passed, and he didn’t speak, which meant he was in his head, thinking deeply about something. You pulled back to look at his face, his eyes closed, his eyebrows cinched together, and you stroked your fingers along his cheek. 

“Where’d you go?” you softly asked him. 

He blinked open his eyes. “Nowhere,” he answered, turning his head to kiss your palm. 

“Are you okay?” 

He gave you a little smile. “I’m fucking amazing.” 

“Good.” 

“¡Bien, todos (Okay, everyone),” Diego announced, “démosle la bienvenida a la pista de baile los novios para su primer baile (Let’s welcome the bride and groom to the dance floor for their first dance)!” 

Applause sounded, and Javi got up from the table first, offering a hand that you took to rise, and he led you out onto the dance floor. The intro for “I’ve Been Waiting for You” by ABBA began, the soft hum of a synthesizer sounding as Agnetha Fältskog sang with feeling about how she never thought she’d love again, but the right person has come along now and brought back the feeling.  

It wasn’t hard to figure out what Javi was thinking with how intensely he looked upon you; his loving gaze burned as it met yours, his close-lipped smile beneath his perfectly trimmed mustache making the edges of his eyes crinkle, and there was not a single doubt that it was you on his mind, consuming all of his thoughts. Before he pulled you close by your hand in his, he took you in, the pink of his tongue wetting his bottom lip as his gaze trailed up your body appreciatively. When his chocolate-colored eyes locked onto yours, his love for you was evident, but so was his desire—he clearly wanted you, and it made heat creep up your neck. 

His free hand found its home on your waist, or more accurately, the top of your ass where it met your waist, while your own held onto the back of one of his broad shoulders, and you danced as you had so many times before in the kitchen as you cooked together; the familiarity of the steps, Javi guiding you as you swayed to the music, eyes on each other and only each other, the rest of the world disappearing. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said for just your ears. 

All you could see was the truth on his face, and it made you smile. You replied just as softly, “Thank you. You’re so fucking handsome—ten out of ten, would bang.” You winked, and he chuckled, the two of you slowly moving to the song. 

“You know how much I love you in that dress, but I can’t wait to get you out of it.” 

“A few more songs, and you’ll get to.” 

He grinned, his dimple appearing. “I really fucking love you.” 

“I really fucking love you, too.” 

The song’s chorus played:

“You thrill me, you delight me You please me, you excite me You're something I'd been pleading for I love you, I adore you I lay my life before you I'll have you want me more and more And finally, it seems my lonely days are through I've been waiting for you.”

He pulled you close enough to touch his forehead to yours gently, his hand holding your smaller one against his chest over his heart. He was gazing lovingly into your eyes, softly smiling. 

“I gotta say, this is a good song choice,” he told you. 

When the discussion about music for today came up, immediately, this was the song that came to mind for your first dance—it was about thinking love would never happen, then the surprise at finding it, and the overwhelming feelings that come with finally having it after longing for so long; the immense adoration, and deep commitment, it being so unexpected that it felt like destiny, ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’ It captured the essence of your relationship with Javi perfectly, and it made you happy that after playing it for him, he agreed—he’d never heard it before and thought, by the end, it fit well, too. 

He also sought your approval for his song choice that you walked down the aisle to, except his pitch was having you listen to all of side one of his Fleetwood Mac Rumours record that “Songbird” was the last track on… In bed… While making out through the first five songs leading up to it. Apparently, in college, he’d invite girls to his dorm room to ‘listen to a record with him’—not always Fleetwood Mac—and they’d fool around. Another discovery you made was that side two of Rumours was the one he fucked to since it was the longer of the two sides, running just shy of twenty minutes. Yes, your husband had a system where he dedicated the first side of a record to foreplay, then the second for the main event. 

“Right?” you responded to his comment. “The devotion and being all in—it’s so us.” 

The song continued, and Javi moved his head beside yours to quietly sing along to a few verses in your ear when the chorus played again:

“You're something I'd been pleading for I love you, I adore you I lay my life before you I'll have you want me more and more.”

It had you sucking in a breath, your eyes rounding because you were under the impression the one and only time he listened to this track was when you introduced him to it. 

You leaned back to see his face. “Wait, how do you know the lyrics?” you asked. 

His eyebrow raised, giving you a look like it was obvious. “Cielito, you chose this for our first dance,” he said. “Of course, I listened to it a handful of times after you showed me it-—it’s a pretty song and perfect.” 

Tears were starting to blur your vision at how sweet that was. 

“You love ABBA.”

He huffed in amusement. “My wife loves ABBA, and if she loves them, then I love them, too.”

“Uh-huh, right—we’re married, babe. You don’t have to keep pretending you’re too cool to love them.”

He sighed. “Their shit is just so catchy.”

His admission had you smiling. “Finally, you admit it. God, I really fucking love you.” 

He gave you another dimpled smile. “I really fucking love you, too.” He moved to have your temples touching as you swayed. “I wanna tell you something.” 

With the music so loud and the two of you staying in the middle of the dance floor, you doubted anyone would be able to hear your hushed conversation. He was still slowly leading you around; talking and dancing was something you were both used to.

“Okay.” 

“When I finally came home to Laredo for good, it’d fucking get to me seeing all the pictures of how happy my parents were or listening to my dad talk so fondly about my mom. Hearing and seeing how much they loved each other killed me because I’d never have anything like what they had. Then you came along and, Jesus Christ, am I so fucking thankful you came along—” The relief was evident in his voice. “—because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and you’ve given me the life I always dreamed about, and more. So, you are something I’d been pleading for; I love you, I adore you, and you know I lay my life before you—it’s yours, it’ll always be yours, and I’m gonna do my damndest to make you want me more.” You could hear his smile. “I’ll have to up the hunkiness.” 

You laughed, continuing to dance with him. “I don’t think you can get any hunkier.” 

“I think I can.” His cheek touched yours to whisper in your ear, feeling the hot breath of his words, “Like how after the dances, I’m dragging your ass to the bedroom, getting you naked, and I wanna bury my face in your pussy.” You gasped. “I know you want me to eat it, and I’m fucking dying to taste my wife. I’ll get you off with my mouth and the fingers you love. Then I’m pressing you back against the wall—I know I said bathroom counter earlier, but I need to kiss you—so, your back is getting pressed against the wall, and you're gonna taste yourself on my tongue while I fuck you hard and fast. I’ll keep you quiet so nobody knows you’re getting your husband’s good dick, and when I come inside you, you’re gonna keep it all in for the rest of the night because you know if you’re my good girl, I’m gonna give you anything you want when we get home.” 

“Javier,” you breathed. He had your skin feeling hot and your heartbeat thudding between your legs, so unbelievably turned on by what he said. You had to clear your throat and say, “Sir, the way you’re making my pussy throb—I am so upset that I can’t drag your ass to the bedroom right this second to have my way with you.”

“Yeah?” He kissed your cheek. “I’ll make you feel good the first chance I get, and fuck, I can’t wait to get you home so that I can take my time. Quiero hacerte el amor (I want to make love to you). Quiero dártelo despacito y hacer temblar tus piernas (I want to give it to you slowly and make your legs shake). Quiero oírte gritar mi nombre decirme lo bien que te estoy chingado (I want to hear you scream my name and tell me how good I’m fucking you).” 

“Okay, okay, okay, you are the hunkiest hunk to ever hunk, and I’m gonna need you to tone it down because I am extremely horny and so close to saying fuck it and running away with you while everyone watches.”  

You didn’t need to see his face to know he was smiling. “I’m sorry for getting you worked up, mi amor.” 

“That’s a dirty fucking lie, and you know it.” 

With your bodies pressed together, you felt the rumble of his chuckle as the song came to an end. The two of you slowed to a stop naturally, and Javi straightened in front of you, looking at you once more; he was just as affected by the things he said if his darkened eyes and the pretty pink flush painted across his cheeks were anything to go by—and maybe it was his sultry words, or his sweet confession, or simply that his plush mouth looked so kissable, whatever it was had you gripping the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, and tugging him to you to smash your lips against his, kissing him. His arms wrapped around you, one hand anchored at the back of your head, the other squeezing your ass, your mouths passionately fused together, turning your body to putty and your brain to mush as you melted into him. 

During his vows, Javi said his life didn’t begin until the moment he met you, and you understood exactly what he meant—what felt like so long ago, yet was only mere months, he entered your sphere, and suddenly, you felt alive; he made you feel alive. He was the sun shining after a gloomy, rainy day. He was the spring blooms after a frigid, snowy winter. He brought life to your world, love, and made everything better, and now he promised you his forever, sealing that commitment with the gold band on your finger. 

He was yours, completely, always yours, and you were his. 

Honestly, it was a miracle you heard a single thing Diego was announcing over the speakers. “La siguiente canción es una petición especial del novio (This next song is a special request from the groom). Mrs. Peña, Javi quiere dejarte saber que él siempre será tu pez (Mrs. Peña, Javi wants you to know that he will always be your fish).” 

That had you abruptly ending the kiss, Javi’s mouth chasing yours. You pressed a hand to the center of his chest to hold him back. 

“What song?” you asked him. “What does it mean that you’ll always be my fish…?”

His eyes opened to look at her, and he smiled, engulfing her hand on him with his larger one to hold over where she had to feel the thud of his heartbeat, his other resting just below her waistline on her ass, loving how soft her dress was under his fingers. He didn’t get a chance to answer because Diego started the song, and he knew she recognized it immediately from the familiar piano and twang of an acoustic guitar filling the air, followed by bongos and a man singing the opening line:

“Tengo un corazón…” 

She started laughing, and warmth spread through him at how delighted she was. 

“Burbujas de Amor” by Juan Luis Guerra was one of their favorite songs that played on the Spanish radio station they liked to listen to as they cooked. It had a good danceable beat while also being a romantic ballad, and the lyrics were… Interesting. The first time his wife heard it was early on in their relationship while they were making lunch together; she couldn’t believe what was being sung to the point she kept double-checking with him that what she was translating in her head was correct. 

“Wait, did he just say he wants to be a fish so he can touch her fish tank with his nose…?” she asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“I didn’t understand the next line.” 

“Y hacer burbujas de amor por dondequiera—and make love bubbles everywhere.” 

“And then he really sings that he wants to stay up all night, soaked in her?”

“Yeah, and it makes sense to me ‘cause I wanna stay up all night soaked in you.” 

She grinned. “You want to be the fish to my fish tank.” 

“Quiero ser tu pez, quiero ser tu novio, quiero ser tu todo (I want to be your fish, I want to be your boyfriend, I want to be your everything). Need me to translate?” 

“Nope, I understood you perfectly.” 

The ABBA song was their choice for the first dance, but when they were picking the music, she joked about how funny it’d be if they used “Burbujas de Amor.” It amused her so much that he thought it’d be fun to surprise her with it as their second dance song. 

“I can’t believe you requested this,” she said, clearly amused. 

“We love it—” He shrugged. “—and I wanted to dance with you to it.” He gave her hand a quick kiss before letting it go to do this thing she found sexy, where he kept his attention on her while undoing the buttons on his suit jacket one-handed. He continued speaking as it came undone, “Dance with me—really dance with me.” 

Javier loved the intimacy of slow dancing with her—the two of them close together in their own little world, swaying to the music and having an easy conversation; it was one of his favorite things to do. But there was nothing like giving in to the rhythm of some great music with someone you had a deep connection with, someone who loved you just as intensely as you loved them and shared in the intimate knowledge of how your bodies moved together. 

It was incredible.

Their connection made everything exhilarating, and it was the same with sex. Out of the many partners he’d had in the bedroom and out on the dance floor, nothing compared to doing either with his wife—she was hands down the best he’d ever had in bed or dancing. 

And to be completely honest, she wasn’t as good of a dancer as him—she was much better now than at the start of their relationship, and his toes were thankful for that; none of it mattered, though, because her confidence and willingness to even try, along with how fun she was, made up for her lack of skill. Plus, they had such great chemistry she did an excellent job of following his lead, which was the only time she let him be in control 100% of the time, every time. 

“Okay,” she replied, stepping into him and wrapping her arm around his neck. She held up her other hand that Javier happily took firmly into his much bigger one, holding her close, his knee slotting between both of hers and a second later, he was moving them to the beat, literally moving her where he wanted by her hand in his—backward, forward, a turn here, a turn there, his wife relaxed and dancing in sync with him, their hips shaking a bit with each step.  

Though they usually danced like this to cumbia music, he thought it was the best choice for this situation since he’d do all the work while she followed, because he knew, even if she was hiding it, that she worried about fucking up in front of everyone. Like this, he had complete control of them—how fast they went, where they were going; he was so in tune with her, so familiar with how she moved, they were dancing so seamlessly and effortlessly like it was a choreographed number they’d rehearsed a hundred times before.

He loved her giggles when he twirled them around, and he couldn’t stop smiling at how good it felt to move them to the music with hardly any thought or care aside from keeping them stepping to the rhythm; they were just having fun, enjoying each other and the vibrant energy of their love and happiness. 

They were between choruses, the guitar, piano, and bongos still playing to keep the beat, while a trumpet had a solo. 

“Javi?” she said. 

“Yes, Cielito?” 

He spun them in a complete circle and continued on another lap around the dance floor. 

Her face was beside his, and she sang dramatically along with Juan Luis Guerra that she would like to be a fish so she could touch her nose to his fish tank and make love bubbles. Javier chuckled, which only egged her on to keep singing.

They didn’t stop moving, Javier humming along to her serenading him, and he was thinking about how much he loved this woman who made him laugh so easily and constantly amused him—she was sunshine, all bright, happy, and full of life, and the complete opposite of what he’d been before meeting her. 

There was that old saying, ‘Laughter is the best medicine,’ and he was pretty fucking sure it was true with how much better he was with her—she relaxed him, she’d crack a joke, and all of the tension melted away from his body. Her silliness brought him joy, and he felt so good after she told him a funny story, he always wanted her to keep talking. It sometimes felt like she was trying to make up for all of his laughless years before her, and when he thought about it, she had made a point in her marriage vows to promise to keep making him laugh and smile for the rest of their lives; it was a promise that she’d keep making him happy and that his life would never be miserable again. It was the greatest promise anyone had ever made to him, and for as long as he lived, he was going to worship the ground she walked on—he was wholly and undoubtedly hers and he would ensure she was aware of that fact every single day for the rest of their lives. 

When the song ended and they came to a stop, he let go of her. His hands held her beautiful face, rubbing his thumbs along the apples of her cheeks, her eyes shining in adoration, and he wanted to kiss that smile on her lips—he was so focused on her that he barely registered those in attendance clapping. 

"Javi?" she said. 

"Yes, mi vida (my life)?" 

“Do you remember the first time we listened to that song?” 

He smiled. “Yeah, you were making me my first peanut butter and jelly sandwich while I was cutting apple slices for lunch, and you kept wondering if you were hearing the lyrics right.” 

“Good, then I want you to know that eres mi pez, eres mi esposo, y siempre serás mi todo (You are my fish, you are my husband, and you will always be my everything)—I love you."

The tears he was keeping at bay were making his eyes burn, and it could be heard how choked up he was when he replied, "I love you, too." 

And to stop himself from crying in front of his wife and the almost hundred people watching, he hugged her to him in a tight embrace, welcoming her arms that held him just as tightly. A content sigh left him as all of the muscles in his body went lax, soaking up her warmth and comfort, the calm washing over him like a cool balm on a hot summer day. 

Something about Javier was that, even though he was raised Catholic, he didn't believe in God or any other almighty higher being somewhere out in the ether. It was easy to lose faith when someone had seen the things he'd seen and been through the shit he'd been through. He did, however, believe in fate and that everything happens for a reason; he thought that no matter what choices were made—good, bad, right, or wrong—they’d all lead to the same end result. 

For a long time, he questioned the purpose of all that he’d done in Colombia and what his sacrifices were for when, in the end, it felt like it was all for nothing, and in one aspect, it had been a pointless endeavor; everything he did, didn’t end the war on drugs, and there wasn’t anything that could. But those grueling years he spent wading through unimaginable hell and loneliness were the long and rocky road that brought him to the woman he loved—all he went through wasn’t for nothing, because it led him to finding heaven, his Cielito, his wife. This person who was his entire world, who he loved more than anything, whose presence gave him peace, and whose words touched his soul. She made all of the blood, sweat, and tears he’d shed over the years worth it, and he’d happily do it all again since he was fated to find the woman of his dreams and experience today, the best day of his entire life.  

It was still hard to believe she said, ‘I do,’ and he found himself unwrapping her left arm from around him and leaning away enough to bring her hand up, delicately holding her fingers in his own. He stared at the two rings, the proof she did marry him. The diamonds on the engagement ring glittered beneath the string lights above them, his thumb smoothing over the new gold band below it that matched the one on his finger. He kissed the modest-sized princess-cut diamond nestled between a pair of smaller ones on either side of it and felt so fucking happy he thought he might combust—he had a wife, he was a husband.  

Neither of them were able to get out another word before Diego’s voice was heard over the sound system, “La siguiente canción fue elegida por la novia para el segundo hombre más importante de su vida, quien la recibió en su familia con los brazos abiertos y es el mejor papá que cualquiera podría desear (The following song was chosen by the bride for the second most important man in her life, who welcomed her into his family with open arms, and is the best dad anyone could wish for). ¡Es hora del baile padre e hija (It’s time for the father-daughter dance)!” 

Growing up, you weren’t like most other girls who fantasized about their dream wedding. Of course, you hoped one day you’d meet the love of your life and get married. Still, in terms of the wedding itself, you knew from a young age your controlling parents would be heavily involved in the planning to ensure it met their standards and made them look good, so you didn’t see any point in thinking much about it. 

Then, you moved thousands of miles away to escape their control and live your life the way you wanted, and on Friday, June 12th, 1998, you fantasized for the first time about what your wedding would be like when you married Javier Peña—not if, when. 

It was the evening after he asked you to be his girlfriend, and you were cuddling on your couch, watching a movie—the entire pizza you’d ordered for dinner was eaten, the box sitting closed on the coffee table with a couple of empty cans of Coca-Cola on coasters near it. The two of you were too exhausted from hardly getting any sleep the night before to do anything more exciting than make out a little after eating. Honestly, it was nice how comfortable it was relaxing together. Since Javi was allergic to clothes, he’d been lounging in only his jeans, and when he got up to use the bathroom, you admired his back as he walked away. Ogling his front on his return to the living room, taking in the broadness of his chest, your spine tingling at seeing dark marks you sucked onto his golden skin—you’d wanted to kiss all over his soft belly and scratch your nails down the tantalizing trail of hair that disappeared below the denim’s waistband. He’d been so amused by you blatantly checking him out he stopped paying attention to where he was walking and managed to slam his toe hard into one of the coffee table’s legs, which had him yelling ‘FUCK,’ and lifting his injured foot to awkwardly hop on the other, hissing a string of what you now knew, for sure, were Spanish curse words. Immediately, you jumped up to make sure he was okay and checked the damage to his big toe; it was mostly his ego that’d been bruised, and when you sat back down on the sofa, you made him lie across it with his head in your lap to play with his hair, to cheer him up—apparently, you’d been so tired that a few minutes later you forgot to filter your thoughts and accidentally said out loud: 

“Sure wish I was your big toe.”

He had twisted to look up at you, his face showing apparent confusion when he asked, “What?” 

Once again, what you were thinking spilled from your lips, “So you’d bang me on the coffee table.”

It’d been unbelievably stupid, yet it made Javi laugh so hard that his eyes practically disappeared with how thinly they slit together and adorably crinkled at the edges while he gave you a huge, blinding smile; his glee was infectious and had you both laughing until you cried—that was when you knew he was The One™️.

This was the first person you ever truly felt like you could be yourself with, and you knew, without a doubt, that he liked you for you and appreciated your silliness. And everything had seemed so easy with him—talking, dating, and how comfortable it was to spend hours on the couch watching TV while going long periods in silence. The familiarity between you two had made it feel as though you’d always known him, and it was crazy that your personalities and backgrounds were so vastly different, yet you meshed so well together—he understood you, and you understood him; you complemented one another. It hadn’t mattered that you were a strong, independent woman who didn’t need a man and never had a single codependent bone in your body; when Javier Peña would leave your apartment or even just the room you were in, you missed him—it was mind-boggling to like someone so much that your chest ached when they weren’t near.

Strangers who heard how quickly your relationship became serious liked to comment on how fast you fell for each other. Falling implies it was by accident, and there was uncertainty about where you’d land when, but in reality, there was no falling, no uncertainty; you were simply two parted souls who were reunited and had finally come home. 

So, the evening after he asked you to be his girlfriend, while you both laughed with tears streaming down your cheeks that hurt from smiling so big, it was cemented in your brain that you were going to marry him—a life you could see that would be filled with love, happiness, and laughter.

The wedding you imagined all those months ago was close to how it turned out—a small, intimate ceremony only attended by a select few with a party afterward. Javi wore the black tuxedo you pictured, and his dad and Robyn were there, as you expected; however, it wasn’t your father who gave you away like you thought it’d be, and your mother wasn’t there to watch or even help you get ready. Back then, so soon after starting your relationship, you didn’t know that your parents would disapprove of Javi, and naively you had assumed they’d be happy for your nuptials—you knew they’d hate the wedding you planned, but they still would’ve come with the caveat of complaining the whole time, and there was no expectation for your brother and his family to be there due to how challenging it’d have been to travel with their gaggle of young children. You promised your best friend that you wouldn’t think about the people you used to share a last name with, and you were trying not to. There were simply moments when they came to mind, and you’d feel a pain in your chest like an invisible stab to the heart that tried to ruin this wonderful day. 

Frankly, your wedding was turning out better than you initially imagined it. All those who witnessed your ceremony loved it, and everyone at the reception was truly happy for you both. The best part, though, was the man who gave you away wasn’t related to you by blood. Still, he loved you more than those who did—he was genuinely proud of you, he supported your happiness, and would fight for you without a second thought; he was a real father, and you lucked out that he chose to be yours, loving you unconditionally as you always deserved. 

There was no one else in the world you wanted to have a father-daughter dance with more than your newly titled father-in-law, Jesús ‘Chucho’ Peña. 

As you stepped away from Javi after giving him a sweet departing kiss, you set your sights on your new dad sitting at the table with the Murphys and Robyn—Seb was back to work recording with the camcorder. The song began, starting with the dulcet tone of a violin and an entire orchestra backing it, the whimsicalness of the intro sounding as if it could’ve been pulled from a fairytale movie; “Amor Eterno” by Rocío Dúrcal was a breathtakingly beautiful ballad about grieving someone you loved. 

Chucho’s camera was atop the lavender tablecloth in front of him, and he had a hand over his mouth in shock, his eyes glistening with tears beneath the lenses of his glasses—he hadn’t known about the dance, as it was a surprise to show him what he meant to you. 

A smile formed on your lips, and you held out your hand toward him, walking his way. Steve was grinning beside the older man, giving him a pat on the back as Chucho stood and you approached. 

“Me?” he asked when you were close, pressing his fingertip to the center of his white-dress shirt-covered chest. 

You gently poked him over his heart. “You, Pop,” you said. “The best damn dad I’ve ever had, and I’m sorry for springing this on you, but if you’re willing, may I have this dance?” 

His eyes rounded, and he took your palm into his, smiling as he answered with a nod, “Yes, Mija. I apologize if I’m a bit rusty. I haven’t danced with anyone since mi Amor.” 

“Don’t stress,” you replied, swatting his apology away with your free hand. “We can just sway to the music. That’s always safe.” 

“Okay.” 

With that, you led him to the middle of the dance floor and faced him, Chucho holding your one hand up while your other was on his shoulder, his free palm resting on the center of your back. You easily followed his basic steps that had you sticking to a small area. 

His eyes were on yours. “This is one of my favorite songs,” he said. 

You smiled. “I know—it came on the radio the first time we made tamales together, and I remember you telling me it was one of your favorites.”

His face softened. “That’s what’s so great about you; you care, you really care, and not a day goes by without me thanking God for bringing you into our lives—it fills my heart with joy to see my Javi so happy, and I can breathe easier knowing that he finally found his media naranja (soulmate). We’re truly blessed to have you join our family, and I am lucky to be able to call you my daughter because you are my daughter.”

“Oh, Pop,” you said, holding back tears. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mija.” And the truth was shining in his eyes. 

“God, I’m trying so hard not to cry.” You took a deep, shaky breath, the two of you still slowly moving, swaying in a circle. “I’m lucky I have you and Javi—you’re such a great father, and you raised an amazing man.” The emotion was heavy in your voice as you continued speaking, your bottom lip wobbling, “I’m so unbelievably thankful and happy. I’ve never been this happy in my entire life.”

He gave you a happy smile. “You deserve it—now, let’s talk about something else so your beautiful makeup doesn’t get ruined by tears.” He lightly squeezed your hand in his. 

You huffed in amusement. “Thank you.” 

“Did I tell you mi Antonia loved the album this song was on?” he asked as you continued dancing. 

“You didn’t,” you answered with a shake of your head. 

"She played it all the time when it came out while she cooked or cleaned, and I'd come home to her beautiful voice singing along." It was obvious on his face that he was remembering fond memories. “She loved Juan Gabriel’s songs.” He was the writer of this song and an amazing Mexican singer-songwriter who collaborated with Rocío Dúrcal on many albums. “She had all of his albums, and she’d tell me to be quiet when he came on the radio.” He chuckled. “If we were home, and music was playing, any music, I’d just pull her into my arms, and we’d dance wherever we were in the house; it didn’t matter if we were in the living room, the kitchen, the hallway, or our bedroom, we’d just take a few minutes to ourselves and dance together.” You smiled, thinking about how Javi was the same way; if you put on a record to clean the apartment or turned on the radio to cook, it was a guarantee that he would make you stop and dance with him for at least one song. “That was something we did from the start of our relationship,” he continued, “until…” He swallowed thickly. “Until the very end.” His expression turned solemn, and you could tell the memory that came to him in that moment was painful to recall, your heart breaking for him that he lost the love of his life. He cleared his throat and tried to smile, but the pain was still there behind his eyes. “I see a lot of me and mi Amor in the two of you, and that’s how I know that what you have is real and that it’s gonna last.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” He nodded. 

The chorus began, Rocío Dúrcal beautifully singing:

“Amor eterno (Eternal love) Y inolvidable (And unforgettable) Tarde o temprano estaré contigo (Sooner or later, I will be with you) Para seguir amándonos (To continue loving each other).”

Listening to the lyrics, it made sense that this was one of Chucho’s favorite songs—it perfectly captured someone’s grief and their longing to be with the person they lost again. It was rare, but it was known to happen that couples who loved as deeply as your father and mother-in-law did, passed away close together, with the second succumbing to their broken heart. It showed Chucho’s strength that he managed to survive after losing a part of himself—his soulmate—and you were thankful he was strong for your husband. You thought there was a possibility his wife told him he had to keep going for their son’s sake because she knew Javi, just as you did, and had he lost both of his parents, he would’ve self-destructed and been even more reckless in Colombia; it pained you to think that he probably wouldn’t have made it home alive.  

The thought of his mother’s possible dying wish and the strength of his father had your vision blurring with tears. You were so unbelievably grateful that Javi had parents who loved him so dearly and that he loved just as fiercely. 

Concern showed on Chucho’s face. “What’s wrong, Mija?” 

“Nothing.” You gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m just happy—really happy.” 

His lips turned up. “I’m happy—really happy, too, and—” His smile evolved into a full-blown grin. “—excited. Now that you’re married, I know mi primero nieto está a la vuelta de la esquina (my first grandchild is right around the corner).” 

He made you laugh. “Yes, Pop. We’re hoping we’ll have a kid by the end of the year.” 

His eyes went wide. “Really? The end of the year?” 

“That’s what we’re trying for.” 

It always weirded you out how freely people announced they were fucking raw or, in PG terms, trying for a baby. With how much Chucho yearned to be a grandfather, he’d be beyond happy to know you were trying to make his dream come true, and you were right. 

As the song came to a close, he pulled you into him, hugging you tight, and you embraced him in return. “My son got married to a wonderful woman, and there’s a possibility I might be an abuelo (grandpa) by December. This is the best year of my life since Javi was born—thank you.” 

“No, thank you for raising an incredible man that I can’t wait to have a family with.”

What he wished most was that he could share this amazing day with his wife. 

Chucho knew for certain Antonia would’ve been over the moon with happiness right along with him and would agree that this was turning out to be the best year of their lives since the birth of their son. 

What he would give for her to be here standing next to him, holding his hand, and getting a chance to hug her tight as they both cried from being overjoyed that their Javiercito was happy and married to a woman they loved. 

If his media naranja (soulmate) were here, he’d hold her in his arms and say, “Nuestro hijo a crecido, mi Amor (Our son has grown up, my Love). ¿Puedes creer que finalmente se casó y que podemos tener un nieto para fin de año (Can you believe he finally got married, and we may have a grandchild by the end of the year)?”

“¡Si dios quiere (God willing)!” she’d answer. “¡Es un sueño hecho realidad, mi Alma (It’s a dream come true, my Soul)! Criamos a un buen hombre, que sé que será un esposo y padre maravilloso (We raised a good man, who I know will be a wonderful husband and father).” He’d agree wholeheartedly and seal it with a kiss. 

As they grew older, Antonia’s reason for why Javi needed to hurry up and marry went from her wanting him to give them grandkids, to giving them grandkids and so she’d still be able to do a proper mother-son dance with him since her joints had started aching. Oh, how Chucho would’ve loved to see her dance with that good man they raised. 

He wished she could see with her own eyes that Javi was finally home and living the life they had always dreamt for him: having his own family with someone who truly cared about him, loved him, and made him happy. Chucho hadn’t seen their son thrive like this in almost twenty years, and Antonia’s heart would’ve burst with joy, like his did, every time she saw Javi’s big smile. 

There was no way for his Amor to be here in person, but she was with them in spirit. Tomorrow, he planned to take the camera film he used today down to the one-hour photo kiosk in the mall parking lot. After the pictures were developed, he’d go visit his Antonia to share them with her and tell her everything that happened; he may have lost her eight years ago, but he could still perfectly picture the beaming smile she’d give him upon hearing the news. 

The image in his mind lifted the corners of his lips—he missed that smile, as he missed her, especially today. 

He was excited to tell her how their new daughter had surprised him with a father-daughter dance to a song with special meaning. He found comfort in “Amor Eterno,” and for some weeks after his wife’s passing, that album she loved was all he listened to—it took years for him to be able to hear the song without crying. Now, he had a happier memory attached to it, which he appreciated.  

With the absence of the bride’s parents—who were unwelcome anyway and were not allowed to step foot on his property—Chucho had assumed there wouldn’t be a father-daughter dance or a mother-son dance, since his Amor couldn’t be there. He was touched that Javi’s Cielito thought so highly of him that she’d honor him with the dance. 

He welcomed her into their family the first time they met and had been ready to be a father-in-law to her, but when he heard about how her family treated and disrespected her, Chucho had no problem stepping up to be a father-figure if she so wished, and she did. This poor girl was so kind and truly wonderful; it saddened him that her parents didn’t love her as she deserved or supported her life choices. By no means were he and his wife perfect parents—there were things they wished they could’ve done differently with Javi, but they sure loved the hell out of him and supported him. A parent should want their child to be happy, healthy, and successful; as long as they’re happy and healthy, it shouldn’t matter what they decide to do with their life that they consider success. 

Swimming made Javi happy, and they did whatever they could to encourage him. 

They knew their son wasn’t happy in Colombia, but he was passionate about his job and wanted to get it done, so they continued cheering him on and were there for him whenever and however he needed them to be as best they could from home. 

Chucho was damn proud of the things his new daughter had achieved in her life, and he’d still be proud of her no matter what she did for work because the only thing that mattered was her happiness.

He knew her father was a well-educated man with many fancy degrees. Still, Chucho questioned the other man’s intelligence because he couldn’t seem to comprehend something so basic as caring about his kid’s well-being and loving them unconditionally. 

Frankly, Chucho was glad she was no longer under her parents’ scrutiny, and it felt good that she thought so highly of him as a dad that she honored him with the dance. 

Another surprise that warmed his heart was his son taking the time to dance a whole song with each of Chucho’s sisters. Javier went from oldest to youngest, starting with his tía María, to the song “¿Y Cómo es El?” by José Luis Perales, then his tía Lupe—who had him laughing while they moved around the dance floor—to “Sergio el Bailador” by Bronco, one of her favorite songs. Now, he was dancing with his tía Rebeca to “Piel Canela” by Eydie Gormé, the two slowly moving from side to side and talking. 

He stood at the edge of the dance floor taking pictures of his son and his baby sister; his sobrino (nephew), Sebastián, was beside him with a video camera, recording what was going on. 

“Hey, good lookin’,” Robyn said as she approached them from behind. 

Chucho lowered the camera from his face with a smile, his upper body twisting to the right to look at her. “Hola, Pajarito (Hi, little bird).” 

Seb interjected, “Sabes que ella estaba hablando conmigo, Tío (You know she was talking to me, Uncle).” He addressed the woman, “Hola, hermosa (Hi, beautiful).” The younger man had the camcorder held up but turned his head to accept a quick kiss from his girlfriend, who had to rise up on her toes to meet his mouth. 

She broke away, grinning, and replied, “No, I was greetin’ Chucho.” Her attention turned to him. “You’re lookin’ mighty handsome tonight, and I gotta say, it was lovely watchin’ you dance with my girl.” 

“It was lovely that she asked me.” 

The bride was sitting over at the table with the Murphys in his empty spot, the love clear in her eyes as she stared at her husband—it was sweet.

“What are you doing over here?” Seb asked her. She turned his way and stepped to have herself against his side. She wrapped her arms around his middle and tilted her head to meet his eyes. 

“You were standin’ here lookin’ like sex on legs, and I needed to come remind you that I’m takin’ your ass home tonight.” 

Chucho chuckled. It was easy to see why Robyn and his daughter were instant best friends the first time they met—neither had any shame and said what they were thinking. It was incredibly amusing. 

The younger man wore a little smile. “Yes, you are,” Sebastián replied. “I didn’t forget. You wanna stay with me? This is the last dance I have to record, and then I’m all yours.” 

“I think I will—if that’s alright with you,” she directed at Chucho, looking over her shoulder at him. 

He smiled. “You go ahead. I think I’ll head back to the table.” 

His knees were sore, and he needed to sit down for a little while. Just as the song was ending, he turned toward the table and saw that his new daughter was already standing at the corner of the dance floor, waiting for her husband. Javi gave his tía a quick hug, and Chucho smiled at how, the moment his son’s arms left Rebeca, he was zeroing in on his wife. 

Chucho wouldn’t say they hugged upon reaching each other; hug was too tame of a word to describe their intimate embrace, which almost had him blushing—and because he was a father whose sole purpose was to give his child or children a hard time, he lifted his camera, and snapped a picture so that he could tease them relentlessly later on. 

Wolf whistles sounded, people cheered, and he chuckled at the fact there was no denying Javier was his son—Chucho couldn’t keep his hands off his wife either, and if things had been different, if life was a little kinder, they probably would’ve had at least ten kids. He was more than happy with his one, though; su bendición (his blessing), who’d grown into an incredible man he couldn’t be prouder of. With all the good that had happened to Javier over the last year, he believed his son would have much better luck when it came to having children, and Chucho loved the idea of ten nietos (grandchildren) to spoil rotten. 

The white satin hugging her ass was silky smooth beneath both of Javier’s palms, his tongue in her mouth, tasting the sweetness of powdered sugar and hints of the buttery nuttiness from a Mexican wedding cookie she’d eaten. He loved how her fingers tangled in his hair, and he wanted to drown in the scent of her perfume that had him feeling heady with its fruity, woodsy notes, Javier already half-hard in his pants.  

He was happy his father and tías had a chance to be honored with dances after all they’d done for him and Cielito, but the closer he got to finishing his last dance, the more his anticipation grew to be alone with his wife—it was taking everything in him not to drag her away right this second, but he was waiting for—

Diego spoke into the microphone, “¡Damas y caballeros, es hora de festejar (Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to party)! ¡Quiero verlos a todos en la pista de baile (I want to see you all on the dance floor)!” 

The whine of an accordion, accompanied by a quick beat, came over the speakers—it was the beginning of “La Chona” by Los Tucanes de Tijuana, and with the excited cheers and whistles, people were doing as his primo said, moving onto the dance floor. This was when the newlyweds could make their escape. Javier reluctantly ended the kiss, his hand latching onto her smaller one. 

“Come on,” was all he said, quickly leading her away from the party and out of the tent, her giggles trailing behind him. 

He was on a mission, hurriedly thanking those they passed by who congratulated them and getting her into the house, managing to make it through the kitchen to the entryway that his old bedroom was off of without his tía María noticing as she stood at the kitchen sink. Javier tugged Cielito into the room, pushing her back against the door he closed—his lips crushed onto hers in a searing kiss while he turned the lock on the doorknob and flicked on the light switch. 

All night, the tension had built to this moment that found them alone, behind a locked door, and both so desperate for the other that it was a frenzy of messy kisses and fumbling hands to get their clothes off—his tuxedo jacket was first to go, his tie next, her fingers popping open a few of his top shirt buttons; then he was hauling her away from the door, turning them so he was walking her backward into the bedroom, his digits deftly pulling down the zipper at the back of her dress. They came to a stop, the kissing continuing while he carefully pulled the straps off her arms, the silk wedding dress cascading to the floor to pool at her feet. 

Before the ceremony, when he snuck over here to talk to her as she got ready, she let him feel what she was wearing beneath the dress, and now he got to see. Javier held her fingers in one hand, unable to stop touching her, and took a step back to drink her in, his cock already throbbing and straining against the zipper of his dress pants. 

His eyes stared at her beautiful face and moved downward—he loved her with or without makeup; he didn’t have a preference since he always thought she was gorgeous, just as she was now, all dolled up. His gaze moved to her chest, seeing the white, lacy strapless bra for the first time, and his fingers itched to undo it to see her perfect tits. Lower, she had on stretchy spandex like her bicycle shorts that went halfway up her abdomen and midway down her thighs—her reasoning for wearing the Spanx was so she didn’t look ‘lumpy’ or have panty lines in her dress that tightly hugged her figure; Javier wasn’t a fan of them hiding her belly, or the idea that she felt self-conscious enough to hide it, but they made her feel comfortable, and that was all that mattered. Plus, he knew if she turned around, he’d love how good the spandex made her ass look. He would’ve had her show him, however, his attention was stuck on the blue garter wrapped around her thigh, sitting just above her knee. 

The strip of satin was dusty blue, with a bow made from the same material placed in the center over an overlay of ivory floral lace. The wedding tradition was to have the groom remove the garter and toss it into the crowd like the bride does with the bouquet, but Javier didn’t like the idea of getting under her dress in front of a tent full of people. It was something he wanted to do alone with her, because there was no way he was only removing the garter if he had a chance to get under her dress. 

Her beauty, her smell, that damn blue garter, and the fact that once it was off, he could strip everything else she was wearing from below the waist from her had him hitting his breaking point—he needed her so bad, he thought he might go insane if he didn’t have his face buried in her pussy within the next two minutes. His lips landed on hers, kissing her hard and swallowing her moan, relishing her fingers sliding back into his hair. Their tongues were entangled, and with his hands on her waist, he spun them to the left, moving her backward a few steps, to press her spine against the wall. His heart was pounding in his chest, arousal curling in his gut, and his breaths panted when his mouth left hers to nip at her chin. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, kissing a wet streak along her jaw. “So fucking beautiful.” His lips made a journey down her throat, sucking on her pulse point; she gasped, her hands pulling his hair harder, Javier groaning at the pleasurable pain. 

He spoke his words into her skin as he kissed along her chest, “You’re my wife, my beautiful, sexy wife.” His head dipped, and Javier lightly sunk his teeth into the top of her breast. 

“Javi,” she moaned. “Oh, god, why are you so hot?” 

He soothed over his bite with a kiss and said when his face lifted, “Because I’m the hunkiest hunk to ever hunk.” Javier smirked.

She giggled, grinning at him. “You’re a sexy dork, is what you are.” 

“Your sexy dork.” 

“Yes, you are.” Her hands pushed down on his shoulders, and he understood immediately, starting to lower himself, kissing her body as he went—her neck, her chest, her tits, her stomach; Javier chose to ignore his joints popping when he took a knee.

He removed her thin shoe as he lifted her foot to rest on top of his thigh. Keeping his eyes on hers, he took the garter’s silk between his teeth and slowly pulled it over her bent knee, going lower until it fell freely down her calf to her ankle, where he took it off. Javier slid the soft, smooth fabric over his hand and up his arm to wear it on his bicep for everyone to see. 

She was smiling down at him, her eyes darkened. “I am so in love with you.” 

“I’m so in love with you,” he replied, kissing the side of her thigh. He set her foot back onto the ground, their gazes locked while he took off and pocketed the golden cufflinks from his wrists, speaking as he began rolling up his sleeves, “I’m going to make you come with my mouth,” he said, finishing one, and starting on the second. “Then, as I told you earlier, I’m fucking you against this wall—” He nodded at the one behind her. “—while you taste your pussy on my tongue.” Both of his sleeves were rolled up his forearms. “Any requests?” he asked and got his fingers under the waistband of her Spanx. 

“Yes.” She nodded and cupped his cheek with her palm. “After you come deep inside me, where I promise to keep you all night, you’re going to tie your bow tie around my arm—if you're wearing my garter, then I'm wearing your bow tie." 

Javier wasn’t a possessive man, yet knowing she’d wear so many things to show she was his, and only his, had his chest swelling up with pride and happiness vibrating under his skin—like her, he wanted to broadcast to everyone that he was hers, and hers alone, and the ring on his finger wasn’t enough for him tonight. 

The sound he made was practically a growl as he tugged the stretchy fabric down her legs, revealing that she was wearing nothing beneath it. He couldn’t help himself and shoved his face between her legs, deeply inhaling her while freeing her foot from the shorts, her hands clutching his hair. Javier’s mouth was watering at the thought of tasting her, and he became impatient, raising the leg he freed onto his shoulder to give him room to work with—two of his fingers spread open the lips of her sex, seeing it glistening with her need for him. 

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he said, and he meant it. Javier licked his lips, and he was unable to wait for another second, leaning in—

Knocking sounded on the bedroom door, his head whipping toward the noise. 

“Hey,” his dad’s muffled voice said, “when you’re finished getting ready, I told Connie that Nate can sleep in Javi’s old bed—the poor little guy can barely keep his eyes open, and the music is too loud for him to sleep out there. If only the nursery were finished, we could’ve had him give it a test drive.” Chucho chuckled. “Oh, and Mija, Robyn wanted me to tell you she requested one of your favorite songs.” 

Javier loved his dad a lot, especially how he cared about his friends’ family, but the man had the worst timing. Frustration had him wanting to pull his hair out because there was no way he could continue what they were doing when his sobrino (nephew) needed a place to sleep; that was more important than Javier getting his dick wet. He looked up at his wife to commiserate over their bad luck, and his stomach dropped at seeing her hands hiding her face in embarrassment—it reminded him of the first time he’d brought her out here to meet his dad and how mortified she’d been when the elder Peña knocked while Javier was inside her. Her discomfort had his arousal fizzling out, guilt and concern replacing it; he needed to make her feel better, so he slid a hand up the outside of her bare thigh to rub comforting circles on her hip. 

“Amor,” he whispered for just her ears. “Pop would be teasing the fuck out of us if he knew what we were up to—he doesn’t know.”

Her palms lowered, and her expression said she wasn’t sure if she believed him. 

“Give us ten minutes, Pop!” Javier said, loud enough for his father to hear. 

Her eyes rounded. “We are not fucking,” she hissed. 

His eyebrow arched, speaking quietly, “I know, and I’m no two-pump chump. We’d need more than ten minutes to fuck, baby.” He gently got her leg off his shoulder. 

“I’ll let Connie know,” Chucho said. “And I’ll make sure they don’t play the song until you’re out there.”

“Thanks, Pop!” Cielito replied. 

“You’re welcome, see you soon.” 

Javier used his hands on his knee to push himself up to stand, grunting as he rose to his feet in front of his wife. He rubbed his palms along her upper arms, then lifted her chin with his finger to make her look at him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

She was frowning. “The risk of getting caught? Hot. It really gets me going. Actually getting or almost getting caught? Mortifying, and I’d rather the earth swallow me whole than experience it.” 

“Lo siento, mi amor (I’m sorry, my love). I know you hate when it happens. I get it if you want to hold off trying anything else before we leave. But, if you still wanna fool around while we’re out here, we’ll have better luck in the laundry room, or I can grab a lantern from the barn for the hayloft.” 

It was on her face that she was weighing his suggestions, and the fact that she was even considering had excitement thrumming inside him. He, of course, was fine with waiting to fuck until they got to the hotel room he was surprising her with tonight, but holy shit, was he unbelievably horny for her. 

“I’m not feeling the scratchiness of hay or getting my cute white dress dirty,” she responded. “I’d be down for the laundry room, though—you’re right, location-wise, it’s perfect.” 

He smiled big, happily chuckling as he kissed her. When he broke away, he nuzzled his nose against hers. 

“I really fucking love you,” he said. 

“I really fucking love you, too.” 

Javier pressed his large palm to her cheek and gazed into her eyes, the expression on her face just as happy as his. “Soy el hombre más afortunado del mundo de poder llamarme tu esposo (I am the luckiest man in the world to be able to call myself your husband).” 

Her eyes softened. “La afortunada soy yo (I’m the lucky one). Tengo el honor de ser tu esposa (I have the honor of being your wife)—” She poked him in the chest. “—y tener a tus bebés lindos (and having your cute babies).”

The happiness and excitement of all she said being true had him wrapping her up in his arms, her feet coming off the ground as he spun them around in place, making her laugh. When they came to a stop, he was panting, the two of them wearing matching grins, and Javier couldn’t think of another day in his entire life that he’d ever been as happy as he was today—it indeed was the happiest day of his life, and what made his eyes start misting was knowing this was the first of many happiest days of his life that were yet to come. 

It was she who kissed him this time, her hands grabbing his face to pull him into her as she smashed her lips against his. Javier leaned further into her, hugging her tightly to have as much of them touching as possible. He loved how their bodies fit so perfectly together—the softness of hers giving way to the hardness of his own. 

They wore big smiles when they separated, Cielito giggling at him playfully smacking her ass as she moved away. He turned to watch her approach his old full-size bed, unable to keep his eyes from roaming over her body from behind. 

God, she was sexy—how’d he get so lucky?

The dress she was wearing to the party was laid out atop the mattress, and he was so focused on checking her out that he missed what she picked up from beside her outfit. He wasn’t in the dark for long, though, with her purposefully keeping her back to him while pulling on a white lacy thong—he was still hard, and the sight had his dick twitching, a groan tumbling from his throat. Javier’s hands went to the front of his slacks to adjust himself, trapping his hard-on under the waistband of his pants. 

She looked at him over her shoulder, her pretty eyes sparkling with mischief, her lips lifted in a smile that told him she knew exactly what she was doing. “I wanted it to be a surprise for when we got home,” she said. “But, I kinda like you knowing what awaits when you get under my dress.” She winked. 

His feet were moving of their own accord. “Fuck, are you trying to kill me?” he asked, and as he got closer to her, he could see the lace lining the tops of her asscheeks that went around her waist had a floral design—sunflowers, to be exact. Before he could reach her, she spun around to face him, putting up her hand to keep him back; it pressed against his chest as he stopped.

“No touching,” she quickly told him with a smirk, his own lips turning down in a frown. “And kill you? No.” She shook her head. “Torture you? Maybe a little.” Cielito shrugged. 

“Torture your new husband? That’s pretty fucking mean, mi amor.” 

Her palm moved to caress his cheek. “Can’t a girl love it when her husband is needy for her?”

Javier took her hand and pressed it against the front of his pants, over his hard cock. “Feel how needy your husband is for you, how I want you more than anything, and am dying to be inside you—your ass in that fucking thong is all I’m gonna be able to think about until I get another chance alone with you.”

She squeezed him, and it had his mouth going slack, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped. 

"Good—that's exactly what I want." She pecked him on the lips and let go of him, her upper body twisting to grab her dress off of the bed. "Now, stop distracting me. I’m in a hurry," she said, pulling the garment over her head. Her arms went through the spaghetti straps, and she turned away from him again, holding the front of the dress to her chest, the back gaping open along the bodice. "Can you zip me up, babe? Pretty please." 

"Yeah," he answered and did as she requested, carefully zipping her up and managing to kiss her bare shoulder once before she faced him again. 

The day she bought the dress for the party, she showed it to him when she got home and even modeled it for him. At that time, he still had it in his head that he was going to do things right by her and wait to consummate their marriage until he got her to the hotel. When he saw her in the tight, white satin that went down to her knees with a goddamn slit halfway up her left thigh, Javier knew his strength was going to be tested tonight; he really did hope he could hold out.

Unfortunately, his resolve was thrown out the window the night before when he had to spend it alone, thinking about the sexy woman in front of him, and Jesus Christ, was she so fucking sexy—he could see now that it was a shorter, sexier version of her wedding dress with the neckline V-ing to accentuate her tits, while the buttery soft fabric molded to her curves perfectly like the other dress. 

“Do I look okay?” she asked, and his attention went to her face, seeing she was looking down at her body with a frown, which made him match her expression.  

Javier hated when she doubted her beauty, and he wished she could see from his perspective just how perfect she was. 

He lifted her chin with his finger to make her meet his gaze, and he smiled. “You look more than okay, Cielito,” he reassured her. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes,” he very confidently replied. 

His eyes moved down her form again, taking in her beauty, and he wet his bottom lip, silently cursing that they couldn’t stay in this room alone and uninterrupted for a quickie. His gaze reached hers one more, and amusement was clear on her face. She kissed his cheek as she walked around him to put on her shoe. 

“What?” he asked, turning in place to look at her. 

She kept her balance with a hand on the wall while fitting her flat back onto her foot.

“You’ve got ‘fuck me’ eyes,” she replied, setting her shoed foot on the ground and moving toward the door. 

He started heading her way. “I have ‘fuck me’ eyes?” he retorted. He was glad she was over her moment of self-consciousness. “Baby, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy all night, giving me ‘fuck me’ eyes.” 

She stopped to bend over and pick something up off of the floor, his gaze stuck on her ass, picturing the white lace he knew was under the satin.

“And I’m gonna keep giving you ‘fuck me’ eyes until you fuck me, Javier.” She straightened and spun on her heel to look at him. 

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you think I’m not trying hard enough?” 

“I think you’re doing the best you can in our current situation, and I know, without a doubt, you’re gonna use that big, sexy brain of yours to find us a way to fool around uninterrupted. I mean this lovingly,” she continued, reaching out to touch his arm with her palm. “You’re a stubborn man and horny stubborn Javi cannot be stopped—we both wanna fuck, and you’re gonna figure out a way for us to fuck, because you are a wonderful husband.” 

Javier loved hearing her call him a wonderful husband. 

He smiled. “You really think my brain is sexy?” 

Her eyebrow lifted. “Javi, baby, all of you is sexy, including your brain, and you are aware your intelligence turns me on—like how when we go stargazing, you nerding out about the stars makes me wet and is a very effective form of foreplay.” 

That was true—they always end up fucking when they go stargazing. Javier couldn’t stop his chest from puffing up a little that his wife was turned on by how smart he was. 

She rolled her eyes and kept talking, “It seems your ego has been stroked enough.” She held out his bow tie to him. “Here. Take this. We need to get going.” 

His brows furrowed—he thought they were adjusting their outfits to be more comfortable when they went back out to the party. He didn’t understand why she’d want him to put his tie back on. 

“Really? I’ll wear it, but you have to tie it.” 

His fingers started re-buttoning his shirt, and Cielito batted at his hands. “Stop that—you’re not wearing it, you’re tying it onto my arm. Remember?” 

She still wanted to wear his bow tie, which made his heart so happy it could burst. Javier grinned, accepting the long strip of black fabric. 

“I do,” he said, and she turned to give him better access to her arm, choosing the same side he had her garter on. He lifted her limb by the elbow and ducked his head to kiss a spot midway down her bicep, then looped his bow tie around where he kissed, tying it like he’d tie shoelaces. 

Before they left, they picked up their discarded clothes, hanging up her dress and his tuxedo jacket in his old closet, her Spanx getting put into her overnight bag, which she’d brought with her the previous night when she stayed over. His lips found hers one last time, then he took her smaller hand into his and led her out of the room.

Music blared outside the house, but inside, it was dampened aside from the pounding bass that could practically be felt. They found Connie and their dad sitting at the kitchen table, Chucho holding the Murphy’s youngest and feeding him a bottle while he quietly chatted with the mother. 

Yeah, it sucked that Javier and his wife were interrupted before things could get good, but seeing the look of relief and gratitude on their friend’s face when they told her the room was hers completely washed away any bad feelings they had. See, since he and Cielito were trying to start their family, babies were on both of their brains, and they could put themselves into Connie’s shoes, wanting to help out the mother in any way possible; after she left the kitchen with Nate, his father explained that Steve had the two older kids back at the party eating cake, and Chucho happily volunteered to give Connie a hand even though she vehemently protested. He told her he wanted to get some practice in being an abuelo, and she thought that was so sweet she let him make the bottle—which he knew how to do from when Javier was a baby and from the bottle-fed calves on the ranch, like Daphne and Velma—and try to get Nate asleep by feeding him, an endeavor he succeeded in doing. 

Chucho was pretty fucking proud of himself. 

He told them he picked Connie’s brain about what he should get for the nursery because things weren’t as simple as they were back when Javier was born—he somehow figured out a way to write down a list while feeding Nate, and at the top of it, ‘Diaper Genie’ was underlined twice, and circled. 

They loved their father’s excitement over becoming a grandfather. Even with the pressure sometimes stressing them out, Chucho meant well, and they appreciated the extra support. 

Minutes later, the newlyweds found themselves under the tent and on the dance floor.

Javier knew which song Robyn requested the moment he heard the opening synthesizers—if his wife ranked her favorite ABBA songs, “Lay All Your Love On Me” would take the top spot, and her ear-splitting squeal as it came on confirmed as much. 

His hands were on her hips while her arms were around his neck, and up until this point, her eyes had been closed as they moved to the rhythm of the previous song; now they were open, and the expression on her face showed her pure delight, which made him smile. She threw her hands up when the drums kicked in, bouncing on her toes to the beat. 

She sang along with the track:

“I wasn’t jealous before we met…”

If it wouldn’t ruin her performance, Javier would tell her after each of the lines that there wasn’t a single woman on the entire planet that was a threat to her, and he liked that she was a little possessive of him; that he was the only man she wanted, and she staked her claim that he was hers. 

The following line had her miming taking a drag of a cigarette, and it made him chuckle before a tingle was moving down his spine at her palm pressing to his cheek as she stared deeply into his eyes. With the time since they left his old bedroom, Javier had calmed down to the point that he wasn’t hard anymore, something he didn’t think would last. 

“But now it isn’t true.” 

Her hand moved to rest over his thudding heart. 

“Now everything is new

And all I’ve learned has overturned I beg of you.” 

She had both of her palms on his chest, their gazes locked, and he knew he was fucked. 

“Don’t go wasting your emotion—”

As she sang, her darkened eyes stayed on his as her body lowered, her hands following, dragging them down his abdomen, over his stomach, his waist, his thighs, to the tops of his knees until her head was at the same level as his crotch. With how she was looking up at him under her eyelashes and how close she was to his dick, his mouth went dry, the blood rushing to his groin. He had to hold back his groan at the thought of how she would’ve nuzzled the front of his pants if they were alone. He needed to touch her and rested his hands on her bare shoulders. 

She continued singing:

“—Lay all your love on me.” 

His wife rose, rubbing her palms back up the way they came, and it was embarrassing that he was so pent up that just her touch was fucking him up. Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead; she had him feeling hot enough that he had to undo another button on his shirt. 

Cielito faced away from him, grinding her ass against his half-hard cock, and she rolled her head back onto his shoulder, reaching a hand behind her to thread fingers into his hair. His hands fell to her hips, pulling them back into his, and when he turned his head to look at her as she sang that ‘a grown-up woman should never fall so easily,’ she was giving him those damn ‘fuck me’ eyes—he loved her so fucking much, but she was going to be the death of him. 

He let his body move with hers and thought it wasn’t fair that he was the one getting worked up—two could play this very dangerous game. Javier ducked his head to kiss along the skin of her shoulder and up to her neck, where he sucked over her pulse. The way her voice faltered for a second only encouraged him. 

He grazed his teeth across the pounding pulse point, ending with a nip to her jaw. 

“—Fuck,” the last word was moaned, and he smiled, feeling her entire body shiver. 

His wife caught onto what he was doing and spun away from him to end up at his back with her front pressed to his spine—her arms went around him, singing while her palms started at his belly and trailed up his torso to his pecs where he grabbed them. He raised one of her hands, rubbing it against his smooth cheek, and then kissed the center of her palm. 

This wasn’t the first time she’d done something like this, and Javier didn’t know what it was about this song in particular that riled her up so much. When “Lay All Your Love On Me” came on while they were by themselves at home, her antics were even hornier, and she usually made him sit back on the couch while she gave him a fully-clothed lap dance. Her kryptonite, though? The thing that made it a 100% guarantee they were going to fuck after the song? Was him singing it. He loved that the simplest things turned her on, and if it got her to disappear to the laundry room with him, he had no problem exploiting her weakness. 

He turned in her hold, slotting his knee between both of hers, his hand gripping her hip while the other grasped her palm, and he started moving them to the music in the little space they occupied. His lips went to her ear, and she immediately went quiet as he softly crooned along with the song:

“‘Cause everything is new

And everything is you

And all I’ve learned has overturned

What can I do?” 

“You can kiss me,” she said, breaking her hand free from his to grab his face with both of hers to kiss him hotly. 

He gave as good as he got, wrapping one arm around her middle, his free hand cradling the back of her skull. She sought entrance to his mouth with a swipe of her tongue along the seam of his lips, and he eagerly opened to tangle his own with hers. 

How they knew each other so well had happiness swelling inside him. She was his best friend, the love of his life, and there wasn’t anyone else he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.  

The two of them were breathing hard when their lips detached at the song’s end, both smiling. She was giving him that look that told him she was on the same page as him for where they were about to go. 

“You wanna get out of—” His question died when someone clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Hey, Jav?” Steve said to get his attention, and Javier couldn’t help his glare when he looked at the other man. His friend’s expression pinched in confusion. “Why the hell are you giving me that look?” 

Javier took a deep breath and slowly let it out, schooling his features to hide his annoyance. “What did you need?” 

“It’s getting kind of late for the kids, and Olivia was looking forward to dancing with you. Can you dance to one song with her? It’d mean a lot to her, and to me ‘cause it’ll get her to stop talking to that boy, Efraim.” Steve jutted his thumb back toward their table where Olivia was laughing at Efraim, who was one of his primo’s kids and about her age. Chucho was over there, too, with Connie, a baby monitor in front of her, and both adults watching Stevie, the three-year-old playing with his Ninja Turtle action figures on the table next to them, the woman saying something to his dad. His friend was frowning. “I’m not ready for my baby girl to like boys, and I don’t like that he’s making her laugh so much.” 

The reminder that he promised Olivia a dance was like having ice-cold water poured over him, his stomach dropping to the floor that he’d forgotten. He took in what Steve said, and he wanted to be annoyed with the older man’s overprotectiveness, but once again, he could step into the parent’s shoes. He also wouldn’t be ready for his nine-year-old daughter to like boys—if he had a daughter, he wouldn’t be ready for her to like boys at any age, even though that was irrational, and he knew it’d happen at some point; hopefully when she was twenty-five, or better yet, thirty. 

“Efraim’s a sweet kid, Steve,” Cielito said. “Olivia is just making a new friend—you weren’t complaining earlier when Javi was dancing with his tías, and she was playing with all those other children.” Most of Javier’s fourteen cousins had more than one kid, and that meant there were a lot of children running around.

“That was a group,” Steve replied. “I’m not big on this one-on-one stuff.” 

Javier could see this heading into an argument between his wife and best friend, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with that, so he’d nip it in the bud. 

His attention turned to Cielito, rubbing his palms along her arms. “Hey,” he said, and she looked at him. “I’m gonna go dance with Olivia. I promised her I would, and I’ll feel like shit if I don't keep my word.” He leaned in closer to whisper in her ear. “Don’t wander off—as soon as I’m done, you’re coming with me, and I’m getting you out of those panties.” To punctuate his sentence, he grabbed a handful of her ass, making her giggle. 

“You better.” She winked, and he smiled, giving her a quick kiss. 

Past-you deserved a high-five for thinking to fool around on the drive back to Chucho’s. The thought of how insanely grumpy Javi would be right now if you hadn’t was enough to make you shudder. Steve should honestly thank you for saving him from getting his head chewed off when he derailed your sexy laundry room plans. 

Having your two attempts at horny rendezvous interrupted wasn’t great, and you were starting to develop whatever the woman equivalent of ‘blue balls’ was. You couldn’t be mad at Pop or Steve, though, because they had good reasons: Nate needing a place to sleep away from all the noise? Understandable—the living room couch was taken by a couple of Javi’s cousin’s babies, and since Chucho gutted the guest bedroom to turn it into a nursery, Javi's old bed was the only option for the Murphy’s one-year-old. Steve, reminding your husband that he promised Olivia a dance? A good reminder, because if they left while Javi and you were busy fucking, your husband would’ve been really upset with himself for letting her down; he already worried about her feeling like she was less important to him with all of the changes in his life, and forgetting the dance would’ve been devastating for them both. 

What this highlighted was how much of a family man Javier was. His desires came secondary to his family’s needs, and that showed what a wonderful husband he already was.

You married a good, good man, and dear god, he was so hot. 

Diego was playing another track by Los Tucanes de Tijuana with a quick beat, “El Tucanazo.” Olivia was laughing as Javi made her twirl with a grin on his flushed face and pulled her back to him. With their height difference, his arm was fully extended to hold her shoulder, her small palm resting on his elbow, while his other hand kept her tinier one up to lead her in simple steps that involved a lot of him twirling her—she was absolutely loving it. 

It had you imagining Javier dancing with your future daughter, and what really gave you the warm fuzzies was knowing he’d start dancing with her as a baby in his arms—he’d dance with all of your babies. 

What a wonderful husband and future father. 

“Spin, tía!” Stevie yelled in your arms.

Right. When Javi asked Olivia to dance, the three-year-old felt left out and got upset, so in order to stop him from having a total meltdown—it was past his bedtime—you offered to dance with him, as his new tía and the wedding’s bride. You had him on your hip, holding his little hand in yours, and you accidentally got distracted by your husband’s hotness. 

“Sorry, kiddo,” you replied, bouncing with him to the music’s rhythm. The child giggled each time you spun, going one way, then the other, and pausing every once in a while so you didn’t get dizzy. During one of those pauses, you happened to catch Javi’s dark eyes staring at you, and it made you feel pretty incredible that he was just as distracted by you.

When the song ended, Connie and Steve decided it was time to get their children back to their hotel. They weren’t accustomed to these parties that went on for hours like your new family was, and they didn’t want to mess with boys’ sleep schedules too much. Goodbyes were made outside of the tent, with the promise to Olivia and Stevie that you’d all eat an early dinner together the following day at their hotel’s restaurant before their flight home. After watching the Murphys walk back into the house to get Nate on their way to their SUV out front, the two of you were alone, Javi holding you from behind with his chin on your shoulder. 

“Five minutes?” you asked, “Or should we play it safe and wait ten?”

“Five minutes isn’t enough time,” he spoke in your ear. “Connie will have everyone use the bathroom before their drive back into town. We add in Nate maybe needing a diaper change, and we’re looking at a minimum of ten minutes before they’re out of the house and on their way.” 

You hugged his arms to you, smiling. “Look at you having the family-with-small-children math down,” you said, turning your head to kiss his cheek. “What do you wanna do while we wait?” 

“We could make out?” 

“That sounds like a good time.” 

Diego came over the speakers, announcing, “Bien, vamos a frenar las cosas (Okay, let’s slow things down).” Selena’s “Dreaming Of You” started playing.  

“Or,” Javi started, “we could slow dance…?” 

“What a romantic man—may I have this dance, Mr. Peña?” 

“You may, Mrs. Peña.” He kissed a spot behind your ear, then moved to take your hand, leading you back into the tent to the dance floor that was occupied by many other couples. 

When he suggested slow dancing, you imagined it’d be like how you danced your first dance, and at home in the kitchen many times before, with him leading you by one of your hands while the two of you slowly moved. You weren’t expecting him to loop your arms around his neck or for him to pull you into him with his big palms midway between your waist and ass to have you dancing like a couple of teenagers at prom. You nestled your face in the crook of his neck where he dabbed some of his spicy cologne, and the two of you swayed back and forth while Selena sang about there being nowhere else in the world she’d rather be than in her room, dreaming about herself with the one she loved. 

This was the first moment all day where you felt relaxed—there were no more worries about setting up the party, the ceremony was done, and so were the dances. Now, you were just another pair on the dance floor, slowly moving to the music. There was no need for talking. Both of you simply enjoying the other’s company without everyone’s attention on you. 

When the song ended, you still needed to kill another handful of minutes, and that was how you ended up camped out by the house’s backdoor, sharing a slice of your wedding cake—it was vanilla cake with lemon curd filling and raspberry buttercream icing. Like all of Anna’s baked goods, the cake was incredible. You each had your own plastic fork while Javi held the small paper plate. Your husband kept peeking through the door’s window, trying to keep out of the way of the few people going in and out of the home. 

A disappointed sound came from you when, in the middle of taking a bite, Javi suddenly tossed the rest of the cake into a nearby trashcan along with his fork and grabbed your hand. 

“Let’s go,” he said, and you only had a split second to toss your own fork into the garbage before you were getting tugged along into the house. 

The backdoor led down a hall to the kitchen, and just inside the door to the right was the staircase that went up to Chucho’s room. If you walked a little further down the hallway, the guest bathroom was on the right, and another hallway was to the left, which would take you to the guest bedroom—soon to be nursery—and the laundry room. 

Anticipation swelled inside you, arousal burning in your belly again now that you were on your way to finally having your husband alone and uninterrupted. The two of you were being as quiet as possible so as not to draw any attention to you, and once you entered the darkened hallway to your destination, you found yourself getting pressed back against a wall and Javi’s lips claiming yours—this wasn’t a chaste kiss; it was filthy with how his tongue plundered your mouth, feeling his desperation and need to have you. Your fingers clutched at the front of his dress shirt, and with his strength, he pulled you along by the hips, Javi walking backward while your lips stayed fused together. 

The bass of the track Diego was playing could be heard, but the closer you got to the laundry room, there were other muffled noises, one staying on beat with the song and another—

“Harder,” Robyn moaned on the other side of the door, and the dull smacking sound got louder. 

You and Javi came to a sudden stop, his mouth breaking away from yours as his head turned at breakneck speed toward the obvious sounds of your best friend and his cousin fucking in the laundry room. 

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” your husband quietly growled. 

From where you were standing, you could make out Sebastián grunting as he continued to thrust, “You’re mine, aren’t you? You’re my good little slut—say it.” 

“I’m your good little slut,” Robyn breathily whined. 

“That’s fucking right—open your mouth.” There was the unmistakable sound of the other man spitting, and you were stuck in place, eyes wide. “Swallow—that’s it, mi petirrojito (my little robin). You gonna come for me? You need my hand around that pretty throat?” 

Now, you and Robyn had discussed your sex lives at length, so you were aware of her kinks, but knowing and hearing were two different things, and she was really making you wonder if there was some merit to her calling you and Javi ‘vanilla.’ Your husband had apparently heard enough and took your hand once more to lead you back outside. 

From how tense his body was and the way he practically stormed out of the house with you in tow, you could tell your husband was pretty ticked off. He only stopped when you were in front of Daphne and Velma’s small metal-fenced corral, where the two calves were let loose—they were lying down together and got up when they saw you two making your way over. 

“Stay here,” Javi ordered. He let go of your hand, but you grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving. 

“Wait.” He looked at you, anger that you knew wasn’t directed at you etched on his face. “Where are you going?” 

His features softened the longer he gazed at you. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, perching his palms on his tiny hips. “I’m sorry, mi amor—I’m just—” He looked around to make sure no one was nearby and quietly continued, “—really fucking horny—”

“You’ve got blue balls,” you interrupted. 

He huffed in amusement, smiling a little. “Yeah, I’ve got blue balls, and I think I might go insane—”

“If we’re cockblocked again?” 

He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Yes. Three fucking times—three!” he harshly whispered, holding up three fingers for emphasis. “Over my dead fucking body will we be cockblocked a fourth time, so I’m getting us some goddamn privacy away from all of these people—I love them all, but I love you, my wife, more, and I’m dying to stick my dick in you. I need you to stay right here. That way, I’ll know where to find you after I get shit arranged.” 

That sounded like he was ready to go. 

Grabbing his left hand, you pulled his arm toward you and angled your head to read the silver Rolex watch on his wrist under the light of the string lights above. “It’s not even ten, babe. We’ll get so much shit from your family if we dip this early.” Your eyes met his. “They’ll be partying til two or three in the morning at minimum, and we’re gonna leave at 9:42?” 

The fingers of his free hand pressed to his forehead, and he sighed again. “If you really wanna stay,” he grumbled, “we’ll stay and wait to leave closer to midnight.” His tone said that was the last thing he wanted to do, and you understood where he was coming from. 

You reached to caress his cheek. “I’m fine with leaving, Javi,” you told him. “I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t the horny talking, and you understand we are going to get absolutely roasted at tía María’s next Sunday if we leave right now.” Every Sunday after his family got out of church, they went to tía María’s for good food and to catch up on what happened over the week. 

His hand lowered, and he looked at you with hopeful eyes. “Are you okay with getting teased at tía María’s next weekend if we leave right now?” 

You gave him a reassuring smile. “Oh, yeah,” you replied, nodding. “I’m dealing with the lady equivalent of blue balls, and I’ll accept all of the teasing if it means you’re gonna fuck me very soon.” 

Once again, it was adorable how his face lit up, and he giddily chuckled. “Christ, I love you so fucking much,” he said and framed your face with his palms, Javi leaning in to kiss you tenderly. 

When his mouth left yours, he was still smiling, and he lifted your left hand, keeping his eyes on yours while he kissed the diamond on your engagement ring and then the smooth gold of your wedding band. “I’ll be back,” he told you, and didn’t let go of your fingers as he started heading toward the tent, your arm extending all the way before his hand and himself slipped away from you. 

If you had to guess, Javi wanted you to stay in this spot so your bovine daughters could keep you company, which they were, the girls sticking their snouts between the corral’s bars for you to pet their heads. What your husband failed to think about was your location meant that, when Robyn and Seb came out of the house a few minutes after he left, you had no choice but to talk to them. For you, it was awkward pretending like you didn’t hear them fucking as you tried to convince your best friend to go enjoy the party with her boyfriend instead of staying with you while Javi was gone. Luckily, Sebastián was able to lure her away with promises of drinks and dancing. 

The remaining minutes you waited for your husband’s return were spent with the two calves. You scritched behind their ears, and they licked your arms as you told them how much you loved them and their dad and shared your excitement over them eventually becoming older sisters to a human sibling. 

Chucho had gifted you and Javi enough land for the home you were building that Daphne and Velma could live with you—a barn would be built, and you’d have a couple of pastures for the girls to roam. There was room for the garden you always dreamed of, a greenhouse, and even a chicken coop; your husband also planned on buying you a horse. Living out in the country was never something you imagined in your wildest dreams, yet now it seemed perfect for your life with Javier. 

When your husband found you, he held up what you knew was the key to his father’s prized ‘68 Ford Mustang, and he had to be excited, even if you couldn’t tell from his expression. In the over thirty years Chucho had owned the car, Javi had never been allowed to drive it—Chucho let you drive it, though, many times, which your husband was extremely jealous about. His dad made him a deal that when he married you, he could finally get behind the wheel, and you’d been waiting all night for Chucho to hand over the keys. 

Javi walked over to the fence to address the two calves in the sweet voice he saved for them, scratching each of the girls under their chins, “Lo siento, mis preciosas, pero necesito robar a tu mamá (I’m sorry, my lovelies, but I need to steal your mom). Me ha estado volviendo loco toda la noche, y es hora de que la lleve a casa y la vuelva loca (She’s been driving me crazy all night, and it’s time for me to take her home and drive her crazy) Las amamos y las veremos en un par de días (We love you and we will see you in a couple of days).” 

The moment he finished speaking, he looked at you with a smile on his handsome face. 

“Sorry it took me so long,” he said. “Pop gave me a long-ass lecture about the car and made me promise to be careful with it. He was acting like he wasn’t the one who taught me how to drive around the ranch when I was ten years old in the old work truck.” 

“Of course he lectured you. The Mustang is his baby.” 

His eyes darted away, sticking his hands in his pockets. “That he always lets you drive,” he mumbled. 

See, extremely jealous. It made you giggle. 

“You need some peanut butter with that jelly, Mr. Peña?” 

His attention came back to you, and this time, he was frowning.

“No.” He shook his head and sighed. “Sorry, baby. You know it bothers me how easily he hands over the keys to you, but I only get to drive it this once. Or at least not again until we have a kid.” 

Chucho would definitely let Javi drive the Mustang again if you had a child. 

“Did he tell you where you could and couldn’t take it?” you asked. 

His eyebrows creased. “No… He had a lot of rules about the type of terrain I could drive it on, but as long as I bring it back tomorrow with a full tank, I can drive you anywhere.” 

Stepping forward into his space, you rested your palms against his chest, his arm automatically pulling you closer. “He trusts you more than me.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“Because I am only allowed to drive it if he’s in the car with me, and I can only go where he tells me to. He trusts you enough to let you borrow the Mustang and go wherever you want without him present—he trusts you more. Now, Mr. Peña, how about we make a quick pit stop at the bathroom to wash up, then we blow this popsicle stand so I can blow your popsicle on the drive home?” You wagged your eyebrows, Javi chuckling. 

“You can blow my popsicle later, but yeah, let’s get the fuck out of here, Mrs. Peña.” 

With it being winter in southern Texas, the temperatures had cooled, but at this time of night, a coat wasn’t required when one went outdoors. Javier still kept the top up on the Mustang and turned on the heater to keep his wife warm since all she was wearing was that cute little dress that he hiked up enough to grip her bare thigh as they drove. 

Cielito was confused when they pulled out of his dad’s driveway and started heading in the opposite direction of town. She figured he’d take her straight home, and Javier thought her faith in him to hold out another thirty-plus minutes to drive them to their accommodations for the night was sweet. He, however, could not wait any longer and took them fifteen minutes up the road and through a gate that he had to get out and open, to the field they usually parked his pickup in to stargaze—driving off-road was on his father’s list of terrain he was not supposed to take the Mustang on, but this was a desperate time that required desperate measures, and what his father didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him. 

Javier was going slow over the uneven ground, his eyes scanning everything in the path of the headlights for any animals—thankfully, this time of year, a lot of the creatures considered dangerous were hibernating or in a state close to hibernating, and his family, who worked on the ranch, did a good job of keeping predators off his dad’s land. He was still double-checking to ensure his wife was safe, even if he wasn’t worried about them running into anything. 

“Javi?” She squeezed his hand on her thigh. 

“Yes, mi amor?” 

“I know I said stargazing was a very effective form of foreplay, but with how horny I am, all I need is a little bit of kissing and I’m good to go—there’s no need for you to woo me with your knowledge of the stars.” 

“We’re not stargazing,” he replied, bringing the car to a stop and putting it into park. He looked over at her face, which was slightly illuminated by the Mustang’s lights in front of them, and smiled. “A little bit of kissing for me and I’ll be good to go, too.” He turned in his seat toward her, taking her chin between his index finger and thumb to gently pull her forward, and he met her halfway, his lips crashing into hers. 

One kiss and the dam broke, all of their pent-up need for the other flooding their systems, his wife growling when she deepened it, sliding her tongue against his. Blood rushed to his groin, and Javier moaned when her hand pressed to the front of his pants to stroke over his thickening cock. Her tongue in his mouth, her palm between his legs, the scent of her perfume—she was driving him crazy, and he wanted her to feel the same; he got his hand under her dress, ghosting his fingers along her inner thigh to the heat at her center. His fingertips felt her arousal seeping through her panties, and he groaned at the fact she was ready to go. All he’d have to do was push aside the fabric, and he could slide right in—and he did just that with his fingers, moving the lace out of the way to press his middle and ring fingers into her sopping pussy, soaking his gold wedding band in her juices. He swallowed her shuddering moan, his crooked digits easily pumping in and out of her.  

When he decided to bring her out here, he had a plan: he was going to sit her on the hood of the car and finally eat her out, then he would’ve fucked her on it. His plan changed when he felt how wet she was for him, and now all he wanted, no, needed, was to get his dick inside her. 

He removed his fingers, Cielito chasing his lips when he pulled away, turning his attention to the steering wheel and the controls beside it. Squinting his eyes, he tried to find what he was looking for in the dark and pressed a button that made the roof begin to open. 

“Thank fuck,” he whispered under his breath. In the time it took to get the top down, Javier undid his seatbelt, pushed his seat back as far as it would go, and reclined it all the way to have it almost flat. He didn’t have to say a word when he gently tugged her arm; there wasn’t a center console between the seats, just a low column, so it was easy for her to unbuckle and crawl over into his lap while he laid down. 

Arousal was simmering in his gut and threatening to boil over. It didn’t help when she lifted his left hand and leaned down to suck his ring finger into her mouth—she hummed appreciatively at tasting herself, the sensation of her sucking his digit causing his cock to twitch, his heart pounding in his chest. 

“Turns you on that I’m wearing the ring,” he rasped. “You love that people can see I’m yours.” 

She came off of him, raising her head with a smile. “Yes,” she answered. “It’s so fucking sexy—now, it’s time to get that pretty dick out so I can sit on it.” 

He smiled at her impatiently opening his pants, getting his belt unbuckled and undone, then popping open the button and pulling down the zipper. She rose, and so did his hips, Javier shoving his slacks and boxer briefs down enough to free his throbbing length and sat once more. 

She was looking down. “The prettiest dick,” she said, and he watched her lick her palm, his mouth falling open as she took him in hand, giving him a couple of strokes. Christ, he could feel the metal of her rings and was so worked up that just her touch had him close to coming. Sweat was forming on his forehead as he tried to focus on his breathing and not blow his load all over her fingers. “If you come immediately,” she started, her other hand moving her underwear out of the way for her to notch him at her entrance. Javier swallowed hard and grabbed the meat of her thighs for something to hold onto. “It’s totally okay,” she continued. “I know you’ll make it up to me later.”

She meant what she said, and he appreciated her understanding, but he really wanted her to come first, and he was going to try his hardest to make that happen. 

Cielito didn’t give him a chance to respond before she was sliding, agonizingly slow, down his shaft, her hot, tight walls enveloping him, taking him inch by inch. He couldn’t help the pained sound he made or how his back arched, his fingers digging into her soft skin. She had her palms on his chest for leverage, her eyes fluttering closed, her head thrown back as she let out a long, drawn-out moan that lasted until she met his thighs, and he was buried to the root in her.

“Nothing feels better than you inside me,” her words were breathy. 

Javier was fighting for his life—a fire was blazing in his belly, and he was balancing on a razor’s edge to not fall over and come immediately. He gripped the soft curves of her hips to hold her flush against him because he didn’t know how much friction he could handle. 

His breaths were coming out heavier, and he gulped, telling her through clenched teeth, “Don’t move.” 

She looked at him, the soft glow of the stars high above allowing him to make out her features, and her expression said she was delighted he was so close. He was pretty sure she was the only woman on the planet who took it as a compliment when a man came way sooner than he intended. 

“I said it’s okay if you come.” She wiggled, and Javier hissed. He used more strength to keep her completely still. 

“I’m not coming before you.” 

The Mustang​​ was a little cramped, and in order for her to fit on top of him, she had to strategically place her knees on things that weren’t the seat, like the low column that the gear shift was in and a ledge on the door used for an armrest. 

“You are a stubborn man, Javier Peña,” she said. 

“I’ll show you how stubborn I am,” he replied, and she squeaked in surprise when he pulled her forward to kiss him. His hand went to her back, unzipping her dress, and she understood what he wanted, getting her arms out of the straps while he undid her strapless bra that fell into the dress’ bodice. 

Javier had her sit up again, and he stared at her above him, thinking how gorgeous she looked; she was always stunning, and he thought she was even more beautiful now that she was his wife—he couldn’t believe she had married him. He got to fuck this perfect woman for the rest of his life, and he felt like the luckiest man in the world. He was hard inside her and pulsating, the muscles in his stomach clenched tight with all of his effort being put into not coming. 

“Stay still,” he ordered. 

“Yes, Papí,” she sweetly replied. Her answer made him groan, his cock jerking. 

“Don’t,” he said and smacked her ass, which only made her giggle. Javier licked the pad of his thumb, then pressed it to her clit, and he loved how her breath hitched. “I’m gonna make you come,” he stated, circling the bundle of nerves. She tightened around him, and he grit his teeth, clearing his throat before he spoke again, his voice low, “I’m gonna make you come,” he repeated. “Then I’m going to fuck you, and we both know I won’t be able to last long, and that’s fine.” It was getting wetter where they were joined, her arousal dripping down to coat his balls. “Because after this—” His other hand reached to fondle her breast, her eyes squeezing shut when he rolled her nipple between his fingers. “—I’m taking you to the hotel I rented us a room at.”

“Javi,” she gasped and looked at him. 

He smiled, speeding up the pace of his thumb. “I plan on fucking all night, and I don’t want to be interrupted by Mrs. Hernandez banging on the wall because we’re being too loud—so, a hotel room—La Posada downtown.” It was the nicest hotel in Laredo and much better than the Motel 6 off the highway. “The Presidential suite, top floor. I’m gonna fuck you in the king-size bed, I’m gonna fuck you in the whirlpool tub, I’m gonna fuck you in the two-person shower, I’m gonna fuck you out on the balcony overlooking the Rio Grande, I’m gonna fuck you on every single surface in that room over the next two nights.” 

Her eyes widened. “Two nights?” 

“Yes. For everything I wanna do, one isn’t enough, and the first thing I’m doing when we get there is throwing your ass onto the bed and eating you out—my come and all—for an hour.” 

Her head fell back as she moaned. 

His fingers continued pinching and rolling her stiff nipple. Her inner walls were fluttering, and he knew she was close with how she was unable to keep quiet, the soft sounds spilling from her lips and going straight to his cock. 

“Are you gonna come for me?” he asked. “Are you gonna come for your husband? Once you go, I’m going to come deep inside your perfect pussy, and I’m going to keep you stuffed full of me—if you aren’t already pregnant, you will be.” 

Shit, that last bit almost got him. Javier’s jaw was clenched, his heart beating a mile a minute. 

It didn’t take much more to have her falling over the edge—her entire body seized up, her cunt choking his dick, as she shattered with a cry of his name. 

“Fuck,” he panted. She was spasming around him, and the moment she went lax, he grabbed her ass, lifting her enough to thrust up into her. His feet were planted on the floorboard, and he started fucking into her rapidly, grunting with each stroke. 

She fell forward and began mouthing at his neck.

“Oh, fuck,” he whined, closing his eyes. 

After getting worked up so many times tonight and now being able to give in, he was hitting the point where he couldn’t stop himself from coming in record time even if he wanted to. It felt like his heart would beat out of his chest, and his wife was now nibbling on his earlobe, which wasn’t fair. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, pleasure welling up inside him. 

The muscles in his belly were winding tight, the fire now an inferno that would explode at any second. 

Her lips pressed to his ear. “Come for me,” she whispered. “Come inside your wife. Put a baby in me.” 

She was a siren, and he was a sailor at the mercy of her call—his balls tightened up, and he pulled her ass down, sheathing himself to the hilt inside her, coming with a guttural groan. His dick jerked and pulsed with spurts of his spend gushing into her inner depths, euphoria taking over his entire being. Everything went quiet, his mind going blissfully blank and his body relaxing.

The air was cool against your skin, yet you were warm, wrapped in Javi’s arms as you laid atop him, your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck. Here in the afterglow was when time ceased, and it felt as though you were the only two people in existence. Your body was all nice and relaxed; the need to get off had finally subsided… for now. 

Learning that your husband booked you the Presidential suite at the fancy, old historic hotel downtown and the promises he made of all of the places in it he planned to fuck you already had arousal stirring low in your gut.

Javi’s breaths had evened out, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath you, and though he wasn’t snoring, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was asleep right now with how hard he came. The Mustang was still running, a low rumble amongst the peace of a Texas winter’s night. 

Rustling in the grass outside the car had your ears perking, and suddenly, your husband was bolting upright with you on top of him. Your back slammed into the steering wheel, the blaring honk of the horn causing you to scream. Javi quickly got something out of the glove compartment before he pushed you to the side and down across the center column, the man wheezing when you accidentally kneed him in the dick. You were lying halfway on the passenger seat with your hands covering your head since you had no idea what the danger was while your heart pounded. 

Seconds later, a large palm pressed to your naked back, Javi’s voice a little higher than usual, “We’re safe.” He cleared his throat and spoke in a deeper tone, “Just a fucking armadillo—are you okay?” 

“Please tell me you scared the shit out of me and got hit in the dick for a giant, rabid, man-eating armadillo.” 

He huffed out a breath. “No, it’s a regular one, and from the looks of it, we scared the shit out of it—it rolled up into a ball.” 

That was something you wanted to see. You awkwardly crawled to get all the way into your seat beside him, seeing out the windshield in the light of the headlights that there was an armadillo rolled up into a ball. 

“Worth getting kneed in the groin?” you asked. 

“Nothing is worth getting kneed in the dick.” 

His answer made you snort. You needed to clean up the mess between your legs and remembered the little pack of tissues Chucho kept in the pocket of the driver’s side door. You looked over at Javi. “Can you pass me the—why the fuck are you holding a gun?!” you exclaimed, your eyes going wide. In his hand was some kind of revolver he was pointing up at the sky. 

His expression showed his confusion. “To protect us..?” 

That was obvious. You asked what you actually meant. “Where did you get the gun?”

The look on his face didn’t change. “The glove box…?” He nodded toward it. In front of you, it was still open. There wasn’t much in there, just an envelope with papers stuffed in it and a box of bullets that you assumed went with the revolver. 

Shoving your face in your hands, your voice was muffled when you spoke, “Why does your dad have a gun in his car?” 

Javi let out a long sigh and put his free hand on your back to rub soothing circles. “Baby,” he began gently, “we live in Texas—Pop lives out in the middle of fucking nowhere Texas. There are coyotes out here, mountain lions, bobcats, snakes—” You could hear him cringe with the last one; he wasn’t a fan of the reptiles. “—we have to carry around guns for our safety. You really think I take you out on Pop’s land without protection?” 

“With your aversion to condoms, I figured you like to live dangerously.” 

He huffed in amusement again. “You are the only woman I have an aversion to condoms with. In the past, I always wrapped it up because I didn’t like to take risks.” 

That had you turning your head to meet his eyes. “Why me?” 

“Why you, what?” 

“Why were you willing to take the risk with me?” 

He crookedly smiled, his hand moving to hold your cheek. “Because I trusted you. Two dates and you managed to gain my trust and steal my heart—you had me head over heels.“ Javi leaned, softly grunting as he put the gun back into the glove compartment and shut it. He kept talking, “I want you to know I’ve always been aware birth control isn’t 100% effective—“ His attention went to his door to grab the tissues that he handed to you, and you took. “—and when it crossed my mind that I could accidentally knock you up, I didn’t feel dread at the idea of raising a kid with you. It wasn’t like how I felt with—”

“She-who-must-not-be-named on our wedding day,” you interjected, not wanting to mention his ex Lorraine. 

“I won’t—you know who I’m talking about. I didn’t feel dread when I thought about having a kid with you. I mostly just worried if it happened, you’d find out about my past and wouldn’t want me in your or our child’s life.”

That was utterly heartbreaking. “I’d never keep your kid from you or kick you out of my life.”

He was softly smiling. “I know that now, but you remember how fucked up my head was before I told you about Colombia.”

That was true. He believed you would leave him when you discovered what happened during his time with the DEA.

“It fucking kills me when I remember how hard you were on yourself.” You dropped the tissues into your lap and took one of his hands into both of yours. “I’m happy you’re better now, and guess what?” 

“What?” 

You grinned. “We’re married, and I’m going to have all of your babies—all of them, every single one, and I really can’t wait to see you become a dad, ‘cause you’re gonna be amazing, and our children will be so loved.” 

His eyes were misting, and his smile matched yours. He freed his hand from yours to caress your face in his palms and kissed you. With how hard his lips pressed to yours, you could feel his love, his devotion, his happiness. This truly was the best day of his life, and it made you beyond happy to share it with him. 

Your stomach growled, and Javi pulled back to look at you. “Are you hungry?”

When he brought you the plate of food earlier, you only tried a little bit of everything, and you didn’t fill up because you were nervous about the dances. Now that all of that was done, the hunger was catching up to you. 

“Yes, can we stop by McDonald’s or something for a quick bite on our way to the hotel?” 

“No,” he replied, and you frowned. “I had Steve and Connie take a bag of leftovers that tía María put together for us back to our hotel room because I knew you wouldn’t eat enough at dinner—I figured it’d be nerves.” He shrugged. “And yes, there’s a big ass slice of cake,” reading your mind as always.

The Murphy family was staying at the same hotel and hopefully on a very different floor than your room.

His response had you smiling big. “Not even twenty-four hours married, Mr. Peña, and you’re already husband of the year.” 

He smiled and leaned in, pecking you on the lips. “Good,” he said and nudged the tip of his nose against yours. “I gotta make sure I keep my title as the hunkiest hunk to ever hunk.” 

You bursted into laughter, and he joined. 

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[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Final Girl.

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (HxH).

Word Count: 1.4k.

TW: 'Girl' Is In The Title But Reader Is Gender Neutral, Death and Blood, Mentions of Guns, Manipulation, Implied Kidnapping, and Spoilers for the Ninteenth-Century Novel Dracula.

The night you met him was, by no coincidence, also the night you learned what it meant to feel your blood run cold.

‘Met’ might’ve been an exaggeration. You didn’t meet him so much as you stood still and stared at him – lumbering down the hallway, clutching a gore-splattered butcher's knife, his suit disheveled and stained with a dark, blotting substance you couldn’t bring yourself to put a name to, in your fear-induced paralysis. With the manor's high ceilings and dim lighting, he seemed impossibly tall, his black eyes blank and terrible, his smile manic in a way that sent a chill up your spine, that left you frozen where you stood and unable to run as he came to stand in front of you, as he raised a hand and—

And pointed to the book tucked under your arm, a yellowed paperback beaten to hell and back from weeks of loving abuse. You’d spent hours wondering if you should bring it with you, if there was anyone else on the face of the planet who’d be stupid enough to bring a book to a mascarade ball, but you figured you’d have to step out for a breath of fresh air at some point, tonight, and phones weren’t really an option at this kind of thing. Looking back on it, you struggled to remember why you’d spent so much time agonizing over something so inconsequential, especially when whoever found your body likely wouldn’t pay it a second glance. “Is that—” He started, pausing to wet his lips before correcting himself. “Is that Bram Stoker’s Dracula?”

You blinked several times, shifting your weight. “It is,” you managed, eventually, just before the point of no return. “I… I’m only a few chapters in, though. They’re only on the second blood transfusion.”

His smile widened. “I’m reading it for the second time, now. That’s one of the best passages - you can practically feel the dread mounting in the prose.” While he spoke, you stole another glance at his attire. With your shock beginning to fade and your nerves given a few seconds to cool, you could see that he clearly hadn’t just walked out of a crime scene. His clothes were wrinkled, but not torn, not displaced the way they would’ve been if he’d been in a real fight, and he was covered in a cartoonish amount of (presumably fake) blood. He couldn’t have meant for it to be realistic, not unless you were supposed to believe he’d bled twenty people dry on his own.

He must’ve noticed you staring. His rambling trailed off into an airy chuckle, his free hand drifting to his blood-soaked shirt. “I’m afraid I might’ve misread my invitation,” he admitted, with a slight shrug. You were almost in awe of his nonchalance. Showing up to a masquerade ball in a costume fit for a b-rated haunted house would’ve left you catatonic for… god, the rest of the year, at least. “That’s how I found my way back here, actually. You can understand why I wouldn’t want to stay in the ballroom for very long, considering I’m dressed for a very different party.”

“No, no, that makes a lot of sense! I mean, a costume party would be more in-season.” You felt like an idiot. You could only hope you hadn’t looked as scared as you felt. “Honestly, I’m just surprised they let you in with a prop.”

He glanced to his ‘knife’, too, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Oh, this little thing?” He took the blade in his free hand, bending it downward. Unceremoniously, it snapped into two pieces as easily as if it’d been made of little more than tin foil and plastic - which, to be fair, it probably was. “Most people struggle to see me as a threat, for whatever reason.”

“The doormen probably just felt bad for the strange man who showed up to a charity gala covered in blood.” You spared a small smile, then genuinely brightened, taking up your novel and fishing out the spare mask you’d shoved between the pages while you were getting ready. He should’ve counted himself lucky that you could never be bothered to find a real bookmark. “Mine came in a set of two,” you explained, signaling for him to bend down. A little too easily, he obeyed, stooping just low enough for you to work your spare mask over his head. It was cheaper than anything you would usually like to show off – the base simple black cloth, the embroidery meaninglessly gaudy, the main body kept in place by little more than a simple white ribbon that never seemed to sit just right, but he accepted your offering with a grateful hum. “It’s not much, but—” You paused, buttoning his suit jacket, doing your best to make it look a little less like he’d just walked out of a bad slasher movie and a little more like a tragically color-blind, but ultimately well-dressed party-goer. “It should get you through the door.”

He straightened his back, and you thought you might’ve seen something spark in his dark eyes. Then again, it could’ve just been the moonlight. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

Oh, right – that was something most people did before offering to fix a stranger’s clothes, wasn’t it? You rushed to introduce yourself, and he did the same. “Chrollo Lucilfer.” And then, offering you his hand, “Perhaps I’d be more warmly received with a plus one?”

As hesitant as you were to slip back into the ballroom on the arm of a disheveled stranger who’d already made an impression of his own, it would’ve broken your heart to turn him down. That, and you might’ve had a weakness for disheveled strangers who fell on the more handsome side of the spectrum.

You laughed as you threaded your arm through his, letting Chrollo guide you back to the main event. A second passed with only the sound of your footsteps and distance music to fill the quiet, then another. Eventually, you broke the silence. “It’s very well-written,” you started, trying to fight the urge to fidget. “But… I don’t think I’m the right audience. I care too much about Lucy. Seeing her go through so much and knowing she’s not going to make it is just—” You sighed, shook your head. “It’s agony. Especially when the villain is literally in the title. I mean, I know the characters don’t know that, but still.”

“The benefit of a voyeur's perspective.” For all his glowing praise, he didn’t seem very offended. “I think the dramatic irony is part of the appeal. By the time the tension breaks, it’s nearly too painful to keep going.”

“Which is exactly why it hurts to read,” you groaned, slumping into his side. “I get why it’s happening, but I just can’t stand spending so long on the build-up knowing how it’s going to end. It probably doesn’t help that Lucy’s one of my favorites, either. Well, aside from Mina, but it wouldn’t be fair to compare her to the author’s self-insert.”

The two of you came to a pair of rounded oak doors. There’d been a pair of attendants stationed outside when you left, but Chrollo didn’t seem to mind shouldering it open himself, ushering you inside with a smile and an idle gesture. You took a second to steel your nerves, still not entirely prepared to throw yourself into a very crowded room filled with very loud music and very eager socialites, then crossed the threshold, coming face to face with—

Carnage. Pure, unadulterated carnage.

There were bodies everywhere, each corpse mangled and bruised and broken in every possible way. Dark blood and broken glass covered the formerly pristine ivory floor, and the walls were painted with the remnants of gunfire. A few people were still standing – the murderers, you figured, judging by the blood on their outlandish clothes, the weapons in their hands, the indifferent agitation written across their expressions as you stared at them in horror, as your heart threatened to give out for the second time that night. The tallest man you’d ever seen pointed a hand-held machine gun in your direction, but Chrollo found his way back to your side, resting a hand on your shoulder as he spoke. “Hold your fire,” he said, casually, as if you weren’t standing at the edge of a bloodbath. As if he’d known what he was leading you into. “I think I’m going to keep this one.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. The air hitched in your throat as he brought a hand up to your chin, tilting your head back and forcing you to meet his unblinking stare. You’d been right the first time. There was never anything his eyes could’ve been but terrible. “I always did like Mina.”

There was never anything he could’ve been but a monster, prowling for his next kill.

“I guess I just have a soft spot for survivors.”

[fallow-hollow]

Hiii I am Dying of nervousness sending in a request for the first time but could I get Mithrun and a gn!reader? Nothing else needs to be specific, just that (sorry if I am making it difficult for you ^^')

body heat

…ft! mithrun x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, post-canon, spoilers for manga and ending, established relationship, cuddling

…word count! 955

…notes! don’t see a lotta mithrun content out there, so i’m happy to write for him! i hope this meets your expectations anon!!

“Mithruuuun,” you whined, unable to see your lover even when looking over your shoulder. “C’mere with me and light the fire already, it’s so cold in here.”

Mithrun shot you a glance from where he stood a distance away, despite the fact that you couldn’t return it. “Is it? I can’t tell.”

His flat tone of voice made it even more obvious that the elf truly knew nothing of the agony you were experiencing, imbuing you with a sense of lighthearted frustration. Tossing your head back, you would groan,

“Of course you can’t tell, you’d wear a flowy tunic even if it was a blizzard outside! Now come help me!”

Without as much of a sound to warn you, the man suddenly appeared at your side, causing you to both jump and squeak from the spontaneous nature of his movement. Scratch that, knowing him, it was probably teleportation. Hardly necessary, considering how close you were, but you wouldn’t put it past your lover to do such a thing just to scare you. What a tease…..

“I don’t mind helping you, but sometimes I do wonder if you choose not to do it on your own just to spend time with me.”

Now, it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for Mithrun to say something like this completely genuinely, but the ghost of a smirk gracing those gorgeous features of his let you know that he was most certainly poking fun at you right now. He could be so arrogant sometimes… not that you truly minded.

Ever since Mithrun had recently retired to live with you in the still fledgling Golden Country, you’d noticed him start to become ever so slightly livelier at times. In the past, he’d always said he was grateful that you didn’t meet him when he was so pompous and flippant, but to you, a few snarky remarks here and there didn’t bother you at all. If anything, it meant that he could reclaim his old self while also embracing the new, which made a hopeful prospect for your shared future.

While you were in the process of pondering these feelings, the man beside you went right ahead with his magic. Though he mainly specialized in teleportation magic, any self-respecting member of the Canaries, former or otherwise, knew how to do something as simple as create some flame. The firewood you’d piled up caught almost instantly, creating a blaze that was perfect in both size and temperature.

“Thank you.” You acknowledged him with a nod, figuring that was all he would do. It seemed that Mithrun had other plans, however, judging by his choice to lift up one end of your blanket and wedge himself into the space next to you. A bit confused, you shot him a glance. “I thought you said you weren’t cold?”

He hummed. “But I want to be with you.”

Want. It was such a strange word to hear from Mithrun. For the longest time, he insisted he was unable to want anything at all, aside from the burning need for vengeance. Even now, he struggled with things like eating or sleeping. So to hear that he wants you, of all things…

You did nothing to hide the smile on your face. “You always can, you big goof.”

Whenever the two of you snuggled, your lover never really knew where to put his hands. This rang just as true now, with his arms awkwardly hovering on either side of you, unsure where to grasp or hold. With an almost practiced sense of effortlessness, you guided him to wrap both arms around your waist, positioning one at a time.

For a man so strong, he was quite pliant under your touch. One could easily say that it was his own apathy causing such behavior, but on the other hand, it was nice to believe that he chose to do so of his own free will.

He certainly had no trouble plopping his head down on your shoulder, completely unbothered by the way his cheek was squished from the proximity. How could someone be so battle hardened yet so…..cute?

“You comfy?”

The elf hummed affirmatively, the sound slightly muffled by the close contact. You allowed one hand to snake behind his back and rest comfortably on his hip, meanwhile the other grasped the edge of the blanket to keep it snugly wrapped around you. Honestly, Mithrun could probably be in the strangest position imaginable and still consider himself perfectly comfortable, so you weren’t entirely sure why you asked. It just felt… nice to check in on him. Like the right thing to do, no matter how obvious his answer may be to you.

Soft crackling sounds served as the backdrop for these thoughts, all while your lover remained still and relaxed by your side, having some ponderings of his own. Without you, Mithrun often found it difficult to settle down. He was getting a little better at knowing when to rest and eat in recent days, but even at times where he was well aware of the tiredness weighing him down, it was difficult to want to rest. Especially when what he wanted even more was to wait for you.

With you, he was able to feel at ease in a way that he still struggled with for the most part. Just like that dwarf had told him, even vegetable scraps could grow anew when placed in the soil and cared for. Maybe you were the earth, and he wanted nothing more than to relax while surrounded by you. He really wasn’t great at metaphors, so he couldn’t quite tell.

Of one thing, though, he could certainly be sure.

“I think that it should get cold more often.”

[iifoundjoy]

BEAR WITH ME.

warning: spoilers for ep 75

i was just scrolling through tiktok and then the thought occurred to me that everyone grew up together (minus ben and aiden) and basically never interacted until the group project. yeah, duh, that's the whole premise of their strange group at first, but it just strikes a cord to think that these kids who have become so inseparable were so close to each other this whole time without even knowing it, without even knowing that they needed each other.

because why now, after all these years, would they? after all, they were just strangers who occasionally saw each other in the hall or during class, strangers that they could never understand, right? they were just too different.

i mean, just think about how taylor says she's always noticed ashlyn since they were kids and how she was always on her own. she didnt understand how ash could be content with that, isn't it lonely?

tyler is most likely, lets face it, pretty popular. when we're introduced to him and taylor they're in this huge group of typical jocks due to tyler being on the baseball team. ashlyn and logan must've known him before due to that, seen them parading through the halls. and seeing as how neither logan nor ash like loud noises or crowds very much they probably wrote him off as a loud jock and went about their day. maybe saw how cold and angry he was with everyone but his sister and thought he must be unpleasant to be around.

as for logan, he, like ash, is pretty obviously very much a background character in everyone else's lives. most likely a loner just like ashlyn, very shy. if the rest of the gang ever noticed him it was probably nothing more than a glance. because logan at the time was nothing more than barrons stereotypical nerd that does his homework because he's scared of what will happen if he doesn't.

it just makes me ILL that these people who would grow to care so much about each other were all so close without knowing it, hell, they probably passed each other in their towns grocery store multiple times before. maybe seen tyler play in one of his games with taylor yelling above everyone else because that's her brother, saw ashlyn perform and dance, saw logan reading in the astronomy section in the library.

and yet they didn't know they'd ever learn to trust these strangers with their lives every night. that they would learn that tyler is more than just a loud, angry jock. he loves and cares about his sister, took up being basically a parent from a very young age, and doesn't truly have any friends because they are just a distraction.

that taylor is every bit as friendly as she let's others believe, but if you mess with her brother or her friends that sun can cloud over so quick.

that ashlyn likes to be alone but given the time and patience, she would love to be alone with you. that she doesn't want to, but if she's needed, she will step up and be the leader you need. sure, she isn't good at "friends" and she'll make mistakes, but she owns up to them because she tries and she cares.

and finally, logan, who at first is so shy and unsure, yet is quick-witted and brave enough to make hard choices and learn where he fits in with a group. to stand up against someone who bullied him and threatened him daily and help someone else from going down the same path he did.

AND PLEASE don't even get me started on ben and aiden.

those two have been practically alone their whole lives until they met each other. all aiden had was the dark room that reeked of molding food and people he hung around just to pass the time because he knew they weren't permanent, nothing ever was with his parents.

and ben's only friend before aiden being the music he could create before it was taken away from him, and all he had left was the broken melodies that he tried to find in every punch he threw.

they were both so, so alone and seeking something that would stay, something that would last because everything else that made them happy seemed to fall just out of reach now.

but just one move away, one final move to a small town in georgia held everything that could hurt and heal them all in one. they were all what everyone needed, even if they didn't know it and it drives me insane that if these kids hadn't been put through hell, they never would have found each other.

and they're more than willing to claw their way out together, not because they have to to survive, but because they want to so that they can live.

red what have you dooone 😭/pos

[kaszuma]

Bad Habits | Hoshina Soshiro

Part 6 of “Certainly Yours”

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader

summary: Soshiro wanted to set things right by you, so he planned a date that would've gone perfectly. Had a Kaiju not appeared in front of you.

warnings: Mentions of Blood, heavy detail on Injury and Pain. Breathlessness and lots of claustrophobia related to crowds, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Slight Kn8 Manga Spoilers

wc: 6,552

–

note: Please inform me if I missed any warnings, It has descriptive injuries so I don't want to trigger anyone who's willing to read this.

Part 7 will be a direct continuation of this. So that's why I dubbed it as a Hurt/No Comfort fic for now. The comfort will come in another part because things have been going too smoothly in the relationship. And I don't want that. Anyways, look forward to the next part. I will be adding a tags list. So if you want to be tagged. Please tell me.

Also, thank you for a hundred followers 🫶

–

Today was the day Soshiro had decided to finally make it up to you.

After weeks of moving between bases. Handling Number 10’s strange quirks in its new prototype suit. It had been an understatement to say that he had kept himself rather busy in the wake of his occupation. His attention often divided between the lousy paperwork stacked against him, as well as his individual training.

One that he had always upheld to keep his body sturdy and his reflexes sharp. Not once acting careless in his response to a Kaiju attack. Especially now where he was equipped with a powerful and sentient combat suit, bloodthirsty for war. Willing to pick a fight with anything remotely breathing in his direction.

By all means, Soshiro could not afford to slack off. And if there was a miniscule chance that he did, he'd be minced alive for sure.

Just when his hard work had started to pay off too.

Now that he had been recognized as a numbers wielder no less. He'd be one of the few melee specialists that Japan could rely on in the case of an emergency. The proof of his existence. That he wasn't just a reject of the Hoshina Family's line of descendants.

That he was more than capable to wield a blade that could slay Kaijus that came after him. And he had succeeded. He had fulfilled his place in the hierarchy. His place solidified beside Captain Ashiro who was an even stronger ally than he was.

But despite his successes. Despite the satisfaction he got from climbing to the top with only the swing of his blade.

That had not been enough for him.

It had not been enough to prove his existence to the world.

And although that had been a major goal of his. To surpass people's expectations of his limits. His boon to keep fighting. To keep swinging his sword despite the odds stacked against him, had also been the downfall of many past relationships that could not blossom because it had gotten in its way.

And you had been the first to stay.

The first to understand his sentiments.The first to clear a path for him when everyone else had all but given up.

And yet here he was. Being a stellar lover and prioritizing everything else above you.

It had been weeks. Practically an entire month since he's spent some quality time with you. Sharing the occasional kiss in the hallways where you'd start your day off. Or acknowledging each other briefly when he had been stuck in the confines of the training rooms.

Beating the lessons right into rookies' bodies when you'd pass by. Or better yet, the daily coffee you had somehow managed to squeeze in despite your equally tight schedule. His favorite blend had always been waiting for him. Ready at his office on the days he burned the very wicks of the midnight oil.

And what had he done in return?

Nothing.

Not since that incident with Kaiju no. 10 at least. That of which he worked so hard to erase any evidence left in its wake. The fake report had at least been a piece of cake to do. And they had to do over the entire prototype testing just to make sure Number 10 was usable in its current state.

And unfortunately for him, it proved to be a much more difficult task to complete. Day by day he had not once made progress in raising the Suit’s combat power. Leaving Kaiju no 10 to mock his defenses and other battle related tactics whenever it could. But that had been the least of his worries.

In all honesty, he had been feeling guilty since that day.

Although he'd be remiss to say he didn't enjoy the feeling. Soshiro had not been in the right sound of mind when he found himself getting closer to you. Drunken by your scent, he had practically seen images flash by his mind. Courtesy by the Kaiju that had seen through his desires. And one thing led straight to the next. He found himself in a troublesome situation that he had been afraid to know the consequences of.

He had desired her. Yes. That much was clear. But he wanted the relationship to evolve slowly. At your pace. One that made you most comfortable.

But he had breached that space. The inch you had given him had turned into a mile. And he was lucky he still held some sort of restraint before he did something stupid and regretted his past actions.

And somehow, you still forgave him.

You enjoyed yourself even. Welcoming him with open arms for the next time around when they had managed to squeeze in the time between work. Open to the idea of a more sensual intimacy. In the privacy of someplace else. And Soshiro had wanted that too.

He wanted to correct his haste. To properly love you right.

But not everything had been picture perfect in the way he had planned. His bad habits showed in the ways he'd prioritize everything but you. And just when he built up his courage–Built up the resolve to face you. To do right by you.

Of course, things just had to get in his way.

Things always got in his way before he could properly apologize and make it up to you. Or atleast, that was the excuse he'd find himself feeling guilty of.

And that is where he found himself outside the premises of the Tachikawa base. Strangely out of uniform and in his civvies that he had managed to find beneath the sweatpants in his closet. Dappered in a simple black turtleneck and a white overcoat. Befitting of the cooler weather Japan had been facing in recent times.

He had been waiting for you to show up with a picnic basket in hand. A few paperback novels that he thinks you might enjoy. Added with a few sweets that he hoped would lighten up your day perhaps.

The plan had been simple.

He’d already done the nerve-wracking part. Stopping you midway as you finished giving him the stack of blueprints for the Combat Suit you had worked on upgrading. His hand reached to touch the soft skin of your knuckles. An action that made you look back at him in turn.

“Is something wrong?” You had asked curiously. The softness in your voice remained. One that made Soshiro want to melt into a puddle.

He smiled. Somehow the words got stuck on his tongue. And he had to remind himself that you were his lover. Who of course would agree to a date. Should he suggest it, Right?

He gulps. Suddenly feeling a little irritated at the way his stomach had dropped and a plethora of nervous butterflies had resurfaced.

Normally he'd have no problem taking out hordes of Yoju that came his way. Boasting the highest individual kill count for slaying midsized Kaiju of his generation. Yet somehow, his reason had gona askew. And he found this situation a little more terrifying than he anticipated.

“Hey, I was thinking..”

“Uh oh- That's not a good sign.” Your comment makes him smile. His eyes rolling to give your shoulder a playful squeeze.

“-That you and I need to have a talk.”

“About what?” You had replied with a tilt on your head.

“I got a few paperbacks in the mail yesterday. I was hoping we could grab a bite to eat while we read through ‘em?” He smiled. His usual grin did not falter in the way he spoke to you. Though you could tell that he had an inkling of nervousness by the way he reached up to scratch the side of his cheek.

“Oh. And here I thought I was in trouble.” You chuckle. “So you're finally inviting me out on a date, Vice Captain?”

He had moved to stand much closer to you. Hand already at the shape of your hip, habitually writing his name on the waistband of uniform. “Is that a no I hear from ya’”

“Now when did I say that?” And it makes you smile knowing he had been trying despite the busy schedule he had.

You had long since understood his place in the hierarchy. Soshiro may have not realized it, but he was far too important of a person in the Defense Force to have been kept away from duty.

His life alone had been the cost of a thousand who'd live due to his sacrifices. And whether or not his insecurities had blocked his view of his own self-worth. You were able to see it clearly.

So despite the difficulties. Despite the yearning you felt for his proximity You did the usual and prioritized his work. Letting him handle things when command had already put so much weight into his daily responsibilities. Not that he seemed affected by it, no doubt already used to the pressure of a hectic battlefield. Much less a hectic work environment.

But of course, you wouldn't reject an offer out on a date with your lover. Not when he so sweetly asked.

And if he had the occasional free time to invite you out. Who were you to say no to his offer?

“Soshiro!” You had called out. Appearing just beside him who stood nearest the entrance of the underground metro station. And he smiled turning towards you with his usual cheeky and cat-like grin.

“You shoulda’ texted me. I would've picked you up by the train stations.” He had moved his free hand to pinch your cheeks. And it makes you chuckle. Revealing yourself completely to him.

Where his eyes had raked over the surface of the cute outfit you decided to purchase the day before. Hand already twirling a strand of your hair before tucking it behind your ear. Admiring your very soul. Your entirety in front of him.

“And miss your startled face? Fat chance I'd miss that opportunity.” You laughed.

Soshiro had rolled his eyes in turn. His heart pounding as his free hand immediately intertwined with yours.

“If it makes ya’ happy Sweetheart.” He didn't waste this opportunity to gently pull you close. Kissing your temple which had been nearest his lips. “You look pretty.”

His compliments had made you brighten. Your face visibly beamed when his eyes drank your figure. “Damn straight. I wasn't about to let you one up me in the looks department.”

“Alright, alright.” He found himself chuckling. “Let's get moving before the desserts I bought ya’ go bad.”

You had half a mind to drag your feet while he took you out of the metro line. Acting stubborn just to stall and ruffle his feathers for a bit. As payback for neglecting you all those days ago.

But you had decided against it, the crowded train station was far too busy in the early hours of the afternoon. And you would not risk losing each other and wasting the rare day Soshiro had all planned out for the both of you to do.

“Lead the way.” You had smiled, giddy at the mere thought of a time well spent together. And Soshiro had shared that very sentiment. Already leading you away from the busy horde where lines of people had been waiting for the next train stop.

Upon your words, he had gently walked forward. Leading you by the hand.

His grip on you was firm and you can see the way his back had engulfed and weaved through the crowd much more easily than you ever had. Broad in his strides as he tried not to go too fast. Matching your pace since he knew you weren't as built in stamina as he was.

You had admired the little details of his nape. The one mole peaking through the skin of his turtleneck, where his hair had shown every detail of his jugular. One that you had marveled at when he wasn't looking.

Just as you were about to offer your help. Reaching for the sling of the basket on his free hand.

A shiver ran down your spine. The hand that had tried to reach for the basket had paused in heavy response.

And you had suddenly flinched as a loud gust of wind had blown past you. Making the indoor lights of the metro begin to pop and flicker abnormally. An eerie buzz emitting from each light source as if the electricity had all short circuited, simultaneously.

The temperature underground had strangely heightened. Unusual for the cool metro station during this time of day.

And the crowd that had busied themselves passing each other by, had all but stopped. With people's stares directed behind the both of you in a frozen and frightened state. You look around, almost confused. And Soshiro had gripped his hand harder against yours. As if he already knew the exact dread that overcame him.

The exact thing that had been staring right back at them.

And somehow you had that inkling too.

But denial had only been your first problem. And the rest of your body seemed to know the truth. Your very palms began sweating like bullets, and you had hesitantly looked behind you. To prove to yourself that it had not been what you think it was.

But Soshiro who had somehow read your mind. Had moved much quicker than you had.

Pulling you behind him, already pushing you to the exit when people had started panicking. Screams had been the accompaniment of hasty footsteps. With people of all different ages, running in the same direction. Away from the stairs leading down the metro line.

A mere glimpse is all it took for the hair on your skin to rise. And the face of a humanoid Kaiju had looked in your direction. Its skin peeled like oranges, unlike the gritty leathery texture that surrounded its cheeks. And although it had a terrifying grin on its face. It remained calm. Observant. It seemed ecstatic in the way it reveled in the attention it had gotten. Whilst Soshiro had pulled you from your trance.

“Run. Get going!”

Soshiro had strangely screamed. Already pushing you to evacuate, weary that the Kaiju could attack you at any given moment should it wish to. But the Kaiju had a strange way of showing its excitement. Gurgling at every noise it heard. And Soshiro's yell had all been reduced to a mere whisper against your ear. The sound of a panicked crowd was all too encompassing for you to actually make out his words.

Soshiro had kept a firm grip on your shoulders. Still trailing close behind you with his gaze fixated on the Humanoid Kaiju.

Its legs had hovered mere inches above the ground. Crinkled like an old vegetable that was left out in the freezer for too long. It had double the arms, one that resembled old branches with no leaves. And although it looked sickly and frail, he was sure the damn thing was capable of major damage given the right opportunity.

But instead of grabbing onto the nearest person like Soshiro had anticipated. It surveyed the area. Weary of its nearest surroundings.

It's molars and gums chattering against each other. Echoing throughout the underground halls of the metro station. It looked as if it was occupied with something. A far off look in its beady eyes. As if it were communicating with someone.

Perhaps it had something to do with Number 9? Shit.

If that's the case, Soshiro needed to get you out of here as soon as possible.

“I can't get through. They're all pushing..” You had gasped. Feeling yourself stumble back when another person pulled at your shoulder and leaped forward. Using you as leverage to get to the exit.

Soshiro, who had seen this, was quick to catch you before you could fall. Your back against his chest in a protective stance.

He couldn't move. Not yet at least.

More than anything he'd like to handle that thing as quickly as possible. But to leave you nearby in such close proximity too? There's no way in hell he was going to let that happen. So all he could do was fixate his eyes on that Kaiju.

This thing was clearly sentient. Soshiro had seen the way it lingered to read one of the signs nearest the exit. But I didn't seem interested in conversing, let alone leave if he had asked. And he wasn't about to take his chances.

He needed to get rid of that thing now.

“Hoshina here.” He had fished out the white earpiece that he hid on his overcoat's back pocket. Pressing the small item down to his ear to contact operations.

“There's a Daikaiju sighting in the Tachikawa-Kita Station. Requesting permission to use Number 10 to neutralize it.” He spoke seriously. Unlike the usual light hearted conversations you'd have with him. And it makes you stare up at him with raised eyebrows.

It had been weeks since you had worked on Number 10. It was still far too early to be used as a plausible weapon out in the field. And yet here he was, indirectly telling you that he had worn it out in public.

“You what?” You had gasped out. Eyes blown wide whilst his hand remained on the small of your back.

Much to your dismay, Soshiro had not answered you.

Simply moving you closer to the wall, to let other people get through. His hand still pressed against the intercoms whilst he waited for a reply from Operations.

Soshiro had been focused on shielding you for the most part. The crowd was pushing, but it seems they had still been making progress in evacuating the area. Save for a few rumbles that had happened when the Kaiju had suddenly implanted its branch-like fingers onto one of the pillars. Cracking the surface of the solid cement that held the pillar in place. And you couldn't help but worry at the close proximity you both had been.

Right in range of where the Kaiju was looking at.

“Permission granted.” Okonogi’s faint voice could be heard. Likely already booting up Number 10's system underneath Soshiro’s civvies. The bioweapon would slowly regain energy which kept it from its usual conscious state.

“Do you, or Do you not have Number 10 on?” You had asked incredulously. Prying his arms off of you to peel off his shirt. And his larger hand stops you before you could see the peak of red in the place of where his skin should be.

“As a precaution m'dear.” His reply was immediate.

And he suddenly grabbed you by the wrist. Ushering you forward along with the thinning crowd. The stairway had all been emptied now. Save for a few runaways that had tripped or were pushed earlier.

“Higher ups wanted me to get used to it. Releasing this thing’s combat power, I mean.” His voice had been an octave lower. His smile, although present, had not been enough to reassure you. And you had a feeling he was trying not to have you panic on him.

“That is stupid. Command shouldn't have let you wear it. Number 10 is still unstable. What if you go berserk and lose control?” You sighed, running your hand through your hair.

“You did try to argue with command right?”

…

“Right?”

Soshiro did not answer you. Already pacing to drag you out of here before things could escalate.

Meanwhile, you had all but looked at him once over. Now it made sense why he chose to wear an overcoat when the weather had only been a little chilly this afternoon. It had surprised you that he was able to hide its tail from emerging from his legs. But then again, he probably had his blades tucked away in that too.

“Soshiro..”

“Listen, I'll explain things later. Take this and get to the nearest shelter. I ain’t havin Number 10 going berserk. I'll be fine. Just let me handle the Kaiju first, okay-” His sentence was cut short by your scream.

A broken chunk of the large pillar had been thrown towards you. And it had startled you enough to drop the basket he handed you. Soshiro had been quick in his motion to shield you. Wrapping his arms around your shoulder to let his back hit the brunt of the pillar.

But before it could hit and crush the two of you to bits. The faint sound of number 10 chuckled inSoshiro's suit. And its weaponized tail lashed out to strike the pillar back. Destroying it before it could scratch you both from its debris.

The sharp end had all but ripped Soshiros overcoat to shreds. And he was quick to remove the unnecessary fabric on top of his combat suit. Revealing the distinct eye hollowed out in the middle of his chest.

“Lucky this bonehead woke up on time.” Soshiro had chuckled darkly. And it was followed by its immediate reply. Tail haphazardly swinging around from behind him.

“Stop with your meaningless trifles and get to fighting swordsman! My patience is thinning.” It sounded almost like a child. Though its voice had been a deep and rambunctious chatter like usual.

“You heard the darn thing.” He sighs, pushing you forward before another attack could come in.

And you shook your head, placing your firm hands against the suit of his chest. Just beside Number 10's glowing eye. Your gaze fixated on his usual smile, one that you had grown accustomed to hearing cheery laughs from. “Are you serious? This thing isn't ready for an actual fight.”

“Do not mock us Woman. By the time you have escaped our opponent would have been ripped to shreds by me.” It screamed.

Making you roll your eyes in turn. And Soshiro had all but chuckled. Already letting you get a head start as you stepped out of the underground Metro line. “Just go. I promise you I'll be jus’ fine.”

“I’ll come find you later.” He had spoken. Already turning his heel to grab the swords he had hidden on his back.

You knew this was his job. The unavoidable was bound to happen. And as much it pained you to leave him alone with a Daikaiju with only a misaligned prototype of a suit as an ally. There was bound to be trouble afoot. But what can you do other than run?

You weren't a fighter like he was.

Your use was only in the presence of a laboratory, as a technician. Paving the way to enhance his equipment. To heighten his chances of survival, even if it was a measly one percent of it.

That had been better than none after all.

So with a heavy heart. You nod. Glancing at his form for a second longer before you began running. Taking careful steps to the opposite direction where you knew the nearest shelter would be at. There was never a shortage of Defense Force Officers there. Maybe they'd be willing to let a few assist Soshiro before things could go awry.

Captain Ashiro had always made quick work of any Kaiju that appeared. The third had always been quick to respond to action. Not once arriving late when the Tokyo district needed them the most.

Soshiro would just have to hold out before then.

Deal with Number 10's strange habits and hopefully manage to unleash the suit's combat power which had proven to be a tricky feat for a while now. And if he were lucky, maybe he wouldn't need backup at all.

The optimistic side of you wished to see him make quick work of the Kaiju. Have him return to you, maybe with a couple or bruises to sport but nothing serious.

He'd smile at you. Holding peace signs with his fingertips out as a form of comfort. To tell you that he had been fine and the Kaiju had easily accepted defeat, ending the story in a clean neutralization.

You'd even be willing to hear Number 10's inflated boasting in the background. Telling you that they had sliced it to ribbons before you even had the chance to reach the shelter.

At least that's what you hoped to imagine.

Just as soon as you arrived at the familiar street. You passed by the multitude of shopping districts in the area. And you see the familiar crowd of people being ushered into the sturdy underground bunker of the shelter. Far away from the premises of the Metro Line where Soshiro’s battle had taken place.

You had immediately stepped up. Trying to fall in line with the rest of the crowded spaces that led up to the entrances of the bunker.

But somehow the temperature rose once more. And you feel the familiar rumble in your chest as a gust of wind had blown behind you. Your hair going in all sorts of directions before your eyes settled on the familiar looking Kaiju floating in the very back of the crowd. Nearing you inch by inch.

What was it doing here?

Everyone who had equally felt the same tension had been paralyzed from fear. Its beady gaze had been burning holes unto the crowd. And its neck cracked as it tried to tilt its head to the side.

This had been enough to get rid of the stupor on everyone's expressions. And another wave of panic ensued. Leaving you and a few others to be pushed around in the wake of everyone's panic.

“Report. Kaiju has been spotted here in Shelter 1121. Requesting permission to engage.”

You had heard one of the Defense Force Officers yell. The few that had been present were already aiming their firearms at the chattering Kaiju. It's head convulsing as it floated ever so closer towards the crowd. Its branch-like fingertips grazed the road. Eerily dragging its long limbs down the cement. Its pace is slow and tantalizing as if to tease your inevitable demise.

You had groaned.

Feeling yourself be pushed down to the ground. Palms hitting the coarse texture of the cement roads. Knees scraping the rough surface as you stopped yourself from falling face flat onto the floor. Luckily the crowd had been mindful enough not to trample you. With most of the citizens already crowding the entrance as Soldiers had blocked the Kaiju's path from going any further.

But you saw the way it moved.

In a blink of an eye the Kaiju had made quick work of the Officers. Sweeping them off like insects thrown to the side. Their bodies hitting the nearest surface available in the area. And you had tried to back away. The itching pain that had surrounded your knees was like putting salt on an open wound. Still fresh from the poor landing you had from earlier.

But there was no time to focus on that. Its beady gaze already staring at you and his next target had been made clear.

Just as you had tried to get up, you saw the way a car had been thrown right above your head. And you had been a hair away from being hit by the force of its pitch. Landing on a few people who had crowded up against the entrance of the base.

Likely crushing a few people in the process.

Shit.

The dizzy unease you felt had all but dazed your mind's eye. And somehow through the fire and the panicked screams. A force had thrown you off the ground.

And suddenly your body had slumped against the nearest wall. Your back landing on the very glass of a fashion boutique. Your weight had shattered its surface upon impact when you were thrown against it.

A shockwave on the ground had likely thrown you a few feet back. And you whimpered. Feeling the shards of glass puncture your shoulder and arms. A few cutting your legs that had shamelessly bleeded against the floor.

You could feel a much larger injury on the small of your back. But as it stands, you couldn't really focus on a specific area. Not when it had hurt all over.

It had hurt to stand up. Let alone to crawl away.

You were not in the safety of the base. And Soshiro had not been here beside you. Even if it hurts like hell. You knew that you had to move. You had to get away and find some help before the situation got worse.

But somehow, it had only gotten much more difficult to breathe. Your eyes which had blurred from the blood flow on your head had suddenly cleared a little bit. Just enough for you to inspect your surroundings. And you noticed it had gotten significantly darker upon your landing. Everything, even within the confines of the boutique, had been covered in a thin layer of smoke that you could've sworn wasn't here before

The scent had been weird. Both earthy and a little rusty for your liking. But it had a distinct bitter smell, like something had gone rotten in the area.

And suddenly your throat lurched. Coughing at the sheer difficulty your lungs had inhaled. Like suddenly oxygen had all but ran out and you were left with a gas that had been invading your system entirely.

Your hand had shakily reached up your throat. Trying not to panic as the breaths you made had gotten shorter and shorter.

Was this poison?

Did the Kaiju have anything to do with this?

Where was Soshiro? Was he dead?

Only panicked thoughts plagued your mind. Not entirely aware that the pain had made you almost delirious as you try not to cry from all the overwhelming sensations you felt.

Your only thought had been to gather your bearings and find Soshiro. Damned the injuries that weighed your body. Damned the poison gas that made you want to throw up your lungs.

All you needed was Soshiro.

Yet somehow, you find yourself back on the ground. With your cheek pressed up against the shattered glass. Eyes slowly fluttering to a close from the sheer exhaustion alone. And your body, had never accepted sleep more than this moment had.

–

Who knows how long you've been laying there. A few gunshots sounded out from the distance before it ultimately quieted down. A roar rumbled to the far east of where you had rested. But the sounds had gone silent a few minutes after.

And here you were, dizzy from a concussion. Bleeding from your arms and legs. And your breaths barely audible from the amount of toxic gas you had inhaled.

You didn't know whether or not your lungs were barely functioning anymore. But with the slow rise and labored falls of your chest, you were sure you had still been okay. Though it's a miracle you were still half awake.

You could still make the odd gasps and silent plea for help. So you couldn't sleep. Not yet at least. Not when help could so easily arrive and your chances of actually surviving would lower.

The smoke had not cleared up from where you had laid. And for a moment, you see the shadow of a figure step hastily through the broken boutique. Staring down at you with gritted teeth.

“Found you..”

Your breath hitched. Suddenly the blinding numbness had been replaced with a fresh bout of soreness and burning pains. And Soshiro, who had stood above your half-conscious body, had stumbled a bit.

Not used to the way your body stood so still. Arched upward from the shard of glass punctured nearest the back of your waist. His breath was stolen away, as he could only imagine how the pain must’ve felt when you were thrown off balance to crash a building no less.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, c'mere.” Soshiro's familiar voice was much clearer now that he had stepped much closer to you.

The clang of his blades had dropped beside you as his hands were already fumbling to remove the straps of his respiratory mask. Rushing to place it atop your mouth and nose. Hoping it would help you breathe properly.

“Someone get the medic. Get the medic.”

Soshiro screamed. Glancing behind him for a moment before his focus had been fixated on you. His other hand gingerly lifting your head from the ground to assess the injuries you sustained.

And his eyes. The wine color of his eyes…

You could've sworn it had darkened. Brimmed with the fear of losing you. A cacophony of unshed tears that would usually be closed and cat-like in its features.

“..Soshiro?” You croaked out. Voice a little raspy from whatever gas that Kaiju had decked out. And your lover immediately pulled you closer. Rocking your body to keep you awake.

His first instinct was to secure the straps of the respiratory mask on your face. Letting you take a few filtered breaths before you try to speak once more. Though he hushed you right after, in the case you’d drain the little energy you had left in you.

And from the deadweight he felt. He somehow feared the worst.

“Hey, hey, Shhhh. You're okay.” He spoke with a shaky voice. As if he were assuring himself more than he did you. “I'm here now. We're gonna fix ya’ up brand new. I promise.”

His words had been loud. Desperate even. But for some reason, it went in and out of your ears. Not entirely sure if he had been screaming at somebody else, or he had been talking to you in particular. His reassurances got softer and softer from the minute your ears began to ring.

The sound of his voice, which you would normally find comfort in. Had your head spinning around. Making you wince in turn.

You had wanted to reach out. To pull him close and check for his own injuries. But your arms and shoulders would twitch in pain anytime you had tried to move a muscle. The poison in your system had made it all the more heavier for your body to move. Chained to the ground as if restrained by your own powerlessness of the situation.

“You're done?” You had managed to groan out. Wondering if the Kaiju had been neutralized.

And his immediate response was to nod in your direction. Pulling you much closer so that his leg would be able to support your weight on the ground. Away from the edged shards of glass that had scattered about.

“I'm okay baby. Yer’ the one that needs the help here..” He lets out a dry chuckle. Not entirely convinced that his jokes were actually landing. His panic was more evident in his tone than it had usually been, and for some reason. That hurt more than the physical wounds you endured.

“I know.” You hissed. “Hurts all over..if you couldn't tell..”

“Shit. Medics are on their way. I'm gonna lift you up okay? You'll be fine. Just gonna meet em’ halfway..” He had started. With Soshiro gently hooking his arms underneath the knees of your legs. And just as soon as you were an inch off of the ground. You winced.

Your teeth gritted together as you tried not to cry from the pain you felt when your body had raised from the ground. His hands, although they had been careful, were far too firm against the cuts on your body.

And the pain on your back, where the glass shard had punctured your organs, had a burning sensation you wished would go away.

Soshiro who had seen the way you panicked. Stopped in his actions. Putting you back down on the ground where his leg had cushioned your bleeding head.

“I know, I know jus’ bear with me, alright? Keep your pretty eyes open.” The string of curses never left Soshiro's lips. And his hand which had gently held the cheek where the respiratory mask met the skin of your pale face. Hoping that your breaths would get steadier. The mask recording all the slow inhales you'd take.

In and out. Labored but at least it was still there.

“Breathe..jus’ breathe for me, okay?”

Your eyes had tried to blink rapidly to remove the fatigue you had felt. But somehow, you were fighting a losing battle. And you couldn't help but give into the darkness. The fatigue would feel much nicer since you didn't have to worry about the pain. And with your lover here. It was okay to relax now. No longer did you need to have your guard up to combat the fight or flight situation.

And Soshiro found himself panicking even more at the way your eyes grew distant. Screaming at his intercoms for a medic on-field. Likely already on their way to the location he had sent to Operations moments prior. Okonogi in particular was trying to reassure the Vice Captain, but to no avail.

Not when his focus had all but fixated on your wellbeing. Eyes already closed as you drifted to an unconscious state.

His hand had reached down to your cheek. Already running circles against the bags of your eyes. Running across the dried tears that brimmed your eyes. Denying that this moment had a possibility to be your last.

And without hesitation, he started lifting you up again. This time not a peep from your mouth.

He was gonna fucking take you to the neareat hospital himself if he had to.

Like hell he was going to let you die. Right?

Right?

“Shit. This ain’t funny. Wake–Wake up!”

He hears Okonogi speak on the other side. Something about how a few officers had already turned the corner nearest their location. And he found himself running to their direction, your head leaning against his shoulder leaving small blood stains on Number 10's plated armor.

Help was close. But Soshiro's mind wasn't eased by that fact. Not at all relieved.

Not when your head had still been bleeding and a shard of glass as large as his hand had been punctured just below the small of your back.

And as he ran, he had wondered what he could've done to avoid this.

Should he not have asked you to go out today?

No.

You had been far too eager for this moment. It had been his fault for neglecting you. For not prioritizing the wave of affections you gave him in turn.

He had promised himself that he was gonna cherish you. Dedicate entire days just for you.

And yet here he was. With his plans, ruined beyond repair. And he finds himself going back to the root of his bad habits.

His work, his ambition to be seen as someone capable. Someone who existed in the hands of the world who did not see his strength and dedication. It had held him by the collar, forcing him to face elsewhere. Trapped him from doing right by you.

And now?

His bad habits had now suffered the consequences of his actions. No longer did he have the chance to do everything once over.

And his apologies had fallen to deaf ears. Hoping for the chance you'd get to hear him again.

He had a bad habit of doing you wrong. And now, he hopes you'd be awake so he can set things right.