#but I like to think he actually had a hard time doing all of this to Sqx

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

warning: teasing, prey and predator play

A/N: this is a kofi request~

As if being mated to a kitsune wasn’t hard enough, he had recently started playing tricks on you almost daily. Before you could handle the occasionally missing sock or jumpscare, but now he was practically bullying you.

When your kitsune wanted something, he always lowered his head and settled his nose on your knee, looking up through his eyelashes. Even though you were getting irritated with his mischievous behavior, you still loved the guy.

“Are you upset with me?” he asked, nosing your knee gently. “I’m just playing around… it’s boring being cooped up in here…”

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t wrong. There had been a sudden blizzard, leaving the two of you trapped in your small cabin by the woods for the time being.

“… I know. It’s just… it gets a bit annoying being nipped at and chased. I know you have a lot of energy, but-“

His attention was suddenly drawn away from the conversation, and he nearly leaped towards the window. There was a bird outside, and now that’s all he could think about.

You huffed, whining at him as he bolted to the window to scratch at it, his orange tail swaying behind him.

“You’re impossible…”

Though some would assume your mate was scatterbrained, he was actually quite clever. The tricks he played on you required him to be cunning and intelligent, and oftentimes you could never guess what he was going to do next.

Sometimes he enjoyed chasing you. He got the zoomies often, nearly bouncing off the walls as he gave chase. It was scary, yet strangely arousing to see him treat you like prey.

“Little bunny~”

He often called you that when he was feeling mischievous. Deciding to get it over with, you rolled your eyes and walked towards the bedroom.

He was completely bare, cock erect and twitching slightly as he nearly purred at the sight of you.

“I’ve missed you…”

“Y-you just saw me- wait, why are you naked!?”

He chuckled, crawling across the comforter, his tail swaying behind him as he reached you at the foot of the bed.

“All these questions… aren’t you pent up? You know, us kitsunes know a lot about the human body…”

He ran a finger down your side, making you shiver. His claw barely scraped your sensitive skin. “Mmm… you know, if I didn’t love you so much I’d just… devour you whole~”

He leaned forward to brush his sharp teeth against your neck. You could feel his cock press against your belly, the tip dripping precum. “… teasing me…”

A smile stretched out across his face, his fingers playing with the waistband of your panties. “Am I? Mmm, I don’t think I am. Maybe you’re just… a sensitive little thing. Most humans are…”

He bit down on your neck, causing you let let out a yelp of pain. His tongue lapped up your blood, his eyes narrowed as he groaned. “God… you make it so difficult, darling. Every woman I’ve ever met has ended up eaten by me… but now I’ve formed a mating bond with you…”

His fox ears twitched as he purred, pulling you into his lap so his tip could rub against your clothed cunt. “Pretty thing, making me so soft for you… oh, how excited I get when I chase you…”

Suddenly, he was pinning you down, letting out a yip as you struggled and squirmed. He loved watching you struggle like a helpless bunny beneath him.

Like prey.

“That’s it…” he murmured, keeping your wrists pinned above you with one hand as the other pulled off your panties.

“Keep struggling…”

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, cooing in a teasing manner as you whined. “Someone is being a needy little thing. You want more, hmm?”

You lip wobbled, and you lifted your hips to press into his hand, desperate for him. “Please…”

He purred at the sight of your desperation, pushing his cock into you without warning. His thrusts were fast and unforgiving, his fluffy orange tail swaying behind him.

You could only whimper and moan, squirming beneath him.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, princess? You wanted to be fucked like the helpless little prey you are, didn’t you? Can’t even talk…”

He pressed kisses into your neck as you came around him, milking his cock. The kitsune quite enjoyed teasing you, but after planting his seed in your belly, he always became incredibly soft.

“Sweet thing…” he murmured, kissing at the bites he left along your neck and shoulders. “You know I’d never eat you, right? You may be sweet, but I prefer to enjoy your taste through… different means…”

To repay all the reading, he dipped his head between your legs to lap up your juices and his cum. It all mixed together, and watching him taste his own cum was pretty hot.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko

[dontbesoweirdkira]

There's just so much potential for platonic !yan Tim Drake that isn't really explored. This post may flop but I like to imagine that yan! Tim Drake is actually the worse out of all his brothers...

Masterlist

Requests: always open

Look...you and i both know that Tim is canonically unhinged. But Batsis!reader doesn't. It's so easy for you to forget that your brother Tim is so dangerous. I mean he doesn't really seem all that different from any other nerdy 19 year old. His body doesn't loom over you like the more bulky of your brothers, and his presence is rather...calming? I mean there's still a bit of uneasiness there but it's so subtle that you can brush it off

He's normal when he interacts with you. He doesn't bug you to spend time with him or uncomfortably touch you like Dick does. He is sweet and gentle...He knows how you prefer to be engaged with and respects what you don't like.

But, that's what makes him so dangerous. He knows you. Every. Last. Detail. He's gotten so good at being a nasty little fly on the wall that sometimes you forget he's even in the room. He's always around you, observing and collecting data. He's got you wrapped around his fingers and you don't realize it.

But it's not your fault. It's hard to even imagine that someone as mellow as Tim could ever share the same traits as his brothers.

Yan! Tim fully picked up just how intuitive you are and how you can spot red flags easily. He's so calculated and careful with every interaction. It's amazing how natural he makes these conversations flow. Well, they better. He's spent hours analyzing and practicing how to speak to you. His heart is pounding with anticipation, as every shred of information you give him is going right into his files on you.

Oh! The files he has on you? When Jason and Dick asked him about how many he had, he said only 4. Which is true. but those 4 files have much more information and pictures of you than they could comprehend. ...and he wasn't accounting for the hard drives and physical stacks of papers he stole. I believe Tim knows more about you than you do. When was the last time you've seen your medical records? Passports? Birth certificate? Is your ID even in your wallet? Don't worry, your brother Tim is keeping them safe for you.

Yan! Tim is a little stalker who may or may not have put a tracking/listening devices in your bag so he can keep tabs on you. <33 That's why he's always wearing headphones so he cab listen in. A small piece of missed information could cost him so much. Don't be mad, batsis! He cannot risk making you suspicious of him by asking you invasive questions so this is the only way.

I Like to think you automatically sit by him. whether it be during breakfast, watching a movie or in the car. You feel safer with him and it's a better option in your head than being with Dick who will be overbearing. Tim always acts cool, even a little annoyed by you at times but inside he's screaming. Your scent, your small smiles at him and nudge his shoulders when he makes a funny remark all send him into overdrive.

But i must say, it's exhausting for him to hold back his obsession all of the time. Sometimes he envies his siblings and how shameless they are in their obsessions. Tim Drake thinks about how great it would to be to just be hugged by you or for you to want to fall asleep on him like you do with Jason.

Sometimes, our creepy detective will slip up. He will say or do something that is odd to you

"I cannot remember the name of that song i used to listen to...what was it.."

"It's this one by that local band, sis."

"oh, yeah! wait...how did you-"

"I know you better than i know myself..."

"...what?"

*an incident happened where dick basically forced you to say i love you back. Tim was there and he was so so jealous*

"You love me the most though, right?"

You laughed, thinking it was a joke\

"Sure, Tim. You are my favorite Robin."

*Tim is very visibly becoming feral. Almost in the same way as Dick and you are slightly alarmed*

"...I'm your favorite Robin? So you do love me more than them."

"0-o"

He repeats it over and over again in his mind. If he was recording it like he does with many of your interaction, it will be on instant replay every morning as an affirmation.

That one time you were chilling in the study with Tim. His head was ducked, low into the computer. It was super late by this time and you didn't really want to bother him so you ended up leaving without saying anything, and headed to your room. Tim was beyond hurt that you were breaking his version of bonding time and you had the audacity to not even announce your exit. He's so swift that it startled you when he grabbed your wrist from behind. His grip was....strong.... to say the least..... and he questioned why you were leaving him.

speaking of his strength, Tim is so skinny that you forget he is well trained with a nice bit of muscle. Maybe not as strong as his brothers or Bruce but he can easily subdue you.

He's definitely broken a lock or two, to get into your room at the dead of night and watch you sleep. This is the only time when he can be as fucked up as he wants to. The unhinged look in his eyes while going through your things and taking what's interesting..The adrenaline that you might catch him, excites him. He can't help but to sickly smile as he makes his way over to you and observes. A gentle hand caresses the sides of your face. You're so perfect. He whispers on and on things he wishes he could tell you while you were awake and wouldn't think it was weird....

Maybe even once he's crawled into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you. So happy to be able to finally be able to cuddle like this.

And if you happened to wake up, and realize your dear brother, Tim was there...he has a plan for that. He knows how to play mind games on you and makes you seem like the crazy one. No one would believe you anyways. The locks are all fixed by the morning.

[deadpresidents]

I just hope these next 4 years go by fast

This election isn't just about the next four years. With Trump in the White House and a Republican Senate at his side, the MAGA movement can pick up where they left off when it comes to packing the federal judiciary with right-wing judges who will control the Supreme Court and appellate courts throughout the country potentially for the rest of the lives of everyone reading this right now. It's the perfect recipe for them to continue stripping reproductive rights away from women nationwide and gives them the opportunity to turn their attention to the other issues that they have been dying to attack, from voting rights to gay marriage and every other extension of personal freedom that has been won by minorities and marginalized people in hard-fought battles over the past 60 years. This is the nightmare scenario that people have been warning folks about for the past few elections. It's here. And there isn't going to be a way to put the toothpaste back in the tube.

The consequences of this election will have a direct, negative impact on your life -- possibly on the entire remainder of your life. This country just re-elected a President with authoritarian tendencies who is the willing puppet of a dangerous Christian nationalist movement that figured out exactly how to manipulate him (through flattery) for their aims. They have created the perfect vehicle for a genuine cult of personality that they can use to achieve the goals they have been very clear about striving for over the past few years. And you can't blame anybody other than the American voters because they not only elected Trump, but they gave him a fucking mandate, with a Republican Senate and potentially a Republican House. They already have a right-wing dominated Supreme Court for the next few decades, and now they are going to ensure that the entire federal judiciary is in their control for years to come. And don't forget the fact that a few months ago, the Supreme Court handed down a decision that gave Presidents sweeping immunity for a broad (and conveniently undefined) range of "official" acts, so Trump is going to go into this second term knowing that not only does he not have to deal with the "guardrails" of responsible adults he had around him in his first term (Mattis, Tillerson, Kelly, General Milley, etc), but he knows he can get away with virtually anything and everything that he wants to do this time around. If you thought that Trump's first term was bad, just understand that they are prepared this time and now he's surrounded himself with people who will do his bidding -- people who are perfectly willing to let Trump be Donald Trump.

I wish there was a reason to cry foul, lodge protests, and challenge the election's results. But this wasn't a rigged election. There isn't any confusion about what the voters really wanted. The American people did this. People you know and care about and who say they care about you are the people who did this. We need to recognize that these elections aren't outliers anymore. Trump's supporters aren't simply chaos agents who got lucky on a bad day for the Democrats. That's the country we live in now and we have to find a way to resist it that actually makes a difference because now they have the keys to all the doors and all of the alarm codes. This country has normalized the conspiracy theories and nativism and racism that has powered the MAGA movement since the moment Trump came down the elevator at Trump Tower in 2015. He's given those people permission to be open with their hatred towards people who aren't like them, and it's actually become surprising to see how many Americans have been eager to take advantage of that. I didn't think I had any misconceptions about this country before Donald Trump because I recognized this nation's history, but I clearly had some misconceptions about people I thought I knew until I saw them wearing a red MAGA hat or noticed they had a gigantic flag with Trump's name hanging where their U.S. flag used to hang. Once that happened, it was like a switch went off with them and they started saying things in ways that I'd never heard them speak. I feel like that's happened to the entire country. It breaks my heart and it pisses me off.

For the past few years, I've been warning everybody about how elections have consequences. I imagine that there are hundreds of posts on this blog with that phrase in all caps listed with the tags. Now the elections have happened, and we have to live with real fucking consequences. And we're going to pass these consequences on to other generations because this is the one that you can't get a do-over on. When you give a movement like this the power and the mandate that this country just gave them, there is no easily rolling back the things that they end up doing. They are going to fundamentally change the lives of people in this nation and especially change the way the younger generations of Americans live and love and learn for years to come. And you have people in your life who made that happen. It's another disgusting day in America -- a prelude to another reprehensible four years (at the very least) -- and I'm ashamed of tens of millions of my fellow Americans because this one is on them. They know exactly who the man is that they voted for, and now we know exactly who they are, too.

[vintagegeekculture]

I remember a friend of mine had some LPs that were Star Wars themed disco albums, and it brought back a very weird memory from back in the 70s (yes, I'm old!) of listening to a Star Wars disco mashup on the radio. What was all that about? I also remember something like that for Close Encounters, too.

You remember correctly, and this went on for a long while. In 1983, disk jockeys around the country played a record that involved an Ewok rapping the plot of Return of the Jedi in Ewokese. This made it to #60 in the Billboard Top 100.

This is hard to explain to people who weren’t there….but in the wake of Star Wars in the late 70s and early 80s, scifi was so beloved and mainstream that the orchestral music for nerdy scifi and fantasy movies about outer space were remixed and sampled into Giorgio Moroder-esque Italo-Disco dance numbers. And the most astonishing thing is, instead of being consigned to convention acts the way “horse famous” Brony dubstep acts are, this received national airplay on the radio, reached the pop music charts, and were played in discotheques. And incredibly, this continued for years and expanded from Star Wars into Star Trek, Wizard of Oz, Black Hole, Close Encounters….

All of this was the work of one specific person: Meco (or Dominico Monardo). The term “ahead of their time” is thrown around a lot, but Meco really was: a combination producer-songwriter and Italo-Disco pioneer in the style of Giorgio Moroder, he did several things that are now absolutely standard: he used remixes and sampling before hiphop made that standard for musicians, he wrote “fandom music” on a Moog synthesizer decades before Bronies turned their conventions into cringey dubstep concerts with songs like “Everypony Dance Now.”

It's stunning to me that Meco has not been rediscovered, considering every single trend in the culture essentially went his way.

The most startling thing about Meco’s Star Wars disco album, the one that got the ball rolling on this trend, is this: I always assumed it was some kind of cash in created by a record label mandate, a label executive’s completely cynical choice to hop on a hot new trend. That isn’t a crazy thing to think at all, since Star Wars is and always has been the most merchandized and sold out scifi property ever. But it wasn’t! You see, it was all the product of a single man’s specific vision: Meco had to convince his record label to make the record because they were skeptical.

When Meco went to see Star Wars in 1977 on Opening Day (what an experience that must have been) with his friend and fellow Italian chest hair/gold medallion enthusiast Tony Bongiovi, he was already an experienced producer-songwriter who had worked with Gloria Gaynor, Diana Ross, and formed DCA, the Disco Corporation of America. If you've ever listened to Diana Ross's "I'm Coming Out," Meco actually played the trombone solo in that song. Seeing the Star Wars movie for the first time, though Meco thought the movie was nothing short of a religious experience. Originally, he wanted to do Star Wars music as a b-side on a Gloria Gaynor album, but expanded the idea into an entire album.

In Meco’s own words:

"When I think about what I did, nobody came to me, nobody said 'Meco, why don't you do this.' Nobody says 'Here's some money go make a record of this movie.' It was just my own... It was magical, it was just out of this world when all that happened."

Not only did this album hit platinum, not only did it actually outsell the Star Wars soundtrack, his remix of the Star Wars theme also went to #1 in the charts. It’s actually the best selling instrumental single of all time. A record, that, incidentally, it holds to this day.

Dick Clark, host of American Bandstand, had this to say about Meco:

"In 1977, Meco Monardo accomplished something no one else has ever done to the best of my knowledge. He was the first one in history to out-sell the soundtrack of a motion picture with his own distinctive version of a film's music. The music was totally danceable, and broke new ground. It's no wonder the STAR WARS THEME went to # 1. I loved his treatment of music from THE WIZARD OF OZ. Again, Meco created something innovative. The fun and the excitement gave a whole new feel to that totally familiar and well-loved music."

Like a lot of studio producers, Meco had an insane work ethic and hit when the iron was hot: he did an album about Close Encounters that exact same year, but also did a Star Wars Christmas Album, one of the strangest pieces of Star Wars kitsch around.

One of the most interesting things about the Star Wars Christmas album is that one of the songs, “R2D2’s Wish You a Merry Christmas” is the first professional vocals by John Bon Jovi, who was Meco’s friend Tony Bongiovi’s seventeen year old younger cousin (he was initially known as John Bongiovi). It's incredible to hear a squeaky voiced teen Bon Jovi on a kitsch album about a robot Christmas.

1978-1979 was really his best year. Meco made an Italo-Disco remix album entirely devoted to Superman, and at this point, Meco had the pull to get access to John Williams's sheet music for the score before the music even came out. In my personal opinion it's the best of them because he has to recreate it entirely with his own instruments, leading to a very unique sound.

He also did an album based on the Wizard of Oz:

And a combination album of Star Trek/Black Hole. It's probably the earliest remixing date of Goldsmith pieces of music: the Motion Picture Theme (which is now associated with the Next Generation - hearing it done in Italodisco is uncanny) and the Klingon Theme:

Incidentally, I think the design here of the Meco Enterprise, which had to be modified for legal reasons, would make a wonderful canon starship if anyone wants to be inspired by it. It reminds me of the same concept that would be used in the very next film for the Reliant-class of ships.

Meco eventually retired from music in 1985, but unfortunately he is no longer with us, as he passed into the next dimension in 2023. I think he showed us that creativity is often about transformation, and was inspired to make his art by a legitimate awe of space, the cosmos, and human imagination that the scifi movies of the 1970s and 80s provoke.

[unnounblr]

13 million voters that voted for Biden did not vote for Harris. Seemingly didn't vote at all.

Ten million more people voted for Trump than voted for him in 2016, and that's something we do need to talk about, but it was also a million less than voted for him in 2020. Which we also need to talk about. 11 million additional people lived through his first 3 years, then experienced how he handled covid, and thought he should keep going. Genuinely awful and absurd.

If the 13 million additional voters that elected Biden had turned up to vote, Harris might have won the electoral college. Maybe, I haven't seen the state by state breakdowns yet. Votes are still being counted in some states. But she definitely would have won the popular vote. Which is useless, I know, but it's the scarier one in a lot of ways.

And, I mean, yeah, it's entirely possible that those 13 million voters didn't vote because of Gaza, or because Harris wasn't left enough, because she didn't commit enough to strong labor unions. It's hard to say, admittedly. It's one of those unknowns. But there were polls ahead of time indicating that, in some of the swing states, Gaza was an issue leading people not to vote. Especially places with high Muslim populations, like Michigan and Pennsylvania.

I think. I mean, there is, maybe, a point to be made that those left-leaning abstaining voters were incredibly stupid to abstain, and made the wrong choices as individuals. I guess we'll all find out together. Let's see how Trump handles Gaza, and student loans, the climate, and unions. The second time.

But, yeah, it's also clear that the Harris campaign made mistakes in terms of reaching those voters and I think, as the above image shows, they're also mistakes the Clinton campaign made, focusing on celebrity and billionaire endorsements, not securing labor union endorsements, spending too much time in the known red states and not the known battleground states.

I think it's clear that there isn't a lot of collective action by leftists, what with there not being an actually viable leftist party, so all the leftists who didn't vote made the choice not to vote as individuals. And in the spirit of leftism, I think theres plenty of blame we can all share, and equally distribute. But, if they are in fact the 13 million who voted for Biden over Harris, then, evidently, Biden did something to reach them and make them vote that Harris didn't. And there's some blame there for Harris and her campaign too.

[randombush3]

recuérdame

alexia putellas x reader

summary: you wake up and you're not sure where

words: 1185 (treat this like a prologue ok x)

notes: i hope this actually takes off as a new series so i'm posting it now while i think about what comes next xx

There’s something groggy about the darkness in your mind. It’s not an eyes-closed kind of black; not a piece of white paper doused in ink. 

It’s thick like smog. Grainy. 

And all of a sudden, you are awake. 

There’s an incessant pounding in your mind that is sharp and rhythmic. The lights are too harsh, too much. The bed is hard under your heavy bones. 

You blink and even that small movement is strange, harder than it should be. 

The ceiling is peppered with small, grey dots. It’s terribly ugly, but your eyes cling to it as you try to shake off the haze. 

Slowly, the rest of the room comes into focus: sterile whites, beeping machines, tubes splaying out across what must be your body but feels like deadweight. The steady noise draws your attention after a moment, the sound seeming to echo inside your head. You turn, neck stiff and crunching, to catch a glimpse of a monitor, green lines spiking across its screen. 

The tubes aren’t just on top of you. They must be inside you. 

Something twists in your stomach. 

“You’re… awake.” 

…

No one really knows what to say to Alexia when she receives the call. 

Training is running over, the sun is beginning to set, and the girls are getting restless. The drill is nothing special, and the boredom it brings infects their captain, too, despite her valiant attempts at maturity. 

Alexia wants to get home, tonight of all nights. 

Five days ago, a work trip left her alone with a daughter that isn’t quite hers. There has been an other-mother shaped hole in the family ever since. Madrid continues to be evil. Her Catalan pride is vindicated once more. 

So when Pere blows his whistle, she all but sprints into the changing room (much to her coach’s dismay, since training ended because he assumed no one could run at that speed anymore), image of picture-perfect leadership be damned. 

Her shower is fast, clothes are shoved on even faster, and she is just about to walk through the automatic exit doors when her phone rings. 

A location update, she assumes. Or a complaint from an impatient tweenager (god, they seem to be fountains of those). 

It’s to her horror that she is incorrect. 

The nurse on the other line is eerily calm, but does not waste time beating around the bush. Her instructions are clear: come to the hospital now. 

“I think my fiancée has just died,” Alexia tells no one in particular. 

The team isn't sure whether or not she is joking. 

That was a week ago, and now she is here, in the hospital. Her bum is accustomed to the hard plastic chairs, her schedule skewed until the doctors finally wake you up from a medically induced coma. Amaia, her stepdaughter, is at her friend’s house, the boy’s mother insisting she care for her while Alexia makes a rather practical visit to the hospital. 

Alexia’s hands shake as she brings them to her face, rubbing her temples. The past week has been wrapped around her like a noose, suffocating and taut. She’s holding herself together but she is doing an uncharacteristically catastrophic job at it. Her mind is still tangled up in the phone call she’d received – and the many others she’d had to make after the nurse had hung up. Although there has been a swarm of activity (flights landing, taxis to the hospital, meals arriving at her front door with well-meaning notes attached), life has felt still. Stagnant. 

She is stuck in something she doesn’t know how to deal with. 

She closes her eyes for a second and inhales with as much steadiness as she can muster, letting the beeping of your monitor anchor her back to the present. It’s a strange sound to feel grateful for, each pulse a reminder that you are still here. With her. 

They have been gradually reducing the sedatives administered to you, making the answer to her question always ‘she will wake up when she wakes up’. The twitches in your finger have grown old now, and she is becoming very impatient. 

“If you wanted a holiday, we could’ve taken time off,” she tells you with a forced chuckle. “You didn’t need to get yourself into a…” 

You shift slightly in the bed. Alexia’s eyes snap open, her body surging upwards in hope. 

“Come on…” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “Please…”

Your eyelids flutter, hesitant, like they’re testing the weight of the world behind them. She hopes: at least it’s something. 

And it could be more, surely? It should be any minute now, according to the doctors. The wait will be over and she can get you back.

It’s been fifteen days since Alexia saw the eyes she fell in love with. 

Words fall out of her mouth but she barely registers them, staring at you listlessly, unprepared for this moment. She had thought about it, of course, imagining how to go about updating you on what you’ve missed: how Amaia’s match yesterday ended in a draw; how her own was a sizable but unsatisfying win. 

She wants to say things she should say more. Reminders, confessions. She wants to let out the anger that you did this to her; that you left, that you didn’t come back. And how she wants to hold you, kiss you, love you even more.

But the first thing Alexia notices behind bleary eyes is terror. Confusion. And, what she had told herself would not happen: a lack of recognition. 

I’m in a hospital, you think, but I don’t know who is here with me. 

The moment stretches on, thin and frail, and Alexia feels the tautness in her stomach like a rope holding dead weight over a cliff. Her heart – bruised, aching, impatient – is pierced by the way you look at her with poorly-masked indifference. 

“Hi,” she tries, waiting for you to come back fully, wanting to skip the part where it hurts so much. Her hand reaches out, hovering above your own, fingers aching to touch you, but she holds back. “Do you know where we are?” 

She should really call the nurse in, but she can’t quite bring herself to disrupt this. 

Your eyes flicker, glancing at the tubes and machines. The mattress hasn’t gotten any softer, nor your body any lighter. “Hospital,” you whisper, throat scratchy and hoarse. The word appears in your mind as almost foreign, coming from somewhere deeper than the blankness of the surface. Then your gaze drifts back to her, the hopeful woman at your bedside, brows furrowing as you struggle to place her into a life you can’t quite recall. Not that you’ve tried; you’ve got a screaming headache. 

The question on your lips twists Alexia’s insides. She anticipates it, with an instinctiveness that almost frustrates you. “I’m Alexia,” she says. She doesn’t sound sure. 

You stare through her and the distance clutches at her neck. Her nightmare lands, cold and final. 

“I’m… sorry. I don’t,” and like how she knows the question, she is well aware of the end of that sentence. 

[hanniebaeee]

The Ex

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of injury

Genre: exes to lovers, fluffffff

Summary: Your ex, Hyunjin, calls you at midnight, injured and freaked out. The fact that you're still in love with him may be a problem. Or not.

Your break-up with Hyunjin had been a literal storm. Tear-soaked, heartbreaking, and both of you still so much in love that it hurt beyond words could explain. You didn't understand how it came to it, actually. Watching him walk away was the hardest thing you've ever had to do, and that's an image you can't get off your mind. No matter how hard you try.

You tried to delete his number, unfollow him literally everywhere, and move on with your life. But it was easier said than done. That's why when his number flashes on your phone screen, you freeze.

You almost ignore it. Almost. But something inside you won't let you, and here you are, answering his call.

“Hyunjin?”

There’s a weird silence on his side. You haven't heard his voice since you broke up a couple of months ago, and the anticipation is killing you.

You're starting to think that he made a mistake, when you hear his breath on the other line - heavy and desperate.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin’s voice is shaky, and you sit upright, your heart in your throat.

“Hyunjin? What’s going on?” you ask, ready to run. “Are you ok?”

“I’m at - at the hospital,” he chokes out.

“What? What happened?!” you ask, fear starting to grip you.

“I fell…I was going down some stairs, trying to carry all my art supplies - don’t ask, it’s a long story. But I tripped and fell down the stairs, and my foot, it’s swelling up. It hurts like hell, Y/N, I’m so scared-” His voice breaks, and he takes in a shaky breath. “Someone dropped me here, and I don’t - I don’t even know anyone in this city.”

Your heart sinks, imagining him sitting there, hurt and scared and…alone. You know you should feel nothing for him. Maybe a bit of concern, but nothing else. He's your ex.

But no, that isn’t how your heart works. This is Hyunjin, it says, the guy you spent way too many sleepless nights with, the guy you had to claw out of your chest when you broke up.

“Hello? Y/N?” Hyunjin sounds like a lost little child, his little sobs gripping at your poor heart.

“Hyunjin, take a breath. Oh my God. Stop crying, baby, I’m on my way, okay? I-” You freeze, closing your eyes, cursing yourself for the slip.

You called him baby?!

A beat of silence. You can hear Hyunjin sniffling on the other side, and you panic.

“Oh, uh, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean-” you stutter, before quickly saying, “I'll see you soon.”

You hang up before he can reply, embarrassment coursing through you. You sit on your couch cringing and feeling terrible. Taking a deep breath, you reach for your phone again. You need backup and there’s only one person who can handle Hyunjin like you do.

So, with shaking fingers, you dial Changbin's number, as you make your way to your bedroom. Changbin picks up after about two rings, and says, “Hey babe, you good?”

“I'm not sure, Bin. Hyunjin called me…he’s hurt. He’s at the hospital, and he’s-” You fall silent as you hear Changbin sigh.

You can tell he’s running his hand through his hair the way he always does when he’s dealing with one of your ‘Hyunjin’ emergencies.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll go,” he says, but you both know you’re not going to let him go alone.

“Yeah, no. I’m coming with you. I can’t just sit here while he’s hurt,” you argue, already pulling on a jumper over your t-shirt.

“You’re crazy for doing this, you know that?” Changbin says.

“Yeah, what's new?” you mutter, pulling your jeans on, and then your shoes.

“Alright,” Changbin sighs, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “Let’s go pick up our delicate flower.”

He's over at yours in record time, and gives you an unimpressed look.

“Binnie, not now!” You say as you both get into his car.

The drive is only about an hour, but it feels like hours. You try not to think of the last time you made this journey. It ended up with you coming back alone and so broken. Now, you sit in silence, Changbin can feel you unraveling.

He shoots you a look and asks, “You okay?”

You let out a hollow laugh.

“I mean, my ex, with whom I’m still kind of in love with, is in the hospital. So, I guess I’m as fine as I can be.”

“Kind of? Who are you kidding?” Changbin raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Ok, shut up.” you mumble, cheeks burning and you look away, hoping he'll leave it alone.

But he just laughs, putting his hand on yours.

“I get it, ok? You’re a good person for doing this, Y/N.” he says softly, and you feel a tear prickle at the corner of your eye.

You blink it back, trying your best to hold it together.

“He must have moved on, right?” you say, fidgeting with the hem of your jacket.

“If you're talking about Hwang Hyunjin, I can assure you that he’s still head over heels for you, even if he won’t admit it.”

You manage a small smile at that and say, “You think?”

“No, I know,” Changbin says, smiling, “He wouldn’t have called you if he wasn't. You’re still the only person who can get through to him.”

“I’m so lucky to have you, you know that?” You say, squeezing his hand.

“You are,” he agrees, flashing you a cocky smirk. “And you’re welcome. Now, let’s go remind Hyunjin that he’s not a fragile old man on his deathbed.”

By the time you finally get to the hospital, your nerves are buzzing. You walk in with Changbin by your side, his hand a steady presence at your back.

And there he is, slumped in a chair with his injured foot propped up, wearing a miserable, pouty expression, and it's so adorable, it crushes you almost immediately.

When his eyes land on you, they light up and he's reaching out to you.

“You came!” His voice cracks, and you hate that it makes your heart flutter.

He takes your hand in his and presses his cheek to it, and holds onto you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “You actually came?”

You’re still mad at yourself for caring this much, but you don't regret anything. Not after seeing him like this.

“Yeah, you idiot. Of course I did.” you say gently, sitting near him.

He looks away, probably trying to hide his tears, and mutters, “I thought you’d never want to see me again.”

You’re about to reply when Changbin clears his throat.

“Hello to you too Hyunjin. Oh, how am I? I'm good!” He says dryly, making you laugh.

Hyunjin narrows his eyes at Changbin, rolling them even though he’s still clutching your hand.

“I knew she'll call you, I just-” Hyunjin tries, but Changbin snorts in response.

“You're sneaky little-” Changbin begins but a nurse comes over and says that Hyunjin’s doctor has taken a look at his x-rays and wants to talk to him.

Changbin helps him into the wheelchair and you all move into the examination room where the doctor tells him that it's a sprain, and he'll have to rest his foot for sometime.

Once outside, Changbin tells him, “No more carrying your entire art studio down the stairs.”

“Hey, I didn't have anyone to help me!” Hyunjin says.

“I wonder who's fault it is!” Changbin shoots back, and Hyunjin pouts, crossing his arms against his chest, as you bite back a laugh.

You all sit at the waiting area, wondering what to do next. As you look at Hyunjin, all the messy feelings you’ve buried rush to the surface. You know it’s stupid, probably really reckless, but you can't help it. You love this man so damn much.

Hyunjin sniffles, studying the bandage on his foot before looking at you.

“Are you ok?” You ask, seeing how tired he looked.

“When I fell, I was so scared…I thought I would die…like my entire life flashed before my eyes. It was horrible,” he says. “And, all I felt was regret. I… I was an idiot. I should have fought for us.”

His words are definitely pulling at your heartstrings. Your eyes meet Changbin's, sitting on Hyunjin’s other side. He raises his eyebrows, knowing exactly where this is going. Before you can say anything, Hyunjin is leaning into you, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“I won’t survive a single day without you,” he whispers. “I mean, look at me. You left me, and here I am - falling down stairs, breaking bones-”

“It's a sprain, Hyunjin,” You remind him with a smile.

“But it feels broken. I feel broken…without you…”

“Jinnie-” You start, not knowing what exactly to say to him.

Your heart twists painfully. You don't know if this is a good idea, but that doesn't stop you from wanting him.

“Before you two start making out in front of me, I’m gonna go get some coffee,” Changbin's voice cuts in.

Hyunjin grins, cupping your cheek with his hand. He ignores Changbin completely, and says, “If you'll have me, I promise to never let you go. I promise I'll be good.”

And before you can stop yourself, you lean in, pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. He's pulling you closer, kissing you deeper, but you put a hand to his chest, gently pushing him back. You are still at the hospital, and people are starting to notice.

When Changbin returns, you both carefully put Hyunjin in the backseat. He grabs hold of your hand as you're about to shut the door, and wants you to sit with him.

He clings onto you the entire drive home, sneaking kisses - so many kisses. And also persuades you to spend the night at Changbin's, so you end up cuddling him to sleep.

And you sleep peacefully for the first time since your break up.

[fastboatsmojito]

tell me more about the sweet things Frank does pleeaassseee

ugh he’s suuuuch a sweetheart for someone who has every right to be a complete asshole to everyone <///3

Notes; hi guys I have so much other shit to write it’s actually laughable but this is what ur getting for now mostly because im unable to think about anyone else atm #sorry, enjoy!

he’s pretty old fashioned when it comes to most things; leaning his head back to look at you like you’re insane if you try to pay for anything, long legs striding right past you to open doors, a guiding hand on your waist when you’re walking together so you can keep up with him, etc. he’ll be damned if you ever do anything you don’t have to, always insistent on lending a large helping hand whenever you need one.

“Why don’t you just let me help you, huh? Always gotta have an attitude about it.” he made it sound so simple, like the act of him helping you clasp your necklace shouldn’t have you swooning like this, reeling in the rough callouses of his fingers against the back of your neck. of course he wasn’t really upset, shaking his head at your insistent remarks about being able to do it yourself. you could always tell when he was pushing you to accept the love he so thoughtfully handed to you, understanding when you needed a harsher tone or a soothing hand.

that’s just who he is; priding himself in keeping you safe and in the meantime securing every understanding he had of you in his mind, every fear, every goal, the things you’d dream about often enough to bring it up the next morning, he knew you and he knew what you needed, half the time before you knew it yourself. because that’s just who he is. that’s his job — at least that’s what he keeps telling you.

“I don’t have an attitude, but you don’t have to take care of me all the time, Frank. I can-“

“You can take care of yourself. Yeah yeah I know sweetheart, you’re real tough. I know it.” it was hard to look it right now, letting his arms squeeze around you, standing firm in your words as you melted into the strong shape of him behind you.

there were a million examples, and no matter how hard you tried to convince him, he’d do it again and again. coming back home after a rough day and cleaning himself up before picking you up from where you’d fallen asleep on the couch to take you to bed. ignoring the ache in his bones, hushing you with a kiss on your crown, and tucking you under the soft blankets ‘right where you belong’ because that’s just who Frank Castle is.

[mikkomacko]

Mob Movember

Mob Boss Nico x reader

A/n: just a little something inspired by the diva pictured above x

~~~~~~~

“So that’s like gonna be a thing now?”

Nico’s eyebrows pinch together, eyes finding yours in the bathroom mirror and he pauses, razor half way to his face and warm water running from the faucet.

“What do you mean?”

You shrug and he blinks, looking back at his reflection and biting his bottom lip to pull it taut. Then he’s dragging his razor over a smear of shaving cream on his chin, dipping the razor back into the sink to rinse it.

“You shaved a lot this week,” you decide to say, “and yet you always skip the space above your lip.”

Nico bristles at that, a petulant pout glaring at you through the mirror and you try not to laugh at him after indirectly insulting his mustache. It’s not that you hate it per se, it just looks different on him. He’s still cute, you’ll give him that. It’s impossible for him to ever not be attractive, but the mustache doesn’t have the same sexy appeal his beard does.

“Didn’t know I had to explain the concept of a mustache to you.”

“Ouch,” you hold a hand over your heart. “Mean and mustache-y.”

A sigh of annoyance huffs out of his nose, and he shakes his head just once before going back to cleaning up his jawline. “Go away,” he says, but you linger a minute longer to watch him finish shaving, eyes following the bend of his waist when he leans over to rinse off any left over bits of shaving cream.

Giving yourself a moment to appreciate his ass in those light blue jeans he wears all the time, you wonder off before he can look back in the mirror and still see you there.

~~~~

“Not you too!”

Timo frowns, looking around curiously as he slides into the passenger seat. He’s wearing an overly thick puffy coat and those stupid 5 inch inseam shorts from Lululemon that all the boys except Nico wear (much to your dismay) and you were gonna tease him about whether he’s hot or cold but the sight of his face has changed your plans.

“What?” He closed the door, immediately warming his hands in front of the vents.

“Is there like a mustache epidemic going around? What is wrong with you and Nico?”

You saw Timo yesterday, and while he had more stubble than he usually does, you didn’t think he’d be shaving it off into a mustache too. It’s been three long days of trying to get Nico’s new look to grow on you and no matter how times you kiss him, feel the scratch of his freshly shaved cheeks, it’s still not the same. You don’t like the way it tickles your upper lip but not your chin, and you don’t really like the way that you can’t kiss his nose anymore without feeling it.

But you’re trying and it’s hard. Even harder now that your bestie has apparently jumped on the train too.

“You don’t like them?” He asks, not offended but curious. You side eye him, pulling away from the curb and making your way towards the yoga studio.

“Is that why Nico is pouting?” He laughs, clicking his seatbelt. He rubs at his lame excuse of a mustache and you mentally give Nico credit for that. At least he can actually grow a really nice one, not that you’re going to say that to Timo.

“He’s pouting?”

“Uh yeah,” he scoffs, “he’s moped every day this week, Sieges said they’ve been having to talk to clients and stuff because he gets moody right away.”

You cringe, feeling a little bad about the whole thing. You didn’t mean to make Nico feel bad or like you don’t like his mustache. Yeah you don’t love it, but he’s Nico -your Nico -and everything about him is always so beautiful.

“I may be struggling to enjoy it,” you explain hesitantly, “I just am not used to it and he’s never been a mustache guy. Maybe like a day or two but he always shaves.”

“Oof,” Timo laughs, “yeah you probably hurt his feelings. Literally his biggest flex is that you think he’s so pretty.”

Groaning painfully, you thump your head against the steering wheel before pouting up at the red light. You’ve always Nico to be a sensitive person, not in a bad way or anything. He’s just never hid or pushed down feelings when it came to you, and it physically makes you ache to think that your reaction to his new facial hair made him so insecure he didn’t want to tell you.

You’ve got some major Nico loving to make up for.

~~~~

Nico is sat in the Devils booth of The Rock, hunched over the scheduling iPad as the boys mill around the bar. Jesper and Jonas are actually working it looks like, Jonas holding a ladder that has the smaller of the two men perched at the top, Jesper screwing in a new security camera. He’s got Mercer and Alex stocking the bar, and you almost laugh at the overly straight and organized bottles on Mercer’s side compared to haphazardly placed ones on Alex’s.

The Hughes boys are doing something they’re probably not suppose to be doing on the upper level, no where to be seen but definitely heard.

Timo parts from you to go join Jesper and Jonas, who look like they could use it by the way Jesper is trembling on the top rung.

You approach the booth, setting the lunch you brought for Nico onto the table alongside your greens smoothie. He looks up at you when you drop your jacket into the seat, eyes following your movement when you slide in next to him.

“Hey,” he mumbles, and something melancholy settles in the air. A bittersweet smile tugs at your lips, your heart throbbing when you take in the dejected look in his big brown eyes and the way he’s pouting.

“Hi,” you greet, reaching up brush his hair away from his face. Then you hold his cheek, brushing your thumb over the scar on his cheekbone. “I brought you lunch.”

He doesn’t bother to look interested. “Thanks baby.”

“I like your mustache,” you say quietly, tenderly pressing your thumb into the hinge of his jaw where you know he gets headaches from clenching. Like its second nature he relaxes, melting into the feeling.

“No you don’t,” he insists, licking at his pouting lips. “S’fine-“

“I do, I do like it Nico. It’s just different and I was teasing because I’m not used to it.”

Nico blinks, fluttering those stupidly pretty eyelashes at you and then two dimples sink into his cheeks. “Yeah?”

Giggling, you cup the back of his head and draw him closer to you. “You know you’re always handsome, no matter what.” You kiss him before he can say anything else, smiling when his hair scratches at your cheeks and lip.

Nico hums, reaching around to grip your hip and pull you until you’re half sitting in his lap. Then he melts back into the booth, sighing contently.

“Would you two get a room, Jesus fuck.”

You peck Nico’s lips one more time for good measure before pulling back, curling into his side and he slips his arm around you.

Nico reaches for his food, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing. The Hughes brothers have made their way down the stairs, and Mercer and Alex have abandoned the bar in favor of crowding around you and Nico.

Which in itself is a little scary, but add the thin and scraggly mustaches they all have is even worse. Desperate for a distraction, you scramble to grab your juice and take a sip, casting a glance over at Nico who’s smirking proudly. He shares a knowing look with you.

“Why are you making that face?”

You look at Jack, forcing yourself to only look in his eyes as you clear your throat. “What face?”

He points an accusing finger at you. “That face, why are you laughing?”

“M’not.”

“You are, Holtz tell her she is.”

Alex looks around helplessly and you do giggle when you realize his poor mustache is nothing but peach fuzz. “Ok now she’s laughing.”

Steadying yourself, you force your smile down. “I love this new look you all have going on.”

Almost immediately they all groan, offended and outraged and you can’t even listen to them. Hunching over into Nico’s shoulder you cackle, tears springing up in your eyes and stomach aching.

You can feel him chuckle, one hand rubbing at your back to calm you down. Finally you peel yourself off of him, wiping at your wet eyes as the boys glare at you.

“Don’t be mean, it’s for a good cause.” Mercer defends.

“What cause?”

“Movember,” Jack states proudly, “it was Nico’s idea. Good cause and we all bond over our shared ‘staches.” He strokes over his lame excuse of a mustache and Luke cringes, cheeks tinting pink.

You look to Nico. “This was your doing?”

He looks utterly pleased with himself, shrugging nonchalantly but there’s a twinkle of mischief in his features. The sight makes you giddy. What has he been up to?

The other three boys wonder up behind the rest, and you cackle again at the blonde patch of hair on Jesper’s lip and the razor burn on Jonas’s chin. Offended, they frown at you.

“S’like our new tradition,” Jesper says but it sounds more like a question as he examines Nico.

Your boyfriend beams at you. “Like last year we did no nut November,” he explains, and you roll your eyes. You hated that stupid challenge between them, and if you recall correctly, they all did too.

“Yeah and you lost,” Timo mocks, glancing at you because you know all too well why Nico lost. And Nico knows too because you can’t for the life of you keep a secret from him.

“Hey you all cried to y/n to make me lose,” Nico argues, and Timo’s mouth drops open.

“Traitor!” Jesper gasps, pointing at you. “You weren’t supposed to tell him we came to you.”

“Hey the only loyalty I have is to him,” you jab your thumb in Nico’s direction. “And his dick.”

Nico’s smirk grows, shuffling in his seat as he accepts the compliment from you. “You all went crying to her about how dry November was making me mean. And that’s why I lost.”

“Should’ve known to never trust a temptress,” Jack mutters, glaring at you. Offended, you glare back.

“Well you can’t a grow a mustache,” you hiss, “in fact none of you can. That dirt smear on your lip looks like it took twenty years to grow Jack.”

He clutches his heart, offended and looks to Nico for help. Nico takes a sip of your smoothie, gesturing for them to leave. “M’on her side. Get back to work, all of you.”

They grumble, stalking away from the table and muttering to each other as they return to their assigned jobs for the day. Shuffling, you turn to Nico.

“You’re so mean for letting them walk around like that.” You giggle quietly, and Nico snickers.

“You should see the update selfies they’ve been taking,” he whispers, pleased with himself. “Think I’ll make a collage of them and hang them in the office before I tell them it was all a joke.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this was to get back at them for last year?”

He shrugs. “You were so fucking good to me after they whined last year that I wanted it to be a surprise. And was it a good one, or what?”

You laugh again, flashing back to seeing them all standing around you earlier, so proud of their matching mustaches.

“It’s kind of cute,” you mumble thoughtfully, laying your head on his shoulder. “They all wanted to be like you.”

Nico hums in agreement. Then he’s sliding the iPad to you. “Look this over, yeah? Make sure I’ve got the schedule and times right for Thanksgiving.”

He’s so sweet, you think, looking over the calendar he’s filled in. Even when he’s fucking around and embarassing the boys, he’s given them slack for almost the whole month. And he’s even written in the day off for Friday after Thanksgiving. Instead a big red heart is drawn on the day and in his perfectly slanted handwriting is written “Family Sleepover”.

“Looks good,” you agree, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “But the mustaches have to go by Thanksgiving. I am not having those in any photos.”

“Yes ma’am.”

[solxamber]

Romance Clichés With: Idia Shroud

Cliché: The Dramatic Save

Others: Leona ; Vil ; Azul ; Kalim

The thing about Idia is that he’s very used to lurking in the background. Life is much simpler that way. But ever since you’d started spending more time with him, he’d found himself in the wildest, most "otome game" situations imaginable. And today? Today topped them all.

You’d been standing together in the courtyard, him telling you about his latest game finds, hands shoved into his pockets as he tried not to fidget too much. It was rare he got to hang out with someone he, uh, actually wanted to hang out with, so his nerves were pinging off the charts.

That’s when it happened.

With zero warning, a large, heavy textbook teetered off the edge of a windowsill above and began its rapid descent towards Idia’s head. He didn’t notice; he was too busy stammering about his latest high score. But you did.

In one swift move, you threw yourself across the space between you and practically flew through the air, hands outstretched like some overdramatic action hero.

You managed to get between him and the descending missile (okay, just a textbook, but in the moment, it was deadly), and though the impact wasn’t as dramatic as you’d pictured, you still managed to shield him with your entire being, shoving him safely aside.

By the time he realized what was going on, you were already fussing over him. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?! Did it hit you anywhere?”

He blinked, processing what just happened as you started checking his head for bumps, squinting at his shocked face. “Uh… w-what?” he stammered, brain catching up about three seconds too late. “Did… did you just… jump in front of me?” The look of awe on his face was equal parts adorable and ridiculous.

“Well, obviously!” You laughed, still fussing, hands on his shoulders. “Are you alright?”

Idia’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to process the sheer amount of romance that just smacked him in the face. You, his crush, his dream come to life, had gone full protagonist, for him. It was like the best tropes had all collided in his brain at once, and it was overwhelming in the best way possible.

“N-No one’s ever done something like that… f-for me…” he mumbled, cheeks reddening as he stared at you with this helpless, smitten look.

You tilted your head, a soft smile crossing your face. “Well, I’d do it again if it meant keeping you safe, Idia.”

Somewhere in his brain, the confetti cannons were going off. The “love meter” hit max. The screen flashed “TRUE ENDING” in bold, sparkly letters. He knew it was all real, but a tiny part of him felt like he’d accidentally triggered some hidden route with a secret character, and that character was you.

And before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush. “I think I’m in love with you. Like, maybe have been for a while. You’re like, the one or something, and—oh my god, why am I saying this out loud—”

He clamped a hand over his mouth, wide-eyed, as if he could just take it back if he tried hard enough. But instead, he saw you looking at him, your smile widening as you took his hand, gently pulling it down.

“You mean it?” you asked, a bit of awe creeping into your voice.

He couldn’t look at you, his eyes darting everywhere except your face as he mumbled, “Y-Yeah, I mean, yeah, I do. I can’t believe you’re real, honestly, this feels like a fever dream, but—”

Before he could talk himself out of it, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, quick and sweet. It was enough to short-circuit his brain, and when you pulled back, he just blinked, stunned, frozen like his internal processing unit had just maxed out.

“Does that answer your question?” you teased, unable to hold back a little laugh at his flustered expression.

“Uh-huh,” he finally managed, a dopey smile creeping onto his face as his brain rebooted. “Y-Yeah… yes.” He cleared his throat, trying to seem cooler, but the blush on his cheeks was a dead giveaway.

And as you both stood there, your hands still linked, he felt like the luckiest player in the world—like he’d stumbled upon the rarest, sweetest route of them all, and he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

Masterlist

[scuderiahalf]

(almost) one year with you — c.sainz

pairing. carlos sainz x strategist!norris!fem!reader

summary. your boyfriend is usually so intelligent. when he makes one of the stupidest decisions of his life to break up with you, his best friend (and your idiot brother) decides to take matters into his own hands. 4.3k, 18+

warnings. breakups = makeup sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, reader is kind of a bitch but carlos is into it

masterlist.

.

"I'm going to kick the door open."

"Please, do not do that," Carlos says from behind you.

"You think I can't?"

Smartly, Carlos chooses not to voice any further opinions.

You kick the door, more out of frustration than an actual attempt to break it open.

"I'm going to murder you when I get out of here, Lando!" you shout against the door, not really caring if your idiot brother has hung around to hear the very real threat.

You may not actually kill him (you're still debating it) but you will definitely hit him. At least five times. Maybe more. And he's not getting any of your late-night stress-baked cookies for several months. Asshole.

You kick the door again, harder. The wood bends near the bottom from the impact, rattling in the doorframe but otherwise unmoving. Your groan turns into a yell of frustration, punctuated by you hitting the still closed door with both hands. You seriously cannot believe Lando would do this.

"Are you finished?"

Carlos sounds almost amused.

If he hadn't been literally thrown into the room by not just Lando but Max and Alex as well, you might think he's in on this whole scheme. Instead, you just glare at him, irritated that he's so calm while you're both being held against your will.

"Is being made to be near me that horrible?" Carlos says.

"Oh, fuck off."

"You are acting as if they will not have to let us out eventually."

"How long is that going to take? Huh? I don't want to be locked in here for hours. It's actually FUCKING RIDICULOUS!"

You're shouting at the door again, hoping your dumbass brother and his stupid fucking friends can hear.

They all better be prepared for the consequences. There's no one better at holding a grudge than you.

You never should have trusted Lando when he had insisted you come to Charles Leclerc’s dumb yacht party. He never wants to be seen in public with you much less all but beg you to attend a party with all his friends who are so much cooler than you because he's an F1 driver and all his friends are, too, and you're just a strategist.

(You never thought that being a trackside strategist at Scuderia Ferrari would be preceded by "just" as though it isn't an impressive feat but with a brother like Lando Norris, nothing you do ever really seems to measure up. You're the reason Lando ever got into racing or F1 in the first place. So really, this is your own fault.)

You give up harassing the door (it locks from the inside so there must be something blocking it in the hallway) and start searching the room for another way out. It's a bedroom, and you're choosing to assume that it just happened to be the easiest place to trap you both and not a purposeful nudge to something untoward. Lando isn't that crude. You think.

After this little stunt, you don't think he deserves the benefit of the doubt.

You start checking all the drawers to see if there's anything useful. You don't actually know what you're looking for. Maybe like a fire axe or a hand saw so you can brute force your way out of here.

"We could talk," Carlos proposes.

"And give Lando what he wants? No, thank you."

"You are so proud. Can we not talk this out?"

"What's there to talk out, Carlos? You dumped me, remember?"

That shuts him up.

You refuse to look at him. Even with your back to him as you search through a completely empty dresser, you can feel the look on his face. Full lips pouting, big brown cow eyes all sad and pitiful. You'd fold like a cheap suit if you saw his pretty eyes right now and you're trying really hard to stay strong and hang onto your anger so you won't give in.

There's nothing in any of the dresser drawers. The nightstands are fruitless, too. The wardrobe houses only empty hangers, and not even the cheap wire ones that could be bent into something useful like a weapon to kill yourself with if things get any more tense in this tiny room.

"I regret it," he says.

You close the wardrobe with a heavy breath.

"I regretted it as soon as I said we should end it."

"Cry me a river, Sainz. Build a bridge. Get over it. You don't get to call me ‘nothing but a distraction’ then tell me you regret it and expect me to forgive you just like that—fuck this. I'm going to swim to shore."

You yank the balcony door open and climb up onto one of the chairs so you can get over the railing.

"Y/N!" Carlos curses in Spanish, scrambles after you and gets an arm around you before you can actually step up onto the railing. "What are you doing?!"

"I just said! I'm going to swim to shore. Let me go!"

Carlos picks you up like a purse dog and carries you back into the room. He stands in front of the balcony door after setting you down, blocking your only escape route.

"You cannot swim to shore. We are miles out of sea!"

"If it gets me out of this room, I'd do it!"

"Can you not just talk to me?"

"No!"

"Why?!"

"Because I don't want to!"

"What are you afraid is to happen?"

"I don't have to explain myself. Especially not to you."

So, you don't explain yourself. You walk over to the couch and take a seat, arms and legs crossed, looking anywhere but at Carlos.

You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to that first date with Carlos last year. You know what you were signing up for. You knew all the judgement would be on you if/when you decided to go public. You knew Ferrari would have many things to say about your relationship, and they did, when you told them earlier in the season before it could potentially get ugly with a reveal from unsasvory sources.

You knew all of that and you went for it, anyway, because could you even call yourself a Norris if you didn't go after what you wanted? You knew what being with Carlos would bring but apparently, you were the only one.

After eleven amazing months together, Carlos got cold feet. You don't know how else to describe it. You had told your family after three months; he'd told his after just one. Everyone was happy for you. Your family loves Carlos, and the Sainz clan accepted you with open arms. You were so happy.

But as your relationship pushed a year, Carlos said you needed to talk, called you a distraction, subsequently hazardous for his line of work, and ended things.

Did you call him an emotionally stunted manchild before storming out of the cafe he asked to meet at? If you did, he surely deserved it.

A few weeks after that, you're where you are now, locked in a bedroom on a yacht while a party rages on several floors above. Carlos says he regrets breaking up with you, that he wanted to take back everything he said, but he already said it and that's how things are now.

You'll not be the girl he comes crawling back to whenever it's convenient for him. If going steady is a hazard for work, then an off again-on again situationship is definitely not OSHA-compliant. You refuse to lower yourself to being a doormat that Carlos wipes his feet on whenever he feels he has the time.

After a while of standing guard at the balcony door, Carlos makes a move to sit on the couch with you.

"No," you say.

He halts midstep.

"You can sit on the bed."

Slowly, as though giving you a chance to change your mind, Carlos sulks over to the bed and sits.

He's moving to Williams next year. He has only a handful of races left in rosso corsa. He doesn't know you're sitting on a job offer that could have you following him, a promotion to head strategist at the Oxfordshire team that you can't believe you're actually debating because of your standing with a man.

You've told no one of Williams's proposition. So, you really don't know why you open your mouth to tell Carlos of all people.

"Williams wants me as their head strategist."

He looks up, eyes bright, surprised but excited for you. "What? That is amazing."

"Yeah, I know it is," you say, glaring at him again. "I haven't accepted yet, though."

Carlos is quiet, then carefully says, "Because of me?"

"No," you say because it's just ridiculous for that to be the reason you're holding up contract negotiations, "Yes, because of you. Obviously. I don't want you thinking I'm following you. I'm not. I'm pursuing my career. So, I know that changes you being all regretful. I just want to clarify things before you hear about it from someone else.”

“Why would it change how I feel?”

“Because we’ll still be coworkers next season.”

“That changes it? What does it change?”

Carlos' accent (hot as fuck) and the way he doesn't always say things 100% correct (cute as fuck) are misleading for his actual understanding of the English language. So, you're really not sure what he's getting confused over.

He's leaving. You were supposed to be staying. No longer working together meant no distractions for him until you would meet up at a hotel after a shitty quali and he would fuck the shit out of you. Or something like that.

It'd feel good in the moment but you don't want him for just sex. You don't want casual. You don't want to be a convenient, low-maintenance, not-quite-official girlfriend. You won't do it. No matter how pretty he is.

And his plan to get you back was ruined now that you'd be moving to Williams for next season, anyway.

“I’d not be a distraction if I was staying at Ferrari. Now, we’ll both still be on the same team. Not convenient for you to still be in a toxic work environment, huh? So, you can cut the crap.”

“That has nothing to do with my regret."

"I won't be a casual fuck buddy who you can't stand to be around when it doesn't work for you."

"I never said that!"

He seems genuinely hurt by your implication but you won't fall for it, won't let it deter you.

"It's kind of implied. You know with the whole 'I have to focus on my driving' thing. Like, what the fuck were you doing for the rest of the time we were together? Nothing changed and you suddenly decided it was too much, then you want me back but I ruined that for you. You'll be seeing me next year, too, so don't even bother with the whole regret speech or whatever."

"I—," Carlos starts, then says nothing.

He can't seem to find the words.

"What? Nothing to say? You wanted to talk. Talk."

"If I am in a team with you or not," he says, slow, calculated, "It does not change that I regret what I said."

Carlos takes a second to think before continuing. That's where you two differ.

Carlos has always been incredibly intelligent. You knew he was gorgeous before you had ever met in person but his mind made him appeal even more to you when you first started working trackside last season. Long, intellectual conversations preceded him asking you out after his masterclass in Singapore.

You nearly started foaming at the mouth when he said "it's on purpose" to keeping your brother within DRS to hold off Mercedes. You were ready to jump his bones right then and there in the middle of the team celebration when he asked you to dinner before you flew back to England.

But he was a gentleman. (He didn't fuck you until after your second date, but it was a close thing that first night when you leaned over the center console to kiss him. You'd have ridden him right there in the front seat of that rental car if your idiot brother hadn't chosen then to walk by and make a scene. Kind of a mood killer.)

The two of you both found fascination in the other's way of thinking, Carlos' smooth logic and your chaotic brilliance. He is all thought and few words while you talk and talk until you find your solution.

You always found beauty in the contrast. You balance each other. Simultaneously alike and disimilar. He is someone you saw yourself building a life with. After nearly a year together, those are the kinds of thoughts you start to have about a partner.

"So, you regret it," you gather, "But do you still think I'm a distraction?"

"Of course, you are a distraction. I am in love with you. There is nothing more distracting than that."

You laugh, disbelieving. "You're in love with me but I'm distracting and you can't be with me? Why? Because you love racing more?"

"I was scared. I was stupid. I am stupid. I am."

"Self deprecation won't do you any favors. But, yeah, you are stupid. You're not making any sense."

"I was scared. You were everything I could think of. I thought I could not find a balance between you and racing. But without you, it is even worse. I want you as a distraction. I know that because I have lost you.”

“You haven’t,” you say before your brain even knows what you’re doing. “Not entirely, yet. Maybe… You’re not allowed to do this again. Ever.”

And you’re crying. Of course.

Carlos is at your side in record time, kneeling in front of you, taking immediate advantage of the crack in your defenses. “Never.”

“You can’t do shit like this. You can’t push me aside like I don’t matter. You can’t call me a distraction.”

“You are a distraction. In the best way.”

Unimpressed and wiping your tears, you say, “Wow. You’re such a poet.”

Carlos laughs thickly. “I love you.”

“Ugh, fuck off.”

You’re still wiping at your face. You didn’t cry when Carlos called it quits, refused to let him have any sort of hold over you when he pushed you aside but now, you’re crying. It’s in relief but you still feel your face getting hot from the embarrassment of it.

He knocks your hands aside to cup your cheeks. “You are the love of my life. I will do whatever it takes to fix what I broke.”

“S’not broken. Just bent. Or whatever the saying is. I don’t fucking care—just kiss me.”

Carlos’ “yes, ma’am” is muffled against your lips.

It’s only been three weeks (three and a half but who’s counting) since he last kissed you but it feels like an eternity.

It’s salty from your tears and wet, also from the tears but more from the way you let his tongue into your mouth after probably not enough time has passed. You don’t care. You just want him.

“I love you," you break the kiss to say. "Don't leave me."

"I won't."

"Say it back."

"I love you. I love you I love you I love you."

.

His words jumble between English and Spanish as he kisses down your body.

Your breath catches as he pulls your hips further down the cushion you're sat on. Stupid F1 driver muscles. You want to sink your teeth into his bicep, make him walk around with the bruise, a reminder of who he belongs to.

He slips his fingers into the waistband of your pants, looks up for permission. You lift your hips. You've missed what his big brown eyes look like when they're all dark with want.

He pulls your pants and underwear down and tosses them aside, tugging you even closer to the edge of the couch. Your legs part. He puts your knees on his shoulders then finally pushes his face between your thighs.

You let your head fall back as you sigh, probably sounding ridiculous but he's always been good at this.

He had you ride his face one time. He practically had to beg to get you to agree. There was a lot of him gripping onto you, arms wrapped around your thighs and hips to force you to stay in place. He'd kept you there until you couldn't stay upright or fight against his hold, coaxing multiple orgasms out of you with just his mouth.

Then, he'd fucked you until you came for a fifth time. (You tell a guy one time about how your last partner hadn't the patience to get more than one orgasm out of you, and he makes it his life's mission to get three or more every time you go at it. How terrible for you. Ha.)

He eats you out like a man starving, like he has something to prove. To be fair, he does but he's not going to be entirely back in your good graces just because he's helping you get off for the first time in three and a half weeks. This is just extra credit.

One of his hands finds yours. He tangles your fingers and holds your hand as he involves his free fingers in slipping past your entrance. You open up for him with obscene ease, legs falling apart even further.

He fucks you with a single finger slow, slow, slow while his tongue licks languidly at your clit.

"Carlos," you whine his name.

You don't need all the pleasure you already know he's more than capable of giving you. You just need to get off already.

"I will get you there, hermosa," he promises with a kiss to your inner thigh.

"Get there faster; I don't want my idiot brother thinking better of his insane plan and letting us out while you're nose-deep in my cunt."

Carlos huffs a laugh. You can feel the air against where you're wet. It makes you squirm.

Usually, Carlos would tell you to stay still and be patient but seems to think better of it this time. You would probably still do as he says, circumstance regardless, but he doesn't need to know that. He just presses his lips back to your pussy.

He sucks on the hardened little bundle of nerves at the joint of your labia just how he knows will make you go limp and needy. He pushes a second then a third finger into you, the stretch just that much more than you can manage with your own, smaller digits.

You could've gotten it with the neglected dildo that lives somewhere mostly forgotten in your closet. There was something that felt so final about bringing out the toy you haven't needed since that second date. Thankfully, you still don't need it. You should consider just pitching it, at this point.

You push your hand through Carlos' hair, brushing the ridiculously perfect locks off his forehead so you can watch his stupid, beautiful face as he goes down on you.

"You're so pretty like this, baby," you praise.

His dark eyes flicker up to you, exhaling against your exposed cunt and shifting his knees on the floor.

You're sure if he had a hand free, he'd be palming himself over his pants. He gets off on you getting off and praise goes straight to his dick. You've got this fantasy of making him come completely untouched but you might need to do actual research on that before it becomes a reality.

He sticks his tongue down with his fingers, lapping at your hole and spitting your wetness onto your clit just because it's hot. Like the way he's slobbering over you isn't enough to make the glide of his tongue over your clit smooth and delectable.

"Come on, baby. Don't tease. Not now."

Carlos makes this little displeased noise in the back on his throat.

Quickies aren't really in Carlos' sexual vocabulary. He occasionally likes it as rough and fast as the next dick-haver but he's more of a spread you open and make love to you for hours at a time kind of guy.

He took you to a secluded little cabana in Mallorca for a week during summer break specifically so you two could spend days on end doing nothing but loving on each other. Then, he took you to meet his family and you had to pretend like you hadn't spent the majority of the week prior with their golden child's dick or fingers or tongue inside of you.

Currently, you're just wanting to find relief without Lando or some other F1 driver walking in on you first.

"Carlos, baby—please."

Carlos likes when you play nice. When you're so desperate for it that your bossy exterior goes away. You tell yourself that you exploit this because your unending pride doesn't like the alternative that you really just are that desperate for it.

He finally starts to finger bang you properly. Combine that with the obscene slurping sounds he's making against your clit and the lack of action for nearly a month and no one could really blame you for not taking long to hit your high.

Heat curls and explodes in your gut and up your spine, back arching, lungs gasping, Carlos' name falling from your mouth as your thighs try to close around his head. He gets his elbows up to hold your legs open. His fingers keep fucking you through your orgasm. He pulls his other hand free of your grip to massage your clit with his thumb, kissing your thighs, pubes, stomach.

He captures your lips in a kiss while you're still riding it out. It's intense and leg-shaking after so long without, emotion-driven, which is the best kind but not worth it after knowing what the fear of losing him is like. You can hardly kiss him back, face pulled in pleausre, moans spilling past your lips that Carlos swallows unburdened.

You tuck your face into his shoulder as he drags it out just to the precipice of overstimulation. You tug him into you, arms around his shoulders, fingers tugging the hair at the base of his skull. He lets his fingers rest inside of you, rests that thumb against your clit so he can hold you back with one arm, at least.

You just breathe for a moment, composing yourself where he can't see your face. The worst may be over but the level of trust you'd built over months together would not be so easily reinstated. He'd have to work hard for that, much harder than a sinlge mind-blowing orgasm.

"Don't leave me," you say in a whisper. "You can't, okay?"

"I won't."

"Promise."

"I promise I will not leave you again. I am the most dumb man if I lose you another time. I will deserve it, then."

"Be smart, then. Like I know you have the capacity to be."

Carlos pulls his fingers out. He catches your shiver, still wrapped up in his one arm. He kisses your cheek before finding something to clean his hands with. You've pulled your pants back on when he's finished.

"Likelihood someone heard us?" you prompt.

"Heard you, you mean?"

You kick at him as he comes back over to you. "Watch it."

He tucks you against his side once he's sat. "Scale?"

"One to a hundred."

"90, at least."

You smack his chest. "Dick."

"You are very loud, mi amor. You talk so much, and you make such pretty noises."

"Don't insult me immediately after I've forgiven you."

You've not drawn away from him at all. In fact, you've tucked your feet up on the couch to curl into him fully.

Carlos knows this. He presses a kiss to your temple.

"I love you. I am sorry I am so stupid."

"I guess I've just got to have enough brains and beauty for the both of us."

"You have always."

You hide your smile in his chest. He holds your thigh when you put your legs across his lap. Now you've got him back, you want to be as close as physically possible. Whoever first said they want to be inside their partner's skin really gets it.

.

George Russell ends up getting sent to let you two out. Evidently, your brother fled the scene of the crime once the yacht returned to port in the early hours of the morning. He dumped the chore of opening Pandora's box on an innocnet bystander.

"I am so sorry—"

"Oh, clever," you say when you spot the poor Brit, "He sends an uninvolved party to let me out like I couldn't track him anywhere in the world. I've his trainer's phone number and Jon likes me more than him. I am going to beat his skinny little muppet ass. When I find him—"

You trip over the tangle of chairs that had been used to barricade the bedroom door from the outside.

Carlos catches your elbow.

"Amor, it is late," he says. "Sleep, first, hm?"

You relax into his hold a bit, a silent concession. It'll be easier to murder your little brother after a good night's sleep, anyway.

"So, are you two...?" George trails off.

You cut him a glare.

"Nothing. Never mind. Apologies."

He speeds around the two of you and off the boat.

"The 2019 rookies are all terrified of you."

"Good."

Carlos laughs. "I am excited to see what Alex is like with you next year."

You smile.

Next year, you'll still be working with Carlos. It'll be at a different team, a midfielder at best but at least Carlos will still be on the grid. He'll still find increasingly laughable excuses to be in engineering just to see you. He'll still come home to you, the same that you'll come home to him.

A future with Carlos is still in the cards. He'll be damned if he messes it up again, you know that much.

[mattsnight]

Hide it - Matt Sturniolo

Summary: in which Matt hides his feelings for you, but eventually can’t take it anymore.

Warnings: fluff, cursing,

A/N:

Matt couldn’t hide it any longer. He couldn’t hide his love for you. His feelings were hard to control when you were around. It was sickening. He didn’t say anything about it, because he didn’t want to hurt you or ruin the friendship you guys have. It was too important for, but he also couldn’t stuff his feelings away any longer. He was in love with you and that was a problem.

Every time you hang out with Nick Matt’s in the room. He’s always staring at you, but when you turn to look at him he quickly turns away. You didn’t think much of it, until things changed. Matt started acting weird. He was always stuttering around you and didn’t have proper conversations with you.

You had come to the triplets’ house to make some pictures with Nick. The house was mostly quiet, only soft sounds were heard from Matt’s room. He was most likely playing fortnight. You sat down on the couch, waiting for Nick to return from his room.

“Oh hey y/n..” you suddenly hear a voice say. You look at the figure, it’s Matt. A small smile forms on your face as you wave at him. He freezes at your smile, regretting his decision of coming out of his room. He was already getting nervous at the fact of his crush being infront of him. Suddenly a wave of confidence washes over him. It was now or never. “Y/N i can’t do this anymore.” He says, swallowing.

“Can’t do what?” You ask, looking at him in confusion.

“I-“ he runs his hand through his hair. There’s a moment of silence. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t just say ‘hey im in love with you! Can we make out?’ can he? Another deep breath leaves his mouth as he tries to get himself together. “Fucking hell..” He holds his breath as he looks into your eyes to see any kind of reaction. “Can’t you see how obsessed i am with you?” A surprised sound leaves your mouth. You don’t say anything for a while, surprised by his confession.

“Jesus Y/N, say something please.” He begs. His nervousness gets worse within seconds. Did you hate him now? “I- you like me?” You ask. Realization hits you hard. He actually likes you. Your mind goes blank at the thought, all your thoughts vanishing. He slides both his hands into his pockets, hiding how badly he’s sweating.

“Yes Y/N and im tired of you not noticing! I tried everything to make you look at me, yet it’s not working.” He groans mentally, blaming himself for raising his voice at you. “Sorry… i-“ he starts, but gets cut off when you slam your lips against his. This kiss was everything he needed. Everything he needed to know you had the same feeling about him and it was amazing. It wasn’t passionate, just full of love and desperation.

Your hands slide into his hair, gently pulling at it to get closer. His hands go down your sides, gripping you tightly. You slowly start backing up into a wall, which he does too. Then he pulls back to get some air. You look up into his blue eyes, smiling. He smiles back almost immediately, wiping your hair out of your face. “That was..” he chuckles, still a hit breathless. “So fuckin’ amazing.”

Suddenly you hear a laugh behind you. You turn around to see Nick standing there. He had watched the whole scene and was laughing by it. Matt rolls his eyes, before looking away. “Took you long enough, kid. Will you stop bothering me now you’ve kissed the girl?” Nick smiles, before looking at you. “He wouldn’t stop talking about you. Seriously. It was so tiring.”

A small smile forms on your face. You look at Matt who’s now filled up with embarrassment. “I’ll leave you guys alone. Let’s do the pictures another time, alright?” Nick suggests. You nod, knowing you need time to let this sink in and spend some time with Matt.

This was gonna be great.

no nut november fic 3! I hope yall like this💞 (also i wont be posting as much since i need to learn for assignments and stuff</3)

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 21- Paradise

Summary: Now that you and Javi are married, it's time for you to enjoy two weeks of nothing but your three favorite "S's"- Sun, sand, and sex. Lots of Sex.

Word Count: 13.9K

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex, oral (f and m receiving) vaginal fingering, praise kink, marriage kink, big, fat, nasty, unspeakable breeding kink (WHOOPS), stopping birth control/starting a family, kind of semi-public sex (sex on the beach hehe), alcohol/drinking (y'all are getting wasted at the pool), I'm convinced these two can't have sex without getting caught (sorry, Chucho), Javi in a bathing suit, these two are so stupidly in love

A/N: ..... Hey.... Y'all remember when I actually wrote for this story.... 😭 I'm genuinely SO sorry that this chapter took me literal months to finish, but she is finally here!!! Thank you so much for all of your patience and the love you've shown these two even in this story's absence 🥺 I hope you enjoy these two horndogs on their honeymoon!!!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

“We have all of our bags?” 

“Yup.” 

“Passports?” 

“Mhmmmm.” 

“Plane tickets?” 

“Yes.” 

“We’re positive that we have-” 

“Baby, I promise, I triple checked everything this morning, it’s all waiting by the front door, all we have to do now is just wait for my dad to pick us up and take us to the airport, and all my wife needs to do is take a deep breath and relax.” 

My wife. 

Even though you had been married for less than 24 hours, you knew the sentiment of finally getting to be Javi’s wife wasn’t wearing off on you any time soon. 

Javi smiled, playfully crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at you as you ran through your honeymoon inventory again, knowing damn well you looked like a fool in your frantic pre-traveling state. You more than trusted that Javi had everything the two of you needed before you left for the airport, but you just couldn’t shake the fact that you felt like you were forgetting something, despite all your checks and re-checks. 

“Well, your wife will be much more relaxed once we land after being trapped in a flying tin can and have two feet on the ground again.” You sighed, trying not to let your fear of flying override your excitement to finally arrive in the Bahamas later that day. “God, I feel like I forgot to pack something important but I can’t figure out what.” 

As you stared in frustration at your pile of suitcases, you could feel Javi sneaking behind you, flushing his chest to your back as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he rested his chin on your shoulder, planting a soft kiss on your temple. 

“I think I know what it is.” Javi smirked, his kisses traveling down your jaw as he nipped at your ear, making you turn your head back toward him in confusion. 

“Oh, so now you’re a husband and a mind reader. That honestly will come in very handy.” You teased, giggling while you shifted around to face him, draping his arms around his neck as his hands traveled down your waist, reaching down to grab a handful of your ass. “Jesus Javi, what in the world am I forgetting, because you seem pretty darn happy I can’t remember it.” 

“You really don’t know?” Javi asked, almost mockingly, tightening his grip around your hips, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck, the hot words of his breath dancing across your skin. 

“No, Mr. Mind Reader, I don’t, and you’re making it very hard to concentrate and figure out what it is.” 

You were trying your best to genuinely let your brain run out its train of thought, but as Javi’s kisses across your collarbone became wetter and sloppier, trying to form any sort of coherent idea was practically impossible. 

Javi paused for a moment, reaching both hands up to cusp your face, his broad hands cradling your jaw as his thumbs swiped across your cheeks, looking up at him to see the boyish grin spread from cheek to cheek. 

“You’re forgetting something because you’re forgetting to bring it on purpose. Something we threw away this morning, remember?” 

Oh shit. 

You were forgetting something. Only, now that you finally remembered what it was, you couldn’t be happier that you had forgotten it. 

Your birth control. 

As Javi watched your face quickly fade from confusion to delight, your grin was just about as wide as his, biting down on your lip to try and contain your excitement while your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. 

The two of you could actually start trying for a baby. 

“You remember now?” Javi teased, laughing to himself at how wide your eyes had gone, practically beaming from the inside out at your husband, feeling butterflies swirl in your stomach and heat building in your core. 

Leaning up, your mouth met Javi’s in a sloppy dance of tongues and teeth, lips crashing together in electric excitement, grabbing a fistfull of the fitted green t-shirt covering his chest and tugging him closer towards you. 

“How much longer until your dad is supposed to be here?” You rasped, already breathing heavily from your frantic kisses and anticipation. 

Quickly, Javi looked down at his watch wrapped around his wrist, the gears turn in his brain, calculating if the two of you had enough time to do what he knew you were proposing. 

“Fuck- Like, 40 minutes?” 

Without saying a word, both of you agreed in silent, rushed nods that 40 minutes was enough time to give yourself enough of a buffer, and the risk definitely didn’t outweigh the reward, knowing there was no way in hell that you could wait an entire plane ride and arriving at your hotel room to fuck. 

In an instant, your mouths were crashing together again, Javi grabbing the underside of your thighs to hoist you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you back towards the couch in the living room, the back of his knees hitting the sofa as he collapsed into his seat, you still straddling his lap without ever parting your lips. 

Javi’s hands crept below the hem of your shirt, shuffling it over your head and tossing it on the floor before shuffling your shorts and underwear off to join your top in a crumpled pile on the floor. Your hands worked rapidly at the waistband of Javi’s shorts, lifting up off his lap to push them down his thighs, revealing the hard and weeping mess his cock had already become since carrying you over to the couch, your cunt aching at the sight of his length and how desperately you wanted to be filled by it. 

“God, I wanna fuck you so bad.” You whimpered between your wet kisses, shifting yourself closer to hover over his dick, so turned on that you were convinced that your arousal was already dripping down your thighs at an embarrassing rate. 

“Baby, you have no fucking idea.” Javi groaned, dragging his fingers through your folds, your body jolting at the sensation at the pads of his fingers rubbing over your clit, throbbing and aching under his touch. “Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking wet.” 

Reaching down to wrap your hand around the base of his cock, stroking it a few times, you slowly lowered yourself down onto his tip, knowing that with your limited time and how turned on you were, you didn’t want to feel anything besides the sweet sting of Javi’s stretch filling you to the brim. 

The two of you moaned in unison as you sank down on his length, bottoming out until you had taken every inch of him, taking a second to adjust to his size before rolling your hips over his lap in figure eights. 

“F-fuck, you feel so good, Javi.” You whined, circling your bottom half faster, the friction of the hairs at the base of Javi’s cock rubbing deliciously against your clit combined with Javi groping at your breasts, sucking at one of your pebbled nipples while he rolled the other between his fingers, making your breath hitch in the back of your throat. 

Javi began to let his hips rut up into yours, thrusting his length deeper into your cunt as you rode him, his hands sliding down the sides of your body and wrapping around your ass, massaging the plump flesh between his fingers while his lips crashed into yours again, catching each other’s muffled moans. 

“F-fuck…”  Javi whined, tightening his grip to try and maintain his composure as his thoughts began to flow straight from his brain through his mouth. “I’m gonna fuck you so full of me, Osita. Fuck a baby into you, get you pregnant, watch you grow our our kid and give us our perfect family.” 

“Oh my god- fuck- yes. Please, Javi. Fuck, I want you to knock me up. I wanna- fuck- I wanna  make you a daddy.” You moaned, running your hands through the dark curls of Javi’s hair as he began to pound into you even harder, his fingertips gripping your hips with bruising intensity as he guided you up and down his cock, the two of you both so lost in your own pleasure that you hadn’t heard a faintly familiar voice echoing from the front door. 

“Javi, Mija, I know I’m a little early but I figured you’d rather get to the airport earlier than later!” 

Little did poor Chucho know that today was one of the few times in his life that he would regret showing up anywhere earlier than expected. 

Surprised by the lack of response, despite the packed and stacked bags waiting by the front door, an unsuspecting Chucho kicked off his boots and began meandering down the entryway towards your living room, where and even more unsuspecting you and Javi were half dressed and sprawled across your couch trying to make a baby. 

“Javier? Mija? Are you two ready to leave soon? I was hoping that- Oh Dios Mio!” 

“AHHHHHHH!” 

With Javi’s back to his dad as you sat in his lap, you were the first to lock eyes with your now father-in-law, your jaw practically falling to the floor as you let out a panicked shriek, causing Javi to whip his own head around, terror running through his veins as he frantically threw you off his lap and tried to cover the both of you with the nearest blanket he could find. 

“Jesus Christ, Pops!” Javi shouted, hands covering his face that had turned bright red in quite possibly the world's worst kind of embarrassment. “Why are you here so early?! Please just, I- I don’t know, for Christ’s sake, please go wait outside!” He sighed, pointing towards the front door where Chucho had just regrettably entered from. 

“How was I supposed to know!? I figured I would be safe! Say no more, I will just go wait on the front porch. Aye, aye, aye…” Chucho replied, quickly scampering away towards the door, eyes peeled to the ground and arms up in self-defense, waiting until you heard the soft slam and clicking lock behind him before peering out from underneath your blanket shield. 

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Javi groaned, hands still covering his face as you looked up at him, cheeks glowing beet red in embarrassment. 

“Please don’t tell me your dad just walked in on us having sex…” You winced, absolutely knowing the answer to your question, but still somehow praying that maybe, just maybe, you were imaging things. 

“... My dad definitely just walked in on us having sex.” Javi sighed, his face as almost as red as yours, scrambling to find your clothes scattered between the cushions, tossing them over to you, frantically trying to cover yourself up to save any ounce of dignity you had left. 

“Well, looks like I am going to start walking to the airport because I don’t think I can ever make eye contact with your dad again…” You muttered, making you and Javi laugh just enough to try and ease the uncomfortable tension, wondering how in the world you were supposed to spend an entire ride to the airport with Chucho without wanting to crawl out of your skin. “I thought you said he was supposed to get here later!”

“Well that’s what I thought too, but apparently not!” Javi grumbled, shuffling his shirt over his head, combing his hand through his hair to try and fix the mess you had made raking your fingers through it. 

“Guess we won’t have any worries about getting to the airport on time…” 

“Guess you’re right about that. Fuck me…” 

“Sure you don’t wanna start walking?” 

While Chucho, you and Javi had seemingly made a silent pact to not say a peep to each other the entire car ride for the duration of your drive, every passing second seemed more awkward and uncomfortable than the last, truly regretting your decision to not grab your bags and walk along the highway to try and catch your flight. 

It wasn’t until Chucho began pulling up to drop the two of you off that he decided it was time to break your truce, his eyes meeting yours in the rear view mirror as the two of you sat awkwardly in the backseat, bracing yourself the moment you could feel his mouth begin to open. 

“You know, the night of our wedding, Lucia and I just couldn’t keep our hands off each other either, it was so-” 

“Dad!” Javi interjected, his face physically scrunching in pain at the thought of how his father planned to complete the rest of that thought, trying to cut him off before he could get any further. 

“Lo siento (Sorry)! God forbid I try to do something to ease the tension!” Chucho chuckled, throwing his hands up in defense at his statement. 

“I don’t think where you were headed was the way to do that, Pops.” Javi muttered, letting out another deep sigh of embarrassment. 

 “Well lucky for you, it looks like we’re here.” Chucho smiled, pulling into one of the parking spots outside of your gate and turning off the ignition. “Here, let me help you with the bags in the trunk and-” 

“Nope, already got it, Pops, please do not get out of the car.” Javi begged, practically sprinting out of the backseat to the trunk, you quickly following behind him, beginning to sheepishly unload your luggage from the car. 

Of course, Chucho being Chucho was not about to take no for an answer, slowly fumbling his way out of the car to greet the two of you at the trunk with a mischievous grin stretched ear to ear. 

“Pops, please, I told you I’ve got it, I-” 

“Oh hush, Javier, I am just coming out to say goodbye, yo promento (I promise).” Chucho laughed, grabbing Javi by the shoulder, giving him a little shake. 

“Bye Chucho.” You grimaced, leaning in reluctantly for a hug. “Thanks for dropping us off. S-sorry about earlier.” You couldn’t help but wince again, eyes darting to the ground at your last sentence. 

“Oh mija, don’t apologize. Could be worse.” 

“I’m not really sure how it could be…” You whispered under your breath, just loud enough for Javi to hear, making him hold back a snort. 

“Besides, I think this bodes well for my bet I have placed.” Chucho smirked, crossing his arms over his chest as the two of you looked at him in confusion, 

“Your bet?” Javi asked, raising an eyebrow at his dad. 

“Mhmmm. The bet between me, your family, Mija, and the Murphy’s.” 

“As much as I love a vague and cryptic guessing game, any chance you’re gonna tell us what that bet is?” You laughed uncomfortably, looking back between Javi and Chucho. 

“Oh, don’t you worry, Mija. I think the two of you will know soon enough. Okay, enough of that! I will let the two of you go. Have a safe flight and a wonderful trip. I couldn’t be happier for the two of you. Enjoy your first of your many amazing adventures as a married couple.” 

While you couldn’t deny you still weren’t far off from wanting to find the nearest hole and disappear in, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warm at the sentiment of Chucho’s well-wishes, placing your hand in Javi’s and squeezing it tight, beaming up at your husband with love and excitement. 

“Thanks, Pops.” 

“Claro (of course). Alright, mijos, adios. Have fun. But not too much fun, if you know what I-” 

“Yup, we know exactly what you mean, bye, Dad!” Javi grunted, gently turning his father around and pushing him back towards the car making him laugh, giving the both of you one last wave goodbye before disappearing down the road. 

“Jesus Christ, I’m glad that’s over…” Javi sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“You can say that again. What bet do you think he was talking about?” 

“Honestly, no fucking clue. And truth be told, right now, I couldn’t care less. Because right now,” He paused, leaning down to hold your cheek in his palm, forcing your gaze up at him, “all I care about,” he paused once again, planting a playful kiss on your lips, “is getting my beautiful wife onto this plane so we can start our honeymoon.” 

“Say it again.” You smiled, pressing up on your tiptoes to kiss him back. 

“My wife. My beautiful, amazing, drop dead gorgeous wife, who has single-handedly made me the luckiest man in the entire world.” Javi smirked, biting down on his lip as his grip tightened around you, making you giggle. 

“Easy there, Romeo, we still have a whole flight to get through, ya know.” 

Fortunately, your flight and arrival to the Bahamas was much less eventful than anything that had happened this morning, the embarrassment of your father-in-law’s unfortunate timing quickly fading away as you strolled up to the front desk to check into your room for the next ten days of nothing but what you had deemed your three favorite “S’s”- 

Sun, sand, and sex. 

Lots of sex. 

“Hi there! Welcome! My name is Cassandra, how can I help the two of you today?” A woman smiled politely from behind the check-in desk, quickly clacking away at her keyboard. 

“Hi. We’re checking in for Peña.” Javi beamed, grabbing your hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb over both sets of rings wrapped around your finger, knowing there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d ever get used to the fact he was lucky enough to get to call you his wife for the rest of his life. 

“Perfect! Let me get right on that.” She nodded, fingers tapping across the keys as she looked up your information. “Any special reason for your stay here?” 

“Honeymoon.” The two of you answered in sync, laughing to yourselves at your well timed response. 

“Well why didn’t you say that to begin with?! Let me see if I have anything I can upgrade you to for your stay!” Cassandra scoffed, almost comedically offended that your opening line hadn’t been “It’s our honeymoon, upgrade our room please!” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” 

“Oh, honey, please. This is my favorite part of my job. Absolutely the least I can do for the two of you. Congratulations. Just give me one second here and…. Ah! Yes! I thought this one was available. Let’s upgrade you to the Ocean View King Suite. This one is one of my favorite rooms. You get the most beautiful view of the sunrise right from your balcony!” 

You and Javi looked at each other beaming, grins plastered across your faces in surprise. “Thank you so much, this is so nice of you to do for us.” You smiled. 

“Of course. Least that I can do. Like I said, it’s one of the highlights of doing this job. Alright, well, here are your room keys!” Cassandra grinned, passing the key cards and room information over the concierge desk and handing them to you and Javi. “If you head over to your right, there’s a bay of elevators that will take you to your room. I hope that you two have a wonderful stay, and enjoy your honeymoon!” 

“Thank you again, we really appreciate it.” Javi nodded, stuffing things into his pocket before leaning down to give you a kiss and reaching back to grab his suitcase and your hand in his. 

As Javi turned, leading the two of you towards the elevator, you couldn’t help but laugh at Cassandra’s face, her eyebrow playfully raised and head nodding in approval, pointing at Javi and giving you a thumbs up, as if you needed more confirmation that you had made a top-tier choice on the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. 

“What’s so funny?” Javi smirked, tilting his head in confusion at your giggles as the two of you stepped into the elevator with the small crowd of people on their way back to their hotel rooms. 

“Nothing. Just some reassurance that I cleaned up pretty damn well in the husband department, which I can’t say I disagree with.” You snickered, reaching up to wrap your hand around his jaw, squeezing his cheeks in your grasp. 

“You’re such a dork, you know that?” 

“A dork who is now your wife, thank you very much.” You sassed, crossing your arms over your chest, making the two of you laugh quietly to yourselves until the ding of the elevator caught your attention. “Oh! I think this is us!” Quickly scrambling to grab your suitcase, you dashed out of the elevator as the doors parted, followed by Javi, trying to keep up with your excited pace. 

“Alright, Mrs. Dork, we’re room 2331.” Javi grinned, pulling the information from the front desk out of his pocket, scanning the hallway for rooms approaching your number, watching you search in front of him with detective-like accuracy. 

“Okay, let’s see, 2329… 2330… Here! Here it is! 2331!” You beamed, showing off the number of your room Vanna White style to Javi as he began to slip the room key into the card reader, pausing for a moment to stare at you with his sweet brown eyes in the midst of your goofiness. “What’s that look for?” You teased, smiling back at him. 

“Just reminding myself of how lucky I am. I love you, Mrs. Peña.” 

Mrs. Peña. 

You couldn’t help but let your heart skip a beat at the sound of him saying it, still not quite sure that the incredible reality of your new last name had completely sunk in with you yet. 

“I love you too, Mr. Peña. Now, you gonna open this door so we can put this room to use or what?” You smirked, raising your eyebrow at him playfully, gesturing towards your hotel room door. 

With a quick swipe of your room key the two of you unlocked your door to get a first glimpse of your hotel room. At first, the both of you were convinced you must have been in the wrong place, because this was the most beautiful, luxurious hotel room that you had ever laid eyes on. Complete with a giant king bed covered in fresh white sheets, free standing tub, huge couch and living room area, newly renovated, and most impressively, a huge set of sliding glass doors that lead to your balcony overlooking a breath-taking view of the beach and ocean below you. 

Mental note to self- you owed Cassandra at the big desk the biggest thank you ever. 

“Holy shit, Javi. This is gorgeous.” You muttered to yourself, dropping your bags off at one of the closets at the front of the room as you began to wander and explore, gently poking and prodding around as if you were a tourist in a museum, rather than a hotel guest in your own room. 

“It’s got no lack of options, that’s for sure.” Javi laughed quietly to himself, following behind you as he set down his own bags before doing an investigation of his own, the majority of which was spent watching you excitedly explore the in’s and outs of your new home for the next 10 days. 

“No lack of options?” You asked, tilting your head in confusion, as you turned towards Javi, hands resting on his hips with a smug grin spread from ear to ear. 

“Mmmhmmm.” He replied, making his way towards you until his hands were wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his chest to force your gaze up at his brown eyes, pooling with an equal combination of excitement and mischief. “No lack of options in this room for places I get to fuck my beautiful wife.” 

“You’re so bad!” You teased, giving him a little slap to his chest as the two of you laughed, knowing that you had the exact same thought, he was just the first to say it. 

“Oh c’mon, like you didn’t think the same thing.” 

“Okay listen… you’re not wrong. I would be a liar if I didn’t walk in here and think about how many different furniture choices we could fuck on before we had to leave.” You sighed in a playful defeat, your breaths slowly transforming to light and giggly to low and needy as Javi slid his hands resting on your hips down to your ass, palming it in his grasp. 

Craning his head down to rest in the crook of your neck, you couldn’t help but moan as he sucked at your pulse point, wet kisses consuming your neck and jawline as a damp patch began to pool in your underwear, falling apart under Javi’s touch. 

“Well if that’s the case, what should we break in first, Osita? What does mi esposa (my wife) want? ” Javi hummed, slipping his hands under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, pushing them over your hips and down your legs until they pooled around your ankles, leaving your bottom half bare. 

Snaking his hand between your bodies, you whimpered as his fingers ghosted over your core, grazing over your clit with just enough pressure to make you shutter in anticipation, feeling the slick of your arousal beginning to coat your thighs with want and need. 

“F-fuck-” You stammered, trying to string together anything that resembled a coherent thought, “The b-bed. Fuck me on the bed, baby, please.” 

Without another word, Javi had scooped you up under your thighs, forcing your legs to lock around his waist as he carried you toward the bed, mouths crashing together in a hungry mess of tongues and teeth. 

Javi set you down, gently laying your back on the bed just enough to let your lower half hang off the edge so he could make a home between your legs, draping each one over his shoulders and pushing them open further to reveal the wet, puffy mess in between your thighs. 

You should have been embarrassed with how worked up you already were from a few kisses and some ass grabbing, but with how excited you were to be here with your husband, without a worry in the world besides how many times you could disrespect your hotel room before you had to leave, you had no shame in how you were already dripping with anticipation as Javi’s eyes locked on your core. 

“Fuck, she’s so pretty.” Javi cooed, admiring the glistening sheen of your slick covering your folds, planting gentle kisses along the soft skin of your thighs, creeping closer and closer to your center. You sat up on your elbows to watch as Javi’s fingers lazily traced your cunt, collecting your arousal, rubbing with just enough pressure to make your clit throb even harder than it already had been. “Always so wet for me, Hermosa. My perfect wife. Fuck, I still can’t believe you’re all mine forever.” 

“Forever.” You whimpered, breath hitching in the back of your throat as Javi’s tongue dragged across your core with a broad, flat stroke, looking up at you with those devastatingly sweet, chocolate brown eyes, pulling off you with the look you knew all too well meant you were absolutely a goner. 

“Tastes so fucking sweet, baby.” Javi hummed, carefully bringing two fingers to your core, sinking them inside your weeping hole to prod steadily against your g-spot 

“Oh my god, fuck-” You whimpered, Javi working at a painstakingly slow pace that still had you writhing under his touch, his mouth and fingers moving in the perfect combination of pressure to already have a tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine despite the fact he had just started eating you out. 

Your jaw went slack as his digits prodded faster, his tongue swirling and flicking against your sensitive bundle of nerves, ragged moans and whimpers escaping from your lips, growing louder and more wonton by the second. 

“That’s my girl.” Javi cooed, pulling off you just enough to catch your attention, his fingers never faltering in pace, “Fuck, I could listen to you like this all day, Osita. All the pretty noises my wife makes just for me. C’mon, baby. You want everyone here to know who makes you feel this good, huh? Tell them, sweet girl, who makes you feel this good?” 

“Y-you, Javi, fuck- You do, baby.” You moaned, feeling your pussy begin to flutter around Javi’s fingers as his smug smirk pressed back against your cunt, now sucking at your clit with a ferocious switch intensity he knew would send you over the edge in an instant. 

Squeezing Javi’s head between your thighs, you cried out louder, chanting his name like a prayer with each second you grew closer and closer to your end, feeling arousal creeping through your body at a rapid rate. 

“Javi, Javi, fuck- Oh, baby, Javi, I’m gonna- gonnaahhhhhhh-” 

In an instant, your orgasm crashed through you, filling you with all consuming pleasure that had you seeing stars, sobbing out as your cunt clamped down around Javi’s fingers that were pulsing inside you through your high. 

At this point, you were probably close to suffocating your poor husband, but it was his own damn fault for knowing how to make you cum so hard, your soul just about left your body. 

Finally regaining enough inhibition, you let your legs fall open, freeing Javi from the thigh prison he had trapped himself in, still smirking with delight despite his red face and shortness of breath. 

“Jesus Christ, Osita.” He laughed, standing up as he began to shed his clothes, tossing his shirt and shorts in a crumpled pile on the floor, followed by his already tented and stained boxers, revealing his painfully hard cock, slapping against his stomach and bobbing between his legs as it was freed. “You tryin’ to kill me, baby?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.” You huffed, chest still rising and falling with heavy breaths as you came down from your high. “Sorry, not my fault you make me cum so hard I put you in a headlock between my legs.” 

You and Javi both couldn’t help but laugh as he helped you slide further up the bed, crawling over you and caging you under his broad body, peppering every inch of your body with kisses and intentionally tickling you with his mustache in all the places he knew made you giggle the most. 

“If I die between my wife’s thighs buried face deep in her pussy, I’d die a happy man.” 

“Well I have no plans on intentionally murdering you on this trip, so count yourself safe this time, Peña.” 

“Baby, I’m convinced you’re just trying to kill me slowly this entire trip, considering you have nothing packed in your suitcase besides bikinis and sundresses.” Javi sighed, arms planted around your head as he laid overtop of you, kissing up your collarbone and neck, all the way up your jawline. 

“Javier Peña, we are literally on a tropical vacation to the Bahamas. Would you have liked me to pack, a parka and snow pants?” You teased, breath hitching in the back of your throat between giggles, trying to maintain your composure between the wet, hot kisses, Javi was planting across your skin. 

“No,” He grumbled, “You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever fucking met, baby, you don’t think people aren’t staring at you everywhere you go? I can’t fucking blame ‘em, but they better notice that ring on your finger and know you’re off limits.” 

Heat crept through your cheeks, butterflies swirling in your stomach from what he had said, picking up on the notion behind his thoughts. Javi wasn’t a jealous man, but fuck, was he a protective one, and God help any man who tried to knowingly make a move on you while he was around. 

He wanted everyone to know you were his, and you just as badly wanted everyone to know he was yours. 

“Maybe just the ring isn’t enough, baby.” He smirked, nipping and tugging at your skin with his teeth as he snaked his hand between your bodies to stroke himself and line his cock up with your entrance. “‘Cause you know what else isn’t in your suitcase?” 

Your birth control. 

You didn’t have to say a word to know exactly what Javi meant, your face swelling with a mixture of excitement and want. 

“Javi, oh fuck-” You moaned, cut off by the sweet sting of Javi pushing into you, filling you up with every inch of himself until he had bottomed out, stalling for a moment to let you adjust to his fullness before slowly dragging his cock in and out of your cunt. 

“Maybe,” he groaned, biting down on his lip at just how good you felt around him, warmth and wetness coating his length with each stroke, “Maybe that ring on your finger isn’t enough, Ostia. Maybe once they see you pregnant with our baby growing inside you, they’ll know you’re mine.” 

It never failed to amaze you just how Javi knew how to make you short circuit with words alone, hoping the entire resort didn’t hear the absolutely pathetic whimper you let out at the idea of finally carrying his baby, showing off your family to the world, and the man who had given it to you.  

“Fuck, knock me up Javi. Wanna- wanna make you a daddy.” You whined, wrapping your arm up around his neck, running your fingers through his dark and sweaty curls, tugging him closer to you until your mouths were molded in a messy clash of tongues and teeth. 

“Christ- Yeah, baby girl? Fuck, I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll fuck myself so deep inside you, it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ take. Keep you stuffed with my cum every day until it sticks.” Javi groaned, gritting his teeth as he grabbed the backs of your thighs, pushing them to your chest and pulling you closer to him so your back began to arch, giving himself the perfect angle to split you open and keep every last drop inside of you. 

You could feel every inch of Javi filling you, perfectly punching against that soft, spongy spot inside your cunt with each thrust, keeping your thighs still pressed against your chest as the lower half of your legs wrapped around the small of Javi’s back, ankles locking together to keep him as close and deep inside you as you could. 

“Dámelo, papi.” You cooed, wicked smile stretched from ear to ear watching Javi physically having to stop himself to let out a strangled groan, clenching his jaw and scrunching his face to keep from busting right then and there.  

“Jesus, fuck-” Javi grunted, finally gaining enough composure to open his eyes and look back down at you beneath him, smugly smirking, “That’s how this is gonna go, huh?"

The chocolate brown of Javi’s eyes began to darken with lust, dragging his cock out and ramming into you so deeply, a pathetic whimper fell from your lips, nearly knocking the wind out of your chest feeling him practically in your stomach. Your whimpers quickly turned to sobs as he did it again, slowly dragging his length out of your wet, warm walls before pounding back in to you with a blinding intensity. 

Leaning down, Javi grabbed your arms, pushing them outstretched above your head until your wrists were crossed over each other and Javi had them both in his firm grasp, pinning you to the bed with the weight of his body and grip. It was like something feral had ignited inside him, brow furrowed and teeth gritted with a laser focus, snapping his hips to thrust himself deeper and harder, melting you to a helpless puddle beneath him, your cries of pleasure and desperation only egging him on more. 

“You want me to fill you up, baby? Then you’re gonna be a good girl and take every last fucking drop. Every. Last. One.” He huffed, syncing his words to each thrust, keeping a bruising grip over your wrists with one hand, and digging his fingertips into the meat of your hips with his other. “Tell me what you’re gonna do for me, baby girl. Tell me whose pussy this is.” 

“It’s yours, Javi. Fuck, fuck, fuck- it’s yours, baby! I- oh shit- I promise I’ll be a good girl and take it all. Want you to fill me up, Papi.” You sobbed, arousal seeping through your veins as Javi’s cock punched against your g-spot over and over, each stroke faster and more intense, blinding your body with pleasure. 

Your hotel room was drenched in the borderline pornographic sounds of skin slapping against skin, wet squelching of your pussy squeezing Javi’s cock tighter and tighter as you could feel the coil beginning to tighten in your stomach, crying out without any inhibition for your volume, Javi grunting and panting with equal intensity. 

“That’s my girl. You gonna let everyone hear who this pussy belongs to? Let everyone know that I’m gonna fill you up and get you pregnant?” Javi mewled, watching the way your eyes were nearly rolling in the back of your head, snaking his hand gripping your hip down between your bodies to rub firm and frantic circles around your clit to help push you over the edge knowing how close you were. 

As soon as the calloused pads of Javi’s fingers were pressed against your sensitive nub, you were seconds away from the brink of collapse, cunt clamping tighter and tighter around Javi’s cock, choking it with your velvety walls. 

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck, fuck, I’m so close baby. Don’t stop, don’t stop, please, fuckfuckfuckfuck!” 

Instantly, your orgasm crashed through your body, blinding white heat flooding your vision, pleasure shooting through every inch of you to the point you felt like you had left your own body. You could feel your body going limp beneath Javi, knowing he wasn’t far behind you given all his tell tale signs as you soaked his length with your arousal. 

Javi’s thrusts had forgone any type of rhythm, now sloppy and erratic, his balls tightening and tensing in his stomach, babbling and moaning in your ear, whispering sweet nothings before he found himself in the same state of you. 

“That’s it, hermosa. Cum all over my cock. Cum all over me before I fill up this tight little pussy so full it’s got no choice but to take. Oh fuck- Fuck, can’t wait to get you pregnant. See you carrying our baby. Gonna make you the prettiest fucking Momma-ahhhhhhh, fuck!” 

With one final stutter of his hips, Javi was painting the inside of your cunt with thick, warm ropes of his spend, keeping himself flushed as tight as he could to your pelvis, making sure a single drop didn’t escape as he plugged you with his cock, cumming so hard he couldn’t help but whimper. The weight of his body slumped on top of you, syncing your heavy breaths, the sticky and sweaty sheen of your chests pressed together as Javi planted a slow and sensual kiss on your lips, swallowing your moans in his mouth. 

“Holy fuck.” You half whispered to yourself, letting out a bliss-filled giggle.

“Jesus Fucking Christ.” Javi panted, quietly laughing along with you, gently brushing the damp and wild strands of your hair out of your face, “Fuck- You gotta be careful with that “Papi” shit, Osita.” 

“Oh yeah? And why would that be?” You teased, smirking as you raised an eyebrow at him and bit down on your lip, knowing damn well why. 

“Because if you keep that up, I don’t think we’re ever leaving this room.” 

After dinner and giving a few more pieces of furniture in your hotel room a good test run, the two of you had happily called it a night on day one of your honeymoon, eager to explore the rest of the resort as the two of you rose with the golden rays of the sun beaming over the horizon of your ocean view window, flooding your room with warm and welcoming sunlight. 

As much as the both of you were convinced you could have easily spent the next 10 days without leaving your hotel room, you made a pact that you would spend some time going to explore the rest of the resort after spending some much deserved post-wedding de-stressing in the sun by the pool, drinking as many mojitos and frozen daiquiris as you could stomach. 

And as amazing as non-stop sex with Javi would have been, soaking up in the sun poolside with a drink on one side of you and a shirtless husband on the other, you’d say that this was a pretty close second. 

“Another one?” Javi smirked, eyebrows raised at you as his brown eyes peeked over the edge of his aviators, gesturing at your nearly empty glass. 

“I mean… if you’re offering.” You giggled, tipsy after a few drinks and hours baking in the sun, happily holding out the remainder of your mojito for Javi to exchange for a new one. 

“I think the bartender and I are about to be on a first name basis pretty soon.” Javi laughed, shuffling out of his beach chair, grabbing his empty cup along with yours to bring back with him to the poolside bar that had been visited a questionable amount of times by the two of you since you had gotten to the pool this morning. 

“Yeah? Are you gonna tell the bartender the frozen strawberry margaritas you’ve been getting from him all day are for you and not for your wife?” You teased, pulling your sunglasses down to look at Javi, playfully rolling his eyes back at you. 

“Shut up. They’re fucking addicting. You had one, can you blame me?” 

“I’m just giving you a hard time, Mr. I Won’t Drink Anything But Beer and Whiskey. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. Although, I’m sure Steve would get a kick out of knowing you’ve downed like, 7 of these since we’ve gotten here.” 

Setting down both of the drinks, you found yourself in a fit of squeals and giggles as Javi reached down to scoop you up out of your chair, carrying you bridal style to the edge of the pool before jumping in with the both of you, the refreshing cool of the pool water crashing over you as your bodies bobbed under the surface. 

“Pendejo!” You laughed, splashing Javi as your heads peered above the edge of the water, Javi shaking his hair, damp and clinging to his forehead from your added assault, grabbing you by the waist before you could go any further, shifting you to wrap your legs around him as he held you, childishly swaying you through the water. 

“Te amo, esposa.” (I love you, wife) Javi teased in a mocking tone, responding to your name calling. 

“Joke’s on you, because I wanted to get into the pool anyways. You’re lucky you’re handsome. Mojito me, Peña.” You splashed again, rolling your eyes at his over exaggerated kiss before he swam away, shooting you a wink while he waded his way to the poolside bar. 

It wasn’t long before Javi was making his way back, a drink in each hand, happily handing you your mojito as he got to the edge of the pool where you were sitting, lifting himself up to sit beside you and take a swig of his margarita. 

“Miss me?” He smirked, raising his eyebrows at you. 

“Terribly. Most agonizing 6 minutes of my entire life.” You teased, playing into the dramatics as Javi picked up your left hand, admiring the diamond ring and wedding band adorned on your finger before gently kissing it. 

“Sorry to keep my wife waiting. I hope that you’ll accept this mojito as a token of my apology.” 

“I think that’s a fair enough compromise.” 

After a few more hours and several drinks later, it was safe to say that you and Javi had definitely both been in better states than you currently were, too far gone to care about the potential consequences of tomorrow’s hangover to stop yourselves. 

“What time do you think it is?” You asked, sunkissed body sprawled out across the pool chair. 

“Wife O’Clock.” Javi answered, snickering to himself at his answer. 

“Javier Peña, that’s not a real time, you dork.” 

“Half past mojito. A quarter ‘til my next margarita.” 

“Jesus Christ….” You paused, one of the life guards crossing behind you catching your attention, “Hey, excuse me! Do you know what time it is?” 

“Uhhhhh, looks like it’s almost 6!” The lifeguard replied, looking down at his watch before continuing on his path. 

“6?! Oh shit!” You gasped, sitting up straight in your chair. 

“What? What’s happening at 6?!” Javi inquired, seemingly less concerned with whatever was supposed to be happening then that had you so riled up. 

“Javi, we're supposed to be at dinner right now! We made reservations at that italian place, remember?!” You grimaced, frantically starting to grab the towels and clothes you had scattered around the pool deck. 

“Oh fuck! Shit, uh- okay, here, lemme help you!” Javi joined in on the gathering of any item that belonged to you that he could find, tossing it into the bag you had brought down with you, hoping that you didn’t forget anything that had come with you to the pool. 

While the haphazard gathering of items was a good enough sign to any onlooker that you and Javi were more than likely intoxicated, the both of you didn’t realized just how drunk you were until you both tried to stand up out of your beach chairs, grabbing on to each other in a wobbly dance of giggles.  

“Woah, I think I drank a little lotta margaritas.” Javi stammered, laughing to himself. 

“Fuck, I did too. Jesus, how many do you think we had?” You giggled, face scrunching in anticipation of the number that was definitely going to be higher than you had intended when you came to the pool this morning. 

You could see Javi trying to drunkenly calculate his trips to the pool bar in his head, counting across his fingers in a serious concentration, tongue sticking out of his mouth, as if it was going to help him focus better. 

“Let’s see, I think after adding them all up… We drank a lot.” 

“If we can’t even come up with a number, that’s not good. Fuck, I didn’t even bring real clothes! Our room is so far from the restaurant, there’s no way we’re even gonna be close to making it!” You pouted, shrugging your shoulders in defeat. 

“Just put on the cute little dressy thingy over your bathing suit. Or just go in your bikini. You’re so hot they have to let you in.” Javi smirked, biting down on his lip as he looked you up and down, giving you his best drunken attempt at his bedroom eyes. 

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t think the other patrons of this resort want to watch me eat pasta half naked, ya sicko.” You teased, giving him a nudge to his stomach a little harder than you had intended. “Okay, cover up will have to do, I guess. Do you have your shirt?” 

“You don’t wanna watch me eat pasta half naked?” 

“As much as I’d love to, maybe another time, weirdo. Okay, we have to go! Or else we’re not getting any pasta, naked or not! Focus, Peña, focus!” You commanded in your best pretend stern voice, grabbing the rest of your things in your hands while Javi stood there, admiring you like the drunken, lovesick fool he was. 

“You’re so fucking sexy when you’re bossy.” Javi smirked, raising his eyebrows at you, “Okay, fine, fine fine, let’s go. Lead the way, Mrs. Peña.” 

If you didn’t feel drunk enough after simply trying just to stand up out of your pool chairs and collect all your belongings within a 5 foot radius of you, you sure as hell did trying to drunkenly navigate the resort to find the restaurant you were looking for. After asking several employees, you somehow managed to stumble your way through the hotel to find your intended location, “Ciao!” , one of the higher-end dining experiences the two of you had planned for your vacation. 

“Hi. We are married, and we are here to eat pasta.” Javi proclaimed to the hostess at the front of the restaurant, who was looking back and forth between you and Javi, riddled with confusion not only by Javi’s opening statement, but from the fact the two of you were nearly out of breath from running around every inch of the resort, clearly drunk, and still dressed in your swimsuits. 

“Ummmm, okay? What’s the name on the reservation?” The hostess asked hesitantly, flipping through the pages of names and times written down for seating tonight. 

“Peña. We were supposed to be here at 6 but we had a lil too much fun at the pool, but not enough fun that we completely forgot about dinner! We’re really sorry!” You explained, trying your best to keep your composure, biting your tongue to subdue your drunken giggles. 

“Yeah, like, so sorry. I had a lot of margaritas today.” Javi added, turning his head to let out a little burp at the end of his sentence. 

“I don’t see any Peña’s on the reservation for tonight….” The hostess sighed, flipping back and forth between today’s pages, clearly not amused by either of your antics. 

“Oh no… Does that mean we’re not getting pasta? Shit.” Javi pouted, crossing his arms over his chest like a little boy. 

“Oh wait, are- are you sure it was a reservation for today? I see Peña on here at 6 for tomorrow?” 

“Oh shit…” You and Javi replied, nearly in sync, visibly grimacing at the fact that you had spent the past 45 minutes in an alcohol induced frenzy, running through the resort to find a restaurant you weren’t even supposed to eat at until tomorrow. 

Whoops. 

“My bad….” You shrugged, sheepishly frowning as you looked back and forth between the hostess and Javi, “Okay, well, um, we’re gonna- We’re gonna go then.” You winced, grabbing Javi by the hand to slowly drag him away from the restaurant, hoping that the physical distance would somehow spare you the embarrassment you had just subjected yourself to. 

“You’re fine, just- We do ask that our guests wear more, um- appropriate attire when they come to dine with us.” The hostess scoffed, huffing at you and Javi, looking you up and down with your beach bound outfits and hands full of pool accessories as you continued to back away. 

“She doesn’t wanna see us eat pasta in our bathing suits?” Javi whispered in your ear, making you snort so loud it almost hurt your chest, trying to keep from bursting into full blown laughter before making it out of eye and earshot of the hostess, jabbing him in the stomach with your elbow, only spurring him on further, “She doesn’t know how sexy you’d look shoving a fist full of garlic bread down your throat with nothing on but a bikini? Her loss.” 

Now out of sight of the restaurant, you and Javi exploded into an obnoxious fit of drunken giggles, feeling completely idiotic for wasting nearly the last hour of your night in a whirlwind journey to nowhere. 

“Well, looks like no pasta for dinner tonight.” You sighed, playfully throwing up your hands in defeat. “I am starting to get really hungry though… Like too hungry to go back up to the room and change and then come back down and wait at a restaurant for more food.” 

“Yeah, shit, I’m really hungry too… Wait!” Javi paused, his face lighting up with excitement. 

“What, Jav?” 

“Didn’t we pass a pizza place on the way up to the room when we first got here? 

The grin on your face was now equally as wide, almost certain that you and Javi were having the same drunk recollection. 

“I knew there was a good reason I married you.” 

Somehow or another, you had not only managed to find your way to “Papa’s Pizzeria”, you had managed to successfully order an extra large pizza for the two of you to split, and make it back to the room without any pizza casualties on the way. 

Even a drunken you couldn’t help but realize how lucky she was to have married a man like Javi, and not just because of his excellent memory for pizza restaurants- What you had been through in the past hour and a half could have easily sent any other couple into an ugly spiral of arguments and blame they’d cast upon each other for “ruining” the rest of their night. 

You’d been witness to so many relationships and marriages where couples barely managed to genuinely enjoy each other’s company, let alone have fun together. Cohabitation drenched in resentment and unhappiness towards each other, forced proximity the only thing keeping them together.  

You were positive that there would never be enough “thank you’s” that you could send out into the universe for letting you marry your best friend. 

Because what would have been a soiled evening for so many others, was quickly turning out to be a better night than you could have ever imagined, plans tossed out the window to sit cross legged in your king sized bed together, bodies draped in fluffy hotel robes as you mowed down on slices of pepperoni pizza, giggling over shared, drunken secrets with your favorite person in the world. 

“Okay, your turn now.” You snickered, shoving another bite of lukewarm pizza into your mouth, giving Javi a playful shove into the sea of pillows at the head of your bed. 

“I just went!” He protested, trying to talk through the mess of cheese, sauce and crust he was still chewing. 

“Nuh uh! I just did, remember? We got off topic because we started talking about the Farrah Fawsect poster you had in your room that your mom made you take down, but you were the one who asked me about who my first celebrity crush was, remember?” You insisted, pointing your half bitten piece of pizza at him, forcing him to hold up his hands in defeat. 

“Okay, okay! Can’t blame me for forgetting after thinking about that poster, though.” Javi shrugged, smirking at the thought of his 12 year old self gawking at the beautiful blonde actress hanging above his bed, “Shit…. Gimmie a second, let me think.” 

“I’ve given you plenty of seconds, goofball! Like all the seconds I spared you thinking about Farrah.” 

“Shut up. Okay,” he paused, taking another bite of pizza, “who was your first kiss?” 

“Really? Why, you gonna go hunt him down?” You snorted, feeling like you were gossiping with your teenage best friend at a sleepover rather than with your husband, Javi laughing along with you as he shook his head, “It was Jack Mullins in the 7th grade.” 

“Okay, and?” Javi prodded, smirking as he interrogated you for more information. 

“It was at a Halloween Party my friend Sarah had at her house. I’m pretty sure we were playing truth or dare, and all my friends knew I had a massive crush on him because he was the cutest boy in the 7th grade. So they dared me to kiss him and I did it. It was so awkward, and I had no idea what I was doing. Pretty sure we kissed while the “The Monster Mash” was playing, too. I was so embarrassed after that I cried in the bathroom and then walked home and didn’t even say goodbye to anyone. Didn’t ever think I’d speak to him again and he ended up being my date to prom.” 

“Wow. That was a way better story than I was expecting to get. “The Monster Mash”? Truth or Dare?” Javi chuckled as your cheeks turned red, watching your eyes at his enjoyment of your story. 

“Okay, I was 12 Javi, some of us were weird, awkward teenagers. I’m sure that you were very easily the Jack Mullins of your middle school and had girls at the door lining up to kiss you.” You rebutted, having seen plenty of pictures of teenage Javi, thanks to Chucho, knowing whatever awkward phase he went through was only a fraction of your pre-teen pain. 

“No, I wasn’t. I was a pretty shy kid. All my friends had their first kiss way before I did.”  Javi shrugged, now sounding slightly more embarrassed. 

“Okay, so what? They were 12 and you were 13? I don’t believe it. I would have had the biggest crush on you in middle school.” 

“I’m being serious!”  

C’mon, Javi, if I’m telling you about my Monster Mash kiss, I get to hear about yours!” You insisted, giving him the biggest fake pout that you could muster until he gave in. 

“I- I was 16 when I had my first kiss.” 

“You’re joking.” 

“Why would I joke about that?” 

“16?!” 

“Osita, you’re making it sound like I was 72 when I had my first kiss, not 16.” 

“Considering how cute you were, yeah, I am! Okay, spill! Now I need to know!” 

“I’m telling you, I was a shy kid. Didn’t really come out of my shell until 10th grade when I started doing swimming. There was a girl on the team I always thought was really cute, but I was too chicken shit to do anything about it. All my friends had girlfriends and dates to go to homecoming with, and I didn’t have anyone, so they forced me to ask her. She turned me down, told me she already had a date. I was devastated. Went to a party with the team after, got drunk for the first time because I was so upset, and ended up kissing my friend’s older sister, Katie. Made out in the laundry room in the basement for the rest of the night. My friend found us after he realized we both had gone missing and ended up punching me in the face and almost breaking my nose.” 

“Holy shit. That’s a way better story than mine.” You gawked, eyes going wide at the turn Javi’s story had taken. 

“I wouldn’t say way better, just stupid.” Javi huffed, “You do dumb things when you’re young.” 

“Well, you must have been a pretty good kisser even back then if she made out with you for an hour. Honestly, would have been dumb if she didn’t make out with you, in my humble opinion.” You giggled, scooting closer to Javi as you snuggled into his lap, resting your head on his outstretched thigh and letting out a big yawn. Resting his hand on your back, Javi pulled you closer, running his fingers through the sun kissed ends of your messy hair, smiling at all the tell tale signs sleep was beginning to creep through your body and the way you snuggled up next to him. 

“Okay, one last question because all these mojitos are catching up to me and I’m getting sleepy.” You mumbled, feeling your eyelids begin to droop as you curled up in the warmth of his body, comfort flooding over you from Javi’s presence. 

“Okay, hermosa. Your turn.” Javi cooed, his voice softening to match your sleepy tone, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

“If you could change anything about your life, anything you want, what would it be?” 

Javi paused for a moment, his fingers still daintily stroking across your hair and back as he thought. Truthfully, there were plenty of things he wished he could change about his past. It would take him less than a minute to come up with a list longer than most people could muster in a lifetime. He had wasted so many years of his life, bitter and remorseful about the things he had done, condemning himself to suffer the consequences of his actions. And yet, somehow, despite all of the things he could have said, out of all the painful things he wished he could go back in time to change, there was one answer that prevailed above all the rest, an answer that couldn’t have been easier to choose.  

“I wish there was a world where I would have met you sooner. That I would have gotten to love you just a little longer.” 

He waited for your response, settling into the silence until it was broken by one of your soft snores humming against his thigh, signaling to him you were sound asleep in his lap, not having heard a word you said. He laughed softly to himself, remembering the first night he had stayed at your apartment, and how it had ended just like this, conversation flowing until the early hours of the morning until you couldn’t fight sleep any longer, eyelids shutting as you fell asleep in his arms. How he watched you gently drift to dreaming, wondering if he was, too. That somehow, some way, the world had managed to bring the two of you together. And even if he wished he would have gotten more time to love you before you’d met, Javi knew that he’d be forever grateful for every minute he had left with you. 

Despite the raging hangover the two of you had the next morning after you woke up from your alcohol and pizza induced coma, the rest of your honeymoon had been some of the most fun that the two of you had had in years. You’d spent multiple days at the pool, soaking up sun on the beach and swimming in the ocean, eaten so much delicious food you were convinced you were going to combust, drank more mojitos than you’d like to admit, and had even gone snorkeling on a tour through some of the islands outside your resort. 

You also had been having so much sex, you were starting to feel bad for the rooms on either side of you. 

Everything about your honeymoon had been everything you’d ever hoped for and more, but with only one full day left of your vacation, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad that your perfect trip to tropical paradise was coming to a close. 

“What’s that look for, porbrecita?” Javi laughed, sneaking up behind you on the edge of the balcony, watching you watch the sunrise with your cheeks propped up in your palms, pouting at the way bright pinks and oranges were greeting the sky. Standing behind you, he snaked his arms around your front so he could bring your back to his chest, kissing the top of your head while his arms settled around your middle. 

“I don’t want our honeymoon to end.” You sighed, craning your neck just enough to look at Javi over your shoulder, “I’m sad it’s gonna be over.” 

“I know, mi amor, me too.” He softly chuckled, planting a long kiss on your cheek, the whiskers of his mustache making you giggle, “But what if I told you I have one more surprise for us before we go home tomorrow?” 

This made you swing all the way around, now chest to chest with Javi as you looked up at him in confusion, “What? I thought we were spending our last day on the beach just hanging out?” 

“Well we are, but what if I told you I rented one of those fancy cabanas at the end of the beach for us to use to celebrate our last day here?” Javi smirked, watching your face light up at his proposition. 

“Wait, actually?” 

“Yes, actually.” 

“But aren’t they like, super expensive to rent for the day?” 

“I mean… they’re not that expensive.” 

“Okay, the pause tells me that you spent way more money than you needed to on this, Jav.” 

“And what if it was? I’m not allowed to wanna spoil my wife on our honeymoon?” Javi grinned, gently cupping your face and playfully shaking it, making you laugh again. 

“Your wife doesn’t need to be spoiled, just getting to be here with you is more than enough.” You paused, giving Javi a little nudge as he dramatically rolled his eyes at you, chuckling to himself, “What, you goof?” 

“I hope you know that because you’re my wife, I’m planning on spending the rest of my life spoiling you, whether you like it or not. I’d give you the fucking moon if I could, Osita.” 

“Well lucky for you, a day at a beach cabana will do just fine.” 

While you never would have asked Javi to purposely spend extra money on things you really didn’t need to make your trip any more special than it already was, you couldn’t deny that spending the day in your own private cove of the beach in a luxurious cabana with food and drinks being served to you at your request wasn’t a bad way to spend the last day of your honeymoon. 

The daybeds in the cabana had made a perfect place for a shady, mid day nap for the both of you, lazily waking up from the soft kiss Javi had planted on your shoulder, exposed from your bikini top, freckled and sunkissed from days in the tropics. 

“I’m gonna go for a swim, Hermosa. Be back in a sec.” Javi cooed, gently stirring you from your catnap. 

“Mmmmmmkay.” You smiled, flipping over for another kiss on the lips before Javi slipped out from the flaps of your tent, softly blowing in the breeze. You sat up on your lounger, the sight of Javi in nothing but his bathing suit waking you from your brief sleep in a matter of moments. 

Even though you had seen Javi in nothing but bathing suits for the past 9 days, you were convinced it was a sight you’d never find yourself getting over. There was no doubt that you had always found him incredibly attractive, but something about this trip had skyrocketed him to another level of sexy you didn’t even know was attainable. You weren’t sure if it was the unbuttoned floral shirts, excessive time spent shirtless, his messy and wet beach hair, or just the fact that now you got to call him your husband- truthfully, it was most likely a combination of all of the above. 

You perked up, pulling back the fabric door of the cabana enough to watch Javi’s arms stroke through the ocean, popping his head above water with a brief shake before he was shallow enough to touch the sandy bottom again. As he sauntered in from the ocean, you couldn’t help but admire the width of his shoulders and chest, glistening from the sun and salty water. You let your gaze travel down to his swim trunks, feeling your mouth water at the way they hugged his waist and crept up his thick thighs. With each step closer to shore, you couldn’t stop staring at the way his trunks were clinging to his lower half, perfectly outlining his generous length. 

Javi must have noticed the way you were staring at him by the subtle smirk that had broken out across his face as he approached the cabana, eyeing you up and down right back. 

“You have a good swim?” You asked, feeling your stomach swirl as you took in every inch of him, glowing in the sunlight. 

“Mhmm. Did you have fun watching me swim?” He teased, tongue tracing over his teeth while he raised his eyebrows, knowing damn well the effect he was having on you. 

“Maybe. What, I’m not allowed to enjoy the view? Not my fault my husband is so handsome.” Your smirk was almost as wide as his, biting down on your bottom lip as Javi entered the cabana, letting the flap to the entrance close behind him before caging your body under his on the lounge chair, trailing hot, wet, kisses across your chest and stomach. 

“Say it again.” He mewled, looking up at you with his big, brown eyes as his kisses trailed lower and lower, watching as he began to settle himself at the edge of the chair between your thighs. 

“My husband is so handsome. You’re so handsome, Javi.” You sighed, feeling the damp patch in your swimsuit bottoms growing, soaking the fabric with your slick and arousal. 

“You’re so fucking good to me. Fuck, I’m so lucky.” He groaned, slinging your thighs over his shoulders, eyes still locked on you while he began to tug at the strings of your bikini, leaving your bottom half bare. 

There was a part of you that knew you should be worried about someone catching the two of you, barely concealed by the flimsy confines of your cabana, but the part of you staring at your husband between your legs about to eat you out seemed a lot more convinced that this was the best idea Javi had all day. 

“You’re so fucking perfect. Everything about you. I’m the goddamn luckiest man alive, you know that baby?” 

Your response to his question was nothing but a ragged moan, feeling him draping his arm over your hips to hold you in place as he slid two fingers into your heat. He curled his hand to reach the spot inside you he knew made you crumble before diving back in between your legs, beginning to lick you up like a man starved.

His tongue swirled against your clit, the firmness of each stroke and the deep press of his fingers making you writhe under his touch, shooting your hand down to grab fistfulls of his damp, curly locks to brace yourself as he ate you out relentlessly.

“Oh my god, fuck, Javi. Fuck, you feel so good. Fuck-” 

You could feel him switching tactics, latching his lips around your sensitive nub, rapidly sucking at the throbbing bundle of nerves, working his fingers deeper in your cunt as he felt you begin to clench around him. 

“Fuck Javi, fuck, right there baby- fuck, I’m close.” Your fingers were buried so deep in his curls, tugging just enough to pull his face closer to you as you could feel your orgasm building at the base of your spine, desperate for him to give you your sweet release. 

His thick fingers bumped along your g-spot, curving them ever so slightly in the way he had memorized like the back of his hand to make you come undone. The tingle along your spine quickly spread down your legs, pleasure building rapidly throughout your body as you felt yourself on the edge of release. Lifting his arm off your waist, he reached up to grab your hand laying out on the lounge chair, engulfing it in his grasp as he intertwined his fingers with yours. 

“Dameló, (give it to me) sweet girl. Let go, baby, I’ve got you.” 

You could feel the pressure inside you snap, the tingling in your veins quickly transforming into full blown pleasure as your orgasm swept through you. You gushed around his hand, cunt clenching down on his fingers as you came, losing all sense of inhibitions as you cried out with a volume much louder than intended. 

But with Javi’s fingers still curled, prodding against your g-spot, you had a feeling those cries weren’t coming to a halt any time soon. It was only moments after your orgasm had finished he was already on a mission to give you another, tongue lapping up every ounce of your slick as it pressed against your clit. 

“Javi, holy shit, baby, oh fuck.” You whined, bucking your hips towards his face and arching your back as he circled around your bundle of nerves, your moans and whimpers only egging him on more. 

Even after all this time, there was a part of you that still couldn’t believe how fast Javi could make you cum. He had memorized every twitch, every tug of his hair, every breathy whisper to know what made you fall apart under his touch, loving every second of watching you come undone for him. 

You could already feel the tingling of your next orgasm beginning to creep up your legs and into your stomach as Javi sucked at your clit, greedy for him to help you hit your second high. 

“Please don’t stop, Javi. Fuck baby, fuck, fuck, I- ahhhhhhhhh.” That was all it took before you could feel the waves of pleasure rushing through your body again, your pussy throbbing as your orgasm flooded over you. 

Your legs were all but jello at this point, trembling around Javi’s head, still buried between them. Your last two orgasms had been so intense, you weren’t sure you could take a third, but with the way Javi knew your body, you also were convinced it would barely take anything for you to cum again. 

“J-Javi- fuck, baby, fuck I can’t-”   

“Gimme one more, Osita. C’mon, sweet girl. Wanna make my wife cum one more time.” You nodded, looking down at the shine of your arousal covering his smirk, knowing that at this point, you were so worked up and overstimulated that just the fingers already inside of you really were all you needed to give him your last orgasm. 

Javi’s fingers had already sunk so deep into your cunt, already so overly sensitive to every push and pull of his hand, that the grip you had on his hand had become so tight, you could feel your knuckles turning white. You cried out his name as it fell from your lips, babbling incoherently as the third rush of pleasure crashed over you, gushing onto Javi’s fingers.  

“That’s my good girl. My perfect fucking wife. I love you so much.” Javi carefully pulsed his fingers a few more times as he felt you clench around him, making you hiss as he withdrew his hand now soaked in your slick, bringing the digits to his fingers to suck them clean with a satisfied smirk. 

It was only moments before his sly grin had quickly shifted to full blown panic, you, still too blissed out to wonder why he was scrambling to throw a towel over your bottom half and one to hide the erection under his as he sat himself in the chair next to you. Thank god Javi still at least had an ounce of inhibition left to see the footsteps of the server who had been periodically checking in on you strolling their way through the sand under the edge of the cabana, saving you both from what could have been an incredible amount of embarrassment. 

“Hi, how are you two doing? Anything else I can get for you right now?” Your server asked, peeking his head in through the flaps to see you and Javi trying your best to act as natural as possible. 

“N-no, I’m good. You good, honey? Need anything?” Javi asked, looking over at you as his hand ran over the back of his neck, trying his best not to grimace at the awkward tension stewing between him, you and your poor, unsuspecting server. 

“You know what, I think I’m gonna have another drink.” 

“Alright! Another mojito for you, ma’am?” Your server asked, whipping out his pad of paper to note down your order. 

“No, can you make this next one a Sex on the Beach? That sounds really good.” 

It truly took everything in Javi not to burst out laughing, choking on his own spit at your perfectly timed order, shaking his head at you in a humorous disbelief. 

“Perfect, well I’ll be right back with your drink!” 

“Thank you so much!” 

Once your server had disappeared, you and Javi erupted in hyena like laughter, the combination of your joke and almost fatal timing throwing the two of you into a fit of giggles. 

“You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?” Javi chuckled, looking over at you as he shook his head. 

“What? It’s our last day, figured we might as well have a little sex on the beach. The drink sounds like it’ll be good, too.” 

Your mid-afternoon flight had made for an easy morning to pack up and soak in the last little bit of your honeymoon. It had given you just enough time to enjoy your favorite breakfast place, and have one more of the best blueberry waffles you’d ever tasted before your last shower (and shower sex) to get ready for your departure home. 

While you were sad your vacation had come to an end, there was no denying that every last bit of your trip was absolutely perfect, and even more so that you got to spend it with the most perfect person you could think of. You were convinced you could have gone anywhere in the world for your honeymoon and you would have felt the same- in the end, it wasn’t the destination that mattered, it was the fact you got to spend it with your husband. 

The fact that you got to spend every vacation together for the rest of your lives only made it that much sweeter. 

While flying would never be enjoyable, you were thankful your trip home was fairly painless, granting Javi’s hand some grace, considering you didn’t feel the need to keep it in an iron grip for the two hours it took you to arrive back home. 

You were also thankful that it was Steve and Connie who had offered to pick you up from the airport instead of Chucho, sparing you and Javi the same sort of awkward embarrassment you had endured on the ride to start off your honeymoon. 

Well, it may not been the same kind of embarrassment that you had experienced with Javi’s dad, but it was foolish of you to think that Steve was letting you get away scott free. 

At least he had managed to get creative with it, making a greeting poster with “Welcome home, lovebirds!” on it to help you find him and Connie in the airport crowd, making Javi let out a sigh loud enough that Steve probably could have heard it from the tarmac. 

“Hey! There they are! Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Peña!” Steve grinned, pulling you and Javi in for a hug as you found him, Connie following suit with a much less dramatic greeting for the both of you afterwards. 

“How was the honeymoon? Did you guys have a great time?” Connie asked, offering to take one of your suitcases, nudging Steve to do the same. “ 

“It was really nice. It was everything we could have hoped for. The resort was beautiful, the food was great, and the weather was fantastic. It really was perfect.” You smiled, looking up at Javi, nodding in agreement, reaching out to wrap his arm over your shoulder. 

“Thanks again for picking us up.” Javi chimed in, the two of you now following along behind your friends as they began leading you through the airport towards their car. 

“Don’t mention it, Jav. Least we could do.” Steve replied, reaching out to give Javi a little punch to the arm. 

“We’re super excited to hear all about your trip!” Connie added, looking back at you and Javi with a genuine grin. 

“Excited to hear if I’m gonna make good on my bet…” Steve muttered, laughing under his breath. 

“Steve! Seriously? You promised in the car you weren’t gonna bring this up!” Connie huffed, giving her husband a slap to the chest, and a grimace that clearly was the silent way to ask “Will you please shut up?” 

“What?! I put good money on it, I’m confident!” 

“Wait, is this the same bet that Javi’s dad was talking about on the way here?” You asked, looking back and forth between Javi, Steve and Connie in confusion, perplexed as to what you and Javi had to do with whatever bet he and the Murphy’s were in on. 

“Go ahead, Steve! Why don’t you explain?” Connie scolded, hands on her hips as she stared down her husband in all his big mouthed glory. 

“You bet on it, too!” Steve retorted, holding his hands up in defense, pointing at Connie to claim her as part of the guilty party to whatever was going on.

“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” Javi asked, trying to cut to the chase of whatever cryptic game they were playing. 

“After y’all left on your wedding night, we- shit, this does sound kinda bad when you say it to their face, huh?” Steve paused, letting out a huff as he turned back to Connie, grimacing in agreement, “Us and your family and your dad made a bet.” 

“A bet on…” You led, waiting for your answer. 

Steve sighed again, hands on his hips as he stared at the ground before looking back up at you and Javi, “A bet on how quick it would take after the wedding until the two of you announced you were pregnant.” 

You didn’t even want to know how red your face was turning, but judging by the sudden pink flush of Javi’s cheeks, you had no doubt you looked exactly the same, if not worse. 

“To be fair, your dad was the one who started it!” Steve exclaimed, pointing at Javi to let him know he wasn’t to blame for his friend’s embarrassment before shifting his finger to point at you, “And your brothers were the one who said we should make it a bet! I just wanted in on it!” 

“Jesus fucking christ.” Javi sighed, face in his palm as he rubbed his temples with the pads of his fingers. 

“I hope now you know we’re not gonna have kids just to spite all of you.” You teased, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilted your head at Steve. It was enough to catch Javi’s attention, eyes going wide that there was even a shred of you being serious, laughing to yourself as you watched the relief flush over him when you shook your head at your own joke. 

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say.” Steve chuckled, his voice oozing with sarcasm, simply shrugging before turning back around to continue your journey to the parking garage. 

Javi took his free hand, intertwining it with yours and giving it a gentle squeeze as the two of you trailed behind the Murphy’s soft smile on his face that despite his friends and families bet revolved around your sex life, there was a very real possibility that sooner rather than later, someone was bound to make their fifty bucks. 

“What’d you bet?” Javi asked, feeling entitled to know how Steve had gambled after he’d spilled the beans on his little wager. 

“Well, let’s see, y’all got married at the end of July, so July to August, August to September,” Steve paused, doing the quick math on his fingers as he calculated his answer, “9 months from now would be April, so I’ll be damned if you’re not tellin’ us your havin’ a baby by the fall and it’s here by the spring. And I know for a fact neither of y’all would be mad about that one bit.” 

And as much as you both hated to admit it, it was one of the few things in life that Steve Murphy was very, very right about. 

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae

@kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadresa @milly-louise @jay-zzle

@the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper

@nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk

@msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler

@burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3 @survivingandenduring

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[daydreams-after-dark]

This is a weird one but you asked for weird lmao

Werewolf Chan (or anyone) where he turns while inside of you?

I feel like if it’s going to be a werewolf it has to be Chan, right?

This one actually flowed out of me, which hasn’t happened in a while. No overthinking with this one. Just pure, unhinged filth!!!

MDNI // MDNI // MDNI

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Cw: bf werewolf chan, size kink, bulge kink, very rough unprotected p in v sex, so much cum, cream pie, bleeding, biting, scratching, aftercare (he tries, it’s endearing)

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

You knew Channie was a werewolf for a while now. You’d seen him change form often. He’d go from cute, lovable boyfriend to wild and primitive wolf.

Usually when he’d turn, he’d have a plan in place. You had to shackle him to the bed so he couldn’t escape. Then you’d keep your distance, save for checking up on him to ensure he hadn’t broken free.

He was truly scary when he turned. From the pained look on his face as he transformed, to the animalistic growl that resounded through your house that had your heart racing. The claws that would grow that looked like they could rip you to shreds.

Then there was his cock. It would go from thick, delicious and veiny to horrifyingly enormous, heinous and brutal looking. It would still be veiny, only the veins were a lot more prominent, and the thickness made it look so so ugly so hideous. It looked like it could tear your cunt to pieces. And it made your mouth water.

This was when you realized you might be sick. Because sometimes you’d fantasize about what it might be like to be impaled on his huge werewolf cock.

You’d think about it rearranging your insides, fucking you so good. You wondered if it’d hurt, and loved the idea that it probably would. And the cum? Fuck, how much cum would there be bursting out of the purple, angry tip?

You thought about what it might be like for him too. How tight your tiny, little human pussy would feel around his cock. How long would he last? Would you hurt him because you’d be so tight for him? Would it be a struggle to stuff it inside you? Would it fit at all?

>>>>

The time has come again for you to restrain him to the bed, and you go about it as per usual, helping him undress (because he’d ruin his clothes otherwise). But you can’t get the image of his werewolf cock out of your head.

He lays naked on the mattress for you while you handcuff his wrists to the bed frame. You do the same with his ankles to the frame at the foot of the bed, and you lean over and kiss his mouth, one last kiss before he turns. He kisses you back, warm and passionately, then you pull away.

But instead of getting up to leave, you straddle him, and the more you think about your boyfriend turning, the wetter you become.

“Babygirl, what are you doing? You have to go!” He says worriedly with a confused expression.

But all you do is grind against him and whimper. He moans beneath you, and you feel him rapidly growing hard, and you lean down and kiss him again whilst continuing to seek friction against your clothed core.

“Fuck! Please… you can’t… you have to… fuck you’re making me so horny, babygirl.”

It makes you smirk against his lips. “Channie, I’m so wet right now. Wanna feel me?” You purr.

He shakes his head “You have to go! Please, it’s not safe.” He whispers desperately.

But you don’t care about your safety. You sit up and remove your top, leaving you exposed from the waist up. Chan whines and tries to grind up against you.

Your little panties have quickly turned translucent from how wet you’ve become as you drag your pussy over the length of his cock.

You can tell Chan’s resisting, the way he’s squeezing his eyes closed and turning his head away.

“I want you inside me, Channie. Don’t ya wanna feel me before you turn?” You sigh.

“God! Fuck! Yes!” He cries. “B-but—“

But you pull your panties to the side and sink down over his length. He’s already throbbing and hard, so very hard. It’s a stretch already, and he’s still human.

“S’deep, Channie.” You choke, resting your hands on his chest to find purchase.

“Yeah, babygirl? You like it when Channie fucks you good, even when he’s tied up.” He grunts as he thrusts his hips up into you hard, like he’s forgotten he’s trying to get you to leave.

“Fuck yes, feels so good.” Your eyes roll back into your head when he hits that spot.

“So horny, so needy for my cock… even when you know it’s dangerous, hmm?” He bites his bottom lip.

“Yes.” You roll your hips slowly. “So fucking horny. For your werewolf cock.”

You see him start to turn. The thrashing of the head against the pillow, the change in his eyes, the clawed hands in their restraints.

His body thrashes about too, and you are flung forward onto his chest. You have to hang on to his shoulders for dear life or you’d be thrown across the room.

A flicker of fear washes over you and you wonder if you’ll survive this.

A loud, feral growl fills the room, and then you feel it - his cock rapidly expanding inside you, stretching you obscenely wide and lifting you off his hips because it’s too long. The hideous veins feeling like hard ridges against your walls. Your cunt is stretched taut around him.

“F-fuck!” You wail, as with every thrash of his body causes the tip to ram into your cervix.

You look up just in time to see the handcuffs rip from the bed frame, his legs freeing only moments after.

It all happens so fast. His clawed hands grip your ass cheeks, digging into the fresh and piercing the skin, drawing blood. He spreads your ass and then violently slams you down further onto his cock.

The air is jolted from your lungs as he flips you so you’re on your back and he’s on top of you, caging you in. He pins you down and pushes your legs wide and plunges into you brutally.

“Too deep, too much!” You cry out and peer down to see a bulge in your lower belly. You come just from the sight of what he’s doing to you and your body shudders underneath him.

He notices when your orgasm hits, and he growls in approval before doubling down and fucking you harder.

He pulls out suddenly, and the emptiness is almost to much to bare, your cunt settles down to it’s usual state, but you are still too empty.

You need your werewolf Channie to fuck you within an inch of your life.

He flips you back over, like a ragdoll, forcing your face into the pillow, and lifting your hips to meet the tip of his cock.

He’s back inside you, chasing his own orgasm, leaning over your back and biting at your shoulder. You’re bleeding there now too.

You scrunch your eyes up tight and fist the sheets in your hand. How much more can your body take? Yet you don’t want it to end. Your mouth hangs open and drool is pooling on your pillow.

It feels like he’s fucking you for hours before he loses all control, lifting you so your back is flush to his chest.

He bounces you on his length while he gropes a breast. His other hand finds your clit. Just like your Channie to bring you to the precipice one more time before he cums. You practically scream the house down as your entire body shakes and tremors and tears stream down your cheeks.

With a loud, animalistic growl, he fills you to the brim. There’s so much cum you think it’s going to burst your insides open, and when he pulls out it gushes out of your gaping cunt.

You collapse on the bed, panting, sweating, dribbling, leaking and bleeding. But werewolf Chan has calmed down and he starts to lick your wounds, calming and soothing them.

You catch him eyes and he looks worried. He thinks he’s hurt you. Bravely, you reach out and stroke his furry muzzle.

“It’s okay, Channie. Felt so good.” You smile wearily. You’re exhausted. Too exhausted to go clean yourself up, so you just curl up where you are, avoiding all the wet patches.

Channie curls up behind you, snuggling in and wagging his tail.

>>>>

You found that werewolf Chan was rather calm after fucking you like that, and you learned that given the chance to get all that pent up wild energy out of him, he would just curl up with while you watched tv, or while you worked on your laptop.

So from then on, everytime Chan would turn into a werewolf, you’d have sex and just hang out at home.

You didn’t need your restrain him anymore (except for when you wanted to of course).

>>>>

A/n: if you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a comment and reblogging 😘

And… feel free to send an ask, my ask box is open for hard thoughts.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @galaxycatdrawz @jiminssluttyminx @kayleefriedchicken @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @dool-set-net @redstayrosie @mintymintmint251 @katsukis1wife @delulustardust

[cybsoo2]

sick to my stomach

╰┈➤ synopsis — The sun has long since burnt out, but inside Beomgyu's room, his fever is burning up. Won't an angel come and take care of him?

╰┈➤ pairing —beomgyu x reader (feat. soobin)

╰┈➤ word count — 5.1k

╰┈➤ content warning — sick!fic, vomiting, angst, playful jealousy, pain & suffering

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ; sorry i lowkey died. here's a fic for your forgiveness 🫶🏻 inspo from that one soogyu incident. ALSO, i think it's ironic that right as i'm finishing writing this i get food poisoning 💀

As the sun sets, so do the shadows on Beomgyu’s face. The colour slowly fading from his flesh. His skin has long lost its warmth. Now, a cold chill takes over his bones. Lips no longer pink, but now pale and bloody. A bad habit of biting down whenever the pain becomes too much. 

This stomach bug is slowly killing him. 

How did it happen? Was it the winter chill that crept through his window? Tip-toeing through his room, quiet and unassuming. Slow and steady was the sickness. Beomgyu didn’t even notice until he was blinded by the fever. Coughing up a lung as he crawled into bed to retreat. It’s where he’s been resting for hours already. Brain fuzzy and feverish, he barely noticed the sun falling from the sky. The shadows smother his room and replicate his mood. Stuck fading in and out of sleep, he also happens to be unaware of the multiple missed calls lighting up his phone. 

The plans he had with you and Soobin are long lost in the back of his mind. This fever has made him forgetful and calling to cancel wasn’t his main focus. He only remembers his previous plans when he hears your voice calling out into the empty house. 

“Beomgyu?” You sound so happy, so excited for your plans he has to ruin. Immediately, he’s run over with regret. The very least he could do is not burden you with his sickness. But now you’re wandering up to his room, bound to be disappointed at what you’ll find waiting for you. 

“Soobin’s on his way, I think we’ll end up taking his car.” He can hear your footsteps going up the stairs. Getting closer and closer to his quiet room. “Beomgyu?...” The silence is unsettling. You stop for a moment on the stairs, listening intently for any sign that he’s actually alive. Only now do you begin to grow concerned at his lack of response. The silence drags out, each second adds to the anxiety eating away at your stomach. It spirals from there, confused thoughts clutter your mind. It’s so hard to think straight, the worry will only disappear when you see him for yourself. So you continue up the stairs, tentative and unaware of what to expect. 

When you open the door to his room, a ray of light streams in from the entrance. It hits Beomgyu in the eyes and he has to blink a few times to readjust. In his hazy vision, he can see the outline of you in the doorway. Is he hallucinating? You look just like an angel. A halo of light illuminates your features. Concern and confusion make-up your expression. 

Beomgyu looks like the exact opposite. His eyes are glassy as they gaze up at you. Swollen from sleep, he struggles to open them all the way. In his iris, you can see how sick he really is. The stray tear trails down his face and you reach out to wipe it away. His cheeks are already a rising red colour. They’re warm in your palms and he chases your touch. Your hands, so cold in contrast. It calms his burning fever and he lets his eyes fall shut. For a brief moment, time is frozen. Your touch is like snowflakes on his skin. The words you speak softly like the winter wind. His room has become like heaven. Just his angel and him, and for this small second, he forgets about the pain that plagues him. 

While Beomgyu is distracted, you take the time to look over his condition. His body’s temperature is rising; Skin glistening with sweat, the damp sheets, and bangs that stick to his forehead. You brush back the strands of hair and place your palm to his forehead. 

“Shit—You’re burning up.” Worry weighs heavy in your chest. It squeezes your heart and stirs up a stomachache. “How long have you been like this?” You ask softly while staring into his eyes. Your hands run through his damp hair, trying to give him some semblance of comfort. 

He turns to look up at the ceiling, avoiding your eyes. “A while.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he thinks back to when the fever struck. “I woke up already feeling sick, but I guess it got worse around noon.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve gotten here earlier.” Your voice is deep with distress. It’s eating at you from the inside out. Slowing chipping away at the cavity in your chest. Sinking in its vampire teeth and filling you with venom. 

It’s so out of character to see the usually outgoing guy act so quiet. To see him almost on the edge of tears is startling to say the least. This sickness has stolen his heart and left him to rot. 

“You know I hate to see you hurting like this.” You whisper into the room. There’s a touch of vulnerability in your voice. The words are spoken so softly, as if you might cry if you try to talk any louder.

Beomgyu turns to look at you. All his attention on the sound of your concern. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. But now that I’m here, let me try to help you.” You offer him a small smile. One that says, ‘Anything you need, I’ll be here for you.’

“Do you know your temperature?” You ask.

“No,” he groans, leaning more into your arms. “I didn’t think to check.” His voice is hoarse. Sore from the sickness, he tries to speak softly, almost in a whisper. You have to lean in closer to hear what he says.

“Okay well, I’ll go get the thermometer. I should also call Soobin to tell him you’re sick. Maybe he could even pick up some soup for you.” You say while grabbing your phone from your back pocket. You dial the ten digits and then Soobin’s speaking through the phone.

“Hey, Beomgyu’s sick so we won’t be able to hangout like we planned.” You say while attempting to sit up, but a certain someone stops you. Untangling yourself from Beomgyu and taking away his only source of comfort. He whines when you pull away but you try to ignore it and focus on what Soobin is saying. You cover the phone with your other hand and bring it down to your chest, trying to muffle the conversation.

“I’ll be right back.” You say and start to stand up again. But Beomgyu's sudden grip on your wrist says otherwise.

“No, don’t leave.” He looks up at you through half-lidded eyes. He’s almost on the edge of falling asleep, but the sudden scare of you abandoning him leaves him restless and awake. Alone in this empty room, far away from your warmth and missing your embrace.

“I’m just gonna grab the thermometer. I’ll only be a minute.” You try to reassure him. 

He doesn’t appear to be persuaded as his grip only tightens. Soft and slender, he uses his other hand to wrap around your wrist. Tugging at your arm, he tries to get you to stay with him. Using all his strength, he barely even makes you stumble. It worries you how weak he is. Plagued by pain, insomnia, and a rising heat, you can’t help but pity him.

You let out a soft sigh. Your heart truly hurts for him. Reaching out, you run your hands through his hair. A slight distraction to sooth him. Beomgyu closes his eyes at the feeling, slowly falling faster to sleep. Shhh. You hush his worries. Him, slowly succumbing to sleep after making you promise to come back quickly. Only then can you take the time to step away and finish talking to Soobin.

You don’t stray too far, only walking off into the bathroom in search of the thermometer, medicine and a quiet place to talk. You rummage through the cabinets in a rush. Eye-brows furrowed and growing frustrated. The thermometer you found tucked away in a drawer, but you can’t seem to find any medicine at all. “Maybe pick up some medicine while you’re at the store, I can’t find anything here.” You say to Soobin, voice laced with frustration. 

“Got it! What type should I get?” Soobin sounds upbeat despite the situation. Always happy to help, he’d do anything for his members.

“His fever’s pretty high,” You sit down on the edge of the bathtub and sigh. “Sounds like he has a sore throat too. Probably just get him some Advil and cough drops.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in 20 then.” His voice rings into the room.

You sigh in relief, one less thing to worry about. “Thanks so much Soobin, I’ll see you soon. Bye.” You hang up the phone and tuck it back in your pocket. 

When you go to check back on Beomgyu, he’s just as you left him– fast asleep and still as sick as before. You stick the thermometer in his mouth that hangs slightly open– soft snores escaping it. He only startles a bit, shutting his mouth around the object and shifting slightly. But otherwise, he doesn’t wake. Long lost to the cycle of sleep. There’s use in waking him, he could probably use the rest. He looks so peaceful like this. Sound asleep and buried beneath all the blankets. 

The chills seem to come and go. It’s like a wave that rolls in– soaking him in a cold sweat, then the sun appears to bring back the heat. His body can’t seem to regulate his temperature. You’ve learned over the years (after one too many unfortunate fevers) that a wet rag would help. After running to grab one, you place it on Beomgyu’s forehead. Other than this there’s nothing else you can do while he’s asleep. The thermometer finally beeps, letting you know it’s time to check his temperature. You pull it out of Beomgyu’s mouth and– Shit. 102.9, it’s pretty high. What he needs is medicine and some proper sleep. Soobin should be arriving soon, and then you should get started on making him something to eat as well. With one last look at him, you kiss his forehead and head downstairs to wait for Soobin’s arrival.

It didn’t take long for Soobin to arrive. When he got there, the conversation was quick. A few words exchanged, a short trip up to check on a still sleeping Beomgyu, and a promise to reschedule your plans whenever he gets better. After that, your attention was drawn to getting started on the soup. Maybe making him something to drink– and a few snacks too. He needs something light and easy on the stomach. You’re so focused on gathering the ingredients and stirring the soup that you don’t even notice the man sneaking up on you until he speaks. 

“Liar,” Beomgyu spits, betrayal in his tone. 

You spin around at the sound of his voice. Still rough from the cold, and slightly raspy since he just woke up. It’s a bit of a surprise to see him, you expected him to sleep a lot longer. 

“What do you mean?” You ask. “And what are you doing up? You should be laying down upstairs. Resting.” Your concern quickly overtakes your curiosity.  

Beomgyu ignores you and continues on,“You said you would be right back, but then you left.” He says with a sulk. All the while sinking down into the seat at the table. He lays his head on the wood top, watching you. 

“Oh,” You let out a scoff and smile in relief. “I thought I did something serious.”

“It is serious!” He tries to shout. His voice so strained that it comes up as more of a whisper. “You already promised you’d stay and take care of me, it’s too late to back out. And now you’re off having fun and hanging out with Soobin while I was upstairs suffering. Talk about betrayal,” He grumbles. 

You can’t help but try to bite back a smile at Beomgyu’s petty attitude. You just ignore his eyes on you and continue to stir the soup– it’s almost ready. “He only stopped by to drop off the soup and some medicine. We really didn’t talk for long.” Turning your head to look at him with a small smirk, you then say, “And how would you know what we were doing anyways. You were asleep.”

“I can assume.” Beomgyu mutters under his breath. “I don’t need Soobin stealing my girlfriend away from me when I’m at my weakest.” 

“No ones stealing me away. Just focus on getting better and don’t worry about anything else.” You walk over to him and hand him a bowl. It’s filled with berries, the blue and red ones that are his favourite. Something to snack on while you finish the soup. 

“Okay,” He sighs softly, accepting defeat to the playful argument. He takes the bowl and pops a berry in his mouth. He doesn’t have the energy to continue teasing you. Talking is growing tiresome. His throat aches and his thirst is insatiable. His chatter-box is beginning to break, slowly succumbing to the sickness like the rest of his rotting body.

Instead, he observes you. Following your movements like he’s watching a movie. It’s obvious he’s still tired. Eyes blinking slowly, lazy movements, and a quiet voice. He said he can’t get much sleep. Drifting in and out of dreamland, finally falling asleep only to wake up an hour later. 

After he eats, you’ll make sure he sleeps. The shadows are closing in and the sky is growing darker. The odd star shines through the navy night, and the moon will join them very soon. What little light the day still offers shines through the window. It illuminates a small corner of the kitchen– the one where Beomgyu sits now. 

You walk over to him– a warm bowl of soup held in each hand. Beomgyu can smell it from where he sits. The savoury scent makes his mouth water. He hasn’t eaten all day and he’s eager to have it all. But despite his hunger, his stomach stirs with nausea. 

As if you can read the hesitance on his face, you smile at him with encouragement and say, “Just eat what you can. We can always save the rest for later.” Beomgyu nods and takes the first bite. Then another and another, until almost the entire bowl is finished. 

You let out a laugh, “Slow down, don’t force yourself. Eating too fast will only upset your stomach.”

“It’s really good. Thank you.” He truly means it. He appreciates you staying by his side despite everything. Shouldering his burdens and sharing his troubles. His soul shines through his eyes, an amber colour in the light. And through his iris, it’s clear to see that he’s lovesick for you.

Although, the love only lasts for so long. “Well you don’t have to thank me, thank Soobin. He’s the one who bought it.” Beomgyu’s face immediately wrinkles in disgust. You can’t help but let a small smile slip at his expression. 

“Okay, well if you’re done we can head up to bed.” Sitting up from the table, you take away his empty dishes to put in the sink. You’ll deal with them tomorrow.

“You’ll stay with me right?” Beomgyu grabs the hem of your sweater as you pass by. You stop still and look down at him with a tired smile. “Of course, I’m getting pretty tired too.” 

You both make your way upstairs in a sleepy state. Tangled closely to one another and holding on tight. Not sure which limb is whose and where you begin and he ends. You stumble through a nighttime routine. Changing quickly then crawling into bed. Although that’s not before you remember to grab an Advil and wet rag. Placing it upon his forehead and giving him the tiny pill. It’s easy to drift off into sleep after that. The warmth you two emit, wrapped around each other and bundled in the blankets, chases off the winter chill. The darkness creeps into the room, closing your eyes, and dragging you off deep in a dream.

When you first wake, it isn’t by choice. Confused and still clinging onto sleep, it’s hard to think straight. You can’t see anything in the dark, but you can feel the frosty air that snuck in through the open window. The cold chill bites at your skin. It leaves you with red marks, frostbite nipping at your nose and numbing your hands. You can’t shake the shiver that runs up your spine. If you don’t shut the window, then you might end up just as sick as Beomgyu. 

You try to sit up, but the warmth of the bed brings you back down. The sheets tied around your legs, handprints sinking into the mattress, and a certain boy that pulls you closer. 

Every part of Beomgyu is tangled up in you. He’s wrapped up in your warm embrace. His hand bunches up the fabric of your shirt. His grip is tense, as if he’s desperately trying to get closer. He’s chasing after your heat. Your bleeding heart that pumps blood– hot and heavy. He craves your warmth and needs your love (The only two things that’ll end this sickness).

It’s not a want, but a need. You can hear it in the way his teeth chatter. Milk bone biting back a chill. You can feel how he shivers. Shaking like a leaf while in your arms. 

You try to open your eyes in the dark, fighting off the shadows to see what’s wrong. Beomgyu has a look of pain etched into his skin. A strike of worry hits you in the heart. You try to take a closer look, untangling yourself from the tight grip he has around you. With your free hand, you brush back the bangs that cast shadows on his skin. Your other hand carefully cradles the back of his head, turning his sleeping face away from where it hides burrowed into your shoulder, and up to look at you instead. 

His pale skin reflects the moonlight. It shines with sweat and when you glance down, you can see that he’s sweat through his shirt too. His fever has only seemed to have risen, growing more angry and ruthless than before. To check your suspicions, you gently cup his cheek in your hand. A quiet gasp leaves your lips. He’s hot to the touch.

The medicine mustn’t have been enough. And the wet rag, now fallen and forgotten on the floor, has long grown warm. You immediately sit up, now wide awake and full of worry. 

Even in his sleep Beomgyu can sense you slipping away. He shifts over to your side of the bed. His hand outstretched, trying to chase your ghost. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion when he can’t find you. A sad look falls upon your face and you take his hand without thinking twice. Rubbing circles along his skin– slow and rhythmic. His subconscious responds, squeezing your hand tight and not letting go. 

As you look down at the sorry sight of your boyfriend, you try to decide whether to wake him or not. Should you just let him sleep a little while longer? Let him live off in a dream, distant and unaware. His mind separate from the suffering his body endures. Although you don’t really want to disturb him, it’d probably be better to. Changing the sheets, giving him more medicine– it’ll all help to bring his fever down. So you lean in close and speak softly to him, “Beomgyu.” Your voice sweet as sugar. “Baby, wake up.” You rub up and down his arm so as not to startle him. 

Beomgyu begins to wake at the movement. Tired eyes still heavy with sleep. Dreams of you and him still dancing in his head. His peace is now replaced with pain and he whines at the feeling of being awoken. 

“Shhh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Your hand slides down to stroke his back. It settles a chill and brings back the heat in his bones. 

Now slightly more awake, Beomgyu looks to you for the reason he’s awake. In your iris is a sea of grief. The dark sorrow swimming in your eyes, draining their colour and painting them gray. 

You hesitate before speaking, “Your fever hasn’t seemed to have gone down. I’m gonna go grab you some more Advil– hopefully that works.” You glance down at the bed, avoiding his eyes. “I should probably change the sheets too. You sweat right through them.” 

It’s only now that you mention it does he start to notice the heat that’s scorching his skin. The pain hits him all at once. His skin, sticky with sweat. Clothes stuck like a second skin and cold from the icy air. A headache drives it’s way through his skull. The pressure building right between his eyes. 

Emotions overwhelmed, he begins to tear up. Red-rimmed eyes and crystal tears, he’s pretty when he cries. But the sad sight still hits your heartstring and sweet nothings start to leave your lips. 

“I know, I know it hurts. I’m so sorry you’re feeling like this.” You pause for a moment, swallowing down the sympathy that’s stuck in your throat. This new wave of worry makes it hard to talk. You even find that you have to take the time to fight back your own tears. “I’ll be right back.”

Beomgyu can’t find his words. Too tired to talk, he just lets out a low groan. He can feel you slipping away from him. Detangling yourself from the sheets and leaving his arms. His hand still holds yours and he only lets go at the last moment. 

He sees you reach down and grab the wet cloth off the floor. Then he’s watching you walk away through blurry vision. 

You aren’t gone for long, rushing to grab everything Beomgyu needs with no time to spare. But by the time you get back, the cold air has already reached him. Goosebumps litter his skin, his hair stands on end. He’s constantly switching between cold chills and a scorching heat. Too hot for a sweater, but too cold to be left alone.  

It’s only a mere minute before you’re back by Beomgyu’s side. Sliding into bed while he’s pulling you close. He sits up a bit once he sees the pills in the palm of your hand. Two red tablets, the type that’s easy to swallow without an after-taste. He drinks them down with the water you’ve given him. He’s greedy with the way he takes it all. The cool liquid soothing his thirst and calming the heat. He downs the whole glass then goes to hand it back to you. 

You quickly put the empty glass on the bedside table, then turn back over to face him. “Go back to bed.” You softly push his head back onto the pillow. Your fingers run through his hair, pushing it out of the way to place the wet cloth back on his forehead. “Try to get as much rest as you can. Just wake me up if you need anything.” He only huffs in response, too lazy to talk and already falling fast asleep. Once you see his body relax and eyes slowly shut, only then can you go to sleep without any worries weighing you down.

The rest of the night is a hazy collection of heatstroke. Beomgyu can’t remember anything too clearly, but he knows you never left his side.

When he’d start throwing up in the middle of the night, you’d rub his back and soothe the sickness.  

The lights dimmed down so as not to agitate his headache. The lightbulb flickers overhead. It illuminates the tears that trail down his face. They leave angry red lines that run down from his eyes to his lips.  

A sharp pain shoots through his stomach. It’s a constant pain that cuts up his insides. He’s emptied out everything he’s eaten, but the stomachache still stays. His head hangs over the toilet, forehead resting on his arm. The nausea is always sudden to strike, the slightest movement setting it off. Although his body aches and he’s throwing up till it’s acid, you being there helps. The way you rub up and down his back is like an anchor. Something to steady him, a soothing rhythm. 

Your own head rests against Beomgyu’s nape. Still fighting off the remnants of sleep. Your whole body shaken at being awoken so suddenly by Beomgyu rushing to the bathroom. The quiet room and winter air threaten to drag you back to sleep, but you blink back the feelings. You’re here to focus on comforting the boy beside you. Even if you can’t do much to stop the sickness, just your presence is enough to bring some solace. 

Your fingertips trace up along his spine. He can feel your touch through his shirt and he shivers at the feeling. Your warmth melts through the fabric and Beomgyu feels bare in front of you. He’s at his most sensitive and exposed, all for you to see. Yet, you accept him with open arms, and he couldn’t be anymore grateful.

When all the movement makes him dizzy, you’d hand him aspirins and water to wash it down. 

The cup chilled from the frozen air. The heat of his hands leave fingerprints along the glass. He downs the drink in a second, starving for something to help his aching throat. It hurts to take a breath or even try to talk. Everytime a sentence scratches its way out from under his tongue, you shush him almost instantly. Sweet whispers of ‘Don’t talk’ and ‘I know what you’re trying to say’ are spoken. There’s no need for him to talk when you already know him so well. The next minute you’re handing him cough drops to soothe his sore throat. 

Beomgyu pouts, they’re the bitter ones. The fake grape flavor that makes him sick to his stomach. He hates how they taste and refuses to eat them. But the next thing he knows he’s backtracking his words and you’re coaxing them down his throat with a kiss. You always taste so sweet, like strawberries at sunrise. He doesn’t even realize he’s swallowed them down like pills until you’re pulling back and he’s chasing you for more. Softly biting down on your bottom lip, his hands begin to wander. In the bathroom, dimly lit and at dawn, all his pain has run away. He can’t focus on anything other than your lips and how his heartbeat pounds in his chest. But Beomgyu is still sick and you’re pulling back to say, “If I kiss you anymore I’ll end up just as sick as you.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.” He looks up into your eyes. It’s an endearing sight to see, his pink cheeks flushed and lips red from your attack. But the image of pain still peeks through, his eyes shine with tears that gather at the waterline. You let out a soft laugh, wiping away the tears before they fall. “Are you sure about that? Cause you don’t look to be doing so well.”

Beomgyu grabs your hand and holds it to his face. All he can do is whisper without it hurting, “But I’d take care of you. Just like you’re looking after me. Then it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

A soft smile pulls at your lips. Your heart hums a tune of tender delight. Heartstrings strumming a soft symphony of love and adoration.“I don’t doubt that you’d take care of me well, but let’s just hope it doesn’t get to that point. Let’s focus on you first, the one who’s actually sick.” 

Beomgyu lets out a huff at the reminder of his illness. Even just the words washing over him is enough for the pain to multiply. His attention back on the aches that run along his body, the heat that makes his shirt stick to his skin, and the fatigue that takes away his focus. 

He looks exhausted. Eye bags beginning to appear. Pink that’ll turn to purple if he can’t catch anymore sleep. “Come on,” You sigh at the sight of him. “Let’s get you to bed.”  You grab his arm and guide him out of the bathroom. 

Bits are pieces like this are all he remembers before the fever breaks.

It’s early in the morning. The sun begins to rise, bringing with it a rare warmth. The heat melts the snow and if for only a moment, winter’s wrath has begun to subside. 

Beomgyu wakes up feeling slightly better than before. His headache has lessened, only a dull ache remains. His limbs no longer feel heavy with fatigue, instead he’s weightless and well rested. The sun is shining on his face, the bright light waking him up. Beomgyu blinks back the remnants of sleep and lets out a yawn. 

Spring is blooming. A flower bud that shoots up from the snow. It’s a gentle blossom, one that’s so unlike yesterday's snow storm. The smell of flowers and the sun’s warm touch has begun to snuff out the sickness. Although nothing can compare to the real warmth right across from him. Beomgyu opens his eyes and sees you. You’re still asleep, slumbering off in a distant dream. You must have moved in your sleep, because your hair is sticking up in all directions and you’ve left his arms in the middle of the night.

Beomgyu reaches over, grabbing your arm to try and pull you closer. Right when he touches you, he can already tell something is wrong. You’re hot to the touch, a blistering heat that burns straight through your skin. Concern immediately overtakes him. Gently, he puts his palm to your forehead to check your temperature. Just as he thought, you’re running a fever. 

It’s most likely his own fault. If he didn’t kiss you so carelessly– kept asking for more, then you probably wouldn’t end up sick. Although, he can’t lie and say that he’s sorry. Having you stuck with him until the sickness dies down is like a cruel dream. Wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing your warmth and waiting till the days go by. Sleeping in a bed made for two, twisted in the sheets and talking for hours. And even when it’s the worst of it– the chills and the aches, the sick stomach and the burning heat. You don’t need to worry, because he’ll take care of you. Just like he promised.

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved

[seat-safety-switch]

In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups: the people who repair fences, and the people who let them fall apart. These are their stories.

When I moved into my house, the fence was in good condition. In case you're from a country that hadn't invented them yet, "fences" are an artificial construct of humanity meant to delineate the boundaries of property between two or more identical suburban houses. And, being part of your property, they are part of how you are perceived.

Here's the problem: fences are made out of flawed, human construction. Mine was (I think) made out of wood. When that wood rotted, the planks fell out, and maybe a couple posts stayed behind. Suddenly, passersby could see into my property, and see that I was not in fact a Good Person who was Trying Hard To Fit In. Not like themselves, who agonized over every missing flake of Home Depot Eggshell Blue on their own fences after a long, hard winter.

As things degraded further, with neighbourhood children wandering, confused, into my yard after not seeing any fence keeping them from doing so, by-law enforcement was summoned. The belief was that they would punish me for going against the grain, for letting my fence fall apart.

Unfortunately for them, my attorney, who spends most of his spare time writing erotic fan-fiction about our city's specific property-standards bylaws (don't ask to see them, they're really bad, and the main character is an obvious self-insert) was on the case. He actually made one of the bylaw managers quit rather than spend another hour on the phone with him. After all that stress, it turns out that while you can't have a bad-looking fence, you don't actually have to have a fence at all.

One delightful weekend of sledgehammers removed the last of the rotten planks and split posts, and my yard was now full of free-range 1970s shitbox Chryslers. A glorious moment for civilization.

Unfortunately, it didn't take long for me to realize exactly why fences are valuable: they keep the undesirable element out of your yard.

Only a few days after my triumph over the decline of mind-your-own-fucking-businessism, I noticed something strange in my yard. Tucked in amongst where I would normally have terrible cars, someone had parked a fully-intact Ford Galaxie, presumably thinking I wouldn't even notice. As if I could not give special attention to a vehicle that still has its hood and its trunk!

The haters won in the end: I was forced to go to Home Depot, that knurled-wood nest of knavery, and purchase the shittiest chain-link fence kit that I could find. No cost was too great to keep the Fordites away from my homestead, with their firestarting dodgy electrics and perfect paint.