#just wanted to be clear about that ^ this is just a thought i had

[hedgehog-moss]

I saw an astronaut walking on the side of the road today, which is the kind of thing my brain will placidly accept at first, only to go "Wait, an astronaut" a minute later once I'm done with my previous train of thought. By then I felt like it might be too late to stop my car, but I ended up stopping anyway because I didn't want to spend the rest of the afternoon wondering.

I waited for the astronaut to catch up with me since they were going in my direction, but they didn't. Eventually I got out of the car and retraced my steps, and after a bend in the road when I saw no one walking towards me I decided the visitor must have gone back to their spacecraft and I would never get an explanation for this—and then in the distance I caught a glimpse of the white space suit disappearing into the forest.

I managed to catch up with them and they turned out to be a distant neighbour of mine (let's call her M.), and what looked like a space suit when I was driving by was a beekeeper's outfit! (Sorry for the pointless suspense but I was taking you on the same little journey my brain went through.) M. was tickled when she learnt that I mistook her for an astronaut—she told me she'd borrowed her husband's too-big shoes which made her drag her feet, hence why she looked like she was having trouble readjusting to Earth's gravity.

Then she said that one of her hives had swarmed, and she was pretty sure she knew where the swarm was. I had no idea how swarming worked so as we walked in the woods she explained that when a hive becomes too crowded, the queen will get replaced by a new one, and the old queen will leave along with half of the bees. After this split, the swarm will cluster somewhere nearby and wait while scout bees fly away in search of a new hive location. "That's when you have to catch them—if you can find the swarm. But here it is!"

I wasn't expecting quite so many bees!! I'm pretty scared of all flying creatures so allow me to pat myself on the back for what came next—I thought I was about to learn how to catch a swarm from a prudent distance, but M. asked if I could give her a hand, seeing as her husband was supposed to be here to help but clearly wasn't.

The first step of catching a swarm was spraying the bees with sugar water, and I was glad not to be asked to help with that, as it seemed like something that could make bees angry. ("On the contrary, it makes them less agitated!" I was told, but that remained to be seen.) Step 2 was pulling on a rope tied to the tree branch in order to lower the swarm into the new hive, and that was the job I was recruited for. The rope was long enough that I could stand several metres away to pull on it, but my role in this swarm-catching business was still all too clear to any angry bee looking for someone to blame.

I remembered reading that bees can sense the electric field of flowers, so I thought there was no way they wouldn't sense the staticky nervousness coming from the rope-puller, but thankfully they completely ignored me.

M. was offering one fun fact about bees after the other, in a very relaxed voice, which was very interesting and very soothing for both me and the bees. She said this particular colony was very sweet ("some bee colonies are meaner than others?" "yes of course"), and that swarming usually happens a bit earlier in the year "but it's been raining so much lately, the bees had to postpone all their activities, just like us" and also "swarming involves quite a bit of planning ahead of time; for example worker bees have to put the queen on a diet so she won't be too fat to fly. Did you know that?" I did not!

Unfortunately our first attempt to catch the swarm failed. The bees entered the hive, had a quick look around their new home, then left in disgust and formed a thick, angry, buzzing cloud over our heads, while I tried to think nothing but bee-loving thoughts to make my electric field harmless and friendly.

Then one after the other all the bees returned to the exact same spot on the branch where we'd first found them. ("Because it smells like the queen" said M.) We examined the near-empty hive and found that a mouse had made a nest in there! She was no longer here but the traces of her passage were evident (some of the comb was very nibbled.)

As we were removing the supplies brought in by the mouse (sticks, hay), M.'s husband joined us and he had brought a spray bottle containing some sort of bee-attracting liquid (pheromones?) (I didn't have a close look at the bottle because I made sure to stay far away from the bee-attracting liquid, while he sprayed it inside the hive.)

He had also brought a white sheet which he spread under the tree, explaining that the bees will want to get away from the bright surface and look for darkness, thus hopefully getting inside the box. Another thing I learnt is that once the queen enters the hive, the nearest worker bees will spread the message by turning round and fluttering their wings to send a chemical signal in specific directions, which will be picked up by other bees farther away; at strategic intervals some bees will light the beacons of Gondor turn round and fan their wings to relay this scent-message until the entire colony is informed of the queen's new location.

We were more successful the second time around! This time the bees who went in didn't immediately get out again to return to their branch. Well I say "we" but I didn't volunteer to pull on the rope again, so I can't claim any role in this victory. But my personal victory was that I stood quite a bit nearer this time so I could watch everything closely, and I felt more intrigued than nervous. Bees were constantly zipping past me but it had become clear that my electric field was pure and they bore me no ill will. I was always fond of bees from afar and happy to see them do their thing in flowers in the spring, but today's adventure got me interested in their daily life as well, so I think I'll read some books about bees this summer!

I was reading last month about the morality of termite colonies (Maeterlinck's La vie des termites) and I had a feeling this man must have written some poetic stuff about bees as well—and he did. Here's a translated excerpt from his book "La vie des abeilles" :)

[reiderwriter]

🌙 Like You Did With Her 🌙

Spencer Reid x female! Reader

Part of the CM Kink Bingo Challenge

Requested: Can I request Spencer x female!reader who are in an established relationship and she sees him kiss cat that one time. And once the case is over she’s not actually mad cause she understands he had to but she kinda plays it up a bit like ‘I don’t think you’ve ever kissed me like that’

Warnings: BDSM themes, dom! Spencer Reid, mentions of cheating, voyeurism, cuckolding, exhibitionism, bondage, handcuffs, penetrative sex (P in V), consensual degradation (use of whore and slut), anal play, cum play, implied unprotected sex, unconventional sex location (non-public), rough sex, clit stimulation, etc.

A/N: Additional warning - you may not see God's blessing if you read on. To say I got carried away would be an understatement. If you're reading this and you know me, do not ask questions. Simply separate the art from the artist. It's what I want (I'm being dramatic).

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You'd promised Spencer that you wouldn't let Cat Adams or anything she said or did get to you. You'd waven him off on his “date,” kissed him goodbye, and then sat on his couch for hours worrying.

And you'd kept worrying as the hours passed, until you'd heard voices in the hallway and then movement, and the door was opening and you saw it.

Your boyfriend savagely pushing another woman up against a wall, fighting for control, his large hands spread wide and tensed against skin, his lips sucking and kissing and preening, and showing his control.

You watched for entirely too long before you accidentally made your presence known.

It was a game to Cat, and you knew enough about her to know that you couldn't show any reaction. You didn't know if she'd only get more dangerous if she knew just how much you'd enjoyed watching that.

You held the conversation still, letting Spencer push at whatever game it was he was playing with Cat, but you weren't wholly there. Instead, your mind was playing the comparison game.

You loved Spencer. Spencer loved you. When you had sex with Spencer, it was clear that Spencer loved you.

And maybe love was all there was to it because based on what you'd now seen, there wasn't exactly that much heat when you did it.

If he could be so rough - and you wanted him to be rough - then why wasn't he being rough with you?

He may have been playing games with Cat, but you'd fucked him enough to know the subtle postures of his arousal. You caught it in the way he held himself, the way his breathing hitched, the way he was looking.

Not just at her, but at you, too. As if he were caught between the two of you, unsure who to force to their knees first.

So you let him do the talking and tried to distract yourself from a moment of arousal that you feared would never be satisfied.

To your credit, you lasted two weeks. You hadn't made love to him that night because it was too soon, and he was desperately grovelling in apology for something you weren't angry about in the slightest.

Sure, you should've been angry. If not because he'd made out with another woman than he'd made out with a sociopathic serial killer specifically, one who'd made his life a misery. But you couldn't bring yourself to be upset when your hands worked their way between your legs every time you thought about it.

A week after, he caught you pleasuring yourself, and he'd taken over, kissing you gently and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

His touch was pathetically gentle, and after you came, he rolled off the bed and took himself to the bathroom, leaving you alone.

A week after that, he initiated sex again, but it was soft, sweet, and so warm that you felt almost ashamed for wanting him to choke you out even just a little bit.

Spencer wasn't exactly unaware of your preoccupation.

You hadn't kissed him without frowning in two weeks, and you hadn't initiated anything sexual yourself. There was still the casual intimacy, the friendship, the I Love You’s, but you seemed distant and he knew he fucked up.

You drew a line in the sand when he started coming home with flowers.

“Spencer-? What is this?” You said as he pushed the bouquet into your hands, kissing you hello as he walked through the door.

“Flowers. Lilies, to be specific, you like lilies, right? I didn't ask, I should've asked-”

“Why did you buy me flowers?” You said, still just staring at him and the guilt on his face.

“I thought - You like flowers.”

“I do. But I also like to know the reason behind the flowers, so spill.”

He hesitated for a moment and let out a sigh, running his hands through his hair as he looked between you and the flowers.

“Lilies are apology flowers.”

“Spencer,” you said, almost exasperated, throwing your hand sin the air and walking back to the kitchen.

“You're upset. You're obviously upset. I kissed Cat, and-”

“You did a little more than kiss her.”

“Y/N,” his voice getting slightly deeper, his voice warning you to tread lightly. “You're jealous.”

“I already told you I'm not,” you said, even though that was half a lie. “It's just-”

“Just what? Jealousy? Speak to me, Y/N, you've been ignoring me all week.”

His brow was furrowed, his stress evident in the hard lines of his body, his stiff shoulders, the line of his mouth. You wanted to keep pressing his buttons until that anger, that stress, boiled over, and you got to experience what Cat had.

“Sorry,” you said, dropping the lilies on the counter in your kitchen and turning around to face him once again. “I haven't been ignoring you, though. Ignoring someone is when you make out with another woman in a doorway, not knowing your girlfriend is sitting on a couch watching the entire thing.”

“Y/N!”

“What? I'm not allowed to tell the truth now? Are you afraid you'll feel too guilty?”

“I am so sorry, Y/N, it was-”

“I'm not.” You said quickly as he stepped forward. You knew that if you let him get further in his apology, he'd bundle you up in his arms, and gently carry you away to kiss and hug and cuddle and have sex in the most dignified, loving way imaginable. You didn't want that.

“What?”

“I'm not sorry. I lied earlier. I'm not sorry, I'm fucking envious.”

You slid your hands down his chest as he stilled again, watching g your hand descend to the front of his pants. You grabbed his belt and pulled him closer.

“Spencer, why have you never fucked me like that?”

His eyes widened in shock, but they quickly flicked back to your hands as you slowly unbuckled his belt.

“I… I didn't fuck her, let's get that straight.”

“I know,” you said, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “I was watching.”

His hands gripped the counter as he stared at you straight-faced, finally locking eyes with you as you pulled his belt free and dropped it to the floor.

“I don't want to treat you the way I treated her,” he said, voice quieter but still full of tension, as if ready to shout at any second.

“You don't want to fuck me?” You asked, even as you grabbed his cock through his pants, taunting him with the fact that he did. You knew he did, because you held the evidence in your hand.

“No…! Yes, I do, but not... like that.”

“Not like what?” You said, pushing his shirt up and out of his pants so your hands had more room to explore, fewer layers of clothing to obstruct.

“Like… like a… fuck, stop distracting me.”

“I'm not distracting you, I'm trying to prove to you that this is meaningless and that you should bend me over and fuck me like a cheap whore.”

“Y/N!” he said, either exasperated, or desperately horny from your grip on his hard cock.

He grabbed your hand and pulled it away from him, pinning it against the counter with his own.

“Stop.”

“No,” you spat back at him, pressing closer to him and wiggling your hand free so it could stroke his dick again. “Not until you make me.”

His lips dropped to yours in a kiss, but this time, you could tell you'd made progress. An annoyed harrumph echoed through the kiss, and you fought his tongue back as he tried to take control of your mouth, attempting to gently lead as he always did.

“Y/N,” he moaned, as your hands fought off his to fondle his cock, unbuttoning his pants and pulling it free as you stroked it gently, teasingly.

You had to show him a taste of his own medicine.

“Y/N, we need to talk, keep your hands to yourself.”

“No,” you said, stroking harder, spotting into your hand while keeping eye contact with him. “Unless you want to try and stop me?”

He watched your hand fall back to his cock, watched you tease the tip with one small stroke, then another, and then another.

And then he finally broke.

He pushed your hands off quickly, twisting one arm up and around your back, pinning it there as he grabbed his handcuffs and attached your hands together behind your back.

“Spencer!” you gasped.

“Cheap whore? That's what you wanted?” He said, pulling your hips back so his cock could nestle in the fabric of your skirt.

You nodded, rolling your shoulders to test the limits of your new restraints. Restraints you knew had been on Cat two weeks ago. You wondered if he was thinking about her now as his cock got harder and harder. You wondered why that turned you on so much.

“Okay. I'll give you what you want, but don't complain after.”

“Please, like you could actually hurt me that much.”

His hand immediately crept up to your neck and wrapped around it delicately. He didn't press down, but the threat was there as he leant down to whisper in your ear.

“Y/N?” You nodded in response, not chancing talking back. “Shut the fuck up.”

His hands pulled your skirt up first, and you found yourself without underwear just as fast, though you felt it suspended between your knees. He ran a finger through your folds, pushing your legs wider with one hand as the other grabbed a fistful of hair and slowly forced your head onto the counter.

This was new. All of this was new. The position, the location, the emotion. The handcuffs. You struggled against them again but didn't say a word, as his hand gently came down on your bare ass.

“Ah,” you cried out in surprise, jumping slightly as you felt the impact.

“I said be quiet,” he said from behind you, inspecting your pretty pink pussy as you displayed yourself for him.

One finger slowly slid into you, and you bit your lip to hold back a moan. It was joined by a second finger, and then he started moving them.

He'd touched you before, buried himself deep inside even, but this new angle felt different, and your eyes rolled shut as he pumped in and out. With two weeks of frustration, you were perfectly wet for him already, and you were almost embarrassed about the wet sounds his ministrations were causing already.

“S-Spencer,” you moaned, pushing your hips back into him, in time with his fingers.

He pulled out his hands and slapped your ass again, hard, as you cried out.

“You want to be treated like a cheap whore, but even they follow instructions, Y/N.”

You heard him spit on his hands again, and then his digits returned.

Except they didn't return to your pussy, but a spot higher up.

His fingers lubed up your ass with his spit and your arousal as he gently slid a finger into your ass, and you cried out in shock, or pain, or arousal, or whatever it was that had your head sagging to the counter, your legs lifting onto your tiptoes to allow him better access to your holes.

“You're even tighter here than there…” he said, almost curiously, as of transfixed by watching his fingers enter and exit you.

You were so distracted by his fingers, you barely noticed his cock probing at your pussy before it slid into you entirely.

You really couldn't help the mess you made of the kitchen counter. When he pushed into you, he used his free hand to lift your leg slightly, and inadvertently pushed your clit into the edge of the kitchen counter. With every thrust of fingers and hips, you ground into the edge, pussy flooding with juices as you were stimulated on all fronts.

You almost begged him to play with your nipples as well, just to see what the experience would feel like, how hard you could cum when every area of your body was being bombarded with pleasure.

As it was, the cock and handcuffs probably would've been enough. But you felt the shame of your arousal dripping down your leg, piddling at your feet. You heard him questioning which part of the experience it was that had led to you being such a desperate slut.

Was it his cock? Was it the fingers in your ass? Was it the handcuffs? Was it the fact that you were still imagining him doing exactly this to another woman while you watched on?

You didn't know, and he didn't degrade you further by asking.

His hand gripped your hair again, pulling you back harshly so your back arched, and your clit painfully pushed down into the edge of the counter.

With a scream - a loud, sudden, uncontrollable thing - you came, letting loose a torrent of cum down your leg.

Still, he kept thrusting, but he let go of his previous vow of silence.

“You are such a cheap whore, aren't you?” He said, removing his finger from your ass, hands gently gripping your hips as he pulled your ass cheeks, inspecting how far he'd stretched you, how much your hole gaped open.

“You've been so jealous that I wasn't tossing you around all this time. My cock could've been buried inside someone else, and you'd have enjoyed that. Wouldn't you?”

You could only moan in response, too scared to confirm or deny. You wanted more.

“You know, Y/N,” he started, leaning down to your ear again, squishing you painfully against the hard counter. “Cheap whores don't deserve cream pies.”

Just as you approached another climax, he pulled out of you, letting you crumple to the floor without his weight counterbalancing your own.

Then he hooked a finger under your jaw and lifted your head up. He barely managed to grunt out “close your eyes” before his cum was shooting out over your face.

“Fuck, I'm sorry, I love you… I love you, I love you, I love you, I love-”

Your lips parted in shock as a spurt hit your chin, your eyes. It was even in your hair. He aimed after that and managed to get a good amount of it on your tongue as you grimaced away from his hold.

But his hands held you still, and you swallowed it, even wiping the spurts from your cheek and eyes and licking off your hands as you cleaned up.

When he was finished, Spencer let you go and leaned back against the kitchen counter. When you could open your eyes again, you stared up at him in shock before collapsing down and laying on the cold floor of your kitchen, chest heaving.

“I knew…. I knew it would be more…” you said, unable to find the words to describe the deeds you'd just done.

“But I wasn't expecting… most of that.”

“I'm so-”

“Do not fucking apologise,” you demanded, pointing a stern finger at him as he pulled himself together.

“Next time you bring flowers home, I'm going to be expecting that as a follow up,” you laughed, letting him help you off the floor and release you from your constraints.

“So,” he said, playing with the cuffs as he gave you an awkward, straight smile. “Bondage, huh?”

You burst into laughter as you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him all the way to the bathroom.

“By the way,” you said, beginning to strip yourself off, distracted only by your attempts to strip him off as well. “You're cleaning the kitchen after we're done.”

[slvttyplum]

sneaking around and doing shit you weren't supposed to be doing was one of the things you were good at; in fact, you were an expert at it. you knew you weren't supposed to be fucking him, but there you were, spread out in all your glory like a meal on a plate, ready to be devoured.

your friends had a sixth sense; every person you dated, they were right about, and you dated a lot of people. when it came to nanami, they couldn't put a finger on why they didn't like him or what it was that threw them off, but they were going to warn and nag you until you stopped talking to him, and that was never, in a million years, going to happen.

so what'd you do? you kept talking to him, and talking didn't last for long. he was a sweet talker; he knew his way around things and knew how to get what he wanted. in this exact moment, what he wanted was you, and he was going to stop at nothing to get you.

neither of y'all was planning on having sex; sex is just one of those things that happen unless there's a clear boundary that it wasn't going to happen, but with two glasses of wine and him eyeing you down like he hadn't eaten in weeks, he had you in bed so fast that when you took another blink, it was all over.

what you thought was a one-time thing with this sexy man turned into an everyday thing. he couldn't keep his hands off of you, and you couldn't keep your pussy off his face. it was a win-win situation for the both of you. the more you kept going behind your friends and fucking him, the more they got suspicious if you actually stopped talking to him.

the suspicion didn't start until you started bailing on plans and leaving places early just so nanami could flip you on your back and spread you out like scissors so he could fuck you so good you didn't even want to go home.

theres no way you could ever leave him alone after he fucked you so many times you lost count, or at least that's what you tried to tell yourself until you actually started tracking and got to forty. this man fucked you senseless forty fucking times.

the way he whispered sweet things into your ears while he was inside of you made everything worse. his soft voice sliding into your ears as his hands were roaming and cupping over your breast, and his dick was buried deep inside of you, softly pressing on your sweet spot, his lips kissing over your jaw as he slams into you, putting in every inch bit by bit.

whether this was a phenomenon or things just playing out in your head, but… everything felt ten times better when you knew you weren't supposed to be doing it. doing something in secret makes you feel good. doing him especially felt good.

nanami knew about your little problem and couldn't understand why they would think such things, but he made sure to turn the situation around to his advantage so you weren't sneaking around and leaving events early in vein.

making sure to start off slow, kissing down your neck and stopping right at your stomach before rubbing all over you, making sure you're comfortable before he makes you take him. that's all nanami was concerned with, not with what was going on around the both of you, his job, or your friends, the only thing he was worried about was you and making you feel good, even if that meant having to sneak around for you.

"i don't want you to be this person just so you can sneak around with me." a put on your lips as you look down at your hands, nanami's coming up to cup your cheek, making you look at him, those big eyes that he fell in love with looking back at him.

"i'll be whatever you want me to be, baby." that's when you knew that he wasn't like those exes who put you through hell; he was much more than that. he cared about you, and it was evident not only through his words but also through his actions.

[lovelettersfromluna]

Champagne Coast

Summary: Ellie’s a dickhead that knows exactly how to make you feel good….go figure.

an: this one is a little short, but I have lots planned for the next chapter! I hope you all enjoy regardless 🤍

Warnings: MDNI!! 18+ ONLY, smut!, angst!, Ellie is…she’s really bad at the beginning of this one I’m sorry, mean!Ellie, reader has a brother (he’s a sweetheart but also a moron), new girl in town who is very mean to reader, jealousy, slight sub!Ellie if you squint, needy!Ellie, tribbing? (Idek if what they do is considered tribbing you let me know if it is), lazy make out, mentions of weed and alcohol, Ellie is TIPSY not fucked up during the sex scene I promise, Ellie sucks on readers nipple, please lmk if I missed anything!

Taglist: @elliessgfsstuff @gaylittleellie @quinnister @hopelesssheaven @beelzcutiie @luvrluvrr @mikaaj @lasmirabels

You can read part one here!

If you thought the events that took place at the party last weekend was going to change yours and Ellie’s dynamic in any way shape or form…

You were sorely mistaken.

You weren’t entirely sure what would happen after that night with Ellie, or why it even happened to begin with. It hurt your head to even think about it, any attempt at trying to figure out why the hell Ellie of all people would ever want to do those things to you was headache inducing. You even questioned your own sanity for a bit, wondering if it was all a hazy dream as a result of your drunken state, because surly that made more sense than Ellie following you up to your room to eat your pussy until you saw stars.

But no, not even you had an imagination strong enough to create a feeling like the one Ellie gave you that night.

So if she did come up to your room to kiss you like that, and touch you like that, and make you feel like that then…

Surly things would change, right?

Wrong

You didn’t even look too deep into things, even though the circumstances called for it. You didn’t think this meant something more than it truly was, like it was Ellie’s sick and twisted way of dangling you by a thread for nearly your entire life just to blow your mind one night at a random party to admit that she has a crush on you or something, there was no way that was the case. Ellie was a lot of things, but she wasn’t that good at hiding her feelings.

Which was why you knew that wasn’t this. You knew Ellie didn’t like you, you knew that you’ve been nothing more than a constant bump in the road that stopped her and your brother from doing all the things they wanted, she had made that clear to you from the moment she met you.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t want to at least talk to her about things.

Talking to Ellie became nearly impossible after that night.

Sure, her and your brother were never really at home. They had very busy schedules being who they were, they were almost always invited to different outings or parties that people around town had, so their presence was rather scarce almost all the time.

But that didn’t mean that they weren’t ever home, there would be ‘rest days’ where they would rot on your couch playing video games and eating left over pizza, nursing a nasty hangover or hiding away from a particularly hot summer sun. There would be at least two days out of the week where you weren’t all alone in the big house.

It had been almost three weeks since the party, and you hadn’t seen Ellie or your brother since.

You got small glimpses of Ellie dragging your brother out to his car early in the morning when you were just waking up, or pulling in to the driveway late at night long after you’d gone to sleep, giving up on trying to wait up on them to watch a movie or something.

And you weren’t an idiot, you caught onto the sudden disappearance of the two very quickly, and it was clear to see that this wasn’t along the lines of their usual summer festivities.

No, Ellie was avoiding you.

Which made things all the more confusing. You weren’t sure if she was doing it for you, or for her own comfort, or if she was just embarrassed that it had even happened, regretting the events so much that it was driving her away from the place that she was staying at.

But it had gone past even wanting to talk to her about it. You still did, and you’d take the first chance that you got to do it, but you missed them, Ellie and your brother. Even just knowing they were both downstairs brought you comfort, allowing you to know you weren’t falling asleep in the giant house by yourself. Despite the taunting and the teasing, it was nice simply having them around.

It felt like you were being punished for something you didn’t even do.

Alas, you were spending another night alone, one you could have been spending out in the city with your friends, hopping from one moody bar to the next before you all inevitably trudged back to your cozy apartment to keep the party going until you all passed out in your living room while watching Star Wars.

Instead you were carrying out the familiar routine you had set up for yourself. You found a new recipe you wanted to try earlier in the day, drove out into town to grab a few groceries and a bottle of wine, came back and cooked, ate dinner and showered, putting yourself in your comfy pajamas before retreating to the living room to finish your glass while watching a movie to fill up the thick silence that filled your house.

You let out a gentle sigh as your eyes drifted over to the large clock on the wall, seeing that it was already almost midnight. You had long since given up on wishful thinking, hoping you’d at least catch a glimpse of your brother before you went to bed. They wouldn’t be arriving until anywhere between two and four am.

After washing up the last bit of your dishes and turning off all the lights (all except the patio light, a silent gesture to the two of them that acted a bit as a ‘goodnight’ from your end) you made your way up to your bedroom, went about your night time routine and tucked yourself into bed for another night of rest.

You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, allowing the warm glow to lull you to sleep and fill your brain with nonsense in a way that made it easy not to think, when you heard the sound of your brothers Jeep roaring into the driveway, paired with his sound system blasting whatever dumb song he was obsessed with this week.

It made you frown, surly you hadn’t scrolled for that long. Derek and Ellie wouldn’t be home for another three hours, you had to exit out of the app you were using to check the time-

It was only 12:03

This was very unlike Ellie and Derek, so much so that the first thing you felt at their sudden arrival was worry. Was something wrong? Did one of them get sick? Did they suddenly have a change of heart and wanted to spend some time with you?

You needed to go downstairs and check

Your sock cladded feet padded along the wooden stairs as you made your way down, hearing as the front door creaked open, allowing the sounds of your brother and Ellie’s voices to fill up the space, paired with the sound of a few unfamiliar ones.

Now, did you at all think this through? No. Did you even stay at your window long enough to see who exactly was coming out of your brother’s car? Of course not.

Did you see that it wasn’t just Ellie and Derek coming into your house?

Unfortunately, no.

Before you can think any of this through, you’re standing at the bottom of your stairs, arms crossed over your chest as Derek and Ellie lead in about eight other people into your house, their chatter filling up the room and nearly distracting them from seeing you.

But you can’t worry about that right now.

“Derek?” You call out softly, your brows gently furrowed in soft confusion as your hands cup your bare arms from the chill of the air conditioning.

He’s mid laugh when he hears you, his smile slowly dropping once he turns around, his eyes finding you at the bottom of the stairs, the image of worry clear on your face.

Your brother would never admit it, but his heart tugs over the fact that this is his first time seeing your face in almost three weeks, and the only emotion you’re expressing is worry over him.

He clears his throat, his lips tugging into a lazy smile before he lets out a slight chuckle. “What are you doing up? Isn’t it past your bedtime?” He chuckles out, causing the group of people to snicker behind him, which only makes you frown further.

You ignore them though, instead looking at your brother.

“Are you…okay? You’re never home this early” you question, the look of concern still on your face.

Derek opens his mouth to respond, but he’s quickly cut off by an unfamiliar voice.

“Didn’t know you had a second mom, Derek” a low and sultry voice calls out from behind him. When your eyes trail to where the sound comes from, you finally notice the girl that it belongs to.

She captivates you almost instantly. Her flawless complexion, her perfect hair, her glossy lips that are pulled into a taunting smirk as she watches you, eyes filled with judgment raking down your body, taking in the little fruits printed onto your pajama set.

Perfect legs settled on Ellie’s lap.

Your eyes shift from that, to the way Ellie’s hands caress her hip, fingers toying with the exposed skin where her top ends and her designer denim jeans begin.

When you finally look up at Ellie, shes resting against the couch, bottom lip tugged beneath her perfect teeth as she practically bites back a smile, watching you as the girl in her lap presses her fingers against her lips to push back her giggles.

Your attention is forced away from your brother, now shifted over to Ellie. You have to ignore the pretty girl on her lap and her intense stare. Her eyes smolder in a way that makes your insides flip, and it makes you wanna run away and hide for the rest of your life. But you promised yourself that the next time you saw Ellie, you’d take the first chance you had to speak to her.

No matter how embarrassing it was doing this in front of all these people.

You inhaled deeply before you cleared your throat, making your way over to Ellie and the girl on the couch.

“Can I…talk to you in private…please?” You ask quickly, your voice low as you practically mumble out the words.

Both Ellie and the girl on her lap laugh softly together, and you watch as Ellie tries to muffle the noise by pressing her face to the girls back.

“Anything you need to say can be said here…so what is it?” She practically spits out, her tone making you frown deeply as you try to swallow back the nasty words you have for her.

“Seriously Ellie I just need like five minutes-“ your quickly cut off by the girl in her lap, pretty eyes staring up at you from her spot on top of Ellie as she juts out her bottom lip in a fake pout, one that she’s using to clearly mock you.

“Awe…does the little baby wanna confess her crush? That’s so cute…go on, you can tell her” she mocks you as she pours her words out, her words followed by a soft giggle, which only makes Ellie laugh with her.

You scoff at her, your arms crossing over your chest as you finally look over at her. “Who even are you?” You challenge her, which only makes her raise her eyebrows in surprise before she giggles softly.

“So she does speak…I’m Hazel it’s nice to meet you princess” she drawls out, her tone making you frown further.

“Is that all you needed? I’m dying to hear what’s so important for you to take Ellie from me…” she hums out, her fingers toying with the hair at the nape of Ellie’s neck.

Ellie hums softly, her lips creeping up to work against Hazel’s neck as she pulls her close to her chest.

“As if she could ever…” Ellie mumbles against her skin.

Her words send a shiver down your spine.

It makes you want to say things that you’ll regret, because Ellie didn’t feel that way when she was settled between your legs, her mouth working against your cunt as if it were her last meal, as if her fucking life depended on it.

But you know that no one in the room would believe you.

You inhale deeply before you let out a gentle sigh, shaking your head. “Forget about it…it was nothing” you mumble out before you turn around, your eyes drifting over to your brother and giving him the biggest ‘fuck you’ stare of all time before you make your way up the stairs.

“Cute pjs by the way!” You can hear Hazel call out when you’re halfway up, followed by a plethora of laughs that follow, all of which belonging to your brothers idiot friends.

Ellie being the loudest of course.

You make sure to lock your door when you’re in your bedroom, your throat burning with the familiar feeling of tears as you shove your face into your pillow, embarrassed at the fact that Ellie even had the power to make you feel so low, so fucking cheap that she used you for a night before going back to her cruel ways.

You knew one thing was for sure. You were completely done with her.

You weren’t exactly sure what Ellie was up to, but you knew that it was pissing you off.

You would give anything for the quiet and empty house you had when Ellie was avoiding you. It was lonely and honestly kind of scary at times but you were alone! And you didn’t have to deal with anyone or anything that you didn’t want to.

Now you couldn’t remember the last time you were alone.

Because ever since that night with Hazel, Ellie had been bringing her over almost every single day. It was like she was fucking moving in for the summer.

And it wasn’t like there was a problem with that. There were many times your brother and Ellie would bring girls over, using each other as a wing man to hype the other up. Sure, you’d feel bad for those poor girls because they picked the two dumbest people your town had to offer, but there was nothing wrong with it.

But Hazel was a fucking bitch.

She wasn’t nice at all. You didn’t need her to dote on you and put on some show to make her seem nicer than she actually was, your opinion didn’t fucking matter, but it was like every time she saw you roaming around the house she made sure to clock in with another one of her snarky remarks about either your appearance or your overall presence.

She was even worse than Ellie.

And god, it was like every single time they were together they were making soft core porn on your couch. You had already lost count of the amount of times you’d walked in on Hazel straddling Ellie’s lap as she practically dry humped her while they made out. You always scoffed at the image, only to be followed by Hazels annoying giggle and Ellie’s encouraging chuckle.

You’d become a permanent resident of your bedroom, since it was the only corner of your home that wasn’t plagued by Ellie and her disgusting little summer fling. It allowed you to sulk in your room without either one of the morons commenting about how much you were pouting.

It wasn’t at all because of the tinge of jealousy you felt when seeing it.

But was it even jealousy? Or was it the fact that she was pretending like everything between the two of you didn’t even happen. You should have known from the moment she left you there to simply eat you out and go back downstairs to whoever she needed that you didn’t mean anything more to her than a quick fix.

You couldn’t think about it any longer, because you weren’t going to allow Ellie to give you any more headaches.

The sun had already set, and it was getting closer and closer to your usual time of getting ready for bed, and you hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. You sighed softly as you grabbed your phone and left your bedroom.

You knew that your house was once again occupied with at least your brother, Ellie, Hazel, and probably more of their idiot friends, so you knew that you had limited time to go downstairs and grab something to fill your stomach before you slept. So you quickly rushed downstairs in an attempt to slip passed them all without being noticed.

You hoped they were doing something that required their focus, like watching a movie or playing video games, something that would make it easier for you to slip into the kitchen and slip out quickly without having any nasty remarks hurled your way.

But of course, life wasn’t so easy.

You frowned softly when you made your way at the bottom of the stairs. Everyone was dressed up like they were about to go out. Loud music was playing as they sat around the living room, some of them in the kitchen getting more drinks, all of them laughing and chatting with one another. It wasn’t enough of them to be a party, and your brother didn’t bring out the speakers for it either.

Your lips were set in a near permanent frown as you watched him call your name, only bringing the attention of everyone else to you as well.

“Hi?…” you mumbled out softly before you moved to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and bringing it to your lips.

He practically hurdled over the couch to get to you in the kitchen, the older man clearly excited to see you after you’d been ignoring him for the past week or so.

“Hey…are you coming tonight?” He breaths out, which only makes you frown further before you shake your head, closing the fridge as you make your way to the pantry instead.

“I sure hope not…” you hear Hazel quip from behind him, which is only followed by the snickers and laughter of the other people there. It makes Derek huff softly as he turns around to glare at Ellie, which makes her chuckle softly with the girl and give her hip a gentle tap to quiet her down.

You sigh softly before you shake your head. “Definitely not…I didn’t even know you were going out” you hum out softly before you reach out to grab some crackers and a bag of chips. You turn around and give Derek and unamused look.

“Can I go now?” You question in soft annoyance, your tone making your brother frown deeply.

He feels bad, and you can see it clearly on his face that he feels bad. He’s supposed to be your big brother yet he’s simply sat back and watched as his best friend continued to torment you.

You didn’t blame him for it either, and that made him feel even worse. You were too fucking understanding, and it made him feel sick to his stomach that his little sister was being more of an adult than he was.

“I’m sorry Ellie’s being such an ass she just-“ his words are cut off by the music stopping, followed by the rustling of the group behind him.

“Bro c’mon! We’re gonna miss the party” you hear an annoyed male voice call out, the rest of the group groaning in agreement as they stand and wait for your brother.

You don’t miss the way Ellie’s arm drapes over Hazel’s neck, keeping the girl close, her eyes refusing to drift anywhere near you as she lets the girl litter her throat with kisses.

Hazel looks at you though, a taunting look in her eyes as her perfectly manicured fingers wiggle in your direction, giving you a cheeky wave.

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite princess!” She calls out, Ellie snickering quietly as she leads her outside with the rest of the group.

Your eyebrows are furrowed as you watch them before you let out a soft sigh, shutting the door to the pantry and gesturing towards the door. “Your friends are waiting for you…” you mumble out softly before you slip past your brother to make your way upstairs.

You’re halfway up when you stop and turn around to face him, an expression that could only be described as conflicted written all over his face.

“And please don’t make too much noise when you get back…some of us actually sleep” you huff out softly before you trudge your way back up before he could get a response in, closing your door behind you and flopping down into your bed.

You try your hardest not to let images of Hazel and Ellie linger on in your head, or think about what the actual fuck her motives were (Ellie and Hazel…you couldn’t crack either one of them) because frankly, it’ll just keep you from sleeping.

And you’ll be damned if you end up losing sleep over anyone, especially those two.

A bag of chips and a few episodes of Girlfriends later, and you could feel the familiar feeling of fatigue taking over your body. You quickly take advantage of it, going about your nightly routine as quickly as possible, tugging on an old sleep shirt of yours and hopping into bed, allowing sleep to fill the spaces of your brain that were once plagued by thoughts of Ellie.

It’s the middle of the night when Ellie and your brother come home. It’s just the two of them, having dropped off or left everyone else at the party when they were ready to go.

Your brother was sober, knowing he was titled with designated driver for the night, on top of feeling guilty about the situation with you, he couldn’t really bring himself to drink, especially if you ended up texting him needing anything. He wanted to be in the right state of mind for it.

Ellie on the other hand? Not so much.

She wasn’t belligerent by any means, she could still carry out conversations and she’d definitely remember everything in the morning, but she was much softer, a slight sway in her stance as drunk giggles passed her lips whenever your brother would say something to her.

She felt nice. She also felt needy.

So needy in fact, that after she and your brother stumble in through the front door, your brother quickly grabbing a bottle of water before bidding Ellie a goodnight, that her mind begins to drift off to a particular girl that had been plaguing her mind from the moment that she left the house.

And maybe these thoughts are what drive her up to her room, stumbling inside and tugging her jeans off, switching them out for a pair of shorts and a t shirt, then making her way to the bathroom to clumsily gargle some mouthwash to clean out the smell of smoke and liquor on her breath….

And peak her head into your bedroom to see your sleeping form.

She tiptoes towards your bed once she closes the door behind her, silently thanking you for not locking your bedroom door as you usually did.

Soon she’s standing over you, taking a moment to simply watch you sleep. Your face is pressed into your pillow, forcing your lips into a pout that makes Ellie want to kiss you until you can’t breathe. Your hair is messy, sticking in every which way which makes you look all the more endearing. You look so fucking serene and soft and…

God…had you always been this pretty?

It makes Ellie pout softly, mimicking the form of your lips as her hand comes down to brush a bit of your hair out of your face. The touch of her cold hand on your warm skin makes you groan softly, your unconscious form shifting a bit as you try to push her hand away, shying away from the cold feeling.

When you do this, it gives Ellie just enough space to slide into bed with you. Your bedroom is cold and she knows it’s nice and toasting under there with you, and she’s drunk and she’s needy and…

All she could ever want right now is you.

Another drunk giggle bubbled past her pretty lips, her hand coming down to tug your plush blanket up as she crawls into bed next to you, cold hands instantly slipping under your t shirt to rest against your naked hips, pulling you against her chest.

“Mmm…so warm…so pretty…” she mumbles mindlessly against your hair, her lips coming down to press against your neck as her thumbs rub small circles into your skin.

The foreign feeling of someone pressed up against your back paired with the cold hands running along your skin is quick to make you stir out of your sleep. Your mind is foggy and the heavy affects of sleep still weigh in on your body, making it hard to fully register what was actually going on.

Your hands trail down to rest atop of the ones splayed against your hips, it’s then that you’re able to make out the feeling of plump lips working against your neck, making you frown deeply.

“There she is…hey baby…” Ellie hums lazily against your neck once she feels your hands laying on top of hers.

The sound of her voice has you blinking your eyes open, your brows furrowed in confusion. Was this a dream? Were you seriously fucking dreaming about Ellie now? Was your brain really betraying you by filling your mind with thoughts of her even when you were in sleep?

You feel her grip your hips a bit tighter, forcing your body to turn around and face her. It’s then that you realize the usual hazy fog and dull feeling that comes with dreams isn’t present.

Ellie is there, in your bed, with her arms wrapped around your waist.

You bring your hand up to rub your eyes, your brows still knit together as you try to focus on the girls face in the dim light of your bedroom. You see her crack a smile, her eyes low as she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. One of her hands go down to grip your thigh before tugging it up to hook over her own hip, a low hum of approval leaving her lips at the feeling of you so close.

“Ellie? What…what the hell are you doing?” You groan out softly, yet with no attempts at stopping her from moving you about as she pleased.

She hummed softly, leaning in to press her lips against the base of your neck. You can feel her tongue swipe across your skin before she begins biting and sucking, the feeling making you gasp softly as your hands reach down to grip her t shirt.

“Missed you…wanted to see you…play with you a little bit…” she hums softly against your skin, soft moans leaving her lips at the sounds you make.

When she’s this close, you can smell the faint scent of liquor and weed swirling around the both of you. And it suddenly all starts to click.

Ellie was drunk.

You frown deeply as you try pulling away from her, which makes her whine softly, hands still tugging at your hips to keep you close.

“You’re drunk…not to mention how much of a fucking dick you’ve been to me” you huff out softly.

She whines again as she desperately pulls you closer. You catch the image of her lips forming a pout, an honest to god pout that you aren’t sure you’ve ever seen Ellie do before.

“Took like…two shots and I barely smoked…m’just…feelin’ nice that’s all” she explains before she leans in again, her hands slipping under your shirt and pulling you closer.

You roll your eyes at her explanation. “Cool…then go get Hazel…you’ve been very occupied with her lately” your voice has a tone of bitterness that even shocks you, not fully realizing how upset you sounded until you hear Ellie chuckle softly before she pulls back a bit to look up at you.

It almost takes your breath away, how fucking pretty she looks. Her pretty green eyes are low and gleaming up at you, a pretty pink blush covering her freckled cheeks, plump lips tugging into a smirk as she watches you.

It makes it so much harder to fucking resist her.

“Awe…you jealous baby? Upset I haven’t given you any attention since that night?” She teases you gently, her words making you frown down at her as she giggles softly before she leans in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“Gimme a kiss baby…I’ll make it up to you…I promise” she sighs out against you.

Her warm breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine, your eyes fluttering shut as you take in just how fucking good her hands feel pawing at your hips. She hums softly before she parts her lips, pressing a soft kiss to your bottom lip before she tugs it into her mouth, sucking on it.

It makes you moan softly, which has her nodding in approval as she begins working her lips against yours.

“That’s it baby…lemme take care of you…lemme apologize” she sighs out against you before she presses her mouth against yours.

Your eyes flutter shut when she does this, melting and giving in to the girl as your mind clouds with want and need so strong, you feel like you might explode.

The kiss is slow and sensual, her tongue rubbing and lapping against your own as you enter a steamy make out session that has arousal pooling in your panties.

“Fuck…taste so good baby…missed you so much” she groans out against you, her hand slipping under the covers to tug at your panties, pulling them down your legs. You help her by kicking them off once they’re around your ankles.

Her words confused you, because if you remember correctly, Ellie was laughing in your face with Hazel on her lap a few hours ago, and now she’s in your bed, moaning about how much she’s missed you, and how she wants to apologize for it?

You can’t even dwell on it for long, because you let out a soft gasp when you feel Ellie’s fingers press against your clit, a soft hiss leaving her lips at the feeling of your slick coating her fingers.

“So wet already…been dreaming about this pussy baby…fuck…c’mere” she moans softly as she tugs her own shorts and panties off, leaving both of you only in your shirts.

You feel her tug one of your legs between her legs, the feeling of her wet pussy pressing against your thigh makes you moan softly, because you can feel just how desperate she is for it to, just how needy she is for you as you are her.

“Ellie…fuck…” you moan softly, the girl nodding as she tugs your other leg over her hip so your pussy was pressed against her upper thigh.

“I know baby…I need it too…here…like this” she moans out as she grips your hip, tugging them up and down to find a good rhythm, one that she quickly matches with her own hips.

Soon you’re both moving in unison, Ellie fucking her pussy down onto your leg and yours onto hers. The feeling makes you moan softly, your hands going down to tug at the hair at the nape of Ellie’s neck, keeping her close as you chase your high.

“Fuck…feels so good baby..I…” she moans out loudly, her hands feverishly pushing your shirt up before she presses her lips to one of your boobs, catching your nipple into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it, sucking on it as if her life depended on it.

Your skin muffles her needy moans, and it’s a side of Ellie you aren’t sure you’ve ever seen before. She’s rutting against your thigh desperately, pretty eyes staring up into yours as she moans and whines against your nipple, silently begging not only to cum, but for you to cum with her.

“H-huh…want you…to cum all over my leg Ellie…need it…mmm…fuck!” You manage to make out between loud moans and gasps, your eyes fluttering shut as she nods eagerly, sucking harshly on your nipple as she moves her hips faster, slick covering your thigh.

Her other hand reaches down to grip your hip as she forces you to go faster, matching her pace as you feel your orgasm grow closer and closer.

Her lips unlatch from your nipple with a loud pop, the sound of her moans working in harmony with yours as she too feels her orgasm growing closer with your own.

“M’so close…I…fuck….im gonna cum baby…you’re gonna make me-“ her words are cut off with a loud moan. It’s high pitched and whiny and so fucking pretty, nothing compared to her usual deep voice that she speaks in with your brother, or when she’s insulting you.

The sound makes you moan loudly, your back arching as you cum hard on Ellie’s thigh. Your hips slow down, your pussy slowly growing with the familiar feeling of sensitivity as you ride out your orgasm, Ellie matching the slowing motions that you carry out as well.

It ends with the both of you gasping softly, chests rising and falling as you trying to catch your breath. Ellie takes the opportunity to press sloppy kisses against your lips, tongue lazily working against yours as she moans and whines into your mouth.

But if this is anything like last time, you know what’s coming.

So you’d rather it happen now than later, especially when Ellie has the power to rip away the beautiful feeling of her lips against yours. So as she’s kissing you, you silently break away, pull your t shirt down, turn over so your back is facing her, and tug your blankets further over your shoulder as you settle into your pillow.

“Close the door on your way out” you mumble out as you close your eyes, thankful that the orgasm Ellie just gave you tires you out so much that it’s easy for you to simply shut your eyes and go to sleep before you can overthink things, or sit with the sinking feeling that settles in your stomach over the fact that you let Ellie waltz into your room and played with you as she pleased.

Again.

You especially don’t catch the shocked expression on Ellie’s face when she hears the words the fall from your lips.

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in a Bottle - Chapter 1

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

Elain Bashing, Low Self Esteem, Magical Orthodontry...

(I should probably mention that my thoughts about plastic surgery/any kind of cosmetic enhancement are pretty much that as long as the person who has it done likes the result, it does not matter if anybody else thinks they needed it.

It’s their body, their choice and if they think they look prettier with a new nose/straighter teeth/fuller lips, good for them.

For myself, I love what braces did for my teeth and what one of those heatless curler things currently does for my hair lol)

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

It was bad. 

Eira shouldn’t have expected any differently. 

Maybe it had been the promise of mail-order catalogues that had made her think that maybe this time she wasn’t going to want to die halfway through her biannual week of torture…

But there was nothing the shadows could do, short of giving her pain potions that rendered her unconscious and plying her with soup. 

She let them. 

She was too weak to protest, in too much pain…feeling like a baby bird that needed them to slowly spoon broth in her mouth so that she only needed to swallow. 

But at least they were there. They didn’t leave her alone. Regardless of when she woke up…at what time of day or night…they were there. 

Ready with pain potions and armed with soup, and when she just needed something to get her mind off the pain, they told her stories. 

Little fables of Illyria and Prythian…children’s stories. 

Maybe one day she could tell the same stories to Nyx. 

It took 4 days… halfway through that week, when there was a knock at her door. 

Elain, the shadows whispered into her ear and she held back a groan. 

She didn’t want to deal with her sister. 

“Come in!” she called nonetheless and only then realised that she still had the key in the lock. The shadows swarmed out to turn it and then disappeared, scurrying underneath her desk. 

She forced herself to sit up, wondering how much of a mess she looked…probably like death warmed over twice, but to be completely honest…she wasn’t pretty on a good day, so what did it matter? 

Becoming Fae had somehow perfected the faces of her sisters. They still looked like themselves, but the cauldron had seemingly made them much more symmetrical, their limbs longer, their ears pointed…and for Elain, the cauldron…it had turned her from beautiful into otherworldly gorgeousness. 

For Eira…it had made her ears pointy. 

No, wait that wasn’t true…Her hair was seemingly even more unmanageable than it ever had been as a human…and her teeth…the less was said about that was better. 

She had already been self-conscious about them as a human. As a fae, surrounded by ridiculously attractive people every day, it was…something else entirely. 

“Good Morning,” Eira said quietly. Elain stared at her, surprise etched on her face. 

“Have you really spent the few days moping in your bed?” she asked, judgment clear in her voice. Eira wanted to bristle. Hadn’t Elain done the exact same thing when she had first been made? And Elain hadn’t had the excuse of a cycle for it. 

“Yes, Elain,” she said back quietly. “It’s….It’s that time of the year,” she mumbled, looking at everything but her sister. If Elain couldn’t even smell the thick cloying scent of blood that was clinging to Eira, she couldn’t help her. 

Elain just harrumphed.  “Look, I do realise that I may have been needlessly harsh,” she said, crossing her arms. Somehow managing to sound gracious even now.“But you do need to realise, Eira, that that is never going to go anywhere.” 

Eira blinked. Twice. 

Somebody put her heart into a vice and crushed it. 

Of all the things she had expected Elain to say…this wasn’t it. 

“Azriel is completely disinterested,” Elain continued. “And it would be better for you if you finally realised that.” 

“What does it matter to you?” Eira finally managed to bring out, her voice thankfully not shaking…And still….she sounded…weak. That’s what she sounded like. 

“I want you to be happy. And thirsting after a male that will never return your affections you won’t do that,” Elain said with a roll of her eyes. “He’s not going to change his mind, Eira.”

Eira flinched at Elain’s words. She couldn’t help it. 

Even when she knew…she knew her sister was right. She knew that…

“You should just stop your pathetic attempts of flirting with him. All you manage is to make him uncomfortable,” Elain continued with a roll of her eyes. 

Pathetic attempts of flirting? What did Elain even mean? Her nervous ramblings? Her stolen glances? The way her heart skipped a beat when she got to see him? 

She had never asked him out…on a date or anything else…she had never even mentioned courting in his near vicinity. She had done nothing, said nothing to Azriel that made her feelings obvious to him. 

It was all just…

“There are plenty of fish in the sea…” Elain said with a sigh. “You’ll find somebody else one day,” Elain told her, sounding some mixture between pitying and bored, as she turned to go. “Do you want me to ask Feyre to send Madja?”

“No, thank you. I have pain potions,”  Eira whispered, and Elain turned on her heel, marching back out of her room. 

Eira listened to her sister leave…she buried her face in her pillows.  

“Would you lock the door, please?” She whispered. 

Nobody else. Just her.

Why shouldn’t Elain once again stab her in the same wound…why not?  Why…

And then…somehow it was like somebody flipped a switch. 

She turned angry. Angry at Elain, at her twin sister. Who hid behind this veil of sisterly worry and only used it to hurt Eira?

She was so…she was so…She was so angry. 

She never was angry.  But right now it was swelling beneath her skin and she wanted…she wanted… Not revenge. Not really. 

She made Azriel uncomfortable with what? With nervous ramblings and stolen glances? 

Fine. She would stop that. She would stop all of that. 

She wouldn’t even talk to him again, so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable. She would ignore him. She would be icily polite and that was that. 

And she would find herself a husband and have all the babies she wanted and that would be that. She would find herself…somebody else. Somebody who wanted her.  Somebody for whom she wasn’t annoying…who she didn’t make uncomfortable.

Somebody for herself. 

Something for herself. 

She would fill her room with stupid trinkets she bought herself because nobody else would do it for her. She would buy pretty dresses that tried to mask that she wasn’t as pretty as her sisters. She would do all of that. 

And what her sisters thought about any of that…well, she didn’t fucking care. Not anymore. 

She wasn’t the only one angry. The shadows were hissing, spitting, swirling menacingly, nearly filling the whole room…and she wasn’t scared. That didn’t even cross her mind.

How dares she? The shadows hissed. She owed you an apology, not…not this.

Maybe for the first time in her life, Eira Archeron wanted to be utterly and completely selfish. 

Nobody was going to put her first. Not if she didn’t do it herself. 

“I’ll be buying myself something horribly expensive,” she finally said, her voice shaking. 

Do it, the shadows said, amusement bleeding into their voice, still angrily swirling, coming to wrap around her wrists. Buy whatever you want.

They dropped a catalogue next to her hands, and Eira reached out to take it with shaky hands. 

Whatever she wanted. 

The problem was only, she had no idea what she wanted. 

Maybe a new dress? Maybe some jewellery…like a necklace? Or a bracelet? 

A ring?

Like the rings her sisters had? Given to them by their mates, who loved them? 

Feyre’s Sapphire? The Ruby that encircled Nesta’s finger since her mating ceremony? 

Or maybe Elain’s ring…gold and diamond, looking like the rays of the sun, so fitting for the future wife of the heir to the Day Court. 

No. No jewellery. 

These godforsaken pearl earrings had been enough. 

Something Eira wanted. Something Eira needed. 

Eira could use a new pair of shoes. She already had brought her old ones to the cobbler thrice. Maybe…that wasn’t a ridiculous request after all…

She opened the catalogue, paging through it until she found the shoe section. She stared at the little pictures accompanying them. Humans hadn’t yet figured out how to do print in full colour, but the drawings on this page were brightly colourful. Clearly not a problem here in Prythian. 

She quickly slipped over the pages that had silk slippers and pretty heels on them. That wasn’t practical to run after Nyx with, right? Then she found a page with practical leather shoes… decisively female, a small heel…they weren’t that dissimilar to human fashion. 

She examined them closer. “Laces or Buckle? What do you think?” she asked the shadows. The ones with shoelaces were cheaper…but if she bought one with the buckles, she could also change them out, buy extra buckles…swap them with a crystal-embellished buckle or silver for gold…

All of that was possible. 

The ones with the buckles! The shadows said quickly. 

“They are pretty, aren’t they?” Eira commented and marked the page by folding down one corner as she turned the page. 

Definitely one contender. 

She couldn’t remember ever having done anything similar before. 

When she had still been human, as a child her mother had reigned over her wardrobe with an iron fist. They had never been allowed to pick out anything. 

And then later…after they had lost their fortune…well, picking out anything involved turning around every clipped copper coin. 

She had never been able to just…leisurely look at things and find the pretty and think about buying them…without even really looking at the price tag attached to them. 

Eira flipped back to the shoes, the tip of her finger tracing the writing…she had always been atrocious at reading. The letter tended to change their position, and it hadn’t changed as a Fae either. and she could never tell that to anybody, because the one time she had, her finger had been violently rapped by a wooden ruler and that had been that. 

If she just took her time…carefully…it worked. Just took her longer. She found the price attached to the shoes, knowing that even without the shadows, she could afford them. 

She had stashed away money in the chest at the foot of her bed after all. Not a lot but…enough for the shoes. 

Eira paged through more of the catalogue…oohing and awwing over dresses, where the shadows tried to talk her into buying herself a ballgown much to her amusement, though in the end, they agreed on a pretty blue-grey dress with billowing sleeves cuffed at her wrist…

Eira would never feel comfortable in the Night Court fashion of cropped tops and pants…she would much rather be covered up completely. But that dress…that looked quite pretty. 

She turned to the next page, and the next after that, trawling her way through skirts and cardigans and shirt waists…

And then Eira found the fabric section, biting her lip. Any time she had gone to a fabric shop in Velaris, it had been to buy fabric for a gift for her sisters. Never for herself. She didn’t need anything. 

That’s pretty, the shadows whispered in her ear, seemingly solidifying to point out a specific cotton print on that page. 

She wondered how they even saw anything. They didn’t have eyes. But then magic seemed to be the answer to nearly everything in Prythian. 

It was pretty. A ditsy little floral print…white ground, green leaves…It was pretty. So was a white cotton gauze with little dots…that was the one that she considered seriously. The price was good…she could use a new dress for her birthday…

She marked that page as well, flipping over to the next…and there it was. 

It was an advertisement that caught her eye, and she was nearly flicking to the next page as she caught the word teeth. 

“Faes can fix teeth?“ she asked weakly, as she read that advertisement, a promise about cosmetic procedures…like full lashes and eyebrows and…perfect teeth. 

Perfect teeth. 

“Could they fix mine?” she asked, desperation bleeding into her voice. 

Her teeth were…well, her greatest insecurity on a good day. They were…fine. It wasn’t painful at least. It was just that her two front teeth were too big for her face…which made her look like…

What’s wrong with your teeth? Do they hurt you? You’ll need a healer for that, the shadows said immediately, worriedly. 

“They are too big. Just the two front teeth. I look like a rabbit,”  she admitted in a whisper. Or a mole rat. Her mother had preferred the latter. 

Everything else could be fixed one way or another…but nothing could be fixed for her teeth. 

When she had been a child she had still hoped that she would grow into them, but that had never happened. 

And not even the cauldron had thought it would be prudent to fix them. Leaving her with them…still standing out starkly. 

They were the reason why she never smiled widely, why she made sure to talk with her lips pulled over them…why she didn’t wear bright lipstick. 

A few dozen things that she didn’t do because of them. 

You do not look like a rabbit, the shadows disagreed with a snort…and then after a moment:  Do they bother you?

They asked that like it was a near foreign thing…like…

“My mother used to…She used to tell me that…” She tried to bring the words over her lips but she choked on them. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t…

Once you feel better, you can go and have them changed to however you want to look, the shadows told her softly. Do they truly bother you that much?

“I know that I won’t ever be the beautiful one. But…if…If I could just feel…just feel pretty…just once,” she whispered, staring at that advertisement. 

If they could just fix her teeth… 

As soon as you feel better, the shadows promised her. But that’s not ridiculously expensive. Neither is one single pair of shoes, that dress….or a few yards of that fabric. Nearly teasing. 

But it was nice teasing. Sweet teasing. Teasing that did nothing but make a small smile appear on her face. 

“I could always buy more fabric,” she gave back, biting her lip and the shadows tugged at her fingers in response. 

But if magic could fix her teeth…maybe it could also fix her hair. 

A light brown mess on her head that never did what she wanted it to do… 

“Is there something for my hair as well?” she asked hesitantly, and the shadows flipped through her catalogue until it brought her to a page with hair care supplies. 

There are potions you can use…enchanted brushes too, they told her. You’ll want something for naturally curly hair.  

They didn’t need to tell Eira that twice. 

The morning she stopped bleeding she was out on the streets of Velaris as soon as the sun rose…dropping off the dresses she had hemmed, and picking up her newest commissions and then walking to that shop that promised her perfect teeth. 

It was a woman, a female, her age who looked up from the magazine she was reading, took one look at her, asked for a handful of gold coins…gave her a mirror in her hand and then drily said: “Just say stop when they have the size you want.”

And that was that. 

Eira could have wept with her gratitude. 

Her teeth looked perfect. Just like she had so often hoped they would look. 

The same could be said about her hair after one bath with her new potions and a run-through with her enchanted brush. 

Unmanageable frizzy hair that never looked like she wanted it to look? 

With magic no more. Thick, perfect, glossy curls fell over her shoulders in fat ringlets. 

To say that she was in a good mood after that…It was the understatement of a dozen centuries at least. 

Eira was ecstatic. 

She loved it. She felt…she felt so pretty. For once. 

“Good Morning!” she chirped as she entered the dining room. Not even the sight of Elain pouring over her wedding binders could put a dent in her happiness that morning. 

“Good Morning,” Elain responded, staring at her like she had gone mad but Eira didn’t care, as she poured herself a cup of tea, took a slice of toast, smeared jam all over it... 

“It’s a beautiful day outside, isn’t it?” she asked brightly, as she took a bite, chewed, swallowed…

Elain stared at her. 

“Eira…what did you do with your teeth?” her sister asked her, staring at her. 

“I got them fixed! Isn’t that great? Magic can do that!” she enthused. They were perfect! They looked just like she wanted them to look!

It was like thunder pulled over Elain’s expression. “You can’t be serious!” she snapped. “What were you thinking?!”

“That I got my teeth fixed?”  Eira gave back questioningly. What did it even matter to Elain? Couldn’t she just be happy? Eira was so fucking happy about her choice. 

“This doesn’t change things, Eira!” Elain said harshly. “It’s still never going to go anywhere!”

She opened her mouth to respond, but she was beaten to it. 

“What is never going to go anywhere?” Feyre’s voice came from the doorway as she entered, Nyx on her hips, staring around the room…waving chubby little arms in Eira’s direction that made her smile at him brightly. 

“Eira’s little crush on Azriel,” Elain said evenly. “He’s completely disinterested. and she has gone and gotten her teeth fixed in some hare-brained attempt to…”

“What does it matter to you?” Eira interrupted her. This had nothing to do with…him. This had been for her. Because she was the one her teeth bothered, long before she had ever even met him.  “They aren’t your teeth.” 

Feyre stared at her and Eira smiled brightly, showing all her teeth…something she would have never done before. But now she did. 

“Your teeth were fine before,” Feyre told her, staring at her like she couldn’t quite believe that Eira had gone and done this.  

“My teeth were too big for my mouth,” Eira disagreed. And really, she didn’t understand why she even needed to defend herself on this. “The last time I checked I was allowed to do with my body whatever I wanted,” she murmured under her breath. 

And this…this was harmless. This was just fixing her teeth. It didn’t hurt anybody. Not her, not anybody else…

Feyre didn’t seem convinced. “How much money did you spend on this?” her sister asked her, a sharpness sinking into her voice and Eira crossed her arms. 

“Not a single coin that belongs to you or your mate,” she gave back, her voice cold. “I spend my money, money I earned, on something that I wanted.” 

She was allowed to want things. Whatever she wanted, the shadows had promised her and they had kept that promise. 

“Did you do this because of Azriel?” Feyre asked, softening slightly. “Eira, that’s not going to work.”

She knew that. 

“My whole life does not revolve around other people,” Eira said calmly, meeting her sister's gaze. “I wanted it.”

“He’s still not going to be interested in you,” Elain snorted. 

Once again. Hitting that one weak spot her sister had sussed out. 

People always thought that Elain was oh-so-sweet. What they forgot was that even the most beautiful, most fragrant rose had its thorns. 

She said nothing. Didn’t flinch away. Didn’t say anything. 

“It’s true,” Feyre said with a sigh, actually agreeing with Elain. “I have wanted to talk to you about that, Eira…” her sister said, visibly uncomfortable. “Could you at least try to get over him? It’s…it would be better for…this court.”

Of course, it would be. This court. 

Because that’s what mattered, right? That’s what mattered to the High Lady. 

That the court was functional. That the spymaster wasn’t uncomfortable…that her sister wasn’t having a ridiculous puppy crush on another member of this court.  

And what was Eira supposed to say to this? 

What was she supposed to say to that? 

Eira’s feelings didn’t really matter anyway. They were nothing but an inconvenience. 

“I am sorry,” she said, her voice quiet, staring at her hands so that she didn’t need to look at two of her sisters…so they wouldn’t see the tears gathering in her eyes. “I’ll make sure that my feelings won’t inconvenience anybody else ever again.”

“That’s not…” Feyre started, but Eira shook her head.

“I understand,” she said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth, all her appetite gone, as she stood to go back to her room. 

[luvz-me]

being at the last year of your sports medicine university course abroad in america was like a dream come true. but in all honesty you just wanted it to be over and quick. the prospect of having to intern at a random clinic for three months wasn't appealing at all. you made sure to send your cv to different physiotherapy clinics, gyms, sports clubs but still no answer.

watching all your colleagues start earlier than you was discouraging until one afternoon, after watching 2 boring movies a guy at a club told you to watch last night you got a call.

someone with a very poised voice starts talking almost immediately, "good afternoon, i'm speaking on behalf of the sports clinic and i was wondering if you'd be available for an interview tomorrow morning regarding your internship application?"

you almost envied the way there wasn't any hint of nervousness in their voice. it was almost immediate the way you accepted the offer, in all honesty you just wanted to get it over with.

you started your internship there after almost a week until one day, by the evening you witnessed something you never thought you would. tashi fucking duncan walking in the clinic right as you were about to leave. you felt your stomach turn, not in the bad way, but in the - what the fuck, did i hit my head somewhere and wake up in an alternate universe? - way. your anxiety making you want to throw up seeing one of the people you wrote countless essays about stand before you.

"i'm looking to book a sports physician. medium term for art donaldson, need them to be able to come in-house monday through friday." you heard her say to the receptionist, blunt yet always polite. one of your idols standing just a few meters away from you made you weak at the knees. you were aware the clinic was well frequented but you never thought she'd be in your sight ever.

you looked at your nails, pondering if you should start biting them, regaining a bad habit just because you found yourself in a situation you couldn't control sounds very much like you but tashi probably would think that's gross so you stop.

a client you had been assigned to arrives and you curse yourself out for not being able to keep listening to the conversation anymore. the day never ended. each glance you took at the clock just seemed like you were stopped in time. sighing while helping the elder woman stretch her upper body and muttering some words of praise, explaining to her that she'd have to keep coming for at least one more week so the pain could dissipate. you flashed her a smile as she got up and said goodbye, thanking you endlessly for helping her ease the pain.

your supervisor had been watching you. giving some criticism on this session with the client. as you were about to leave she pulled you aside and informed you that starting tomorrow you'd be going to tashi duncans house.

everything inside was pristine, you were even scared to even lean against the furniture in fear you'd somehow break it. tashi had given you a quick house tour, her heels clacking on the hardwood floors as she warmed you up to her, occasionally telling jokes about herself and saying you reminded her of herself. when she was in college. you didn't really know what that meant but you decided to take it as a compliment, nervously fidgeting your fingers. art was nowhere to be seen up until you reached the gym area.

standing there, broad shoulders scrolling through his phone, distracted and flashing a smile towards his wife once she clears her throat and wraps an arm around his shoulder. introducing you to each other and leaving promptly, saying she had a meeting with her pr team and that she'd be back at 8 pm.

you swallow dry. standing there awkwardly with your backpack on your shoulders.

"so.. umm were gonna start with wall angels maybe. tashi told me thats your problem area right now" you blurted out, trying to sound as professional as possible "just. place your arms against the wall in a 90 degree angle and slowly straighten them"

art follows suit, standing against the wall awkwardly moving his arms up and down before asking "how old are you?" breaking the silence

"i'm 21" you mutter in surprise analysing his form and his toned shoulders, and arms.. and muscles. eyes narrowing trying to remind yourself that this is not one of your hookups, this is art fucking donaldson and you're here for an internship. at his house. in his fancy home gym. hes not yours to admire. "why?"

"ah.. just wanted to know" art shrugs, looking at you intently. he gets up suddenly, yet his movements are deliberate. you feel the knot tighten in your stomach, your pulse quicken as i looked at the man before me. "can you show me how to do it properly?" his voice drops to a lower tone and all you can do for a few seconds is flutter your lashes at him

"but this is pretty easy already, i don't know how to ex-"

"i said, i want you to show me" art cuts you off, his gaze literally burning through your skull

art mirrors your movements, his eyes never leaving yours. you hope he doesn't notice the slight tremble in your hands.

"like this?" he asks, his voice even softer now, almost a whisper.

you nod, your breath hitching. "yes, just like that. make sure to keep your back flat against the wall."

he follows your instructions, his body inching closer. you can feel the heat emanating from him, a stark contrast to the cool, clinical setting of the gym. there's a tension in the air, a charged silence that makes your heart race.

"you're good at this," he murmurs, his eyes darkening with an emotion you can't quite place

your cheeks flush, the compliment catching you off guard. "i appreciate that, mr. donaldson."

he moves closer, his body now just inches from yours. you can feel the magnetism between you, a pull that's impossible to ignore. his hand reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. the gesture is tender, almost too intimate for your professional setting. "it's art, yeah? call me art, i don't want to feel like an old fart" he grins

"i should… i should check your shoulder alignment," you stammer, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. "you're a bit tight here," you say, your voice trembling slightly. "let me help you."

you guide him through a series of stretches, your hands lingering a bit longer than necessary on his shoulders, his back. the room feels smaller, the air thicker with each passing moment.

the session was over. finally. you gathered your things and slid your backpack over your shoulders. art's gaze is still on you and it's impossible not to feel it "are you in a hurry to leave?"

"umm, no i just. no im not in a hurry" you smile "just don't want to bother you anymore" your breath catches in your throat

"i was hoping we could talk a bit more. get to know each other better." he smirks. what the fuck "tashi told me some things about you but i think one on one conversation is far better" grabbing your hand and guiding you to a small resting area at the gym engaging in some superficial conversation about you while tracing circles in the back of your hand. you can't help but sigh. his hands becoming more and more pervasive, touching your thighs, reaching up up up until he's close to your crotch. a slight whine escapes your mouth. you're not focusing on the conversation at all.

"art, this is not-"

"tashi doesn't have to know" he replies knowing tashi knows damn well. hell, she even planned this for him. it wasn't her intention to scout a pretty little physiotherapist like you at first. but you were at the right place, at the right time. the moment she took a glance at you she knew she had to have you. it was a plus art needed help with his shoulders. his hands roaming on the waistband of your tight leggings, your mouth parting with a sigh. sigh that he takes as opportunity to crash his lips against yours. your eyes narrow at first and for a second you try to pull back but you don't really want to.

his fingers edging closer to your panties, the tightness of the leggings increasing the skin on skin contact. "aw you look so pretty with your lips parted. you wanna take my fingers in you don't you huh?" now hovering over you, caressing you over your top "fucking corrupt that little head of yours"

you can't help but let out a moan that sends him over the edge. sliding your leggings down caressing you over your panties. before pushing two fingers inside your mouth for you to suck. "you want this don't you baby?"

"mhm" you nod trying your hardest not to bite him when he uses his opposite hand to caress your sensitive nub. furrowing your eyebrows trying your hardest not to grab his arm. his calloused fingers leaving your plump mouth suddenly and making a 'pop' sound "but tashi might" cut off by the pads of his fingers circling your clit

"tashi doesn't mind" his voice hungry "im just helping you out yeah? we're just getting acquainted" one of his fingers teases your entrance slowly entering earning a sharp wince from you. the unfamiliar feeling slowly turning into pleasure as he slid it in and out "open your eyes f'me, let me see those pretty eyes"

you bite your lip staring at his face as he does such a lewd thing to you, and you let him. knowing he has a wife. somehow this made it even more arousing. whats wrong with you? "gonna add one more finger, fuck you're so tight around me, so good. i bet that clit would feel so good around my tongue" small tears cornering around your eyes. the soft noises leaving your lips only encouraging him to keep going.

"feels good huh baby?" he coos, his face edging closer and closer to your clit as your hips rise, only to stop once you're about to cum. abruptly sliding your panties back up along with your leggings.

this earns him a well deserved mewl. edging you like this. stopping when you were just so so close was just so mean of him. looking up at him just to see him lick your juices off his fingers, feeding them to you. "suck" he commands "don't be mad, i just need to make sure you come back for more sessions" fixing your hair and picking up your backpack from where you left it on the gym floor

[vivwritesfics]

Hungry Like The Wolf

Chapter Eleven

She hadn't seen her best friend, Lando, in years. She didn't run into him the last time she was visiting her father and she doubted she'd see him this time. Things were different now. She wasn't aware of his furry little problem. Just like she wasn't aware of the vampires plaguing the town.

2K

Vampire!Oscar x Reader x Werewolf!Lando

Warnings: Horny (no smut, not yet), negative views of poly relationships (not my own views)

Series Masterlist

Feel free to buy me a coffee ☕☕

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Lando and Oscar had tried to be polite, tried to be normal about things. They went to the front door, knocked, and waited for it to be opened.

He had to make things right, Lando knew. He had to fix things with her before he inevitably made things worse.

While they were waiting for the door to open, they heard a noise. Both boys knew they wouldn't have picked up on it if they weren't... you know. But they both heard it, clear as day. "What the fuck?" Lando hissed as he looked at Oscar.

The front door opened as they disappeared around to the back of the house. "Hello?" They heard Mr Wolff call as he peered out into the night. He muttered something, something that sounded like damned kids.

But neither Lando nor Oscar were too concerned with what Toto Wolff had to say. No, they got to her window and immediately knew what was wrong.

"Seriously, what the fuck!" Lando shouted as they stared up at her, hanging from the window.

She tried to get some sort of grip on the wall, tried to find some sort of crevice to place her foot on, but there was nothing. "Don't worry about it. Can one of you just climb up here and help me?"

In the blink of an eye, Oscar was in her bedroom. Lando climbed up the tree but Oscar wrapped his arms around her and hoisted her up and back into the bedroom. "What on earth were you doing?" He asked as he pulled her inside and gently set her back on her feet. Immediately he had a hold of her hand, checking for any splinters or anything.

She shrugged her shoulders, stepping out of the way for Lando to climb his way in. "You guys disappeared out of the window and I wanted to follow," she mumbled as she folded her arms and sat on her bed.

In defeat, Oscar held his hand up. She was being as stubbornly annoying as Lando, but at least Lando had an excuse.

But Lando was just standing there, hands in his pocket, not saying anything. God, it was so damn exhausting. Oscar released a sigh and threw his head back. If left up to the two of them, nothing was going to get fixed.

"Lando has something he wants to say," he said as he leaned against the desk, arms crossed over his chest.

Lando sucked in a breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, nails digging into his palms. "I..."

The words died on his tongue. I'm sorry. It was so simple, two little words and he would be done. Why wasn't he saying it? The way she was looking at him, so ready to forgive him, but Lando just couldn't see it.

He was so damn infuriating.

Oscar released an exhausted sigh. "Lando probably should explain how the full moon affects people like him. He should probably explain to you that he's dealing with heightened emotions and that is why he snapped earlier. He got scared by the thought of you leaving and..."

The two of them were looking at him, waiting for him to continue. "AND..." He prompted again, eyes flashing at Lando.

"And... I'm sorry," Lando finally repeated. His gaze dropped to his shoes. "The way I lost it was stupid. I mean, we're adults now and we can drive to see each other and now that you've got us, you can't leave for four years at a time."

A laugh left her lips. She unfolded her arms and stood from her bed. "You got that right," she said and strode towards him, arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled him in closer.

Oscar watched as they, quite literally, kissed and made up. "You guys are something else," he mumbled as Lando leaned back, almost tumbling out of the window. But Oscar was behind him in a second, a steadying hand on his back, keeping the two of them safely inside.

But then they were turning towards him, on him in seconds. Thank God he was strong, steady on his feet and not human. The both of them demanded his attention, and Oscar was only happy to give it.

"Promise me you only snapped because of the full moon?" She mumbled as between kissing Oscar's cheek and neck. Kissing a vampires neck, it was a little funny, wasn't it? His puncture wounds had long since disappeared, not marring his skin like the movies made out it would.

Lando let out a hum, pulling away from Oscar's lips. "Promise," he said, fingers threading through her hair and turning her towards him. "All rational thinking goes out of the window when there's a full moon involved."

Don't tell them about the horny phase. Don't tell them about the horny phase.

He kissed her again, hands cupping her face. The whine it pulled from her was so damn sweet, it had Oscar holding back a shudder. And he wasn't even the one pulling those noises from her. He could only begin to guess the affect it was having on Lando.

But Lando pulled away from her, surprising them both. "Should we continue that date?" He asked, looking from her to Oscar.

The three of them climbed onto the bed. Oscar first, shuffling over to the other side and realising he probably should have just climbed in that side. And then her. She was supposed to climb into the middle, to lay between her two boys.

But she left that space free, left it for Lando. He swallowed thickly as he climbed between the two of them, settling down as Oscar put his arm around his shoulders. This was not going to help stave off the horny phase.

She picked the movie. Head on Lando's chest, she scrolled through her streaming services until she found something old. Another movie Oscar had seen in the cinema, this time in the seventies.

They were both tired, Oscar could tell that much. Maybe it was the way their voices were muffled and barely there. Maybe it was the way their eyes started drooping. But it also could have been the onslaught of yawns.

"You can sleep," he said, squeezing Lando's shoulder.

It wasn't permission; they both knew they didn't need permission, but they fell asleep not long after that. The two of them turned towards him, Lando curled against his side, her wrapping herself around Lando's back like a koala on it's mothers back.

Oscar made the great effort of kissing both of their heads and turned his attention back to the movie. He hadn't seen it since the seventies, hadn't cared to watch it for a second time, but he wasn't going to tell them that.

He watched them, watched as they slept. She gripped Lando's shirt so tight, almost as if she was afraid he'd disappear out of the window again if he let go.

But then the bedroom door opened.

If he'd been concentrating, he would have heard Toto coming. It would have given him time to jump out the window, or hide in the closet. Something so this looked normal. Because this wasn't normal, not even by their standards.

Toto stared at him. He stared at Toto. Like a deer caught in headlights, Oscar could do nothing else but stare. Even when Lando made that slightly distressed noise, he couldn't move to give him any sort of comfort (which was fine, because she moved closer, unconsciously pressing her face into his back).

Toto cleared his throat, but it wasn't loud enough to wake either of them. "I've leave you to it, then," he whispered and pulled the door shut.

His words might have seemed hushed and calm, but he certainly wasn't. But that was a conversation he could have with his daughter the next day. Or maybe the day after, the poor man needed time to process.

***

Let me tell you about the horny phase.

It wasn't a fun horny phase, wasn't sudden bursts of passion that overtook Lando, that led to them falling into the bed and messing up the sheets. No, it had him agitated, an itch under his skin that he couldn't quite scratch.

She wasn't helping, but she didn't know. Like that afternoon, when she was picking out an outfit for their café date. "I'm gonna roast in this," she said, changing out of the old man cardigan she had been wearing as Lando and Oscar climbed through the window.

He released an inhuman noise as she stood in front of her wardrobe, trying to pick something new. But that noise soon turned into a whimper as Oscar grabbed his arm, his free hand touching the back of her neck. "Calm yourself," he cooed.

But Lando was fidgeting, squirming in his seat. "Sweetheart, hurry up and pick something," Oscar called.

"One second," she called back, waving them both off without a care in the world.

She didn't know that Oscar had to climb on top of Lando, pinning him to the bed. Lando squirmed beneath him, seemingly enjoying it. "Stop," Oscar commanded and Lando stilled.

His lips, so sharp and so deadly, were so close to his neck. Lando tipped his head to the side, giving him more access.

He'd never tasted werewolf before. Would it be different to human? His teeth were so close to the skin, close enough to pierce. He touched, teeth grazing him, but Oscar pulled back. No, he couldn't. Not now.

"You're killing me, Lan," he mumbled and pressed his face against his shoulder.

Lando bucked his hips up. Well, as much as he could with Oscar pinning him. It was the smallest bit of satisfaction, but it was enough.

But then she turned around. "Oh," she said as she pulled her shirt down over her chest. "What's... what're we doing, guys?" She asked as she sat down beside them on the bed.

Immediately, Lando was reaching for her. His hand touched her hip before Oscar pulled him back. "C'mon," he said, his grip on Lando so damn tight. "Tell her what's going on."

When you looked at the two of them, it came as something rather unexpected, that Oscar was the one taking charge. But Lando was loving. He was loving it. He grinned as he wrapped his legs around Oscar and tucked his head against his neck. An act, one of innocence.

Oscar simply rolled his eyes. "You know how he was... emotional the other day?" He asked and she nodded. "Well, after the emotions comes the arousal," he explained.

Her eyes went wide. "A horny phase?" She asked quietly, fiddling with her fingers in her lap.

Lando giggled. It was that shrieking giggle she'd heard so many times growing up. But it was so damn unexpected, hearing it then, it that... setting. He reached his hand out again and, this time, Oscar let him.

At first, it was sweet, the way he kissed every single one of her fingers. But then he was nosing at her wrist before attempting to pull her into the two of them.

Oscar rolled away, but he kept one leg over Lando, keeping him from jumping at her. But Lando still lunged. He tried to dart towards her, nearly knocking his head into hers. He would have, too, probably would have knocked them both out if it wasn't for the way Oscar was holding him.

"No, no," she said as she settled on top of him as best she could with Oscar on the other side. "Let him go, I wanna see what he does."

"No way," Oscar answered instantly. But, the moment she pushed him, he rolled away, willingly. "What am I gonna do with the two of you?" He mumbled, his smile incredibly fond for the situation.

But neither of them cared as they sank into each other.

Taglist: @biancathecool

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[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 33

summary: It’s the happiest day of his life—Javier is finally a married man, and he can't keep his hands off his new wife.

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, explicit smut, age gap (about ten years), two extremely horny newlyweds, Husband Javier Peña, mutual masturbation (m & f), hand job, dirty talk (you describe to each other how you want to fuck for the first time), praise kink, breeding kink, marriage kink? (it really turns you both on that you’re husband and wife), wedding ring kink (don’t look at me), Javier being so in love and unbelievably happy, banter, special appearances by their bovine children (it’s so cute), Chucho interrupting a heavy make-out sesh, anxiety, mention of dysfunctional family, a surprise POV we’ve never seen)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (no physical descriptions - nickname Cielito)

word count: 11.3k+

a/n: First, I’m sorry for how long this took. It’s been a very rough and busy few months, but I’m back to it! This is part one of (I’m hoping and praying) only two that will be about the wedding reception. I’m like 7k+ into the next one. Thank you for your patience and all of the comments on the last chapter. I loved reading everyone’s reactions! 🥹🥹🥹 Thank you to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for betaing and always ensuring my Spanish makes sense!

songs mentioned in this chapter: “Amor Prohibido'' by Selena & “Tiburon” by Proyecto Uno

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

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When Steve told her Javier had a girlfriend, Connie asked him to repeat what he had said because she thought she’d misheard him. He’d told her again, a little slower, "Jav has a girlfriend."

Who knew four words could sound so foreign together?

She’d had to clarify, "Our Javi? Javier Peña? He has a girlfriend?"

Steve had looked amused. "Yes, honey. Javier Peña has a girlfriend—I'm glad I'm not the only one who can’t believe it."

"Like, a girlfriend, girlfriend, or just one of his lady friends he's seen more than once?" She’d known that in Colombia, he’d had favorites amongst the working girls he saw, not to mention Elisa.

"A girlfriend, girlfriend—he's dating whoever this woman is."

"Are you sure?” She’d had to ask. “Maybe you just misunderstood him…"

And though Connie Murphy loved her husband dearly, she sometimes needed to double-check things he said, so she'd waited for Steve to leave the room before she had called their friend herself to verify what she'd been told was true. To her utmost surprise, Javier had confirmed it—he had a girlfriend, and he was serious about dating her.

Once the shock had passed, she’d needed to know everything about this woman who’d caught his attention, and once again, she had been surprised by what her friend said and how much he wanted to share.

Javi was not a chatty guy. Sure, you could have a conversation with him, but he never gave more information than was asked or pertained to the discussion. Connie had known something was different with their friend when he had, without much prompting, started telling her at length about this girl he had met in a grocery store—it’d been clear he was completely smitten by how fondly he spoke of her, and it had made Connie grin like a fool that Javier Peña finally had his sights on settling down, something he’d more than earned after everything in South America.

When she’d gotten off the phone with him, she’d gone to Steve and ordered him, not asked, ordered him, to get the new couple to visit as soon as possible; she’d been dying to meet this person who had their friend head over heels, and her annoying husband’s response was to tell her to calm the fuck down so they didn’t spook the woman who’d only been dating their best friend for a little over a week—she hated that he’d been right, but after a month of them going steady, and things looking good, she’d gotten back on Steve’s ass about convincing them to visit.

It may be surprising, but Connie and her husband weren’t very skeptical about the new development in Javi’s life—they were well aware of what happened between him and that awful girl from his hometown he left at the altar and how wary it’d made him in terms of relationships, so they trusted his judgment, plus all he’d told them about his girlfriend was reassuring, and there weren’t any red flags, they were all bright green; this woman made him happy and seemed like a good person, that last bit was proven when they finally met her. They more than approved of the marriage, and as soon as they were given a date for the wedding, they were making plans to attend because they weren’t going to miss the happiest day of their best friend’s life for the world—and Olivia was over the moon about being the flower girl and getting a new dress.

Connie would be lying if she said she didn’t cry during their ceremony. When they all still lived in Colombia, Javier’s parents had contacted her regularly to check up on him. She’d gotten to hear firsthand how much of a romantic Chucho was from his wife, and after Antonia passed away, his love for her was just as strong, if not stronger, with the way he’d reminisce and speak of her, almost as if she wasn’t gone. Even though it made sense that Javi inherited his father's romanticism, it was downright mind-boggling to hear him say such beautiful and touching things that could've come straight from a sappy chick-flick; it also had to be the most she’d ever heard him speak in one go.

It was sweet to see Javier so in love, and she was happy he was marrying someone who felt just as strongly about him—he definitely deserved this happiness he had found, and it was about damn time he got himself a family. The man was destined to be a dad; he was terrific with her kids, so good, in fact, it made Steve realize he needed to step up as a father. She’d always be thankful to Javi for that. Before her husband got more involved, it was Connie doing just about everything for Olivia, and it was exhausting and honestly put her off wanting any more children, but once Steve changed his act and started pulling his weight, she was ready for their family to grow.

The Murphys were excited to see Javier doing so well and marrying such a wonderful woman.

They were out on Chucho’s land at a hill with a giant oak tree sitting atop it, surrounded by grassy fields and the Rio Grande river in the distance, you could see if you stood under the tree. The sun had set, and the couple was officially married; Javi’s dad had them sign their marriage license, along with Steve and the bride’s best friend, putting their names down as witnesses, the newlyweds taking off back to the house for the big party that’d be happening with the new wife climbing into the driver’s seat of her new husband’s truck.

Steve and Connie had just packed their kids into the SUV they rented and were getting into their seats up front. Her husband turned the key in the ignition to start it. His seatbelt clicked into place right after hers, and he looked over at her with his hand on the wheel and a smirk on his face—he was about to say something that’d get a reaction from her.

Her eyebrow rose. “What is it?” she asked.

He adjusted in his seat, glancing back at the children, then meeting her eyes again, and whispered for only her to hear. “Five bucks says our newly married friends find a way to ‘fold laundry’ on their way back to the house.” That was their codeword for sex, so their kids didn’t know what they were talking about.

“Steven,” she loudly gasped, and he chuckled.

“Come on, baby.” He grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together on her dress-covered thigh. “Five bucks.”

“How would they…?” She was trying to figure out the logistics in her head on how they could possibly fuck while driving, especially with Javi’s wife driving. “Wait, are we talking them making it to home base (penetrative sex)? Or third base (touching below the waist)?”

“I’m talking that at least one of them, by any means necessary, does a home run trot (orgasms) before they get to the party.”

“Oh, that’s a losing bet.”

He pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“What, because I don’t wanna lose five bucks? They can’t make it to home base while driving, but I have no doubt one of them will finish from third—probably her, and good for her—let’s be real, Steve, we know them, and there’s no way they’re making it to that fancy as heck hotel room Javi rented to score the first run on opening day (consummate their marriage), either.”

Steve seemed to be thinking over what she said. “When I talked to him the other day, Javi was determined to do things right by her, and with how he held out until their third date, I think there is a chance they’d wait.”

“Enough of a chance you’d wanna wager on it?” She smiled sweetly at him.

“Heck no.”

“When did tío (uncle) start playing baseball?” Olivia asked.

Her dad turned his head to look at her in the back middle seat. “Oh, your tío has been playing baseball on and off since he was a teenager, sweetie. He doesn’t like to talk about it ‘cause he’s not very good at it.”

“Steve,” Connie hissed, playfully slapping his arm, and he smiled. “What your Dad means,” Connie said, turning in her seat to meet her daughter’s eyes, “is your tío is embarrassed that he plays baseball, so don’t ask him about it.”

“Why is he embarrassed?”

“Uh.” There really wasn’t a better answer. “‘Cause, like your Daddy said, your tío isn’t very good at it.”

Steve had a shit-eating grin. “So, don’t mention it to him, baby girl,” he said.

“I won’t.”

The parents faced forward, and Steve let go of her hand to put the vehicle in drive.

“I think I’m pretty good at baseball,” he whispered. “Been hitting a lot of home runs lately.” He glanced over at her and winked.

Her eyes rolled, Connie smiling. “Don’t be smug about it, Babe Ruth.”

“Do you even know what team Babe Ruth played for?”

“Um, the Yankees, maybe? Do you know?”

“I think you’re right?” he answered. “But you know I don’t like baseball and hated playing Little League as a kid.”

Nothing felt more right than the weight of the gold band on his finger, and Javier couldn't help but glance at it every once in a while to make sure it was really there and he wasn't dreaming; that was what today felt like, a dream, a dream come true, and the evidence that it'd actually happened was right there on his hand for him and everyone else to see.

After the kiss, there were congratulations and pictures taken, and as everyone started walking down the hill to the parked vehicles, Chucho stopped Javier and his wife—his wife—the older man silently handed him a pocket knife, and Javier didn't need any further instruction. He grabbed Cielito's hand and led her around the tree to where he knew his parents’ initials were carved, and added his and his new wife's nearby but used the letter 'P' for her last name and included the date beneath it.

All he wanted was to be alone with his bride, but on their way to his truck, his father stopped them again to sign the paperwork that'd make their marriage legal, the document sitting on the hood of Chucho's pickup—Cielito went first, writing in her pretty, flowy cursive her old name, then passed him the pen, Javier quickly scribbling down a messy version of his signature.

"Anything else?" he impatiently asked his dad, handing him back the ballpoint pen.

Chucho was smiling. "Nothing from you two, Mijo." He clapped Javier on the shoulder. "Get going—I just need to have the witnesses sign, and we'll see you back at the house."

"Thanks, Pop." He took Cielito's hand, hurriedly pulling her behind him.

“Thank you, Pop!” his wife giggled as she followed him. Her tone was amused when she said to Javier, “Someone’s impatient.”

He quickly glanced back at her over his shoulder. "Yeah, I am,” he said, looking forward again.

They were almost to his vehicle, and she stopped walking, which had Javier stopping, too.

He turned in place to meet her eyes, his eyebrows creasing. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She let go of his hand to hold open her palm. "Keys—you're not driving."

He frowned. "I'm fine."

"I don't care if you feel fine. You downed a few shots of whiskey, and I'm not letting you drive."

The pressure of not fucking up during the ceremony had gotten to him before it even started and caused a minor panic attack that his wife helped him get through with a flask of whiskey—it was true he downed two or three shots and was a little buzzed; however, he was nowhere near drunk, and definitely not close to having a blood alcohol level that’d get him in trouble with the law if he drove.

But since his wife didn’t want him to drive, he wouldn’t because he’d do anything she said.

He sighed, getting his keyring out of his tuxedo pants pocket and dropping it into her waiting hand.

“Please, watch out for holes,” he said, “and don’t drive too fast.”

She stepped close to him, smiling. "I know your truck is your baby." She lightly patted his cheek, and he grabbed her hand, his eyes staying on hers as he turned his head to kiss the center of it.

"That I only trust you to drive.”

In college, he had an old car that got decent gas mileage, so he didn’t break the bank when he visited home—it was the same vehicle he fled from Laredo in, on the day of his first wedding. It got him through the DEA academy, and when he received his first assignment, he sold it because he was being sent to Guadalajara, Mexico, and had no need for it. Getting rid of that car was Javier letting go of the last remnant of his previous life, and boarding the plane to Mexico with nothing but the clothes on his back and a duffle bag was the beginning of a new one.

The vehicles he drove while working with the DEA were all owned by the United States government; he didn’t need to buy one for himself. When he finally quit his job, he didn’t have very many earthly possessions and showed up at his father’s with his overnight bag, his duffle bag, and all of his suits, the two boxes containing the rest of his shit arriving a couple of days after him. He borrowed the spare pickup used for work around the ranch if he needed to drive anywhere. Once Javier returned to Laredo for good after a year in Miami with the Murphys, that was when he pulled the trigger and bought himself a truck—a nice truck that was only a couple of years old and practically new with how little miles were on it.

His ‘95 Ford F-250 SuperCab was a deep maroon and was a huge step up from the old pickup he had in high school and the shitty car he sold when the DEA sent him to another country.

She snorted. "Javier, this is literally the first time you're letting me drive it."

"I would’ve let you drive it sooner if you’d asked—I trust you, and now you’re my wife, so it belongs to you, too.”

Her face lit up. "Wait," she said, "say I’m your wife again."

"You're my wife."

"Damn straight, I am your wife now, and you're my husband! Oh my god, we're married!"

His smile was big as he chuckled and stepped into her space, his large hands cradling her cheeks as he kissed her.

He loved that she was just as excited as him over their new titles. They broke apart, and his eyes took in how beautiful she looked, and the need to be alone with her slammed into him again.

"Let's go," he said, taking her free hand and leading her to the driver’s side of his pickup. He let go to open the door for her and offered a palm, which she gladly accepted, to help her get up into the cab. He ensured she was inside and closed the door, walking around to the passenger seat to join her.

He took off his tuxedo jacket and set it on the backseat—once inside the cab of the truck, with the doors closed, he scooted over to the middle of the bench seat while she made adjustments in order to drive comfortably; her dress was rucked up her thighs to better move her legs, and his were too long, having to rest his feet on the passenger floorboards.

He gravitated toward her, getting pulled into her orbit, Javier unable to keep from cuddling up close to her after their seatbelts were buckled. His upper body twisted her way, nosing against her skin and peppering kisses along her jaw as she brought the engine to life with a turn of the key.

It was twilight outside, the sun setting, leaving traces of itself behind with the horizon colored a soft orange, the sky darkening to a deep blue that could rival the color of the ocean.

He couldn’t believe this beautiful woman was his wife—this beautiful woman who smelled fucking incredible and had him half-hard in his pants at the fact he was hers, and she was his; Jesus Christ, he had never wanted her more than he did at this moment, feeling arousal burning hot in his belly. He had to touch her, his right hand going across his body to rub his fingers along the inside of her knee, his lips pressing to the column of her throat, luxuriating in her perfume and the softness of her skin.

“You’re gonna be stuck to me like an octopus all night, aren’t you?” she asked amusedly as she switched on the headlights and put the truck into drive, getting them on their way.

He slid the tip of his nose up the side of her neck to her ear, pressing his lips to it as he whispered, “Yes, I’m gonna be all over you, my wife, my smart, amazing, sexy wife, who I’m dying to be inside of—when we get to Pop’s, let’s have some fun in my room before we go to the party; I wanna make you feel good.”

She giggled. “There’s not enough time before your dad meets us there.” She rubbed his thigh, then rested her hand on it, staking her claim, her touch feeling electric and making sparks dance low in his belly—no wonder she loved it when he did the same thing to her; it felt really fucking good.

“We’ll be quick,” he told her. He kissed the sensitive spot right below her ear and smiled at how she shivered. His fingertips skated over the soft, stretchy fabric covering her inner thigh on their path to the heat radiating between her legs. "Come on, baby," he said, softly kissing her jaw. His hand made it to her pussy, where she was hot, and her neediness had started to seep through the layers. "You're already so wet for me."

He was so focused on her that the sudden feeling of her palm on his dick had a groan slipping from his throat and excitement jolting in his stomach. His mouth went dry as she started stroking him over his pants, getting him completely hard in record time.

"As much as I'd love to have a quickie with you back at the house," she said, "it's too risky. So, counteroffer."

His hand was under her dress, rubbing her sex.

"Counteroffer?" he asked and nibbled on her earlobe.

She gulped, and he loved that she was just as affected by him as he was by her. "Yes, a counteroffer—we've got twenty-five/thirty minutes before we're back at your dad's, and I know you're ridiculously horny—" That was an understatement; his libido was running rampant and his desire for her was consuming every cell in his body, and he thought he might go insane if he didn't fuck her soon. "—and,” she continued, “you won't be able to enjoy yourself at the party because of it. So, how about I make you feel a little better by getting you off with my hand."

The thought of her jerking him off made him twitch in her palm.

When it came to hand jobs, either the person giving it knew what they were doing, or it felt like they were trying to tug his dick right off his body. His wife was thankfully in the first category and had taken the time to learn what he liked; in terms of only using hands, there was nothing better than her working him over—he'd rather fuck her, of course, but if this was all they could do for the time being, then he wasn't going to say no, and she was right; if he didn’t come and alleviate some of his horniness, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy himself tonight.

He rasped in her ear, "Counteroffer."

She snorted. "A counteroffer to my counteroffer?"

"Yeah, it's called negotiation."

She squeezed his shaft, and his breath caught in his throat. "Okay, smartass, what's your counteroffer?"

His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he smiled. "We get off together—I'll rub your pussy, and you can jerk me off, but only if you'll still be able to drive.” It was getting darker now that the sun had set, and his truck’s headlights guided them across the landscape. “Otherwise,” he went on, “yes, mi amor (my love), you can make me come with your hand."

She bit her lip, thinking it over, her eyes staying on what was in front of them—his pickup’s newer suspension dulled the bumps of the uneven ground. “I’ll still be able to drive, and it’s not like there’s anything out here for me to hit.” There weren’t any trees or cattle where they were, just miles and miles of grass and more grass until they reached the gate that opened to the road. “How romantic,” she said, “our first time fooling around as husband and wife, and it’s hand stuff in your truck, like our first date—get your dick out. Let’s do this.”

Her agreement was like pouring gasoline over the flames in his belly, making them roar, his skin practically vibrating from anticipation. Right away, his hands went to his belt, the buckle clinking as he undid it, and within seconds he had his pants open, his cock springing free when he pushed his underwear down and tucked them under his balls to keep them out of the way. He was already leaking from the tip, so hard and throbbing, he needed friction desperately, having to grip himself and give it a few strokes.

She glanced over at his lap, her face illuminated by the soft light of the sky outside and the pickup’s dashboard; the first word that popped into his mind was ‘beautiful.’

“My husband has the prettiest dick,” she mused, “and it’s all mine—talk about being the luckiest wife in the world; move your hand, babe.” He let go and watched as she turned her attention forward again and spit in her palm, the action causing heat to shoot down to his cock, making it twitch.

Her touch was searing when she took him in hand, his hips bucking up into it of their own accord as Javier groaned.

“Last night, I couldn’t sleep,” she said, stroking him from base to tip and twisting on the upstroke for her fingers to rub along the sensitive spots under the head. “I was alone in your room—” She stayed at his dad’s the night before without him. “—in your bed, smelling you everywhere, and I missed you so much that I kept thinking about our wedding, but when that started making me anxious, I began imagining what we’d do after partying with everyone.” She didn’t know he got them a suite at the nicest hotel in town. Her palm felt so good on him, he just remembered he was supposed to be getting her off, too—he leaned into her side, his arm reaching across his body to get his hand under her dress, over the stretchy material covering her, knowing his fingers hit the right spot when her breath hitched; he started circling her clit, his lips going to a spot behind her ear he knew made her toes curl, and kissed it. “Mmm,” she hummed in appreciation.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked, the words coming out huskier.

She had to clear her throat.

“What your reaction will be when you see my lingerie.”

The thought alone had him breathing out a fuck, picturing a variety of pieces she could possibly wear, and what he knew for sure was whatever she chose would be better than anything he could imagine because she was intimately aware of all of the little things that drove him wild.

“Then I started imagining how you’d fuck me in it,” she said, her tone turning sultry. Javier’s heart was pounding, his lips parting; she had his dick in the tight clutch of her fist, steadily moving up and down his shaft, gliding with ease from her saliva and the beads of precum catching on her fingers. “I touched myself while I imagined you tossing me onto the bed and burying your face between my legs—“ He jerked in her palm that she played with herself while thinking about him. “—you’re dying to lick my pussy, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he answered truthfully. It was the first thing he planned to do when he had a chance, wanting to taste his wife.

“Yeah, you are—god, that feels so good.” His fingers continued swirling around her bundle of nerves. “Go a little faster.” He did. “That’s it,” she purred. “Mm, so I imagined you eating my pussy while you pushed two of your amazing, thick fingers into me, slipping in so easy from how wet I was and your come that was still inside me from when we fucked last night.”

“Jesus Christ,” he gasped, easily imagining everything she was saying, thrusting up into her hand.

“There’s that slight stretch when you press them in, and they’re long enough to reach that spot—you know the one—I can’t reach it, I can’t even find it with my vibrator, but somehow you always zero in on it to make me see god, and you love that. You love to make me feel good, so I was rubbing my clit while thinking about how you’ll have me on my back as soon as we get home with your mouth on my cunt, and your fingers hitting that spot over and over again until I’m crying out your name, and coming all over your face.”

She had his mouth-watering and his cock weeping arousal, Javier needing to get her just as worked up as him, so he didn’t get to the finish line before her—he needed to make his wife come before him. It was a challenge to focus with her stroking him just right, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself before he hovered his lips over her ear so the hot air leaving his mouth would tickle her skin.

“What you imagined,” he rasped, “is that what you think will happen, or what you want to happen? Do you want your husband to eat your perfect little pussy when we’re finally alone in our room?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

His lips met the side of her neck, softly kissing it. “And after your husband drowns in your come, what do you want? Do you want his big dick down your throat? Or will your needy cunt be too hungry for your husband’s cock?” She moaned, and the sound went straight to his groin; he fucking had her. Javier’s fingers kept moving against her clit the way she liked. “Mmm, of course, you want me to fill your tight pussy; you’re always craving my dick.”

“God, yes,” she gasped, her hand continuing to work him over.

“No one’s ever stuffed you so full or filled you so perfectly, huh? Is that what you want, baby?” He kissed her jaw. “You want your husband to fuck you? You want your husband’s dick? My dick that belongs to you and only you.”

“Yes,” she answered, and he nuzzled against the side of her throat, loving how her perfume filled his nose. Her breaths were coming out heavier, her jaw slack.

“I’ll fuck you, mi amor.” His voice was muffled as his lips began a journey from the spot where her neck met her shoulder, kissing up to the delicate skin behind her ear, where he sucked—she let out a loud moan. He kept speaking, “I’ll give you whatever you want—I’ll fuck you however you want. You want me to put you on your hands and knees and fuck you until you’re cockdumb?”

“Oh, fuck, I’m almost there.” Her words came out breathy. “Don’t stop.”

His mouth was at the side of her head, keeping his voice low, “Yeah, you want me to fuck you until I have you drooling—I’ll fuck you so good that the only word said from those perfect lips is my name. Then after I make you come all over my cock, I’m gonna fuck you full of me—fill you up to the point I’m dripping out of you. I know you want your husband to fuck his come so deep inside of you that we’ll have a baby in nine months.” She made a choked noise. “You want your husband to get you pregnant.”

The previous week was their first attempt at actually trying for a baby, and now that there was a chance she could be pregnant, saying all that stuff riled them up even more than it usually did, so it wasn’t surprising that it did her in—her hand suddenly stopped, her body tensing up tight as she softly gasped his name, Javier’s fingers still rubbing her swollen bud to extend her high.

“Good girl,” he praised and kissed her cheek.

She was panting, her chest heaving. Her driving hadn’t been hindered, and she swallowed hard, Javier stopping his hand.

A smile was on her lips as she glanced over for a second. “My husband’s turn.” She winked, and he huffed out a breath. She dragged her thumb over the tip of his dick, smearing the dribbling precum, then tightened her palm around it, moving up and down in quick, shallow strokes.

“Fuck,” Javier whined. His mouth fell open, and the muscles in his gut were knotting up.

Truth be told, the shit he said to her had gotten to him, too, and he couldn't believe how close he was to coming after the handful of minutes they’d been at this. It reminded him of his first experience messing around with a girl in his teens, both of them virgins with no idea what the fuck they were doing, and he was so excited he blew his load after a minute of her hand fumbling on his cock—this time he made it past a minute, but compared to how long he usually lasted, this was going to end embarrassingly quick.

Cielito’s attention went back to looking out the windshield. “You wanna know what got me off last night when I was fantasizing about tonight?” He was so hard it hurt, and he couldn’t speak, so he nodded. “That as you fucked my brains out, I could feel your wedding ring on my skin wherever your hand was—my ass, my tit, my back, my belly, my face—I knew I was being fucked by my husband, that you were mine.”

The realization he’d feel/see her wedding band, too, caused a strangled moan to leave his mouth—his hips thrusted up into her palm as best he could while sitting, the rhythm jerky with desperation.

“Is my husband gonna come for me?” It thrilled him every time she called him that and fueled the white-hot ache boiling deep in his stomach that begged for release. Javier was so close he was balancing on a wire and on the verge of tipping over. “Come for me, baby,” she ordered. “Come for your wife.”

Wasn’t this a similar scenario to the first time he got a hand job? He was fooling around with his wife for the first time and was abso-fuckin-lutely excited to have her touching him, add in his happiness over being a married man and the fact this incredible woman loved him, and yeah, it did make sense that Javier was about to come quicker than a virgin in a whorehou—“shit,” he groaned. “‘M coming.”

His balls drew up, and the coil in his gut snapped, Javier letting out a shuddering moan as he came in her hand—she caught spurt after spurt of his spend in her palm, the pleasure exploding behind his eyelids, and erasing all thoughts from his mind as she wrung him out to the point he slumped in his seat, panting, and riding out the aftershocks.

The orgasm had him all nice and relaxed and had calmed the horniness, turning it from a screaming ache to something softer and easier to handle.

It took a moment for his brain to start working again, and the first thing he said was, “I love you.” A need came over him to feel her lips on his, so he gently grasped her chin in his hand, turning her head at an awkward angle that allowed her to still see where they were going while he kissed one side of her mouth.

“Mmm, I love you, too,” you muffled against his lips, breathing in his aftershave and spicy cologne with its familiar citrusy notes and the lovely musk.

Honestly, it was pure luck that you didn’t run into any holes while you distractedly drove. Javi touching you while you jerked him off would’ve been impossible to do on an actual road, not to mention unbelievably dangerous, with your attention being pulled in three different directions—driving, getting fingered, and jerking him off. Your husband—god, you loved the thought of that—your husband didn’t have any issues fooling around when he was driving, and you weren’t sure if it was because of his skill at multitasking or all of the practice he’d had in his youth; his truck from his teens saw a lot of action and was his favorite place to get busy. It was probably a mix of the two, and he was both skilled and had the practice, which would explain why he was perfectly fine with you choking on his cock as he drove—when he was sober. It was possible Tipsy Javi wouldn’t have any problems, either, but that wasn’t something you felt like testing.

One of your hands was on the steering wheel, and the other was closed to keep the handful of Javi’s come from dripping out—obviously, you were thinking with your pussy when you offered to give him a handy since you didn’t have a plan for what you’d do once he finished.

His mouth left yours, and you faced forward, your husband tucking his softened dick back into his underwear, then he leaned in the opposite direction of you to pop open the glove compartment, hearing him rustling around in it. He straightened, his big hand carefully grasping your wrist in his lap.

“Open,” he said, and with your palm up, you did.

Warmth filled your chest when you felt him using tissues to clean up the mess, and you looked over to see he had a small pocket pack of Kleenex opened on his thigh.

“The best husband,” you told him and focused back on driving. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome, cariño (sweetheart).” He’d gotten most of it wiped up. “I know you were playing dirty when you licked your fingers clean on our first date to try and get me to stay the night, but tonight, I don’t need a show; nothing will keep me from going home with you, and letting you use me however you want.”

“Love that for me, but be honest, babe. You’re wiping it up so I don’t turn you on by eating it.”

He sighed and finished cleaning your hand, discarding the used tissues onto the floor.

“Yeah,” he grumbled, moving to put the remaining pack of Kleenex back from where it came.

You smiled. “My adorably horny husband.”

He sat back in his seat and lifted your hand, kissing the inside of your wrist; the sensitive skin tingled beneath his plush lips and the tickle of his mustache.

“Who’s only horny for his beautiful wife,” he added, his thumb gently rubbing over where he kissed. “Now, keep your eyes forward and your hand up like this for me, please.”

“Intriguing request,” you replied, keeping your hand raised in front of him.

There was movement out of the corner of your eye, Javi getting something from the open glove box.

"Whatcha doing?" you asked, hearing what you thought was the soft slide of a lid coming off something.

"In a second, you'll know—be patient."

You frowned. "Fine."

He was right—a second later, you discovered he was putting a bracelet onto your wrist, thinking it was some kind of bangle with how Javi had to push the thin, rigid, ring-shaped metal over your hand to get it on and somehow tightened it, keeping it a little loose for your comfort.

"Before you look," Javi said, holding your fingers in his palm and sliding the pad of his thumb along your knuckles. I know we didn't talk about getting gifts for each other, so please don't feel bad that you don't have anything for me.”

“You got me a wedding present?” you whispered.

His face dipped to kiss the back of your hand. “Yes,” he answered, then turned his head, pressing his lips to your bare shoulder. He spoke softly, “We have our rings to celebrate our marriage, but I wanted you to have something that celebrated us as a family.”

Your eyes started to burn at the sweetness of this man, and for the umpteenth time, you wondered to yourself how in the world you got so lucky that he was your husband.

“Oh my god, Javi—can I look?”

“Yes,” he answered, reaching up to push the overhead light and clicking it on. The inside of the truck brightened.

You held up your hand, your eyes moving back and forth between the headlight-illuminated ground ahead of you and admiring the bracelet—it was gold, like your engagement ring and wedding band, the ends of the thin wire crossing each other, and looping around the opposite side to keep it together with two small teardrop-shaped pendants dangling from it, the first one you immediately recognized as the birthstone for the month you were born, and the second was turquoise, the opaque robin-egg blue gem shining under the light.

Tears muddled your vision. “Our birthstones?” you asked but knew the answer.

“Yes, mi amor.” He turned off the light and took your lifted hand into both of his. “My dad always bought my mom jewelry for special occasions, like her necklace you’re wearing—” Chucho was letting you borrow it, the necklace made up of what looked like connected silver waves with purple sapphires in each dip. “—I think that was an anniversary gift, or maybe a birthday—”

“Anniversary,” you told him. “Their twentieth. Your mom yelled at him when he gave it to her for spending so much money, then changed her tune and supposedly gave him a bunch of kisses, but with how fondly your dad sighed recounting the story, I’m positive he was giving me the Disney version of events, when in reality what actually happened couldn’t be shown in theaters if you know what I mean.”

“I’d rather not know what you mean or think about that shit—anyways,” he said, and the sudden topic change made you smile, “I went to the jeweler downtown—” That was where you got your wedding bands, and Javi had his mother’s engagement ring altered. “—and after talking it out with them, I thought you’d like the bracelet. The idea was that as our family grows, it would, too, and we’d add our children’s birthstones as they come along.“I just wanted you to have something special for today; what do you think?”

"Tissue me," you said, shaking his hands off your one and holding out your palm. "I don't want to ruin my makeup while I happily cry."

"Fuck," Javi said, immediately digging out the Kleenex from the glove compartment again and putting two tissues into your hand. "I'm sorry."

You blotted at your eyes as you spoke, "There's nothing for you to be sorry about, Javi. This has just been a great fucking day, and this bracelet is perfect—I love that we can add onto it as we have kids. I love you so much." The overwhelming happiness had you crying and trying to catch all the tears before they fell down your face.

"I love you, too, Cielito," he replied. He managed to get his arms around your middle to hug you from the side while kissing your cheek.

It took some seconds for you to calm down, and you loved how he was holding you.

The mascara-stained tissue was clutched in your fist, and you leaned toward him, gently knocking your head against his. “Thank you,” you softly said.

His voice was as low as yours, “For what?”

“Loving me, marrying me, having a family with me—everything, thank you for everything, and making me the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

“I should be the one thanking you for everything—I know I came with a lot of baggage, but you looked past it; hell, I think you barely glanced at it before giving me a chance, and I’m thankful that none of it scared you away.” He took a deep breath. “You love me for me, flaws and all, and you need to understand that I’m yours—you have all of my love and devotion, and I’m gonna do everything in my power not to fuck this up because you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I want to give you the entire fucking world. So, thank you for everything and for making me the happiest man in existence.”

You turned your head his way as best you could while still being able to see out of the windshield and puckered your lips. “Kiss me,” you demanded.

Javi chuckled, sitting forward to reach your mouth and kissing you tenderly, his arms around you tightening. He pecked the tip of your nose before he pulled back, his eyes roaming over your face in what little light there was from the dashboard and stereo.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he sounded almost in awe.

You snorted and faced the truck’s hood. “My makeup is probably all messed up,” you replied. “I’ll need to stop by your room real quick to touch it up and go to the bathroom before the party.” He visibly perked up in your peripheral, and you rolled your eyes, continuing to speak, “No, we’re not having a quickie, Javier.”

His shoulders slumped.

“You told me to be patient a little bit ago,” you said, “and now it’s your turn to be patient; hold your horses. I promise we’re gonna have sex, but we need to get through celebrating with our friends and family first—we owe it to them after how they’ve helped make today perfect. Knowing your family, the party is probably going to go on until tomorrow morning, and I think we’ll be fine if we disappear around midnight; then we can go home, lock ourselves away from the world, and fuck to our heart’s content, or at least until your dick chafes.”

You didn’t have to look at his face to know he grimaced. “Amor (love), you do know that my dick chafing means I’m fucking you wrong, right? Like, it’d mean you were dry, or there wasn’t enough lube—would I ever do that to you?”

“No, of course not—I’m exaggerating, babe.” You patted his thigh. “Sometimes I think your middle name is actually ‘Foreplay’ with how into it you are, and even if I tell you to stick it in without warming me up, you always make sure things are slick enough for you to Slip ‘N Slide right in.”

“Did you really just use ‘Slip ‘N Slide’ to describe me putting my dick inside you?” He sounded amused.

“Yeah? You make it slippery and slide right in—where’s the lie?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, I love you so much.”

You grinned, glancing over at him. “Thank god you do, ‘cause you kinda married me,” you said, switching hands on the steering wheel to flash him the rings on your left ring finger.

In the dimmed cab, you could see him smiling, and he pressed into your side, saying between kisses to your shoulder and neck, “I didn’t ‘kinda’ marry you. I married you. Period.” His hand pawed at your dress-covered breasts. “You’re my wife, and I’m your husband. We’re officially Mr. and Mrs. Peña.”

“Isn’t that the best thing to say?”

He chuckled, lifting his head to meet your eyes. “It really fucking is.”

"You're joking," Javier said, not believing what Cielito told him.

His outfit was put back together, wearing his black tuxedo and bow tie, with the lavender-colored pocket square and one of his mother’s violet roses pinned to his lapel—he stood in the entryway of his dad’s house outside his childhood bedroom, his wife blocking the door in front of him. She crossed her arms over her chest, and the look on her face made it clear she wasn’t joking.

“I’m serious,” she replied. “You’re not coming in here with me alone.”

They had promised Chucho before the wedding that they wouldn’t do their big entrance at the party without him there because he wanted to take pictures of it. So, the plan was for Cielito to touch up her makeup, and then the two of them were going to hang out for a few minutes until his father and everyone else from the ceremony got there.

Surprisingly, the home was practically empty, with everyone in the backyard where music was already blaring. His prima (cousin) Alma had greeted them when they arrived and was in the living room behind him, staying close in case they needed anything since they couldn’t go outside.

His face scrunched up from confusion.

“You’re acting like I have no self-control—I can keep my hands to myself.”

She scoffed. “That is a dirty fucking lie, and it’s not just you; we both have shitty self-control. The moment that door shuts, and we’re alone, it’s game over, and our marriage will be consummated on the floor of the bedroom you grew up in.”

“The dusty ass floor? No.” He shook his head. “You deserve better than that, and I’d fuck you against the bathroom counter so we can look at each other in the mirror—you love that shit.”

She gestured toward him with her hand and harshly whispered, “And that is why we can’t go into the room alone! You’ve already thought out exactly how you’d fuck me!”

His palm went up onto the doorframe above her head as he leaned in close, ignoring how her eyes darkened, and whispering back just as aggressively, “I’ve had that figured out since the moment you said ‘I do!’ Right now, all I want is to be in the same room as you, and that’s it. So, why don’t we both promise to be on our best behavior, no funny business, or whatever the fuck, because I need to be near you, my wife.” His free hand cradled her cheek, rubbing his thumb along the apple of it, his gaze locked on hers as he practically pleaded, “Please don’t leave me out here alone.”

It was true that all he wanted was to be close to her. He’d steal some kisses, but that was as far as he’d go since she made it clear on their way here that they weren’t going to have sex before the party; Javier wasn’t going to be an asshole and try to change her mind, he respected her choice.

With how her expression softened he knew she could see he was telling the truth.

“Come in with me,” she said, putting her hand over the back of his on her face—he loved that he could feel the cool metal of her rings on his skin. “But we will be on our best behavior and absolutely no funny business.”

He smiled. “None.” He nudged his nose against hers. “Is kissing funny business?”

“No,” she breathed. “Kissing is fine—no tongue, though.”

“No tongue. Noted.” He slotted his lips against hers, kissing her sweetly.

“Ustedes dos son repugnantes (You two are disgusting),” Alma said loud enough for them to hear from the living room—she was the youngest of Javier’s primos (cousins), and in her last year at university. Spring term was starting the following week. “Y tontos (and dumb),” she continued. “Les digo con amor (I say it with love). Si ustedes están tan preocupados, mantengan la puerta abierta (If you guys are so worried, then keep the door open). La solución es obvia (The solution is obvious). La tía Lupita tenía razón cuando dijo que los dos son unos dramáticos (Tía Lupita was right when she called you dramatic).”

Javier groaned, breaking the kiss. “No llames tonta a mi esposa ni hables como si no estuviéramos aqui (Don’t call my wife dumb and don’t talk like we aren’t here),” he told the young girl.

“Es que hablan tan alto que ni siquiera puedo ignorarlos (You’re so loud I can’t even ignore you). Apurense, que tío está en camino, llegará en cualquier momento (You better hurry up, tío’s on his way and will be here any minute).”

“She’s right,” Cielito said. “I better hurry up and fix my face.”

His head moved back to look her in the eyes. “Okay,” he replied. He whispered the next part so the woman in the other room didn’t hear him, “She had a point about the door—we should keep it open.”

“Yeah. I was thinking the same thing.”

The bedroom door stayed open when they went inside, Javier following his wife into the bathroom. This was something he loved to do, leaning back against the vanity and watching her put on makeup, or other times wash her face or apply her creams and serums, as they talked and joked around, the smile never wavering from his face. It was comfortable being there with her, and her presence soothed him; he was listening to her telling him about her day, and he wished he could’ve been there while she got ready for their wedding, but he also loved that the first time he saw her all dressed up was when his father walked her to him at the ceremony.

Alma was correct, and Chucho arrived, finding them in the en suite, the Murphys, Robyn, and his primos Sebastián and Angelita going out back. With how rowdy these parties could get, his wife decided to take off his mother’s necklace and put it back in its thin, black leather case to keep it safe. Once she finished touching up her makeup, it was time to head outside.

Their reception was being held under a giant white wall-less pole tent in his father’s massive backyard—the dance floor was set up in the center of it with many circular tables on either side, the DJ booth his cousin Diego was using at the edge of it closest to the long side that had a buffet along it prepared by his tías and their daughters/daughters in law, and a bar manned by his tío Ángel; the middle of the opposite side had a two-person sweetheart’s table where Cielito and he would sit to eat, the desserts table with the three-tier wedding cake and other sweets next to theirs.

They didn’t bother with a seating chart, seeing as 90% of the guests were related to him, and the remaining 10% were friends who everyone liked—there was a round table close to them reserved for his dad, the Murphys, Robyn, and Seb since they declined to sit at a bigger table with the newlyweds.

Chucho told them to follow him out the backdoor because he had a surprise before they made their grand entrance at the party. Javier held his wife’s hand as they exited into the backyard, the sky darkened, and stars were beginning to shine, the area lit up from string lights overhead being held up by poles, the lemony scent of citronella wafting in the air from the numerous tiki torches surrounding the tent to keep away bugs.

It wasn’t a surprise, it was two surprises, Cielito gasping “Oh my god,” when she saw, and Javier grinning—Daphne and Velma, their beloved bovine children, had flower crowns on their heads made of light and dark purple peonies, with a few white ones amongst the others—at eight months, the calves were barely half the size of a full grown cow and were tethered with long ropes from their halters to a small metal-fenced corral set up for that night; a bale of hay was in front of them and out of reach that had a hand-painted sign leaning against it that read, ‘Our parents got married!’ with the date beneath it, and a big bucket of vegetables nearby for people to feed them.

Immediately, the newlyweds were walking toward their bovine daughters, and upon Daphne and Velma seeing them, their tails started wagging in excitement like giant puppies—tail wagging meant different things for calves and full-grown cows. A calf did it when they were happy; an adult, though? It usually indicated they were irritated, and you better get the fuck out of the way, or you were going to get kicked.

As soon as Javier and his wife were close enough, they were giving the girls pets; he was scratching the red-haired calf under her chin on the spot he knew she loved.

“Oh, mis preciosas que lindas estan! (my lovelies, look how pretty you are!),” he cooed. “Que chulas (So cute).” He traded places with Cielito to give Velma some love. “Me encantan tus coronitas (I love your little crowns). Mis princesitas (My little princesses).”

“Mijo,” his father said to get his attention, and he looked back over his shoulder at him. The older man had his camera hanging around his neck, and he held it up. “Quiero tomar una foto de tu familia, por favor (I want to take a picture of your family, please).”

His family.

If someone told him a year ago that in the next twelve months, he was going to meet his soulmate, marry her, and they’d actively be trying for a baby, he would’ve asked what they were on because it had to be something good with how delusional all of that sounded—if they’d said scientists would find proof the moon was made of cheese, that would’ve been more believable than Javier getting a family of his own and truly being happy.

But it had happened. He found his person, the one, and now he had his own family.

He made sure to tell his wife many times before their wedding that she was a part of his family, and he meant it—their marriage simply solidified it, setting in stone that she was officially a Peña, and their lives were firmly intertwined for life; it also was the beginning of their own little family, one that started with the two of them and would slowly grow as they had children.

Warmth spread through his body that in another year, they could have a kid—they'd hopefully be living in their house they were building with their baby and the dog he wanted to get; he didn't have a particular dog in mind, but his father said that when they move in with him while waiting for their home to be finished, they could get one, and Javier planned on adopting from the local shelter.

“Por supuesto que sí, Pop (Of course, Pop),” Javier replied. “Dame un segundo (Give me a second).”

He walked over to the bucket and pulled out two long carrots, handing one to his smiling wife when he returned to her and stealing a quick kiss. They’d found the best way to get the calves to stay still while getting their pictures taken was plying them with treats, so the two humans got between the bovines, Javier beside Cielito with his arm around her back, facing his dad. They both held up a carrot to the girl on their other side, who happily started to munch away. They grinned as the flash repeatedly went off, Chucho taking many photos.

“¡Bésala (Kiss her)!” his father ordered, making him and his wife laugh, but doing as they were told, turning their heads toward each other, and Javier sealing his lips against hers.

All that time ago in the grocery store when they first met, something happened as they talked; he felt a funny sensation in his gut that he didn’t recognize at first because it was so foreign, and it wasn’t until he was unable to stop thinking about the sweet, beautiful woman who helped him find the perfect tomato on his drive home that he realized the fluttering in his stomach was butterflies, honest to god butterflies that he probably hadn’t felt since high school.

The thing was, they never went away after that first encounter, and any time he was around her, the butterflies went wild like he was some lovesick teenager.

And right now, the wings were flapping like crazy in his belly as he kissed her, his wife.

A hard skull headbutted his hip, and he ended the kiss, Cielito giggling as they separated. He looked down at Velma, who’d finished her carrot and was begging for more by bumping into him, his wife, in the same predicament.

The woman next to him cooed to Daphne, “Your abuelo (grandpa) feeds you well. Why are you acting like you’re starving?”

The camera’s flash had stopped going off. His father must’ve finished taking pictures.

Javier bent at the waist to scratch the black-haired calf’s cheeks.

He spoke in a sweet tone, “Porque nuestras hijas son malcriadas (Because our daughters are spoiled). Aren’t you? Bien, una más y luego tenemos que irnos (Okay, one more then we have to go).” They’d need to run back inside to wash their hands.

Chucho walked over to the bucket, his camera resting against his chest as he grabbed two turnips and brought the root vegetables to them that they took and gave to the girls after saying thanks.

Running inside to wash their hands should've only taken a couple of minutes, but the newlyweds fucked up and closed the door when they went into the bathroom, so a couple minutes turned into five and would've been more if his dad hadn't interrupted their heavy makeout session his wife started—when his father yelled and banged on the door, Javier had Cielito backed against a wall with her dress raised enough to hike her leg up on his hip, while his big hand gripped her thigh over a blue garter he couldn’t wait to take off; their lips were fused together with his tongue in her mouth, the no tongue rule while kissing clearly flying out the window.

Sure, it was embarrassing, but it confirmed that their self-control was so shitty when they were left alone that later on, once they arrived at the party and the festivities started, if he could find them a nice secluded spot, things would heat up to the point they’d end up fucking, and Javier wanted nothing more than to be inside his wife; she said no sex before the party, she didn’t say anything about no sex during it, and you can bet your ass he was going to exploit that loophole the first chance he got—he was already figuring out potential places he could take her inside and outside Chucho’s house.

He had to adjust himself in his pants, so it wasn’t obvious he was hard before they sheepishly exited the bathroom to his dad standing in the hallway shaking his head with his arms crossed in front of him.

“Eres peor de lo que yo era con tu mamá, Mijo (You’re worse than I was with your mom, Mijo),” Chucho said. “No puedo dejarlos solos ni un minuto (I can’t leave you alone for a minute).”

“Oye (Hey),” Javier replied, “me dijiste que la besara antes (you told me to kiss her earlier). No puedes estar enojado conmigo por hacer lo que dijiste (You can’t be mad at me for doing what you said).”

If his mother were here, his smartass response would’ve gotten him hit upside the head with a chancla (flip-flop)—his father, on the other hand, just gave him the look that meant Javier needed to cut the shit; it was the look that even as a full-grown forty-year-old man, made him gulp.

“Eso fue diferente y lo sabes (That was different and you know it). Ahora, deja de ser grosero con tus invitados haciéndolos esperar y sal afuera (Now, stop being rude to your guests by making them wait and go outside).”

“Lo siento, Pop (I’m sorry, Pop). Nosotros vamos afuera ahora mismo (We’re going outside right now).”

“Bueno (Good).” Chucho nodded. “Le diré a tu primo que estás listo (I’ll tell your cousin you’re ready).” He meant Diego, who was the emcee and deejaying.

Returning to the backyard, they waited for their arrival to be announced and got to watch from a distance how his primo was working the crowd under the tent from his small DJ booth. Diego was currently playing “Amor Prohibido'' by Selena, and the beer and liquor were already flowing amongst the party guests, many of them standing at their tables dancing and singing along to the song. They could see his dad weaving through the people, heading to his cousin.

Cielito stood in front of him, fussing with his hair while he held her hips over the buttery-soft material of her dress.

She was nervous.

He could see it in her eyes and how she repeatedly asked if she looked okay, which he always answered with the truth: she looked more than okay; she was stunning. Now, she was fixing his already perfect hair, and next, she’d move onto his tuxedo to probably smooth out wrinkles that weren’t there or adjust his bowtie that needed no adjustment because it soothed her to take care of him.

“Is it all the people, mi amor?” he asked softly.

“Huh?” She smoothed her palms over his jacket-covered shoulders.

“Is it all the people that’s making you nervous?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Selena’s upbeat tune, which Javier knew every word to, was still going.

“You wanna know something?”

She was busying her fingers with straightening his straight bowtie. “Sure.”

“This song reminds me of us.”

She looked at him, her hands pausing. “The only people who consider our love forbidden are my DNA Donors…”

He took her hands into his larger ones and kissed her knuckles. “Exactly.” He leaned closer so his mouth was near her ear and quietly sang some of the lines from the beginning of the track:

“Y cuando al fin estemos juntos, los dos (And when we are finally together, the two of us) Que importa que diran (What does it matter what they will say) Tu padre y tu mama (Your father and your mother) Aquí, solo importa nuestro amor (Here, only our love matters) Te quiero (I love you).”

The song was almost over, and Javier switched to singing along with what was playing:

“‘Amor prohibido,’ murmuran por las calles (‘Forbidden Love,’ they murmur in the streets) Porque somos de distintas sociedades (Because we’re from different societies) ‘Amor prohibido,’ nos dice todo el mundo (‘Forbidden Love’ is what the whole world tells us) El dinero no importa en ti ni en mí (Money doesn’t matter in you nor in me).”

He kissed her cheek. “The song reminds me of us,” he said, “because it’s true; it doesn’t matter what those people you share blood with think, or that we’re from different walks of life, and money doesn’t even fit into the fucking equation—the only thing that matters is our love; what we have means a whole lot more than anything that can be bought or social status, and they can all fuck right off with their opinions ‘cause they don’t mean shit. lo que importa es que te amo, y tú me amas, y eso es algo que durará incluso después de que este mundo ya no exista y el sol deje de brillar (All that matters is I love you, and you love me, and that is something that will last even after this world is no more, and the sun stops shining). Te amo más que a nada (I love you more than anything).”

Suddenly, his wife was gently pushing him back, her mouth finding his a second later, kissing him hard; he hugged her flush against his body, unable to keep the smile off of his lips—love had filled every nook and cranny in his chest to the point of almost bursting, contentment making his body feel all warm and fuzzy.

The music had stopped, and Diego could be heard over the sound system, “Señores y señoras, familia y amigos, démosle la bienvenida a los novios, Mr. and Mrs. Peña (Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, let’s welcome the bride and groom, Mr. and Mrs. Peña)!”

When it came to them choosing the language used for their ceremony and reception, they based their decision on what the majority of the guests spoke fluently—their ceremony was in English because it was attended mainly by the Murphys and with the high ratio of the reception’s guests being his family, they went with Spanish.

The beginning horns of their intro music, “Tiburon” by Proyecto Uno, started playing over the sound system, and they broke apart, grinning.

He cupped her cheek. “Ready, Mrs. Peña?” he asked.

“Ready, Mr. Peña.” She stepped to stand at his side, taking his hand, and he lightly squeezed it before they started walking with smiles on their faces toward the uproar beneath the tent of music, cheering, and clapping.

The moon was hanging in the dark night sky, surrounded by bright, twinkling stars, their path illuminated by zig-zagging string lights above their heads. The tent was wall-less, but they put up white lattice arches at either end, which were decorated with fake ivy and signs at their sides welcoming everyone to the party. Inside, rows of more string lights were across the ceiling; the tablecloths on every table were the same shade of soft purple as his pocket square, and atop the tabletops were clear vases filled with sprigs of lavender, that served as decoration and kept away any bugs who made it past the citronella tiki torches outside—his wife’s great idea.

As soon as they got to their little two-person table, dinner would start, keeping people busy for a while and giving them some time to sit alone together.

Javier was on a mission to get them seated as quickly as possible; he didn’t wave, he didn’t stop to talk to anyone, he just smiled, holding his wife’s hand that every few seconds he’d give a reassuring squeeze to remind her he was right there, and matched her pace, unable to stop himself from looking over to check up on her at almost the same frequency of his palm tightening around hers—he was so focused on her that everything else was a blur of faceless people and camera flashes.

The moment they were at their table, he was turning her way, his hands framing her face as he searched her eyes, and she visibly relaxed when she met his gaze, the tension leaving her shoulders. Her palms came up to cover the backs of his hands with a happy, little smile on her lips.

Javier spoke loud enough for her to hear over the ruckus. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

He crookedly smiled and closed the distance, tenderly kissing her—the room seemed to erupt in louder cheers and wolf-whistles. His mouth left hers to whisper in her ear, “I love you, and if it gets to be too much, just say the word, and I’ll get you out of here.”

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[zweiginator]

do u tbink reader and bsf!patrick would ever start hooking up but in like a fwb way? bc imagine….and wildly enough it’s HER who’s like ‘cant get attached’ blah blah blah. like it’s her being the one to make it clear that this doesn’t change anything, she’s completely platonic outside of it (well ok not really), she won’t think of them as dating even tho they practically are.

and it’s so obvious she thinks he’s not taking it seriously. assumes he’s going on dates. tries to not think ab it.

n eventually he just like loses it. points out how "it’s not fucking fair. you do all this shit to me, with me, and now you’re acting like i’m the crazy one for thinking we’re more than just fuck buddies? that’s all you wanna be? fuck off" and angry sex…..

NOT SURE JUST SOME THOUGHTS…

yes. youve seen patrick's ex girlfriends, how obsessed they still are with him. there is something so egregiously intoxicating about him--it scares you. truly knocks the wind out of you.

you didn't get it before you became friends with benefits. before you leapt over that line in the sand that had been toed over for year and years.

but that one night in september when patrick had just broken up with a girl, and you were feeling upset after yet another horrible date--you got it.

patrick comforted you that night. it felt selfish; you were upset about a guy you met maybe twice. he had just dumped a girl he thought he truly loved.

you brought up the idea.

"let's just be friends with benefits." you plead. the truth was that you were so curious about him. as he grew more and more and became a man instead of an immature little boy--you wanted to feel him.

"what are you talking about?" he didn't want to ruin your friendship. but thee truth was that he had broken up with his girlfriend because of a petty little disagreement. it was trivial, really. he told himself it was just pure incompatibility. but in reality, he resented her for not being more like you. nobody could be you--except for you.

patrick knew it would be complicated. for some reason, you figured it wouldn't be. patrick was always hooking up with and talking to new girls. it seemed like he had the no strings attached thing down pat.

patrick made love to you that night. that was the only way to describe it. slow, meaningful, deep thrusts, your legs wrapped around his waist. desparate for him to be closer.

his words were filthy. he spread your cunt open and cooed about how pretty it was. how it opened up just for him. how wet he had made you. so pretty. so perfect.

it made you cum. it made your nails dig and dig and dig into his back.

you understood how his exes turned obsessive. maybe not even turned.

so you vowed to never get too attached. to never ruin your friendship.

you never slept over at his place, and you never allowed him to stay the night at yours. no pillow talk or sweet nothings. no dates.

of course, these stipulations had loose definitions. and as best friends, it was inevitable to show appreciation to each other, to go out to an occasional nice dinner or impromptu lunch.

patrick was becoming more and more livid with you. you didn't know what had changed. he was more bossy in bed; he went from slow sessions of eating your pussy to slapping his cock on your tongue and commanding you: fucking suck on it.

of course, you liked it. you loved anything he did to you. but maybe you missed how sweet he used to be. you wouldn't admit to yourself why that was.

valentine's day was soon. and maybe patrick had assumed that you would be his date. he made reservations for you.

"patrick, what are you talking about? no, i'm not gonna be your valentine." you shake your head, taking his tennis rackets from him to shove in the backseat.

"what the fuck do you mean 'what am i talking about?'" patrick lowers his voice. "we've been fucking for like 6 months why are you acting like this?"

"exactly," you say. "we've been fucking. we haven't been dating. i told you this would be purely platonic when we started."

patrick scoffs, slamming the door. he's yelling at you now. "so you're just gonna act like i'm fucking crazy for thinking this is more than platonic when it is definitely more than platonic?" he forces the car into reverse, driving away angrily.

"you're mad because i'm keeping my word--no, our word."

"whatever." patrick spat. "you're full of fucking shit. acting like this hasn't been dating this whole fucking time. making me seem like a fucking idiot for thinking you liked me."

"i do like you-"

patrick seethes; the vein in his neck pulses as he parks the car. he's dropping you off at your apartment.

"get the fuck out. go home. this is over--all of it is."

you gather your things and get out of patrick's car. you have barely shut the door when he skids away. your breath is visible in the cold february air, but your body is hot, and stiff with anger and confusion.

you think he will break and call you first. but one week passes, and then valentine's day. and soon it's march and you haven't so much as seen patrick for almost a month.

it's stupid. you go to patrick's apartment. you look like a lost puppy dog.

he doesn't answer the door. you know he's home. his car is in the driveway, you hear music in his living room. maybe he's with another girl. maybe he really did move on.

you don't leave. it's freezing, and your jacket is light--it's not made for the dry cold that hurts at the end of winter.

patrick opens the door.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

your lip wobbles.

"it's freezing out here what's your problem?"

patrick bullies you. he pulls you inside and wraps you in a blanket but sits on the opposite side of the couch. doesn't say a word.

you speak up; he cuts you off.

"i have nothing to say to you."

now you're begging. you're crying and the tears are stinging and you're on patrick's lap trying to get him to notice you.

"please pat, p-please. i miss you."

patrick grabs your jaw. he's stern. "this isn't how platonic friends act. this isn't how you fucking cry when you're just friends."

he's right.

you pull at his shirt. "please, i need you, i'll do anything. want you to be mine. i was so--stupid."

patrick is hard beneath you. he likes this.

"you're so fucking pathetic." he spits.

you get down on your knees in front of him.

"i'm so stupid."

"show me how much you want me." he pushes his sweatpants off; he's wearing no underwear. and his cock looks bigger. just as angry as he is.

you grab him into your hands and spit on his cock, moaning as you kiss it all over. lick him from his balls to the weeping head of his cock. suckling on him and hallowing your cheeks. saying im sorry im sorry im sorry.

he slaps his cock on your face. tells you you should be.

you feel how he pulses in your mouth; he groans as he pushes your face into his balls. you suck them into your mouth. your eyes water and your pussy drools for him.

patrick pulls you up. puts you on top of him. pushes your cunt onto his throbbing cock until you're gasping. god he's big and he's fucking relentless. you're not even moving and he's fucking up into you so hard you feel like you have whiplash.

but god, it feels so good. patrick pulls your hair, palms your ass, slaps your face. he rubs your clit and laughs at you. laughs at how much you're moaning. how easy you are.

"are you fucking sorry?" he asks. his balls slap against your ass.

you can barely get a word out.

"yes--i'm so sorry."

"tell me you love me." he wipes a tear from your eye. "tell me you fucking love me."

you nod, cumming right then. coating his cock in your slick, milking him.

"i love you patrick. love you so much. i'll never leave you again."

patrick cums too.

[rxzennia]

selfish atonement

– requested. 

✎𓂃 executing your duty perfectly, until it’s not so heavy anymore. less romance, a lot of lore. mandatory shoutout to @st4rrth0ughts and their bodyguard reader & oc. i really searched up oswaldo for this pls enjoy (i tried to cook but i might’ve burnt it y'all)

ever since oswaldo’s expedition on aeragan-epharshel, you’ve become certain of one thing – he is a brilliant businessman; the epitome of a profitable business. regardless of the mostly negative emotions you felt while you undertook missions under his orders, you could at least admit that he brought unparalleled results to the ipc. 

but, well, it does not take a good man to make a good businessman.

this marks the third amber era after your departure from the marketing development department… no, your departure from the ipc as a whole. you’ve changed your name, got yourself a new appearance, and distanced yourself from oswaldo’s name.

you’ve since become a sellsword who answers only to your current client

you’ve chosen to not have your loyalty freely auctioned off to the wealthy precisely because of your history with oswaldo

aka, you’re done with the type of problems that can be solved with money, and you don’t want to be someone that can be easily bought with money, either

not in the sense that money won’t make you more likely to take a job, but in the sense that money won’t bribe you away from any ongoing duties

that’s enough about you and your standards

in any case, your history with the ipc (that you’ve manipulated a little) has been very helpful in landing you jobs

and at this point, you’ve got a nice word of mouth going on for you that you don’t need to bring up that history anymore

who would’ve thought that you’d end up in the ipc again?

this time as a temporary guard for one of the ten stonehearts

you don’t know what possessed someone like diamond to ask for you, because you’re pretty sure he knows about your previous involvement with the ipc

and also, what the fuck does the ten stonehearts need a bodyguard for?

you’d pay a million credits to bet that diamond just wanted someone to be surveillance

but hey, a client is a client, so you agree to meet the one you’re supposedly “protecting”

you walk into the room, and immediately you want to walk out. diamond is doing this on purpose, he’s gotta be, he’s got to have done a background check on you and still decided to choose violence.

you come face to face with aventurine, and you thank all the aeons out there that you’ve made the decision to wear a mask whenever you’re out. you don’t know if diamond had briefed him on you or not, but judging by how warily civil he is, it doesn’t seem so. 

just so we’re clear, you were far too green to be directly involved when oswaldo launched his sigonia-iv project. while you did tag along on these trips and treaty signings, you have no personal involvement there except standing there like a statue and watching your superiors hammer out a treaty or something. unlike in aeragan-epharshel. where you were one of the combat pilots. oh, that’s another can of worms altogether.

at least he can’t see your expression right now as you shake hands

at least he doesn't hear your erratically beating heart

you introduce yourselves, and you bow out of habit

impression points +100 (your starting score is -10000)

that’s basically how you ended up involved with the ipc again

ugh, you just can’t leave them in the past, can you?

although, in your defense, they’re everywhere, and you can’t possibly turn down a job with such luxurious pay

so, now, instead of the marketing development department, you’re in the strategic investment department. diamond is also a good businessman, but… the ten stonehearts have such a weird dynamic. they’re all tangled together with office politics, yet share one authority figure that they ultimately obey – something you haven’t bothered to think about when you were last in the ipc. and something you won’t bother thinking about, because the mere thought of corporate makes you want to dig yourself into a hole.

in any case, your constant meddling in aventurine’s daily affairs begins today. he’s quite a guarded man, and you have no idea what diamond wants you to do by putting you next to him practically 24/7, but oh well, you’re getting paid.

you settle into a routine surprisingly quickly, and he doesn’t seem to mind your presence all that much

alarmed? yes. mildly annoyed that diamond put a walking tracker on him? also yes. 

dislike your presence? kinda (not really). 

at least he knows you won’t betray him for as long as your contract is in effect

even if you answer directly to diamond, you were tasked to watch over him

which means that you will execute your assigned duty to guard him and strictly only that duty

(truly, your reputation precedes you)

but what is worrying is how swiftly you can change sides the moment your contract expires

well, a problem for tomorrow. diamond’s got you leashed for a year.

he does run a background check on you himself

not that he doesn’t trust that diamond hadn’t vetted you, he just wants to know what sort of person he is now stuck with

guess who found out your name is probably fake but can’t find your real name

because he could only trace your name so far, and anything beyond that point is blank

the discoveries will shock you!! top 10 most scary facts you didn’t know 

all he got was a full report from your first job to this one

anything about your past before your current alias is completely untraceable

not that he intends to ask anyway; you haven’t given him any reason to dig further (yet)

he keeps an eye out for you though

even if he’s not suspicious of you at the moment, that could change in the blink of an eye

aventurine is surprised at how loyal you are to him. you’re under diamond’s orders, but you’re surprisingly putting in a lot to protect him. and to look after him.

to you, it’s just your job… and a selfish, twisted sort of repentance. it’s a thought you intend to take with you to the grave.

you’re not obligated to wake him up or bring him breakfast, but you do anyway

which, he realizes that you must’ve woken up like at least two hours before him

you coordinate his schedule with his assistant so that he doesn’t make pointless trips to five different locations just to end up at the same one twice

you, quite literally, hover over him

yes, even at huge conferences, you’re tailing him like his shadow

some kinda scary dog privilege going on

but of course, you give him space whenever he requires it and keep him within your sights instead

so far so good

but you know what spooks him still? 

that you get pissed when someone makes any nasty passing remark at him

no, you are not a feral street cat that scratches anyone who wrongs you (him)

what you do is you give them a scary confrontation

or you pick them out and lodge a complaint with their superiors afterwards, if they aren’t the top dog

one time he got his hands on a report that you’re writing

aeons, you blow it out of proportion without lying 

you like to call it a suitable amount of embellishing 

then you pull a lot of emotional appealing according to the opponents' company policy

which usually results in some sort of disciplinary action that is actually pretty satisfying to see

but also

damn, you’re merciless 

and also very adept at business talk

trust +100, doubt +25

(shady mercenary for hire with far too much experience type doubt)

you’re as good of a bodyguard as aventurine can get, especially for someone he didn’t hire himself… 

he quite likes you, actually! because how many people do you think asked him something like “why do you need a bodyguard” to his face? none! you’re as entertaining as they come. 

and so he finds joy in his boring executive work by pestering you

you know that, but you put up with him

in fact, this guy is so one of a kind that you don’t even feel pestered

you sometimes even drink with him

whenever he offers, of course, because you’re not too interested in drinking

you drink moderately on the job, but c’mon, when are you not on the job

okay, maybe when he’s just chilling in his office or in the hotel and not going anywhere

then there’s competitive drinking where he tries to coax you into talking about yourself by making you down shots

and guess who’s wasted every time? not you

“mr aventurine?” you ask, nudging the unconscious man next to you. “sir? earth to mr aventurine? hello?”

his empty glass of whiskey on the table, his face slightly flushed as he snoozes away on the table… yeah, it does not look comfy at all.

you sigh, he’s giving you more work again, and you carefully hoist him from the table. 

when he comes to again, he finds himself in his own room

his head hurts so much

he notices that he hasn’t changed from his usual attire – only his coat and accessories are taken off

okay, and the top button of his shirt is undone

did you bring him back? 

as always, you don’t even bother to change him

he sighs, you’re really not very good at reading signs

because he’s done this multiple times! and he’s whined about not being changed after!

more like you did notice but you choose not to do what he wants

that’s crossing a line in your books

and your books is something you stick to like you’re obsessed

at least you left him water and hangover medicine on the nightstand

why does he feel like you’re deliberately keeping him at arm’s length?

it’s been a while and you two have spent so much time together, yet you’re still a stranger to him

not even acquaintances 

like… like, you don’t initiate conversation when you’re watching him

both when he’s going somewhere (requires actual protecting) and chilling at home (does not require actual protecting)

and even after so many late night drinking sessions, he still hasn’t seen you without your mask

mainly because you’ve never been drunk enough for him to sneak a peek, but still

aventurine doesn’t know how to express affection. platonically, romantically, in general, pretty much. so he tries to do the one thing he does best, splurging. and he tries to splurge on you, because he’s intrigued and wants to make buy a friend, but…

but you don’t let him splurge on you! you don’t even let him give you gifts! he only knows how to win affection by spending money on others! 

sometimes he feels like you stick too strictly to your duties

just like his other subordinates… you take orders far too well

he’s tried to give you trinkets, designer clothes, even limited snacks

all of which were returned to him within 24 hours

though, with the snacks, you take it if he offers you a piece or two when he’s already opened it

and you let him treat you to coffee occasionally. very occasionally.

he eventually figures out that it’s a matter of principles

but what principles, exactly? you’re a sellsword, for aeon’s sake

he thought those are the people who have absolutely no principles???

anyway, won’t stop him from trying

“mr aventurine…” you pinch the bridge of your nose as you see the bags stacked on your desk. “i remember telling you that souvenirs are unnecessary.”

“what’s wrong with them?” aventurine laments dramatically. “i’ve picked out only the finest for you!”

you don’t deserve it, you think, but you don’t say that, of course

you don’t even know of his lifelong grudge towards oswaldo

you just know that you had a hand in the extinction event

not like hand hand, but you watched it happen… it doesn’t sit well with you

besides, you have the blood of almost an entire civilization on your hands

if you think too hard about it, the image of flames and carnage overlap with what is in front of you

then, you envision the records of sigonia that you’ve read through in the past

and everything blurs together, your actions, your inaction, and your unwavering loyalty that led you to not raise a single question at all

you squeeze your eyes shut tightly and purge the images from your mind

you are currently here, in the present

“i can’t take them.” you reply, finally, shaking your head. “it’s inappropriate for our standing. especially since there’s no reason for you to be gifting me so many things out of nowhere.”

“what, i can’t be nice to my bodyguard?” aventurine pouts as he sorts the bags in height order. “i’ve got a limited edition tie, an antique phonograph, a discontinued mug, some rare natural color ink for your fountain pen, a pure cashmere sweater–”

“that’s… that’s enough, sir.” you raise a hand to cut him off. “i don’t think i can accept any of them, really.”

aventurine makes a face, then pulls out a bag from the end of the queue. “fine, fine. what about this, at least? assorted cookies from an artisan bakery, using only the best ingredients sourced from all over the cosmos?”

you stare at that bag as you feel the expectant stare from your boss

maybe… maybe one out of these dozens of bags is fine

you’ve gotta think about his feelings too, after you’ve rejected so many gifts

you reluctantly, carefully take the bag and say a small “thank you”

you don’t want his fascination with you to develop any more than what he’s already showing…

but you also know that it’s not up to you

so what is up to you is drawing a line that you won’t allow him to cross

for his sake, and for your own… 

if he keeps pushing, you should keep pushing back

keyword should

but can you?

aeons, you truly are selfish

wouldn’t it have been better to keep everything professional from the very beginning?

it’s okay. you only have a little more than half a year to go before you’re no longer obligated to be here. you’ll run away before aventurine catches on, like how you ran away from your past.

it’s okay. it’s just been a few months, there’s still more than half a year’s worth of time. before you part ways, there are still chances to get to know you better. perhaps even time to become friends, in the most literal sense of the word.

and maybe by the end of it, “you” will reach a satisfactory conclusion.

[k8martins]

guilty as sin ୨୧

summary: teammate!reader and kate are urged to stop crushing on each other because it interferes with their gameplay, leading to tension

warnings: angst, fluff towards the end

a/n: based on the song guilty as sin by tswift! i don’t listen to her so i hope i did this right lmfao

ever since coach bluder sat you down and chatted with you about kate, you hadn’t been speaking to her very much. before the mandatory meeting with bluder, you and kate had undoubtedly been feverishly crushing on each other to the point of it interfering with how both girls played; in and out of practice. plays being disrupted, catching fouls, and missing shots had all been a result of being too focused on kate. she was the only girl on your mind, and you were dedicated to being near each other all the time. you were told to either get it together, or forget the idea of being romantically involved with her. it was obvious the connection was still there, but you both agreed with bluder and ended up not interacting as much besides being on the court.

one specific moment in the locker room confirmed your distance from kate. you had arrived late to practice and was already irritated, when kate came in for a bathroom break. just you two in the room, she tried to negotiate the separation.

“you know…” she started out cautiously, “we don’t have to listen to coach bluder if we don’t wan-“

“kate please just let it go,” you urged, as if bluder was listening. it was hard enough to say that, but kate persisted.

“i’m serious, i still really like you.”

she was making it harder and harder. you helplessly dropped your arms to your sides, uncomfortable with the confrontation, but wanted to make yourself clear.

“i still like you too. so much. i really wanted it to work but bluder and the other coaches are right. so are our teammates,” you began. a drawn out pause followed your words, and you continued.

“i mean, everyone has seen how this is just getting in the way of how we play, kate. we can’t get anything done because we’re too focused on each other,” you said, exasperated and voice trembling with emotion. kate gazed at you with the same helplessness, but both of you knew it wasn’t over.

this cage was once just fine

am i allowed to cry?

the forced distance apart only seemed to strengthen the feelings between you and kate. although you hadn’t exactly been flirting anymore, it was like you were convinced everything she did was a sign towards you; and each word from her mouth a symbolic message. you would see the glimmer in kate’s eyes as they would linger on yours for an extra moment during team huddles, certain that she could read your thoughts. as much as you loved hearing her voice as team captain, it would frequently get drowned out by all the wild things you wanted with her.

i keep recalling things we never did

messy top lip kiss

at times it felt unfair; as you and kate never got the chance to advance to something more serious. all you experienced was touchiness and bold flirting with nothing more. you wanted so badly to be something more with her, do something more. but every time you stared at kate a little too long during practice, bluder saw right through both of you. petty little sidecourt lectures weren’t your thing, but it wasn’t like you could just give up on kate that easily.

several practices and games went by with no progress in advancing with kate. in fact, the sexual tension once so familiar turned to irritable tension. even through the passive aggressiveness and pointless bickering on the court, your desire for kate was growing unbearable. her scolding you became a new source of interest, almost trying to get her mad at you.

“you’re acting like you’ve never done this before,” kate’s stern voice called out to you. it was nearing the end of an exhaustive practice getting ready for the next day’s game, and you were at the end of your wits.

unsure of how to reply, you stood there after messing up your defensive play, ball on your hip. you stared at her knowingly, but kate did not take your silence as an answer.

“can you stop standing there and actually do something?”

“can you actually act like a captain instead of just bossing me around,” you shot back coldly, maintaining eye contact.

kate paused and shifted in her stance. she took a moment to look away from you, either thinking or making sure nobody’s near, and promptly returned her gaze. almost without missing a beat, kate lowered her voice.

“what if i wasn’t talking about basketball.”

her unexpected question flustered you, making your eyebrows furrow and break the eye contact. it was embarrassing how quickly she made your heartbeat skyrocket. you knew it was exactly what you wanted her to say, but kept up with the act.

“kate, not now, not here.”

she scoffed and looked around once more before stepping even closer to you. she kept her head low along with her voice when talking to you, although she seemed to not care about keeping distance anymore. if coaches came around at any moment, you were sure she wouldn’t budge.

“you know you want to.”

why does it feel like a vow

we’ll both uphold somehow

the look in your eyes changed from resentment to need. every time she cornered you like this, it was like you and her magically became the only two on the court. kate managed to move even closer to you, and your eyes were stuck on her. your mouth hung open as you trusted words would come out, but the illusion was quickly broken away when you felt a firm pat on your shoulder.

looking behind you, coach bluder was standing there expectantly, her eyes darting back and forth between you and kate. the look in her eyes was apparent, but she went easy on you.

“practice is over, girls. go head in.”

you slowly began to step away from kate, your eyes still fixated on her before you turned around and picked up your pace. from behind you, you heard coach bluder order kate to stick around a bit longer for a talk with the other coaches. half of you was relieved to not walk in the locker room with her, but the other half wanted to.

when you joined your teammates in the locker room, their lively chatter seemed to dissipate as they saw you come in. they knew of your situation with kate and used to be supportive, but now backed off since the angst began. some were even convinced that kate was bullying you.

“you really shouldn’t let her talk to you like that,” jada encouraged.

already over what they had to say, you side eyed her and just tried to continue getting ready to go home.

“you’re seriously just gonna let her be that way?”

“jada, i don’t care. i just don’t,” you practically snapped at her, “plus, you guys don’t even know what she said to me.”

jada was taken aback at your sudden defensiveness.

“girl the whole gym heard her yell at you,” jada pressed.

“she wasn’t yelling at me. you guys don’t even know what’s going on, just stay out of it please,” you said, turning away from her. the interaction alone made you replay the moment with kate a hundred times over again.

they don’t know how you’ve haunted me

so stunningly

after losing the next day’s game at home, it was only a matter of time before you ran into kate again. you were truthfully waiting for it to happen, and the exact event did happen when walking out of the arena after the game. you were one of the only girls on the team to leave out the back door; a typically lonely walk to your car. kate knew this and took it to her advantage. so when you stepped into the cold night and saw her leaning against the wall, it didn’t surprise you.

“don’t get mad at me yet,” kate’s said smoothly.

the look on her face and tone in her voice told you she was being genuine, and you felt no need to be tense. you unclenched your jaw and dropped your shoulders. in fact, kate seemed to be the nervous one this time.

“kate what are you doing out here, it’s freezing,” you questioned, wrapping your arms around yourself.

she stood up from against the wall and inched towards you, seeming to really think about her words before saying them.

“i know we’ve been mean to each other lately and,” kate paused, maintaining eye contact to confirm your agreement, “and i think we both know it’s bullshit.”

her words were soft, but truthful and deliberate as they came out. it was like the fourth wall was broken with the acknowledgment of the act you two had been keeping up, and it was a relief to know she wanted it to end too. still, she was taking it a little too slow, and it only seemed to get colder outside.

“kate if that’s what this is about-“ you started to turn away, but kate promptly grabbed your wrist and faced you back to her. you realized she was being serious.

“please, just hear me out. i want to make things right again,” kate begged, her hand still around your wrist.

you looked around the dark parking lot, remaining paranoid of anyone who might hear the interaction. the only lights illuminating your faces were high up on the arena walls, and no one else appeared to be in the area. looking back at kate, she was looking back intently, waiting for a response.

“kate... you were pretty mean to me,” you replied honestly, but still wanting to work things out. she blinked and took a deep breath, realizing it might not have been as easy as she thought.

“you’re right,” she said nodding, “i’ve been a fucking asshole to you. i yelled at you when i was supposed to help you, i embarrassed you, i...i have no excuse.”

“so what now...we’re just supposed to act like we didn’t hate each other for weeks?”

between losing the game, being tired, and the coldness of the night, it was turning into a bit of an argument. you didn’t want it to, but weeks of taking shots at each other wasn’t easy to forget. kate’s mouth hung slightly open without words, and you could see her exasperated huffs into the air. she remained silent.

“seriously, i mean it never had to be like this,” you said, narrowing your eyes and moving your head away. without missing a beat, kate took her hand up to your cheek and moved your head back to her.

“just look at me...”

her hand ever so slightly touched your face, almost hovering, as if the world would implode if she touched you fully. although you were being stubborn, her tone remained patient and calm. with her hand rested on your face and the other hand finding its way back to yours, it suddenly felt like nothing had ever changed. the way her hand perfectly cradled yours and gave it a gentle squeeze made you feel like you never fell out with her at all.

the gentle squeeze of your hand was thought to be permission, as kate lowered her hand down to your jaw and held your face closer to hers. you weren’t sure there were any words needed, but you spoke anyway.

“kate, please,” you were now whispering, just inches away from her lips, and that was all it took.

you could feel the longing and anticipation in the kiss, the way kate’s lips pressed on yours so softly, yet biting down on your bottom lip. the kiss flowed back and forth, electrifying both of you in the way you needed it most. kate ran her hand down your neck and your arm, testing how you reacted to her touch. you needed more so desperately, cupping her face in your hands. it felt like hours had gone by after just several seconds, and you broke the kiss to take a breath.

these fatal fantasies

giving way to labored breath

kate’s forehead was pressed against yours as you caught your breath and began smiling. the intense kiss made you forget about the nightly cold, and instead gave way for warmth. kate kept her hands on your arms, giving them a gentle squeeze as if you’d disappear right then.

“was that ok?” kate questioned.

you laughed at her sheepish question, nodding your head. “i’ve been waiting for that forever, kate.”

taking all of me

we’ve already done it in my head

both girls decided making out in the middle of the night outside your basketball arena wasn’t very ideal. it was also decided you couldn’t just part ways after exchanging such a telling kiss, and kate allowed you to follow her back to her apartment. there was no practice the next day, and neither of you were busy.

kate’s apartment was a cozy little place, with just enough room for the both of you. you imagined all the times you could’ve been in her apartment before, if you had just been able to work it out earlier. you collapsed on her bed and didn’t even give any mind to getting unready. all you knew was that you were about to be lying in bed with your love, and there was an open day ahead of you.

once kate was done with her night routine, she joined you in bed. neither of you had the energy for anything more than a few short kisses peppered all over her face and head. being held by kate felt so right, and you were sure making up with her was the right decision. with your head rested on kate’s chest, she planted one last kiss to your head before whispering goodnight.

what if the way you hold me

is actually what’s holy?

[sweetangelgirl7]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝜗𝜚 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 chris has been your escape from the burden of suffocating expectations you've known your whole life, but you can't ignore the emotional distance that's driving a wedge between the two of you anymore.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: DOM!chris x sub!fem reader au, plot, angst, SMUT, fwb, daddy issues, little use of religious imagery, taboo themes, slight degradation kink, bondange, unprotected, adult language, creampie, hair pulling!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4k!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: first request! this is inspired by southern gothic aesthetics and ethel cain’s album “preacher’s daughter.” whoever requested this, just know i’m obsessed. i wanna remind y’all the title & visuals are purely for the AESTHETIC! this is 99.9% about daddy issues and the stereotype of the “pastor’s daughter” more than anything, with like one or two lines of ex-religious themes. PLEASE keep scrolling if you want to but i promise the smut is worth it lmao. anyway, enjoy!

you knew christopher sturniolo was trouble, that’s all you’ve been told your entire life. every boy was trouble, for that matter. although, deep down, you also knew that he was no good for you. the feeling of being with him was like the tender familiarity of a sore blistering red on your gums, it hurt but for some reason you just couldn’t stop messing with it.

in a town full of secrets, he was somehow the hardest puzzle to solve. recently it had become more and more evident that you didn’t really understand chris or what went through his mind, leaving you feeling like you were merely scratching at his surface after all this time. however, you constantly had to remind yourself that it didn’t matter what he thought of you or what he thought of anything quite frankly, as it was just sex, after all. although, those days of climbing in through your bedroom window and sneaking around into the late nights were long gone by now.

for weeks, you had desperately tried anything to keep your mind from flashing the memories of your screams and his break lights casting a red glow on your face as he left you in the night. you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the fact that you were so stupidly caught up over him, as he clearly didn’t give a fuck about you or your feelings. not only that but who’s to say he doesn’t touch every single girl in town the same way he touches you. it wasn’t your business anyway, as his deafening silence made that very clear.

pulling into the dusty driveway, you sat in the driver’s seat as your music loudly filled the car. you gripped the steering wheel between both hands while letting out a long, tired sigh before turning the keys in the ignition as the headlights faded out to leave you sitting in the dark. slamming the door behind you, your car was the only one parked out front as your father practically lived down at the house of the lord, by now.

walking up the creaky wooden porch, you fiddled with the keys to get inside and out of the insufferably humid air.

making your way to your room, the ticking wall clock comforted the silence along with the sound of you dropping your items on the bed side table. this was the rest of your night, as it had been for some time. staying in bed and turning through a book that you had already read a handful of times before or watching videos for hours, as the figures on the screen aided what felt like your eternal loneliness. you refused to attend services, trying desperately to escape from the toxic manifestation of “faith” you’d been controlled with your whole life. as the preacher’s daughter’s apparent absence and so-called promiscuity were already the talk of the congregation. around this time, chris would be laying in bed with you but the house remained vacantly still.

pressing your pajamas on the bathroom sink, you tugged your stiff work clothes off and stood in the steam, waiting for the water to run hot.

standing beneath the showerhead, you let the nearly boiling water wash over your face and body to rid yourself of the grime and sweat attained from stepping outside in the sticky summer. quickly washing your hair, you didn’t want to spend too long under the water, as the solitude only led your mind to wander further than you cared for at the moment.

towel drying off, you slipped the thin two piece cotton set over your still warm body before walking back to your bedroom.

rubbing lotion over your arms, the sound of a car pulling up onto the unpaved road across the street echoed outside.

paying no mind to it, as it was assumingly your father, you continued with your nightly routine before a pounding on the door brought you back soon after. walking down the hallway, the wood flooring cooled your feet as you made your way to the front door. working down the locks, you pulled the deadbolt back, opening the door halfway to see who was on the other side.

there stood chris under the dim light of the porch, looking down at you behind the screen door separating the two of you. looking at his face for a moment, you slammed the door shut as you stood behind it, your hand still against the wood.

you stood in silence as he waited on the other side, both of you knowing that you lacked the willpower to actually turn him away. as chris waited for a few seconds, the sound of the locks turning spilled from inside of the house before you finally opened the door, all the way. he opened the screen door and let himself in.

walking past you down the dark hallway and into your bedroom, you followed a few feet behind him. closing the door, you rested your back against it as chris sat on the edge of your bed, scanning the walls with frames and crucifixes that served as a reminder of the life you painfully tried to forget.

“are we gonna talk about this?” he broke the silence, adjusting the messy brown waves beneath his hat as he now pulled it on backwards over his hair. the squeaky overhead fan saturated the room as he waited for you to speak.

your chest rose as you breathed in heavily, exhaling through your nose slowly to find any ounce of self control left in your system. you looked at him in disbelief, your arms now crossed beneath your chest. “are we gonna talk about this?“ you asked as you bit your tongue to hold back the loathsome thoughts racing in your mind.

“all i do is talk. i can’t say the same for you, though ” you scoffed as your back was still pressed up against the wooden door. you watched his jaw clench at your words in the shadow of your lamp, as he leaned his elbows forward on his spread knees. “and what does that mean?” he shook his head before laughing bitterly to himself, looking up at you.

“you know exactly what i mean, christopher” you also let a laugh roll off your lips to disguise the grief in your tone. aimlessly looking for anything around your room to focus your attention on.

“it’s been nearly a month.” you mumbled, shaking your head as you watched chris in your peripheral vision. “god knows what you’ve been doing this whole time.” you muttered beneath your breath as he kept his eyes glued on you.

“what was that?” he asked, sneeringly placing his pointer finger behind his ear as he pretended to not catch that, although he heard every word.

“i said, god knows what you’ve been doing this whole time.” you forcefully raised your voice, now looking at him.

“and what is it that you think i’ve been doing exactly?” he laughed to himself again, now crossing his own arms over his chest.

“oh c’mon christopher, let’s not act dense” you rolled your eyes.

“no really, i’d just love to hear what you think i’ve been getting into these past few weeks” he nodded before pursing his lips as he leaned back in his seat.

“more like who you’ve been getting into” you scoffed quietly as he raised his eyebrows in shock. laughing at your words, he leaned forward again as he shook his head once more, wiping his hands off over his jeans.

“yeah exactly, you can’t even answer that.” you scorned. in reality you didn’t even know if that statement was true, but with him, you didn’t know what to believe as no matter how big of a crowbar you used, he refused to open up to you. you so badly wanted to chalk his communication issues up to emotional unavailability but it was almost impossible to look past that when he constantly discarded your attempts at wanting more.

“what the fuck are you talking about?” he continued to laugh through the disbelief, as if the same mistrust didn’t have you screaming in each other’s faces just weeks ago. “what’s wrong with you?” he continued, letting the frustration get the best of him as your eyebrows knit together in hurt.

“what’s wrong with me?” you questioned, pushing yourself off the door as you stepped closer to him, holding your hands up to your chest to gesture to yourself.

“what the fuck is wrong with you, christopher?” you began, finally letting yourself shout as you tried not to cry behind your words. “you come around here whenever you want, we fuck, for months at that, and after all this time you still can’t just let me all the way in.” you argued as your voice softly cracked, feeling tears starting to well up in the corner of your eyes.

“i don’t even know what’s going on in here half of the goddamn time.” you stepped closer, firmly tapping two fingers against his head beneath the black fitted hat that covered his hair.

he reached his hand up to grab your wrist before he could stand up in front of you, looking down at you as he held onto your skin tightly between his fingers.

“my god, enough. you don’t think i’m fucking trying? i want you, i don’t want anyone else but you. these past few weeks i’ve been thinking about you non-fucking stop” he asserted, thumping his free hand against his chest “but you wouldn’t know that because where were you?“ he questioned, as he leaned down closer towards you while he spoke. “right.” he whispered egotistically in your face.

while that was the most transparent he’d ever been, you couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief as he seemingly proved your point “no! i wouldn’t know that christopher! how could i possibly have known that, when you don’t tell me anything?” you shouted, your face level with his as you flickered your eyes back and forth between his.

“it only took weeks for you to reach out, probably ran through all of your other options by now.” you words were driven by anger, breaking free from his grasp as you turned your back to open the door for him to find his way out.

twisting the door knob between your fingers, he stood up and walked behind you to slam the door closed before you could even pull it all the way open. you squeezed your eyes shut as the heat of the resentment continued to pulse through your head. you felt his chest pressed against your back as the smell of cologne on his clothes filled your senses. god, you missed that scent but you didn’t miss the seething jealousy that came with it, knowing it was probably lingering in some other girl’s nose too.

“look at me” he commanded as you didn’t budge, your back still to him.

“i said look at me” he repeated himself, taking your hips between his hands as you felt yourself begin to melt at his touch. you didn’t want to give in but you fell short as you could never find the strength to ignore him.

you slowly turned to face him, as a stray tear trailed down your flustered cheek. your jaw clenched at the feeling of crying in front him, fighting from letting another tear stream down your face. you kept your eyes forward, glued to the white fabric of his shirt.

lifting his hand, he grabbed your chin between his fingers and pulled your gaze from his chest to his eyes. you two stared at each other, your eyes scanning one another’s features. you sat in silence for a moment before you could break the tension. “what?” you spat, looking at him through your eyelashes.

“you really think i just wanna fuck anything that moves, huh?” he questioned, his hand wrapped tightly around your jaw as you stared up at him before shifting your attention to avoid eye contact.

“look at me” he said sternly, gripping your jaw tighter, forcing your lips to push out between the space of his thumb and pointer finger. you obeyed, looking up at him as he followed your eyes, watching your every move beneath him.

“where’s your proof?” he muttered angrily, leaning closer in the heat of the moment. “besides the shit you stir up inside that pretty little head of yours” using his free hand to tap his fingers against the side of your head, mocking your motions from earlier, as he pressed your back against the door.

the silence became palpable while you stared at him as you visibly had nothing to say to back up your argument. “huh?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows as he waited for you to argue back as you had doing been all night.

you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at your exuding insecurities, as the signs burned red at your cheeks. you didn’t want to ruin things between you two but you couldn’t stay silent and continue to feel hopelessly shut out by him anymore. however, in this case, your mistrust and miscommunication took control of your emotions. you so badly wanted to look away in humiliation but you were trapped in his stare.

“get on the bed” he broke your train of thought as he finally released your face from his hold, your features painting a confused expression.

“go” he stood back and motioned to the bed, forgivingly slapping your ass as he let you walk past him.

sitting on the edge of the twin sized bed, you pulled yourself to the middle of the white sheets as you looked up at him standing in front of you.

“get on your knees and say a prayer, daddy’s girl” chris uttered, nodding at the wooden cross on the wall above your bed. you nodded timidly before turning to face your headboard, sitting back on the balls of your feet.

although you couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of him shuffling behind you. moving to the end of your bed, he reached forward to slip your tank top over your head as you lifted your arms up for him. the lukewarm breeze that the overhead fan was pushing around caused your nipples to stiffen. you rested your hands on your thighs while you waited for his touch, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

chris trailed his fingers up the flat of your exposed back, pushing your hair to the side as he made his way up your body. he reached forward to unclasp the gold crucifix that had been around your neck since birth, letting it fall down your chest as you leaned over to place it on your bed side table. he pulled his white t-shirt over his head and tossed it to the carpeted floor before moving behind you on the bed.

you sat on your knees while he stood on his, behind you, as your eyes were glued up at the wall. he wrapped his hand around your neck to gently bring your back to his exposed chest, kissing down the crook of your neck as you tilted your head to the side with eyes shut. “dirty girl, thinking about my dick inside someone else” he uttered against your skin hungrily as you leaned into his lips.

he pulled back to rest his hand against your back, pressing your chest down into the bed as your cheek flattened against the white duvet. your ass lifted from the heels of your feet as you arched your back into the bed, feeling the sting of his hand slapping your ass over your shorts. your hands remained at your sides before trying to push yourself up on all fours as chris quickly flattened your upper half into the bed again.

“nuh uh” he muttered, standing to his knees as he fiddled with the belt around his waist, the sound of the clanging metal buckle filled your ears as you couldn’t see anything but a face full of sheets and the haunting willow trees breezing outside of the window. “put your wrists behind your back” chris ordered as you did exactly that, resting your hands behind you as you leaned into the mattress.

you managed to turn your head the other way, looking for the standing mirror in the corner of your room as you watched chris wrap his belt tightly around your wrists. he slapped your ass again as you attempted to adjust yourself farther upwards. chris wrapped his hands tightly around your hips as he pulled you upwards, arching your back down farther.

“we gotta do something about these” he muttered to himself, sliding his hands past your hips with the material of your shorts rolling down beneath them. he pulled the fabric down the rest of the way, dropping them to your legs as he slipped them from beneath your knees.

“already so fucking wet for me” chris laughed to himself as he trailed the pad of his thumb over the damp patch of your panties. you shuddered at his touch, feeling your nerves twitching beneath the fabric.

he continued to tease you over your underwear for a moment before hooking his fingers around the waistband to pull them off. they dropped around your knees as a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, trailing his fingers over your pussy. he teased over your clit, watching your muscles jerk at the feeling as you whined quietly. he took the pad of his thumb between his lips, brushing the taste over his bottom lip.

“you think i’d want any other taste, besides yours, on my lips?” he chuckled at the idea, straightening himself up as he worked on unbuttoning his jeans. dropping them over his knees, he adjusted himself beneath his boxers before tugging them down as his hard cock sprung upward immediately past the waistband.

taking his dick between one hand, chris slapped your ass in the other as he rubbed out the red imprint beginning to spread beneath his fingers. you vulnerably flinched at the feeling, letting a low moan out as you squeezed your eyes shut. he pumped himself a few times before smacking his straining cock between your ass, trailing himself downwards over your folds. rubbing his sensitive tip against your pussy, he hissed through his teeth at the feeling before lining himself up with your entrance. holding your hips in his hands, he gripped his fingers on your skin as he pushed himself inside of you between your folds, equally pulling your hips back on his cock. your warmth instantly wrapping around him as your lips parted at the feeling, letting a moan out into the bed.

“fuuck, there we go” he groaned to himself as he slowly pulled out to thrust into you again, even harder this time as he completely bottomed out causing the side of your cheek to shove into the bed. you whimpered as your body took the blow by suprise, your stomach instantly tightening.

he continued with this pace, allowing you to get accustomed to the feeling as you harshly tugged at your bottom lip to suppress the moans fighting their way out of your mouth.

chris smoothed his fingers up your back to twist the ends of your hair around his hand before pulling your head back as he leaned over your body. your chin forcefully dug into the mattress before slightly lifting off the bed, looking up at the wood paneled walls as he held tightly onto the hair between his fist, pounding into you harder.

“why so quiet? you weren’t this quiet when you were running that pretty little mouth earlier” he breathily groaned into the skin of your neck while he deliberately thrusted into you harder. your lips parted open at the shock as a high moan escaped with the force. “you think i’d wanna bury my cock into anyone else?” he muttered, continuing with the same rhythm, only harder now as his hips repetitively hit your ass.

your body rocked forward as he pounded in and out of you, your lips still agape as he fucked the jealousy right out of your system. “fuck, i’m so sorry chris” you whined, as you could feel his warm breath against your skin.

he laughed at the sound of your whimpers, gripping your hair harder as he pulled your head farther back, moving closer to the side of your face. “if only daddy could hear you beg for mercy now” chris teasingly groaned in your ear while he continued to hammer his cock into your cervix, letting go of his hold on your hair as your chin instantly dug back into the bed.

taking your hips between his hands once more, he continued to exert his cock into you as your moans muffled into the sheets. the sound of his hips slapping against your perspiring skin echoed throughout the house. his grip tightened around your body as you turned your head to press into the bed, watching him through watery eyes in the mirror as he pounded into you from behind.

“chris, i’m gonna cum” you inaudibly choked out as your back arched farther into the bed while he picked up his pace, your face repeatedly smushing into the duvet. the focus furrowing between his eyebrows dissolved as his lips quirked up into a smirk. “louder, baby, i can’t hear you over all that fucking dick you’re taking” he chuckled under his breath as he slapped his hand against your ass, slightly rolling his head back, also nearing his climax.

“i’m gonna c-cum” you moaned loudly, barely being able to form the words as your eyes rolled back, the pressure building in your stomach. chris painfully clutched onto your hips as he buried himself inside of you, deep and hard.

“oh my god” you whined before your walls clenched around him tightly, finally releasing as you felt a warm sensation of euphoria rush through your body. your muscles felt weak as chris continued to thrust his cock inside of you through your orgasm.

“fuck i’m right there” he moaned out before digging his fingers into your skin, pushing himself farther into your hips as he released his warm load deep inside of you with a hiss through his teeth. the sudden warmth causing your eyes to squeeze shut.

he rolled through the high as his cock twitched inside your walls, lazily thrusting before smacking your ass one more time. “god damn” he shouted as his head rolled back, slowly pulling himself out of you.

your eyes remained closed as you tried to catch your breath while chris flopped down on the bed next to you. bucking his hips up, he pulled his jeans back up over his legs before laying down once again. adjusting beneath your weight you finally stretched your legs out and laid down on your stomach. turning your neck, you rested your face in the opposite direction to look chris over as he lay down next to you, your wrists still resting against your back.

“was that enough talking for you?” he mumbled, turning on his side to face you with a smirk. you laughed sheepishly as you shook your head before he could press his lips against yours.

“i’m sorry, baby” he mumbled quietly against your mouth. “i’m trying, believe me. it’s just hard.” he confessed as you nodded, wanting nothing more than to caress his face between your hands. “i’m sorry too.” you apologized quietly, softly connecting your lips once more.

he trailed his hand up your body and over your back as he began to adjust the belt around your wrists before the sound of a car pulling up the driveway broke the kiss as you both turned to look at the door.

chris laughed as he reached over to grab his shirt from the floor, quickly pulling it on over his head as he crept towards the edge of your bed under the window.

“wait, chris!” you called quietly, squirming as you tried to fiddle with the restraints behind your back. leaning forward to plant a kiss against your lips one more time, he swiftly slid the window open before stepping one leg out onto the damp grass. “sorry sweetheart, i’ll come back for you tomorrow.” he winked down at you before completely stepping out into the night, shutting the window behind himself.

WHEWWW hope y’all r up horny on a wednesday night 😮‍💨 i’m a slut for sub!chris but this one had a lil kick to it. i couldn’t help but slip a little soft chris in there at the end SORRY. anyway, i hope whoever requested this enjoyed it as much as i did!

i’m actually working on a taglist, so let me know if you’d wanna be added to that! 💋

[aycius]

— WHEN YOU CAN’T SLEEP ‧₊˚

feat. satoru gojo, toji fushiguro, & nanami kento

warnings. none! just a whole lot of fluffiness

if you can’t go to sleep, SATORU will definitely try to help or (for lack of better words) force you to go to sleep. when he feels you shuffling around, he’ll grunt before placing his body on top of yours, hugging you tightly before mumbling “sleep” in your hair. 

“i’ll try if you get off of me. you’re crushing me to death!” you say and he contemplates for a few seconds, but ultimately decides that you’re a really comfortable body pillow. from how he’s laying, he can feel your heart beating and your soft, steady breaths and it makes him wonder why he never thought of using you as a mattress before. 

“promise?” and even though you nod your head, satoru can feel your smile on his collarbone which easily gives away that you’re not telling the truth. regardless, satoru still rolls off to the side and stares at the ceiling with you. 

“what’s bothering you,” he whispers, it’s soft and genuine and that alone is enough to make your heart throb at 2 am. it’s also really funny seeing his concerned look right now because he doesn’t know he’s overanalyzing the whole situation. 

you see, you didn’t eat dinner tonight. satoru ordered you takeout on his way home because he assumed you’d be hungry, but you weren’t, so you let him have yours. what you failed to realize though, is how hungry you’d be later on and now you’re facing the consequences. you finally sigh and turn your body so you’re face to face with him on the bed. 

“toru,” you bite back the laugh that wants to come out because of how serious satoru looks right now. you figured that you should tell him straight up to ease his mind of any possible negative thoughts he could be thinking. “i’m really hungry.” 

and satoru sighs, (you can’t tell if it’s of relief or disappointment so you choose the latter), and props his head up so his elbows are supporting him. “i am too.” 

“but you ate your takeout and mine.” you mirror satoru actions, propping your elbow to get a better look at his face and he blinks twice. you can’t tell if he’s lying or not.

“do you want food or not?” 

with that, you roll off the bed before stating, “i’ll get the car keys!”

it’s not until you tap TOJI on the shoulder for the fifth time that he blinks and slowly comes to his senses. poor guy, he can hear your mumbles but he isn’t fully able to process what’s going on because of how drowsy he is. at this point, you’re staring at him with teary eyes and all toji can do is deadpan, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. 

“i told ya not to read the ending of that book this late, y'know. if ya read it earlier, y’could’ve had more time to recover. ” he grunts. 

you sniff once and nod your head and all toji can do is roll his eyes as he brings you into a tight embrace. he can act irritated all he wants, but he finds it so entertaining that the book he recommended you to read really took this much of a toll on you. You guys went on a library date, (your idea of course), and he chose a random book for you without much thought, and boy was that a bad idea. 

“they didn’t end up being together, toji.” you wail, arms wrapping around his torso even tighter. 

“i know, baby. i know.” he sighs, planting a kiss on your forehead when you sniffle again. 

“toji, we can never break up. if i couldn’t handle the book’s break up, i won’t handle ours.” and he only chuckles, because honestly, why is this book putting thoughts like these in your head? it’s fiction, toji thinks, but then again, it’s you we’re talking about, so he smirks and let’s out a chuckle.

“can’t get rid of me, i’m in it for the long run, babe.”

NANAMI knows you’re not asleep. if there’s one thing you know most about kento, it’s how light of a sleeper he is. that’s why, even though you’re struggling to fall asleep, you try not to twist and turn around the sheets, though that fails. it’s only when you hear him clear his throat (even though he did it on purpose just to let you know that he was awake), you decide to gently tap his shoulder. he responds immediately, shifting to his side so he can face you. 

“yes, sweetheart? what’s up?” he asks, voice raspy and all. although it’s 2 am, you can perfectly make out kento’s beautiful face with the help of the moon light, via the sheer curtains in the room. you find yourself getting lost in his eyes and it’s not until he gently grabs your hands and intertwines it with his that you finally get the courage, (or at least attempt to), speak to him about your restlessness.

 but he understands – he always does. 

“i’m not feeling that tired either,” he winks, “let me make us some tea and talk.” 

you want to tell him that you know he’s completely exhausted, but he’s already pushing the both of you out of bed and to the kitchen. you figured that he may not mind staying up for a bit more.

[ssahotchnerr]

so this is kind of heartbreaking but it's so 🥺🥺 at the same time, here it goes:

As a kid - and even now tbh - i used to have nightmares 24/7 for no apparent reason and I can't stop thinking like what if ellie had that? Like she sleeps in her little bed but always wakes up crying because of her nightmares 🥺🥺

At first you and Aaron have no idea what to do but comfort her and let her sleep in your bed for as long as she wants, saying it's a small phase and it'll pass (since maybe you or Jack or even Aaron had it when you were kids) but it just doesn't

He'd be so worried 🥺 taking his baby girl to every doctor he could find, asking Reid all about it and taking notes (literal notes, pen paper notes 😭) and trying everything

But the only thing that helps is holding her until she stops crying 🥺

My heart is broken but the thought is out 😃

omg 🥺

at first, you and aaron think it's just one of her famous excuses to sleep in your bed - due to her past history - but very soon it becomes very clear that's not the case 🥺 like ellie will already be sleeping in your bed, a nightmare wakes her up, and she's nearly inconsolable. she scrambles on top of aaron and clings onto him for dear life, and it then takes her ages to fall back asleep afterwards 😭

but yeah, you both think it'll run it's course and be over soon; jack had bad nightmares for a while - after foyet :( but those dreams at least had a clear reason as to why they were occurring. but for ellie?? you can't seem to figure out the reasoning at all. even asking her about them makes her super upset :(

and she's just soo exhausted some days due to the lack of sleep she's getting. she's more grumpy throughout the day - which is soo unlike her since she's the happiest little girl there ever was 🥺 has meltdowns over the tiniest things, falls asleep amidst playing with her toys. you peer into the playroom one day, and ellie's zonked out on the carpet in front of her dollhouse :( <3 plus she's so much more clinger than usual - she's either glued to aaron's or your side, and wants to do everything with you.

and aaron 🥺 worried is an understatement. he stays awake at night anticipating her waking up in terror, and he feels sooo incredibly guilty when he's away. he barely gets sleep those nights; knowing back home, ellie is going to be waking up all afraid and there's quite literally nothing he can do about it. and the fact he's the one who gets her to calm down when he's home too :( he fully knows you can manage without him of course, but he still feels like he's letting her down :( just the fact that the nightmares are simply continuing make him feel as if he's letting her down :( he wishes more than anything he could just take them away from her, resolve them, so his ellie bellie can be her happy, rested self again 🥺

the two of you are seeking out all the advice/help possible. you talk to numerous doctors, specialists, the team (more so reid), and try alternating ellie's daily routine. she doesn't watch the same shows, read the same books, maybe switch up her diet, in attempt to find what the trigger may be. in addition, you really try to relax her before bed: a warm bath, warm milk, cuddles, a nightlight, putting on soft music/a sound machine to fall asleep to. 🥺 just trying anything in order for her nightmares to stop :(

[gguk-n]

Can you please write second change romance with Lando where reader tells him "Love me. chose me. for once in your damned life, fight for me!"

Reader is working at sky sports as a journalist. I hope you like it. I hope I did it justice.

Track of the Heart

{Reader's POV}

I knew the world was a small place and some times you run into people you are actively trying to avoid. For me, that was Lando Norris.

We were both young and in love. He was my first serious adult relationship. I loved him deeply; if you asked drunk me, I'd probably say that I still love him. But that was the past. He broke up with me because his fans didn't like me. The hate had gotten to the point that I had stopped using my phone except to call or text my friends and family and Lando knew. I had told him through tears about all the mean things people said about me. Part of me hoped that he would tell them off for it but what I didn't expect was for him to disregard it and let it get so bad that even at races people would name call me, even in front of Lando and he would do nothing. It affected my health, my mental peace and my studies. So, I did what was best for me; walked away.

That was 3 years ago. Right now I was standing face to face with the man that broke my heart. I knew when I applied for a position at Sky Sports that I would run into Lando. Luckily, I had stayed clear of him for the year that I had interned there; by only going to cover other sports and minor leagues. Today, the team was short staffed, they needed someone to help make the scripts and organise the cue cards, so they brought along a couple new hires. I did everything in my power to evade the race because it would mean being stuck on an F1 venue for a whole weekend with my ex. My direct superior wouldn't listen to any of my crap, as he put it and told me to pack my stuff and to meet him at the venue.

So here I was, awkwardly standing, in front of the supposed love of my life. He looked shocked to see me before his eyes flickered to the Sky Sports entry pass, as if a switch flipped. He smiled and greeted; "You're finally a sports journalist, like you always wanted to be. Congratulations" he said while raising his hand to shake mine. Out of courtesy, I moved all the files in my hands to my left and shook his hand. "My colleagues were saying you had your maiden win this season, so Congratulations I guess." I retorted. I adjusted the files in my hands, almost dropping one, which Lando quickly caught with his hand. I thanked him and left to see the team with all my files.

{Lando's POV}

Her hands were still soft like I remembered them with a sweet tinge of vanilla, her favourite body lotion. She had coloured her hair recently and she looked so much more professional and put together then I remembered. I guess it comes with the job. Hearing her congratulate me felt like home even if it felt like it was laced with sarcasm, like the only thing that ever mattered. How did I even celebrate a race without her? She was still clumsy I thought as I caught the file she almost dropped. The weekend just got more eventful I thought as she walked away.

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

{Reader's POV}

If there is one thing I will advice you is that don't be a hard worker especially in a situation if it will land you working with your ex for the whole year. One of the members from the F1 team went on maternity leave and she spoke so highly of me that I ended up working on the races till she returned. Now to my horror, all the fans still remembered me. Even after 3 years, they did not hesitate to start up rumours about me and Lando being together and that we never really broke up and it was all a publicity stunt. I had to speak to my bosses to let them know that all of that was in the past and that I wasn't dating him anymore; they didn't care unless it affected my work.

Working at the paddock wasn't easy and Lando didn't make it any easier. He acted like a menace before and after interviews especially if I was around. Sometimes I wanted to strangle him.

{Lando's POV}

Being around her reminded me why I had fallen in love with her in the first place. She brought the idiotic side of me out. "Mate, you need to stop annoying Y/N. She'll strangle you one day." Carlos said while they were on the drivers parade. "She wouldn't. There's a reason she's tolerating me." I said. "Yeah, sky sports pays her to do her job." Carlos laughed. Part of me wanted to believe that she tolerated me because she still loved. But I knew that was selfish of me, since the reason we broke up lay heavily on me.

This made me want to be closer to her. I guess proximity made the heart softer. I found myself bringing her snacks or treats during her long days. Slowly but surely I found myself back in her arms. We didn't out right say it, but we were dating each other. She made the weekends even more enjoyable. It was exhilarating to be running around trying not to get caught; until we did get caught. It was like a switch flipped inside her and she stopped seeing me.

{Reader's POV}

The gifts and the sneaking away and having someone care for me got to me. Before I knew it I was back in Lando's arms. I knew getting back together with Lando was a bad idea. All my suspicions were confirmed when a picture of us leaving together from a club in Las Vegas made rounds. The hate was worse then before; it's like they forgot there was a person behind it all. I couldn't even shut off social media because of my work. I didn't want to be seen with him anymore; I was going to stop reporting for F1 and live my life covering other sports. Hopefully they didn't find me there. Lando was still persistent even after I had stopped talking to him and cut him off.

"Babe, you gotta stop running away from me." Lando spoke cornering me, out of breath from the running. "I have work to do, if you'll excuse me Mr Norris." I said. "Since, when was I Mr Norris?" He questioned. "Since a while, I never should've gotten back with you." I declared. "You don't mean that." Lando stammered. "Actually I do." saying that broke my heart because deep down I loved him but it didn't feel like he loved me. "But I love you. Don't you love me?" he asked. "It doesn't matter what I feel, when you'll never reciprocate it." I pointed out. "What do you mean?" he pleaded. "Lando, the exact reason we broke up was because you couldn't stick up for me. I knew you and yet I got myself involved in this." I sighed. "But, baby I need you." he voiced. I laughed, there were tears in my eyes, "Not enough to stick up for me." "What's gotten into you?" Lando probed. "Nothing's gotten into me, I should've stayed away from you. Your fans hate me, they always have. They want me fired; did you know that?" I asked. Lando was at a loss for words.

"You know when we broke up I wanted you to want me. But you love your fans more." I commented. "It's not like that I love you more, I missed you a lot after we broke up." he said. "Not enough to clear the air anyways." I voiced out. "What do you want me to do?" Lando asked trying to reach for my hands. "Love me, choose me. For once in your damned life, fight for me. If you really want me you'll do something, or you can watch me walk away for the second time." I stated while turning on my heels and leaving.

I did not expect Lando to do what he did next. He made a statement on every social media account of his, even Quadrants; it read-

Hi guys, Lando here. I would like to let you all know that I love Y/N Y/L/N who is currently working for Sky Sports F1. We used to date a few years ago but we broke up because of my foolishness. Fate gave me another chance and I don't want to blow it. If any of you have any issue with her, keep it to yourself. Because she is here to stay for as long as she will have me. Kindly refrain from sending her any hate if you love and support me. If you do send hate, I will be forced to take legal action to protect the love of my life.

I was sat in shock reading the statement. I can already imagine the train wreck McLaren PR must be in. I was pulled out of my thoughts by a knock on my door. I opened it to find a sweaty Lando with a big bouquet of flowers, chocolates and a couple gift bags. "I know this isn't a lot, but this is a start. Let me apologise. I'm sorry for all the hurt I caused you. Please take me back." he said with tears in his eyes. I wrapped my arms around his neck. "I love you too Lando Norris." I declared. Lando dropped all the stuff on the ground and wrapped his arms around me. "I won't let you down, I promise." he said. "I'll hold you to it." I said. "You can hold it against me for the rest of our lives." he told. "I don't think you want me that long." I laughed. He broke our embrace to cup my cheeks, "I'll have you as long as you'll let me stay." and pressed a kiss against my lips. "I think I'll like to have you inside for now." I said while pulling him in and closing the door.

[auragasmics]

LICK ME LIKE A LOLLIPOP!

𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 cw: 1.8k, drabble format, teasing, cunnilingus

Guilty…oh it’s so guilty but you can’t help it.

It’s your favorite movie on the living room television but you really can’t help it.

There, in the corner of your eye is a scene so innocent but a sight so sinful of Toji eating a lollipop. He’s so mindless with it, it’s almost so cute. But what wrings that adorable sense of joy into a dry, thirsty reality is the way his lips lock around the pink bulb, focusing all his attention down to a point.

Or maybe it’s the way your ear tunes into the delightful hums he sings whenever his mouth fills with the sweet confections, all to be washed away by a single ‘gulp’.

Your thighs have never been folded so tightly and your hands have never braced the black decorative pillow until tonight—a movie night at home, per Toji’s suggestion.

How could he sit there—a man such as he suckling on that confections knob of sugar without a care.

“Um…Toji, I thought you didn’t like sugary candy?”

Before paying you a glance, he pried the pink lollipop from his jaw, leaving nothing but the glimmering wisps of spit to drip from his lips.

“I grabbed it from the bank today and forgot it was in my pocket. Used to love them when I was younger. Why…you want some?”

“No, I don’t think sharing lollipops are—”

“Aww, why not? You can just pretend it’s my d—”

“Okay! T-Thank you, Toji. I’ll have a taste then,” you sigh, leaning towards his beckoning side.

His chiseled arm laced around your shoulder, his hand bracing along its curve. The tips of his fingers softly traced along your pried jaw. His own sights bounced between the unfolding scene of your big, fluttering doe eyes calling out to meet his gaze and the sinking of the sweetened orb finally resting along the flat of your tongue.

A wicked grin cracked along Toji’s lips, hiding his pleased whims against the curve of your ear.

“That’s my good girl. You look so pretty using your tongue fr’ me.”

“Toji!” The squealing shout bringing his grin to a full-hearted smile. Toji could simply react, his arms encircling you in an embrace and his cheek smothered against your own.

“Oh I’m sorry Princess, just got a flashback in my head. I’ll behave like I promised.”

Shamefully, you nodded to his words as you gave into his warmth.

“Mm…my turn!” Toji chimed as he pinched the lollipop stick between two fingers.

Your eyes watched as he tugged the candy from your lips and back into his own, the tip of his tongue swirling about the polished sweet.

Seconds turned into minutes and those very minutes turned into the passing scenes of the movie on the screen. Toji earned your attention far quicker than the film, a fact that he could no longer ignore.

“Alright, you’ve been watching me more than the movie—and it’s your favorite…what’s up, Dollface?” Toji finally interjected. Toji’s full attention was placed onto you, that damned lollipop standing within his thick digits.

Widened eyes and a parting gap filled your lips as you stumbled upon some words to fill the silence.

“I…don’t know…what to say…I just…want some.”

“If you wanted some more, you could’ve asked. Here—”

You caught Toji’s wrist as he returned the lollipop to your lips, the sticky bulb pecking against your lips.

“I don’t want that right now. I just…since when did you eat candy like that?”

The arch in his brow spoke more for Toji than what his fumbling words could. He returned the lollipop back into the wrapper sitting on the glass coffee table, folding what’s left between the colorful wax paper. With his attention clear, Toji brought his full visage to you with a newly placed smirk.

“Huh? I’m just…I see what’s goin’ on here.”

“Hm? What’s going on—”

Before you could even finish your words, Toji was already ways ahead of you. With just a blink of an eye, he had your back pressed and arching against the arm of his couch and your chest smothered along the thick hull of his own.

It was one thing to be beneath Toji at his own whim, but bearing the heft of the accompanying stare was nothing short of stupefying. It comes without a call for regard, but yet you can’t help but forfeit your attention to him and him alone.

All his fascinations about you—the wants and desires crowd about the darkening blue hues of his eyes and consume his whole being. He’s even eager enough to close the distance that much more, pitting the very thumps of his heart to fade along your enveloped chest.

All that stains the thick air is the staggering breaths clogging the lungs of you and Toji alike, growing until his confidence reaches the peak to finally speak.

“You don’t have a problem with me eating this candy—hell, you don’t even care about any of that. You’ve got that look in your eye that I love.”

“And what look might that be?”

And of course, you didn’t need Toji to tell you—you already knew. It’s that look when stubbornness and determination form the thinnest of silver lines, careful not to cross each other’s boundaries. When your eyes peer up to meet his own, your pupils grow to encapsulate to contain all that tension down to a single point.

The look of desire.

And of course Toji knows that look all too well—he fell for it the very night you met and put a ring on your finger under a year later. It’s because the second you pass those eyes his way, he can’t help but give in to you.

“The look of you wanting something. Y’know what I like to say—Whatever my pretty girl wants, she gets. So…what do you want, Princess?”

The weathered palm of his hands brace at your waist, the pads rubbing at the supple skin as he makes a path to slot himself between your thighs.

Toji’s glare flickered, the tips of his fingers drifting along the lacy triangle front of your panties as your voice lovely warbles out some facade.

“Hm? You know I hate mumbling, Sweetheart. But I think I heard you want some attention, right?”

“That’s not what I said.”

Toji shot a stifling glare back towards you, “So then what did you say?”

A silence fell over you as you searched for the unnecessary words. Nothing more had to be said at this point, except for the couch’s springs aching out as it bared the shifting weight of your lifted hips for Toji’s subtle tug at your intertwined pair of black shorts and blush pink panties. Your eyes followed his movements, the slow pull of clothing down your legs and to being tossed out into the dark oblivion of the living room.

Toji’s cheek sank along your thigh as he waited for a response, his hands taking hold of the supple plush to trap you in his hold. “Exactly, you don’t need to say or think of anything, Princess. Just let me take care of you, ‘kay?”

The soft curve of Toji’s pout is the gentlest of sensations to pool at your navel and pull the mellowest of gasps from your lips. Just a kiss, a luscious one that’s carefully met by the timid bud of your clit.

But he’s only this kind with you for a single minute. And in that single minute, he’s peppering those sweet kisses everywhere as nothing as a courtesy—an introduction, really. The moment sixty seconds pass, his courteous nature sheds away.

Why, once Toji makes the mistake of absorbing the poor, pink bulb between his lips…he’s a man lost to lust. He can’t help but to induce a suckling tug along your clit, relishing the swelling throbs to strum within his mouth. Just to spite you, Toji lets the bundle of nerves greet the frigid air for a second as he takes a moment to observe the mess he’s made of you.

The tips of his fingers wander from the crease of your thigh to graze at the sopping slit of your pussy, begging for attention.

“Mm, n-no hands, Toji. Just keep doin that, please?” You broke out carefully.

He shot you a glare, a particular one at that—a leering gaze, one riddle with spite.

“I gotcha, no hands tonight.”

His words didn’t settle the worry brewing at your core. He’s agreed but knowing Toji, your terms would work out in his favor.

Yet, your thoughts ran dry the moment Toji pressed his cheek back along your inner thigh. Just by the swirl of his tongue, he’s pulled you back down into ecstasy with a breathy moan.

His tongue’s been waiting all the same to taste you, making no haste to delve between your folds at last. As eager as Toji is, he’s sure to catch every drop of your essence, allowing your honeyed pussy to meld into his senses.

When he’s ready to start all over, he lets his jaw come to a slow close as he drags the flat of his tongue from your hole back up to the puffy hood. He’s even keeping his eyes glued above, ensuring that you’re watching just how lazily he reels your twitching clit back into his care.

“Fuck…I wanna touch you s’ bad,” Toji whimpers out as he pulls away for a breath. The pads of his thumb drag along the puffy lips of your pussy, his touching lingering just beside the glossy bulb. “But if my lady says no hands…”

“N-No, you can use your hands now, Toji…please,” you whine, flashing a weak yet coaxing smile towards him.

Yet your pleas fall on deaf ears as Toji returns to his ministrations. He really had no intention of touching you—just like you instructed. It didn’t help that his eyes remained pinned with yours, those blue hues mocking your growing misery. But you truly couldn’t take it, that knot in your belly reaching desperate heights.

In the corner of his eye, Toji’s catching the rarest of phenomenons: your legs trembling in his care. It’s something he knows you try to control out of some temperance, but tonight must be his lucky night.

“If you keep moving like that, I can’t focus on you, Pretty,” he hums, pulling away from your folds with a lewd ‘pop’.

“Then I guess you’ll have to touch me, right?”

“But it’s more fun if I don’t. I mean, this is what you wanted. Got all jealous ‘nd needy over a piece of candy and now you can’t take it…tsk-tsk-tsk, that’s not like you, Baby,” his words marked by a greedy grin.

All that could chime from your blubbering lips were whimpers, the ones that made Toji smile the most. Your hands came to brace the fabric of the couch’s armrest as Toji drove back between your legs, his grip on your thighs stilling your restlessness.

And that’s all Toji did, just lick you like a lollipop.