#my most used tag on ao3 is 'getting back together'

[hua-fei-hua]

as soon as it's summer and i'm medicated again i NEED to write a series of essays covering my experiences switching from the broader social sphere of fandom which predominantly ships m/f ships to the social sphere of fandom which predominantly ships m/m, because i feel like a lot of what we say about the other social sphere is simultaneously true and false at the same time, and i've literally never seen anyone talk about it ever

[astarionancuntnin]

Nothing But A Dream

summary: you've agreed to take things slow with astarion, only partaking in nighttime activities when he specifically desires them, and this morning, he wants you, but he would hate to intrude on your precious beauty sleep.

rating: E

word count: 1.6k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader)

cw: 18+. MIND THE TAGS! light fluff, established relationship, somnophilia, cnc/mildly dubious consent, light choking, p in v, creampie, cock soaking. full list on ao3

read on ao3

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or keep reading down below~

Ever since defeating the Absolute, you’ve been enjoying your quiet life in the Underdark with Astarion. You agreed to take things slow when it comes to sex; he still wanted to experience this with you, but he needed time to feel truly like himself when being intimate. It wasn’t an issue for you, and you were open to take as much time as needed and indulge him in anything he wanted to try, whenever he wanted to, for as long as he didn’t feel pressured by it. You knew how important this was for him, after the discussion you had following the defeat of Cazador, and the last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable. 

Even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud yet, you sensed how he enjoyed the proximity you shared without the pressure of sex. It’s in the way he allowed himself to relax when he was with you, as you laid close on the sofa while you were both reading, or how he insisted to wash your hair and style it afterwards – it drives him crazy how little care you give it –  when you were taking baths together, so he could look at you like you were his masterpiece, but what he told you he preferred were those lazy mornings cuddling in bed naked. He would lay over your chest, skin to skin, listening to the lulling melody of your soft heartbeat. Finding comfort in your warmth reminded him of the sun’s embrace that he missed dearly. Those were the moments he cherished the most, where he was able to see you being at your most vulnerable, on display, just for him. 

You were a heavy sleeper, and with no real responsibilities anymore, you allowed yourself to sleep-in way more often than you used to (you deserved it, after all, who would blame the Saviour of Baldur’s Gate for indulging in a little respite). It’s not something Astarion was able to do, but he had no reason to get up on his own and do anything else. What point would there be of doing anything without you, the very reason he kept on living? This morning was no exception, as you laid bare in the warmth of your bed with Astarion hugging you from behind.

As you slightly move half-awake, you feel his hand ghosting over your hips, and eventually cupping your tender breasts. You happily moan into his touch, loving how his grip held all of you ever so perfectly. It wasn’t necessarily sexual when he did it, rather comforting – as much for him than for you – and you loved how he cradled you as if you were going to slip out from his grasp at any moment, holding on tight to you. There was one thing that felt different today, but in the bliss of your slumber, you weren’t able to quite put your finger on it. You hum, checking in on him as you feel him grab onto you rougher than usual, with his nails digging into the soft skin of your boobs.

“So sorry dear, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, his voice deep, as if he himself had just woken up. 

“Mh, you okay?” You mumble, still in limbo.

“Everything is just fine darling,” he kisses your shoulder softly. “Go back to sleep.”

Astarion’s honeyed voice in the crook of your neck brings you comfort and you find yourself following his words, nuzzling into your pillow as you back up into him further, seeking for more contact from him. In your dazed state, you think you can hear him growl softly, and you pay it no mind at first, until you feel something poke harder at your back and his hot breath upon your shoulder. This, along with his hand kneading your breast constantly, have you feeling a warmth pool to the bottom of your stomach that was becoming difficult to ignore. You try to shift around in your dazed state only to find Astarion holding you tightly in place, stopping you from moving at all.

“ ‘starion?” You mutter, as you finally awaken.

“Shh, you’re alright, love,” he purrs, his voice but a whisper.

“What are you– ah–!”

His hand leaves your boobs to sneak down between your legs, sliding between your folds to find the dampness that’s been accumulating there.

“Aren’t you the neediest little thing,” he groans, his voice becoming darker as his fingers lazily massage over your clit. “You can relax, dear, I just need you to stay still now.”

The stimulation he’s been providing between your legs finally stirs you completely awake, hazy from his touch. He slides his cock just between your folds and that’s when you realize what the firmness in your back was. Instinctively, you spread your legs apart to help him ease in, wanting him to go further, but he closes your thighs back together, uttering in a raspy voice.

“Tsk tsk, I said relax. You need not do anything.”

“Are you sure about this?” You manage to say through your breathy voice.

“Very much so,” his other hand wraps around your throat pulling you back, only applying a light pressure around your neck and a whimper escapes you. “Now, be good for me, will you, darling?”

You nod, as much as you can with his hand around you, and close your eyes, letting him use you as he sees fit. His hand over your waist holds your legs tightly together, as he slides his length between your legs, getting his cock wet from your folds. His rhythm starts slow as he gets accustomed to the sensation, and the friction it creates has you panting, as your own pleasure builds up.

"Oh doll, are you enjoying me using you in your sleep? How depraved," he growls and you feel yourself getting soaked from the sound of his voice and his shaft sliding over your entrance.

It had been so long since you had been intimately close, you had almost forgotten the surprising size of him. You wanted nothing but for him to slide inside of you and indulge in his carnal desires, to use and defile you as if you were nothing but a toy to him, but you let him completely take the reins on this one, let him reclaim his sexual and bodily autonomy the way he chose to, and this morning, it involved fucking you while you were asleep, without you moving as much as a muscle. He chose to focus on his own needs, and in doing so, you discovered a new form of pleasure.

You hear him grunt as his thrust become more erratic, with his nails digging inside the soft skin of your hips, and the wet sounds of your juices slipping over his cock between your legs, and although this was meant for him to focus on his own pleasure, having him handle you this way after many weeks apart brought you close to your edge just as fast as he did. You find yourself contracting the muscles of your thighs together, squeezing around his shaft tighter and at the same time, providing additional stimulation to your clit

“Gods– ah, you feel too good, dear, I won’t last much longer,” he breathes behind you, his growling turning primal now, making him almost unrecognizable. “Can I slide inside of  you? It’ll just be the tip, please, I need to feel you.”

You’re not even sure if he heard the “yes” you barely manage to voice out, when you feel him plunge inside of you in one strong push, your pussy offering little to no resistance in the state it is.

“Fuckkk, I've missed how you feel wrapped around me,” he groans. “So sorry love, I simply can’t resist your cunt when it's drooling for me like that,” he resumes his thrusts into you, nearing the point of his own climax, when he hears you whimpering. “You've been so good for me, I just need you to hold on a bit longer. Can you do that for me, my sweet?”

You’re way past the point of answering, reduced to small cries and gasps as he rams recklessly into your needy cunt. When you hear him whine your name, you clench around him, hit by the waves of your orgasm. As your walls tighten around him, he finally stills inside, pushing your hips flush against his to shoot his seed deep inside your womb. You feel his cock pulsing inside of you as he unloads himself and the sensation sends an additional wave of electricity through your body.

You’re both left as panting messes, bathing in a mix of your combined sweat and come as you come down from your high. He rests with his forehead against your shoulder as he catches his breath.

“Wouldn’t want to make a mess here, it’d be better if I just stayed inside you, don’t you think?” He says between breaths, and you hum, your voice still out for the count, as he smiles behind you. “I thought so. Now, I believe you have a beauty sleep you need to catch up on, you should try to rest a bit more before we face the day.”

Even if you wanted to get up, you wouldn’t have been able to, as this session got you as tired as if you had never slept in the first place. He snuggles back into the position he initially was, with the additional embrace your cunt was providing around him, and leaves a loving kiss over your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. As you close your eyes, ready to drift back into a deep slumber, he whispers softly:

“Thank you, my love.”

-

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat @nyx-knox @anacdoce @jwera @annnagennnie @angeldarkness95 @marlowethebard

[notjustjavierpena]

Public

Main Masterpost | Series Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Written for @janaispunk ‘s 1500 kisses challenge where I had to incorporate a cheek kiss and a French kiss. This was so fun to do and made me able to do a very requested scenario! I’m pleased Jana allowed me to use hubby (even if he isn't hubby yet here)🥰 and it turned a lot more smutty than intended (not that i’m sorry)

Summary: You play the perfect part at Javier’s office party.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, established relationship, they’re so in love, domestic, banter, lots of kisses, dirty talk, praise kink, exhibitionism, clit stim, fingering

Word Count: 3.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56618974

Public

Work parties in your office are always a dreadful thing; ugly and over-the-top decorations on the walls, tedious conversation with people higher up than you, and terrible music that seems to be played by the worst DJ in history. That’s why you giggle, a hand covering your mouth, the first time Javier mentions that he has to go to one of these schmoozing events at the police station. Police station and party are words that do not belong together. 

Javier raises a brow as you continue giggling about it, “What’s so funny about that? You don’t want to go?”

“God, no!” You shake slightly from the laughter, reaching down to cup your mug of coffee with both hands again so it doesn’t spill. Javier looks slightly hurt by your reluctance, so you force yourself to stop snickering and tilt your head with a genuine smile, “Hey, of course, I want to go with you. For moral support at the very least. It’s just… I know exactly what you’re in for and that’s very funny.”

“Don’t remind me. I’ve endured enough so far,” Javier groans. He reaches up to run a hand over his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose like he has a headache already. 

“You haven’t endured one with me though. I’m great,” you grin cheekily over the top of your mug, taking a sip when you earn a little smile. It’s the first party he’s going to after you started dating and it seems like a milestone in your relationship; there’s something about showing you off to the people he spends time with every day and thus involving you in his work life. It’s getting more and more serious each day. 

“You’re right about that,” he replies and you know that he is thinking the same thing. He crosses the room where you are standing against the kitchen counter in his apartment, looking so much like someone he wants to marry one day. Gently, he takes the mug from your hands and places it on the counter, only to lean in and not quite kiss you yet. He talks with his lips hovering just above yours, “If you’re so good at them… Any survival tips?”

You scrunch up your nose to look like someone having a think, constantly on the brink of a snicker when he traps you between his arms by placing his palms on the table behind you. You hum and then light up, “Oh, I’ve got plenty but the most important one is to plan an exit strategy - seriously, Javi, weren’t you in Colombia? You should know this - anyway, we need to secure a safe escape route and come up with a plausible reason to leave early. Involve me, if you like.”

Javier’s eyes soften as he looks at you. He can barely believe how fantastic you are, “¡Dios mío (My God)! And here I thought you were going to say something like ‘grin and bear it’ but you’re a woman with an evil plan.”

“Right? You think you know someone…” you lean in for a kiss that he teasingly avoids. His breath ghosts across your face and you pout from how much you want to put your lips to his and how much he doesn’t let you, “Javi.”

“I know, baby,” he tuts and bumps your noses together, “But we need an excuse for the party. Any ideas from the mastermind herself?” 

You place your forearms on his shoulders and decide to tease him right back, “Oh, I don’t know. We could just sneak out the back when no one’s looking. You could make an arrest against the back of the building.”

Javier makes a noise in the back of his throat. He tries to hold himself back, only just succeeding, “We could do that, yeah, definitely, but I think I’ll stick around a bit longer if you’re there to make it bearable.” 

“Okay okay,” you stop your teasing, “How about we stay for an hour tops, mingle to make you seem like the best colleague in the world, I’ll charm your boss’ pants off…”

“And then I’ll say we have an urgent… situation that we need to attend to,” he suggests. 

“And what would that situation be?” You smirk. 

Javier’s voice drops to a suggestive tone, “Hmm, I dunno. A personal situation that requires my full attention and… immediate care.”

You link your fingers on the back of his neck, teasing his hair there with your fingertips, “Funny. I think one of those situations might just be happening right now too.”

With that, he cannot go on any longer. He pulls you in and behind you, your coffee grows cold. 

—

The police station looks ridiculous while Javier looks nervous. It’s a contrast you want to gawk at because as far as you know, nothing seems to rattle the previous DEA agent turned sheriff of Laredo. However, social interaction in the workplace appears to be his kryptonite and with his donut-eating and domesticated lifestyle colleagues, he seems very much out of his element compared to who he tells stories about from Colombia.

“You know, you have to point out the guy I have to schmooze with. We need a signal,” you whisper close to his ear as you enter the bullpen and a few heads turn. Your hand is in his and when you squeeze it, he seems to relax a little more in his step. Your eyes scan the room for faces that might match the names you’ve heard in passing conversations. Most of them stare back with a subtle look of respect and admiration, eyeing you at first and then nodding at each other in approval. You should feel on the spot but you can barely concentrate as Javier lets go of your hand to rest his palm against the small of your back now that his confidence is slowly coming back.

“No need, he’s coming towards us right now,” he says quietly and smiles in his boss’ direction. 

“Tell me his name,” you say with a little smile of your own, “Quickly.”

“Uhh, that’s Commissioner Martin Lopez,” he manages before he receives a slap on the back from the man approaching you. 

“Peña! Glad to see you joining the festivities. Always good for moral support,” Lopez greets and gestures to the room of deputies. He is a large, square-shouldered man with a booming voice and a mustache even more impressive than your boyfriend’s. He looks like someone who laughs from his belly and you’re surprised that Javier is still standing upright after his large hand has clapped his shoulder. 

Javier is just about to introduce you but then you hold your hand out and interrupt, “Commissioner Lopez. You’re a frequent name in our conversations; Javier admires you a whole lot.”

“You should hear how much he talks about you around here, ma’am. I’ve been hearing about you all night because everyone’s itching to meet you,” Lopez replies with a huge smile. He shakes your hand which disappears inside of his huge one. 

You look briefly at Javier with a raised brow. On your back, he rubs up and down as a hidden ‘thank you’ while sporting an embarrassed smile. 

“Said too much?” Lopez questions teasingly. 

“Not at all but really? Ma’am? You’re making me sound so old, Martin,” you charm and give him a playful roll of your eyes. 

His eyes light up as you match his energy and he lets out a hearty laugh, “Apologies, miss. ‘Fraid it’s a bit of a habit. Should we expect to hear Mrs. soon?”

“Sir,” Javier tries to interrupt, horrified by the bluntness. 

“My God,” you theatrically clutch at your chest and turn to your boyfriend again, “Sheriff Peña, how much do you babble on about me here?”

Lopez holds up both his hands, seeming to love your display, “Now now, we need to let him keep some sort of authority here. Can’t be too hard on him in front of the others, so you best be off mingling. I still have a few rounds to make to make sure everyone’s enjoying themselves.”

“It’s good to see you, sir,” Javier says and earns a squeeze on his shoulder. 

“Glad to see you finally brought her,” Lopez looks in your direction and you share a smile. He turns to leave afterward, heading in the direction of a larger crowd and as he greets them, you hear his voice echo through the room. 

You turn to Javier, linking your arms around his neck and smiling at him with tenderness in your eyes, “You have nothing to worry about here. They all love you.”

“Suppose it’s nicer than some of the shit I got in Colombia,” he murmurs, staring over your shoulder as the crowd discreetly watches you embrace. He rests his hands on your hips, smoothing them around your waist until they entwine on the small of your back. You want a kiss and he pecks your lips when you make an impatient sound. 

“Much nicer,” you eventually say, twisting around to lean against his chest. Your gaze goes over the crowded room, a few smiles meeting yours, “They look at you like you’re the sun or something.”

“And you are doing fucking great, by the way,” he squeezes you in his arms, “Making friends faster than I ever did.”

You tilt your head to look up at him, your eyes meeting his, “What can I say? I’m a natural, Sheriff Peña.”

“And modest too,” he shakes his head with a fond expression. Then he leans in to kiss your cheek from behind with a tenderness that tells you how much he appreciates you being here with him, going public in front of his colleagues for the first time. It’s not a quick peck but rather a lingering, heartfelt kiss that makes your heart sing for more of his affection. You feel the warmth of his lips against your skin, and it sends a shiver down your spine. 

The room fades for the moment it goes on and when you come to your senses again, when your heartbeat has slowed down enough to notice your surroundings again, you realize the intimacy of the moment and feel the heat in your cheeks. However, you don’t let yourself feel anything negative towards it when you also come to the point that Javier Peña is not embarrassed to be affectionate with you in front of others. 

“That was nice,” you whisper as you still look up at him, feeling your cheeks hurt slightly from how much you are smiling.

He says nothing but instead just adds a quick peck to your hair. There’s no way he’ll describe this party as anything close to unbearable now. 

The night goes on after Javier reluctantly releases you from his arms. You circle the room together, all smiles and laughter, but sometimes you even separate and it doesn’t feel as frightening as you thought it would. Joke aside, maybe you are a natural. 

You end up in a group of female deputies. Julia, a woman with an impressive winged eyeliner, asks you how on Earth you caught yourself such a man and managed to hold him down. You reply with an embarrassed laugh, fidget with your dress strings on the front, and look in your boyfriend’s direction as you receive yet another compliment on him. Much to your delight, you catch a glimpse of Javier seeming to relax and enjoy himself. It makes you return to the conversation with newfound joy. 

“Honestly, he’s the one who caught me,” you say with a grin, earning a round of knowing giggles from the group, “I mean… He’s pretty hard to resist.”

“Well, the two of you make a great couple,” Julia says while the rest nods and hums. You reach up to cup your burning face, the ache in your face really hitting you.

“Not giving you a hard time, are they?” Javier interrupts and slides an arm around your waist. He catches your eye and gives you a quick, reassuring smile that makes your heart flutter.

“Just the opposite, Peña,” Julie jokes with a wink. “We’re giving her the lowdown on you.”

Javier groans playfully, “Shit, I’m doomed.”

“Better find out now than later, so I know what I’m in for,” you laugh genuinely, leaning into his side and feeling his arm tighten around you. 

“How are you feeling? Tired?” Javier checks in. 

“A little,” you falsely admit. This seems to be Javier setting the exit strategy in motion, so you go with it. 

“Do you wanna head home?” He continues, rubbing your side affectionately, “We could go back to my place.”

You hear the women make an “ooh”-sound. You nod while chewing on your bottom lip, “Yes, please.”

It doesn’t take long to say your farewells and even less time to exit the building and walk towards your car further down the street. It’s nice and cool outside, stars above you blinking occasionally. You like feeling him so close without him touching you as you walk, noticing quickly that he keeps gazing at you. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” You look back over your shoulder as you approach the car. 

Javier is just about to reach for the keys in his pocket when he pauses. He waits a moment before striking, “It’s nothing. I just couldn’t believe how sexy you were playing the good little wife.”

You whirl around with your breath caught in your throat, your heartbeat quickening in your chest at those words. His eyes burn on your skin, an intensity in them that you can’t ever resist. You decide to say something back, “Yeah? You like me as your wife, huh? Cooking in the kitchen and cleaning the floor on my knees?”

“You don’t know what you do to me,” Javier says, his voice having dropped an octave. He steps forward and maneuvers you before you can protest until he has you firmly against the side of the car. The cool metal is nice against your electrified skin, creaking slightly as he pushes you further into the vehicle when his lips crash against yours. 

You instinctively reach up to cup his face, mouth falling open in a moan as he settles a knee between your legs. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips, and as you respond by allowing him to practically eat from your mouth you find that he is tasting like himself so thoroughly that you can’t get close enough. 

Your hands slide up into his hair, tugging slightly as you continue kissing him so messily. He makes a noise, pushing his pelvis into yours to make you whine for him. 

“Not here,” you say without pulling back, knowing there’s no way you are stopping this. Between another string of lingering kisses, you try to protest some more, “We’re on a public road.”

“I know,” he seems to be under the same spell, velvety tongue against yours, “Spread your legs.”

“Javi,” you scold mid-kiss.

“I’m gonna put my hand underneath that dress and make you come because you deserve it,” he tells you with the kind of tone that lets you know he has already made up his mind, “And then I’ll take you home, and show you how much I appreciate you.”

Javier’s hand lays flat against your thigh, going upwards until it teases the hem of your dress. Despite the protest you have just voiced, you find yourself spreading your legs the second he slips his fingers underneath it. You don’t make it too obvious for others if they were to walk by, only just giving him the access he demands while your heartbeat takes over your whole body and your panties start to soak, “Fuck, okay. Okay.”

“Good girl,” he whispers against your lips and catches your mouth in another fervent kiss. You lay your arms on his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he makes your knees weak. He places his hand flat against your stomach and then slides it down into your panties, never once ending the kisses he is giving you. 

The second his fingers press against your slit, you breathe in sharply through your nose and moan his name softly with the result of breaking the kiss. He chuckles a little, says you’re unbelievable under his breath and goes to work on you. He doesn’t slip his fingers inside of you just yet, just strokes your cunt the way he knows you like. 

You mewl. Your eyes flutter closed, eyebrows scrunching up as you concentrate on the pleasure he is giving to you. He seems conflicted by wanting to stare at you while he touches you but then decides against it and leans in to let his lips find yours again, capturing them in another kiss that makes you dizzy even in the fresh night air. 

His fingers slide through your slick folds, two fingers finding your pulsing clit to go back and forth over it until something starts building below your belly button. You gush a little when he collects more wetness, dripping obscenely into his palm. 

“Estás tan mojada para mí (you’re so wet for me),” he praises in a whisper during the few seconds he pulls out of the kiss to get a proper mouthful of air. You grab the back of his neck and pull him back to your mouth, panting softly into him whilst nodding. 

“I know… Please,” you say breathlessly as his fingers work their magic. 

“What do you need, mi amor (my love)?” He asks against your mouth, knowing better than to break apart again. 

“More, please,” you clutch at him, the hand that’s not at the top of his spine digging its fingers into his shoulder, “Inside, baby.”

Finally, he slides his middle- and ring finger into your awaiting heat. Pretty little wife, wasn’t that what he’d called you? You clench around his digits at the idea that it will mean that he’ll make you come with his wedding ring on his finger one day. 

“What happened there?” He asks in awe, referring to the way you just choked his fingers. He curls them inside you, repeatedly hitting that perfect spot that makes you see stars. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, unable to keep kissing him, and look to the sky, “Nothing, just thinking of you as mi esposo guapo (my handsome husband).”

Javier pushes his hips forward to let you feel his hard cock against your thigh, “Watch it or I’ll fuck you right here on the street. What a mess that’ll be.” 

Those words spike your arousal. Mixed with the way he fucks you open on his fingers, your peak nears faster than normal. You partly blame it on the danger of the situation too; the excitement of maybe getting caught even if the streets are pretty much deserted at this point. 

“You like that idea, huh? That what makes my baby come?” He asks with a hint of a condescending tone. His thumb finds your clit, pressing down in tight circles while he drives you wild with his fingers in your twitching cunt. 

You shake your head but your pussy clenches again, betraying you. His snicker is dark and he speeds up his hand’s thrusts, “Then you better keep quiet for me. I don’t think you can though, can you, baby? Fuck, you are gorgeous and good for me.” 

Teetering on the edge of release, you curse yourself as you moan despite your best efforts to keep your lips zipped tightly in public. Javier’s eyes flicker with mischief and self-satisfaction and his free hand comes up to cover your mouth. He holds your gaze intensely, “That’s right. You’re so loud for me, baby. Can’t help yourself when I make you come.”

You start to tremble. He smirks, “Come for me. Right here, right now.”

With a final thrust of his fingers, you come undone, your body shuddering against him as waves of ecstasy crash over you. He catches each of your cries in the palm of his hand, successfully muffling them so no one will look out their windows to see what the racket is about. But then again, is the sheriff going to arrest himself for indecent exposure? 

When you come down, he has you mewling feebly as his fingers are still inside you, now moving gently to tease out a few aftershocks. He smiles softly at you, eyes locked onto your tired ones, and removes his hand from your mouth when you’ve calmed completely. 

“Jesus,” you chuckle and inhale sharply as he withdraws his hand from your ruined underwear. He admires the shine on his fingers underneath the moonlight, watching the way the slick coats his fingers in pearly white. You feel beyond flustered as he cleans them with his mouth, keeping his eyes fixed on yours in a hungry and obscene display. 

“You taste so good,” he licks between two fingers and reminds you of how his tongue also makes you come like no one else ever has. 

You smile lazily and lean against the car, still trying desperately to catch your breath whilst your legs shake beneath you. When you try to straighten your clothes, he bats your hand away and helps you with a gentleness that makes your heart ache for this intimacy to be forever. 

“Your place?” You ask as he straightens out a fold on your hip. The night screams for more of this, more of his hand touching you. 

“Yeah, get in the car,” he replies and unlocks the vehicle for you, “Let’s go home.”

.

.

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[steveseddie]

for protection

steddie | rating: t | wc: 5,2k | cw: none | tags: steve pov, scary movies, accidental hand holding, turned into non-accidental hand holding, soft boys, getting together, fruity four friendship

for week four of @softsteddieseptember using the prompt “protection”

click here to read on ao3

Steve never liked horror movies. 

He didn’t like them before the Upside Down and he definitely doesn’t like them now when he spends most of his time worrying and waiting for the next supernatural shoe to drop. There’s no reason why he would want to spend two hours peeking through his fingers at a screen and anticipating the next jumpscare on top of that.

Occasionally, he will let Robin or one of the kids— or lately, Eddie too— convince him to watch one. They might have gone through the same horrors as Steve, but somehow they’re not bothered by these movies at all. At least when Robin is around she’ll let Steve hold her hand, which has gotten him through worse things than movies about aliens or monsters or psychopathic killers. 

That is the only reason Steve agreed to go to the movies tonight.

“Who are you kidding, dingus?” Robin snorts when Steve tells her as much. She’s sitting in the passenger seat of the Beemer as Steve drives them both to The Hawk to meet Eddie and Nancy. “You agreed to come because you can’t say no to Eddie and his big Bambi eyes!” 

Steve sputters indignantly. “What? Yes, I can!”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Steve, I told you I wanted to watch this movie weeks ago and you kept brushing me off. You only said yes when Eddie pouted and complained that no one wanted to watch it with him!” 

Steve waves her off. “I would’ve said yes to you eventually.” 

“But you didn’t,” Robin says, poking Steve’s side and making him yelp. “You said yes to your boy—”

“He’s not my boy,” Steve huffs, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck at the words. 

Robin ignores him and keeps teasing him. “You said yes to him because you love him—” she says, dragging the word love and making obnoxious kissing noises. 

“Christ, what are you? Five?” Steve protests, pinching the bridge of his nose while he waits for the red light to turn green. Robin keeps making those kissing noises, making Steve groan. “Ugh, shut up. Or I’ll shove you out of the car and you’ll have to walk the rest of the way.” 

Robin huffs. “If you do that you’ll have to explain to Nancy that you abandoned me in the middle of nowhere,” she says, sticking her tongue out at him. If she keeps up acting like a child they’re not going to let her in to see this movie. 

“We’re like, four blocks away,” Steve says, pointing ahead where the sign for The Hawk comes into view. “That’s hardly the middle of nowhere.” 

But they both know he won’t do it anyway— not even a horror movie sounds scarier than having to tell Nancy he left Robin to walk the streets of Hawkins alone at night. 

So he finds them a parking spot instead, a few blocks away from The Hawk so by the time they walk up to the entrance it’s exactly 7 pm. They agreed to meet up at that time, meaning Nancy is already there—and probably has been for a while—and Eddie is nowhere to be seen. 

As soon as she sees Nancy, Robin leaves Steve’s side and runs up to her, wrapping her arms around Nancy’s shoulders to hug her. Nancy stumbles back a few steps, taken by surprise but then she smiles and wraps her arms around Robin’s waist, returning the hug. 

As Steve approaches, he hears Robin rambling with her arms still around her. “Hey, Nancy! I hope you haven’t been waiting for long, I told Steve we were gonna be late but he still took forever to fix his hair. And I was like ‘dingus we’re going to be in a dark room for the better part of two hours, no need to fuss about it so much!’ but you know Steve. Duh, you dated him, of course you do. I think he just wanted to look good for—” she pauses, pulling back to look around them and make sure they’re alone, “—for Eddie, which is silly, y’know? Have you seen Eddie’s hair? He does not care about hair care routines and stuff!”

“I should’ve made you walk,” Steve mutters, feeling his blush tinting his cheeks pink again. Nancy stifles a chuckle behind her hand and Steve waves at her. “Hey, Nance.”

“Hi, Steve. Your hair looks good,” she says with a tiny smirk that makes Robin cackle loudly and makes Steve roll his eyes. She turns back to Robin, “And I haven’t been waiting long, I just got here.” 

Robin throws some finger guns at her. “Cool,” she says, “Should we get the tickets?” 

“We still have to wait for Eddie,” Steve interjects, looking around for any sign of Eddie’s van or Eddie himself. 

“You can wait for your boy,” Robin says with a smirk, “and Nance and I will get the tickets!” 

Steve lets out a long-suffering groan. “For the last time, Robin, he’s not my boy.”

Once again, she ignores him and holds her palm up at him. “Money, please.”

Steve sighs, pulling his wallet from his jeans and handing her a few bills, enough for four tickets. 

“Thanks!” She says, whirling around and hooking her arm with Nancy’s, dragging her towards the ticket booth and leaving Steve to wait for Eddie alone.  

He entertains himself by kicking a plastic bottle back and forth. He keeps his eyes on the ground as he does so he doesn’t notice Eddie approaching— not until he jumps on Steve’s back, wrapping an arm around his neck in a chokehold.

“Got ya, Harrington!” Eddie yells in Steve’s ear as Steve stumbles with the added weight but manages to find his balance before they both end up on the ground.

“Christ,” Steve mutters, trying to wiggle out of Eddie’s hold while he laughs like a maniac. “Eddie, get off, man!” 

“As His Majesty commands,” Eddie giggles, jumping off Steve’s back and sweeping down in a dramatic bow when Steve turns around to face him. 

Steve’s hands land on his hips. “You couldn’t just say hello like a normal person?” 

“That, my dear Stevie, would require that I was normal, and as the Hawkins population so graciously accused me of, I am—” he pauses for dramatic effect, “—a freak.”

Steve lets out a snort. “You’re late, that’s what you are,” he says and Eddie gives a dismissive wave. “The girls went inside to get the tickets.”

Eddie gasps, his eyes sparkling under the streetlights. “And you waited for me, sweetheart?” He asks, placing both of his hands over his heart. Steve’s cheeks pink up at the pet name. “You shouldn’t have!” 

“Noted,” Steve smirks. He bumps his shoulder against Eddie’s, jerking his head towards the entrance. “C’mon, they’re waiting.”

Eddie falls into step beside Steve as he starts walking to where Robin and Nancy are whispering and giggling about something.

Robin notices them first. “Eddie!” 

“Lady Buckley,” Eddie greets her with a little royal twist of the hand, then repeats the motion in Nancy’s direction. “Lady Wheeler.” 

“Hey, Eddie,” Nancy says, playing along with a curt nod. “Glad you could make it.” 

“Late as usual,” Robin says, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. 

“Time is nothing but a social construct, Birdie.”

“Tell that to the movie starting in fifteen minutes,” Steve says, checking his watch. “We should head in. C’mon, Eds, I’ll buy you popcorn.” 

Eddie gives him a lopsided grin. “You sure know your way into a man’s heart, Harrington.” 

“Do I get popcorn too?” Robin asks with a knowing smile. 

Steve flicks her on the forehead. “Dude, I already paid for your ticket.”

“You also paid for Eddie’s!” She argues, crossing her arms over her chest petulantly. “Why does he get popcorn and I don’t?”

Steve glances at Eddie and finds him staring back at him with wide eyes, a strand of hair tugged in front of his face. Steve doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say— other than tell Robin to shut up. 

But before he can, Nancy, bless her soul, jumps in. “Hey, Robin,” she says, putting her hands on Robin’s shoulders so she can steer her away. “I’ll get you popcorn, okay?”

Robin lets Nancy guide her away, narrowing her eyes at Steve over her shoulder one last time.

Steve lets out a puff of air. 

He feels Eddie bump his shoulder. “Hey, I- I can get my popcorn, man. And I can pay for my ticket too,” he says a little awkwardly. “I don’t wanna get you in trouble with Buckley.”

“No way, Eds,” Steve is quick to say, bumping his shoulder right back. “It’s on me.”

Eddie offers him a shy little smile. “Well, I’ll get the next one then.”

Steve nods, stomach fluttering at the thought of doing this again with Eddie— maybe just the two of them next time. “Sure, as long as you don’t drag me here for another crappy horror movie.” 

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “This isn’t a crappy horror movie! It’s supposed to be the best one of the year, I guarantee you’ll be scared.” 

Yeah, that’s precisely what Steve is worried about. He tries not to grimace at that. 

As long as you sit next to Robin, you’ll be fine, he thinks to himself. 

To Eddie, he says, “Whatever you say, Eds.”

They join the girls at the concession stand where Steve and Nancy get large popcorn bowls to share with Eddie and Robin, sodas for each of them, and Steve also asks for some gummy worms because he knows Eddie will put too much butter on their popcorn, get sick of it halfway through and will want to eat something sweet. 

As soon as the kid slides the bag of gummy worms over the counter, Steve puts it in his pocket. He doesn’t want Robin to see them and call him out on that too.  

He hands the popcorn to Eddie who, as expected, soaks it with butter, earning horrified looks from everyone around them, including Steve. Though Steve’s expression might also be overly affectionate. 

“Hey, don’t forget the napkins for your gross buttery fingers,” Steve tells him when Eddie deems their popcorn soggy enough and waits for him to grab a handful of napkins before they follow Nancy and Robin. 

“Why do you care if I have buttery fingers, hm?” Eddie asks, getting all up in Steve’s space. A few popcorn kernels fall on the carpet from Eddie moving so much. “Planning to hold my hand in there or something?” 

And Steve isn’t— he’s planning to hold Robin’s, but the thought of holding Eddie’s hand instead makes his heart stutter in his chest, pink tinting his cheeks.

“You wish, Munson,” he says, picking up the pace to catch up with the girls and walk into the dark movie theater, hoping it will help hide his blush from Eddie. 

“Oh, but I do, Stevie, every night,” Eddie says, following him with a shit-eating grin. 

It’s relatively empty inside and the four of them head straight to the back rows where Steve ends up sitting between Eddie and Robin, with Nancy on her other side. 

While they wait for the movie to start, Eddie leans over to whisper in Steve’s ear what critics are saying about the movie, what he’s most excited to see, what the scariest parts are supposed to be. Someone else might find it annoying— to have Eddie loudly chewing popcorn right next to their ear and talking about the movie they’re about to see— but Steve loves hearing Eddie talk, and maybe knowing what’s going to happen in the movie will help ease his nerves a bit.

Eddie doesn’t stop talking until the opening credits start to appear, settling back on his seat with a happy little squeal. 

Cute, Steve thinks as an idea occurs to him. Maybe if he focuses on Eddie instead of the screen it won’t be so bad. 

And so for the first thirty minutes of the movie, Steve keeps his attention on Eddie with the occasional glance at the screen to not be too obvious— even if Eddie is unlikely to notice since his eyes won’t leave the screen, barely blinking as he shoves handfuls of popcorn into his mouth. Halfway through, just like Steve predicted, Eddie shoves the popcorn towards him, buttery lips scrunched up. He downs his soda as he tries to wash away the taste of salt and butter before using the napkins to wipe his fingers. 

He glances away from the screen for the first time since the movie started when Steve nudges him with his elbow and holds out the gummy worms. 

Eddie’s eyes widen and then he gives Steve a slightly awed look. “Thanks, Stevie,” he whispers, grabbing the bag. 

Steve just winks at him, and when Eddie faces forward again, Steve thinks he can see a pink flush high on his cheeks thanks to the glow coming from the screen. 

Pleased, Steve finishes the popcorn and his soda, setting everything on the floor to pick up later and sitting back to stare at Eddie a bit more, paying little to no attention to the screen. 

That’s when bad things start to happen in the movie. 

Shoulders tense and heart hammering in his chest, Steve does his best to not glance at the screen but even then there’s no way to block out the screams or the other disturbing noises. When he looks at Eddie, he actually seems excited about the horrific, gruesome scenes taking place. On Steve’s other side, Robin and Nancy seem mostly unbothered, though Robin’s nose keeps scrunching up at times. They’re all handling it better than Steve is— fingers digging into his legs, eyes screwed shut, breathing in and out as he tries to calm down. 

Steve makes the mistake of opening his eyes and accidentally glancing at the screen just as some awful monster jumps at them, almost giving Steve a heart attack. His hand leaves his lap to grab Robin’s hand, needing physical comfort. 

It takes him a few seconds to realize that, while the hand he just wrapped his fingers around is thin and bony like Robin’s, it’s also bigger and uncharacteristically cold. Steve glances down at it with a frown and realizes that the reason why it’s so cold is the multiple rings adorning the fingers— fingers that don’t belong to Robin. 

Because Steve reached out with the wrong hand and grabbed Eddie’s instead. 

Fuck.

He glances away from their hands and finds Eddie already looking at him. Steve knows he must look like a startled deer, but instead of the teasing expression he expects to see on Eddie’s face, his eyebrows are knitted in concern. 

“You okay, Steve?” Eddie asks softly, leaning into Steve’s space even though the noises coming from the speakers are enough to drown out their voices. 

“Not really, but um, I didn’t mean to do that, sorry, I thought I reached for Robin,” Steve nervously stammers out. He manages to get his scrambled brain cells working and lets go of Eddie’s fingers— but before Steve can fully retrieve his hand, Eddie flips his hand over, trapping Steve’s there.

Steve blinks at him.

“Does it help? Holding someone’s hand?” Eddie asks and Steve nods dumbly. “Okay, then.” 

And so Eddie slides his fingers through the spaces between Steve’s fingers, intertwining their hands.

Steve looks down at them, blinking repeatedly, expecting them to disappear. “Eds, you don’t have to—”

“Shhh, I’m happy to,” Eddie says, squeezing his hand.  Steve’s breath catching in his throat. “Don’t you worry, big boy. I’ll protect you,” he adds with a wink. 

Steve knows Eddie is trying to lighten up the mood but he doesn’t laugh it off because the truth is that he does feel safer like this, more relaxed. He gives Eddie a small smile. “Okay.” 

“I guess it’s a good thing you made me grab those napkins, huh?” Eddie says, and this time, Steve does laugh, though he muffles it behind his other hand so hopefully the girls can’t hear it. He doesn’t need them glancing over and noticing their hands— Steve is already blushing enough as it is. 

After that, Eddie turns his attention back to the screen but Steve keeps his eyes on their hands for a while, taking advantage of the glow coming from the screen to study each of Eddie’s rings, his chipped nail polish, the tattoo on the side of his wrist, the scar from a demobat bite in the back of his hand. 

When he glances back at the screen, the worst of the movie seems to be over and he’s able to push through the remaining and significantly less scary scenes by squeezing Eddie’s hand and feeling Eddie squeeze right back. 

At one point, Robin glances at him, probably to check on him and her eyes end up on their held hands, a loud gasp slipping past her lips. 

Steve whips his head at her and meets her bulging eyes. She mouths her words at him— “Oh my God!”

“I know!” Steve mouths right back.

Because this might’ve started with Eddie being a good friend and comforting Steve, but as the movie droned on, it started to feel less like that— it started to feel like more. The way Eddie started rubbing his thumb over Steve’s hand, the way he blushed when Steve started to play with one of his rings, the way they both kept glancing at the other and smiling almost shyly. Steve’s heart hasn’t stopped jackhammering against his ribcage at the thought of all of this meaning something. 

But they can’t address any of that right now and Robin seems to realize that, so after giving Steve a dorky thumbs up, she turns her attention back to the movie. 

Steve does the same. On the screen, those who survived are being rescued and Steve can breathe a little easier. Before he knows it, the end credits start rolling up and Steve finally fully relaxes. 

He expects Eddie to let go of his hand right away but to Steve’s surprise, he doesn’t. Without letting go, Eddie leans over Steve to ask the girls what they thought about the movie. 

“I probably could’ve lived without seeing that many guts,” Robin says, her nose scrunching up. 

At the same time as Nancy says, “Oh, it was good!” 

Steve stares at her, dumbfounded, but Nancy has always been the bravest out of all of them. 

“Hell yeah, Wheeler!” Eddie whoops, reaching over with the hand not currently holding Steve’s to give her a high five. 

Nancy returns it with an amused chuckle. If she notices Eddie’s other hand intertwined with Steve’s, she doesn’t show it. “What about you, Steve? What did you think?” 

“I think I’m never letting the kids rent this fucking movie,” he says with a scoff.

Eddie throws his head back with a laugh, loud and full-bellied. It’s a good thing that the movie is over because the sound reverberates around the rapidly emptying room.

Next to Steve, Robin snorts. “You know Dustin is just gonna convince Eddie to rent it for him, right?” 

“Lies and slander!” Eddie protests. “I would never corrupt the youth like that!” He says, pulling his hand and Steve’s towards his chest, clutching it as he plays the to offended part. Well, if Nancy didn’t notice they were holding hands before she sure did now. 

“You would,” Robin says with a shake of her head, “You have.”

“I resent that, Buckley.”

“She’s right, Eds. Max told me you let her try beer last week,” Steve says, voice shaking slightly from Eddie keeping their hands on his chest, letting Steve feel his heartbeat. 

It stutters at Steve’s words and his eyes go wide. “That little snitch! Okay, it was one sip and she was blackmailing me!” 

Nancy raises her eyebrow. “With what?”

Eddie’s cheeks go pink and he averts his gaze, his eyes darting to Steve for a second before focusing on the rips in his jeans, tugging at them. “Um, nothing. All I’m saying is those little shits are menaces. They’ll find a way to watch the movie, y’know?”

“Well, god-fucking-speed to them,” Steve grumbles, “I’m never watching that shit again.”

Eddie leans close. “Not even if I agree to hold your hand, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice low and accompanied by a squeeze of his hand. 

Steve flushes— from Eddie’s voice in his ear, his hand still on his, the thought of holding it like this again. He opens his mouth and closes it, he wants to say no but he’s afraid the word will come out will be an embarrassingly eager yes. 

Luckily, he doesn’t have to say anything because Nancy speaks up. “You guys ready to go?” 

They all nod and set about picking up their trash, which means Eddie finally has to let go of Steve’s hand. He tries not to look too disappointed by that but probably fails. As they start making their way out of the room, Eddie and Nancy fall into step together, engaging in conversation about their opinions on the movie, which in Eddie’s case includes a dramatic reenactment of his favorite parts.  

Steve and Robin are a few steps behind and Steve watches Eddie as he gestures wildly and makes weird noises and even falls to the ground at one point, pretending to die like one of the characters in the movie. Nancy laughs and helps him up and Steve feels a wave of affection for Eddie so strong he nearly doubles over with it. 

“Ugh,” Robin groans next to him. “Tone down the heart-eyes, dingus, it’s gross and I literally just saw someone’s insides explode.” 

“Fuck off, Robs,” Steve says, shoving her lightly, his cheeks dusted pink. She stumbles before crowding against Steve again, a bounce in her step. 

“Nope, you still have to tell me how you two ended up holding hands.”

Steve hangs a hand from his neck, wishing he could say he pulled it off by being smooth or something. God, he used to have game. “Uh, the movie was a lot and I accidentally reached for his hand instead of yours.”

Robin throws her head back with a loud cackle. “Oh Steve,” she says, holding onto Steve’s shoulder as she laughs. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“Hey!”

At Steve’s protest, Robin shrugs. “What? I called you pretty!”

Eddie comes bouncing over. “Ohhh, are we calling Steve pretty? Can I join?” He asks, throwing his arm over Steve’s shoulders. Robin meets Steve’s eyes and waggles her eyebrows. If Steve wasn’t trapped against Eddie’s side he would pinch her arm. 

“No, she’s just being annoying,” Steve says and Robin sticks her tongue out at him. 

“Doesn’t mean she isn’t right, pretty boy,” Eddie says, dropping his head to Steve’s shoulder and looking up at him, eyelashes fluttering. Steve goes warm all over. He ducks his head, unable to keep a dopey smile from stretching over his lips. 

Robin clears her throat— she and Nancy are trying not to smirk as they look between the two of them. 

Steve squirms. “Um, you ready to go, Robs?” 

“Actually,” Robin says, exchanging a look with Nancy. “Nance is giving me a ride home.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together. “What? Why?” He asks. “Is it because I threatened to push you out of the car and make you walk?” Next to him, Eddie lets out an amused snort. 

Robin waves him off. “No, it’s because um- she left a book! At my house last week! And she needs it back tonight, right Nance?”

Nancy’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “Oh, yes, it’s a very important book.”

Steve narrows their eyes at them. He’s not buying any of it. “Right.”

“Yeah! So I’ll see you tomorrow at work,” she tells Steve then to Eddie she says, “And I’ll see you, well, probably tomorrow at work too when you inevitably show up to annoy me and Steve.”

Eddie grins, wiping a fake tear. “Oh Buckley, you know me so well.”

“Yeah, yeah, sometimes I wish I knew you less,” she says but the corners of her mouth are turned upwards. 

Eddie lets go of Steve so he can give Robin a quick hug. Then she throws her arms around Steve’s shoulders. “Call me when you get home and tell me everything,” she whispers in his ear and Steve frowns. 

He already told her about the hand holding and that’s pretty much it. He doesn’t know what she thinks will happen between Eddie and him when they say goodbye right here in the middle of the street, but he nods anyway.

They each get a hug from Nancy too and then she leads Robin away towards her car.  “Bye, boys! Miss you already!” Robin says, waving enthusiastically at them. 

Steve wiggles his fingers at her and Eddie gives her a two-fingered salute, both of them chuckling in amusement. 

“Um, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Steve says when it’s just the two of them and a few other moviegoers trickling out of the cinema. He can see Eddie’s van parked just across the street while his own car is a few blocks away. 

“Nope, Stevie, I’m walking you to your car,” Eddie says with a wink. “For protection, of course.”

“You know I keep a nailbat in my trunk, right?” Steve asks with a raised eyebrow. He’s over the movie by now, not worried about some creature jumping him on his way to his car— not more than usual at least.

Eddie shrugs. “My protection then.”

“If you insist,” Steve says with a chuckle.

They start walking towards Steve’s car, the street getting darker and quieter the further away they get from The Hawk. Their shoulders keep bumping together, the back of their fingers brushing with how close they’re walking. Every time it happens, Steve wants to grab Eddie’s hand and hold it again. 

“Hey, um, sorry I dragged you to this movie,” Eddie says after a short silence. 

Steve glances at him and finds Eddie looking at him shyly. “You didn’t drag me,” he says, nudging Eddie with his elbow. “I said yes.”

“But why? If you hate horror movies so much.” 

“I like hanging out with you,” he says and Eddie’s eyes widen almost imperceptively. “And I had fun just— not during the movie. Though holding your hand wasn’t so bad.”

Eddie chuckles, ducking his head. “Mediocre hand holding is what I’m best at,” he jokes. “And I’m glad you said yes, you know I love my Stevie time, but maybe next time you can pick the movie.” 

“You mean next time we come here with Robin and Nancy?”

Eddie bites his lip, side-eyeing Steve. “Sure, yeah, or y’know just the two of us, if that’s a thing you’d want to do.”

His voice is small and he’s anxiously playing with his fingers and with a start, Steve realizes that Eddie is nervous. Cute, Steve thinks.

He tilts his head. “Like a date?” 

There’s a sharp intake of breath and then Eddie is grabbing some hair and tugging it in front of his face, but Steve still sees the way his cheeks turn red. He mumbles, “Um, yeah?”

Butterflies explode in Steve’s stomach then and he feels a dopey smile stretching over his lips. Eddie’s eyes go wide, looking hopeful at Steve’s expression. He spits the hair from his mouth, revealing a small smile tugging at his lips. “How about next Friday?” Steve asks.

A disbelieving laugh tumbles from Eddie’s lips. “Really?” When Steve nods, Eddie lets out a cute little yelp at the confirmation. “Friday it is,” he says. His eyes get a little twinkle in them. “Do I need to pretend to be scared so you’ll hold my hand?” 

“Nope,” he says, and after looking around and making sure they’re alone in the street, Steve finally reaches over and grabs Eddie’s hand, intertwining their fingers like Eddie did in the movies. 

Eddie’s mouth makes a little “o” shape as he blinks down at them, color rising in his cheeks. 

Steve tugs on his hand to get him walking again, pressed together to hide their hands between them even if it’s dark and there’s no one around.

Sooner than either of them would’ve liked, they reach the Beemer. “Here we are,” Steve says, leaning back against the car, their hands dangling in the space between them. “And we didn’t even need my nailbat.” 

“You know that’s not the only reason why I walked you to your car, right?” 

Steve’s eyebrows go up as he feigns shock. “You mean you didn’t actually expect us to get attacked by slimy monsters with razor-like teeth?”

“Nope,” Eddie says, stepping closer until he’s pressed against Steve’s body, pushing him against the car. “Not that I’d be surprised in this fucked up town but no, um, I was also hoping I’d get to do this.”

Steve opens his mouth to ask what he means by this but Eddie shuts him up by hesitantly grabbing Steve’s neck and leaning in, softly pressing his lips to Steve’s mouth, who gasps in surprise before the sound melts into a happy sigh. He lets go of Eddie’s hand so he can wrap his arms around Eddie, bringing him closer, tilting his head for a better angle so their lips move together more easily and he can taste butter and salt and the slightest hint of sugar. They keep the kiss short, knowing that despite the lack of street lights around them and the late hour, they’re still in public. 

When Eddie pulls back, his cheeks are bright pink and his eyes are sparkling, his smile giddy and so beautiful. Steve already wants to kiss him again. 

“Jesus Christ, Steve, don’t look at me like that,” Eddie groans, and Steve’s eyes snap up from Eddie’s lips, where they darted to without Steve realizing it.

He blinks. “Like what?”

“Like you want to—” His hand slides through the air as he gestures aggressively, “—eat me or something. I’m trying to be a gentleman here and not drag you into the backseat of your car.”

Steve smirks. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”

“Steeeeeve,” Eddie whines.

“Okay, okay,” Steve says, holding his hands up with a laugh. He doesn’t trust himself not to jump Eddie right now if he stays here any longer anyway. “Goodnight, Eds.” 

Eddie’s face softens. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

When neither of them move— Steve to get in the car and Eddie to go back to his van— Steve shoves him and sends Eddie’s clumsy ass stumbling back. “Go! Before monsters actually jump from the shadows and murder us.” 

“You’d protect me though, wouldn’t you, Stevie?” Eddie teases, batting his eyelashes at him. 

“Always,” Steve says, then makes shooing motions at him. “Now go.”

“Yes, your Majesty, I’m going,” Eddie says as he starts walking— backwards so he can look at Steve some more.  

Steve blows a kiss at him, making Eddie trip over nothing and stumble, but he catches himself and he catches Steve’s kiss in his hand— and then makes out with his hand, making Steve scrunch up his nose and chuckle fondly at the same time. 

He waits until Eddie turns around to get in his car, catching sight of his dopey smile on the rearview mirror as he adjusts it. But he can’t help it— he held hands with Eddie, he’s going on a date with him, he kissed him. 

Turns out Steve does have a reason to call Robin when he gets home after all. 

[eyelessfaces]

three weeks

poe dameron x reader

summary: poe has never been gone that long since you started dating; mornings happen to feel warmer when he is home.

warnings: p with minimal plot....., morning sex, handjob, piv sex, hair pulling (POE RECEIVING), this isn't just corn I promise it's mostly sweet because your honor they are in LOVE

tags: f!reader, fluff, banter, teasing:)

word count: 2.4k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

!!may the force be with you

You had fallen asleep to the featherlight stroke of his fingertips against your arm in his warm embrace; he had never been gone for that long since you started dating, and though you knew you would have to get used to being apart, you weren’t sure you actually would, ever. 

But if it always felt this way, always felt raw and pure when you found each other again like you had just fallen in love with each other all over again, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be torn apart from time to time.

His eyes are still shut when yours open, long eyelashes kissing his cheeks as his slow, steady breath tells you he’s still asleep. It is quite rare for the both of you to be able to linger in bed and enjoy a morning together, he is most of the time already long gone when you wake up, even on his days off he still spends running around everywhere. 

You softly call his name when your hand comes to rest over his bare torso, fingers twisting with the chain around his neck, mouth pressing against the light stubble of his cheek.

He stirs softly, and his face contorts into a small yawn before he turns so he can nuzzle against your own. 

“Morning,” he rasps softly, voice cracking with sleep as his eyes remain shut. His hand slips under the sheets, settling over your hip, his throat vibrating with a low hum as your fingers gently weave through his thick, messy curls. His own fingers mirror yours when they slip under your shirt, rubbing patterns onto your skin; you always wonder how he’s so warm all the time, heat radiating off his body like a living radiator.

“Morning,” you reply in a soft exhale, smiling as he drowsily blinks at you. “Slept well?”

He hums in reflection. “Better than the past three weeks” he ultimately affirms, his lips faintly pecking at the corner of your mouth.

“Corny” you mock, sighing softly when he shifts to nestle his face in the crook of your neck.

“Factual” he counters as he squeezes your hip, causing you to softly yelp in surprise and make him breathe out a laugh against your shoulder. “May seem surprising, but I actually like sleeping by your side in my bed more than I like sleeping practically on the ground in a shitty tent.” he adds, leaving a kiss just above the collar of your shirt before turning around.

“I would’ve never guessed that.” you tease. Poe takes a look at the holographic clock, turning back to you with a small frown when he realizes what time it is. Your eyes widen playfully, “I took the morning off. Surprise”

“Ouhhh,” he chants with a snide smirk, his hand crawling higher under your shirt as he presses his body close to yours again. “What a nice surprise”

“First time we can spend the morning together,” you note.

“It happened before”

You scoff. “Not by the book. You ended up being late to your own meeting” you retort with a playful smirk. The memory makes your stomach flutter; he had been particularly needy and desperate that morning, and you had had trouble trying not to laugh when he showed up to the conference room with his hair all mussed up and a faint blush over his face.

“Alright, yeah, but neither of us would’ve been happy if I left the room to get to the meeting in time huh?” he smirks, leaning in to capture your lips in a quick kiss as his hand under your shirt tickles up your ribs. “We kinda were in the middle of something”

“That we were” you acquiesce with a grin, hands joining the back of his neck to pull him back to your face again. His lips push against yours in a bruising kiss now, his free hand grasping onto your chin to part your mouth so he can slip his tongue in. He somehow manages to feel even closer to you when he works his tongue against yours, his kiss hungry and demanding as he softly grinds his hips against yours, his touch warm and impatient; your soft moan resonates within him when he cups your breast under your shirt, squeezing it softly.

He pulls away so the both of you can catch your breath. “Eager much?” you ask against his mouth, his lips still brushing against yours. 

“I mean, three whole weeks of not being able to touch you baby.”

You smile, “Mhm” you mindlessly play with the curls at his nape, hands shifting to rest over his broad shoulders, your thumb gently rubbing over a small faded scar there. He presses his forehead against yours, his warm brown eyes boring into yours with that look you know all too well. 

“I missed you” he mutters, hand smoothing over the surface of your stomach. You smile as you softly trace his face, the light stubble prickling the tips of your fingers.

“I know.” you press your lips against his again, hands shifting to grasp onto his hair; he lets out a faint groan when you bite onto his bottom lip as you pull away from the kiss. “Let me get on top of you” you demand, poking his stomach playfully.

“Oh yeah baby” he rolls onto the side, letting himself lay back down beside you. “Wouldn’t say no to that” he chuckles, tucking both his hands behind his head, a sly smirk growing over his face as you chuckle and press your hands over his bare torso, shifting to sit over his lap, your knees at either side of his hips.

You scoff when you adjust your position, softly grinding against him. “You’re fully hard already? Not even letting me work for it? Wow”

“You got that kinda effect on me,” he sighs softly, hands grabbing your hips, caressing your sides under your shirt. “I told you, three whole weeks of not being able to touch you”

You chuckle mockingly, leaning closer to his face. “Yeah, don't tell me you didn't touch yourself though” you whisper teasingly; he scoffs and wraps a hand behind your head to bring you closer, letting his mouth wander here and there against your neck.

“My hand is nothing compared to you” he grins between kisses. You shift to the side, still pressed close to him, your hand sliding down his torso and stomach to eventually reach under his boxers. He lets out a lewd groan when your hand closes around him, his nose nestling behind your ear as you start to stroke him slowly.

“My hand better?” you ask, your other hand cupping the back of his head as he breathes out against the skin of your neck, the brush of his lips warm against your skin. He hums approvingly, thumbs rubbing at either side of your hips; he always has to touch you one way or another, no matter the situation. His mouth always has to be occupied too; the brush of his lips ignites a warmth within you as he leaves faint kisses under your ear and down your neck to your collarbone, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he bucks softly into your touch. 

“Feels so good baby” he mumbles, a loud moan leaving his mouth and his eyes squeezing shut when you twist your hand just the way he likes. “Fuck” he sighs, “You’re gonna get me off like that?”

“Got a problem with that commander?” you scoff in disbelief as you tease his slit with your thumb, your hand in his hair tugging on it so you can see his face.

He sighs a soft moan, his lust-blown eyes darting up to you. “No but– Fuck– I’d like to get inside you before I remember I actually have responsibilities even on my days off” he declares in a tone he knows by experience you can’t resist, his hand shifting to your thigh, caressing it up and down.

You sigh, “You’re so impatient it’s actually terrifying.” you say as you pull your hand out of the single piece of clothing covering him, made too tight now. “You should consider yourself lucky I can’t say no to anything you ask of me” he watches with a sly smile as you rid yourself of your underwear, sliding off his own before you move back to straddle him. 

“I do consider myself lucky” he grins as he looks you up and down, his gaze full of love as he runs his hands up and down your thighs; his fingers are calloused from pushing blaster triggers and hitting the control panel buttons of ships, but the gesture is overflowing with affection. “Look at you” he croons. “C’mon babe,” he playfully swats your thigh as he shifts to get more comfortable on the bed. “Save an X-wing, ride a pilot” he teases, drawing a stupid chuckle out of you. 

He huffs out a sigh of relief when you lower yourself down onto his cock, biting onto his bottom lip once you're fully seated as he looks down at where you're connected.

He frowns, looking back up at you when you don't move after that. “Something wrong?”

“No” you declare, not offering him any other explanation. He chuckles, confused as to why you're staying still over his lap, not moving an inch.

“What then. What are you doing babe” you try to hold back from smirking as you see him grow impatient, his fingers softly kneading the meat of your thighs, trying to make you roll your hips over him. “Move”

“No” you shake your head with an insolent smile. “You're inside me, that's it, that's what you wanted” he huffs out a disbelieving laugh, throwing his head back the same way he does when you crack him a shitty joke; he's not sure he's patient enough to really enjoy this kind of joke right at this moment. “We have all morning Poe” you whine, leaning over to sink your face into the crook of his neck and leave a trail of kisses that follow along his necklace.

“Fine” he grunts softly, his arm wrapping around you to let his hand rest against your back. 

A surprised, sharp yelp escapes you when he – without warning – maneuvers and flips you around, making you land on your back; all that training happens to be useful in bed, after all. Your eyes squeeze shut when he pushes into you, the stretch of him unfamiliar again after what seemed to be ages.

“Three weeks baby, three weeks” he rams his hips into yours, tucking his face into your shoulder. “I don't have all morning”

You cup the back of his neck, nails softly digging in his skin as you hold onto him tight, your legs wrapping around him; he’s rutting into you like you’re gonna slip away from him, escape like smoke curling around his fingers and fading into oblivion. “Missed this so much,” he sighs into your ear, his words slightly scattered by the force of his movements. “Missed you so much” 

You want to give him your reciprocation, but all that comes out of you is a broken whine when he manages to reach deeper inside you; your hands bury into his curls, slightly tugging on them in response, drawing the same kind of wrecked moan out of him.

“F–Fuck okay” he chokes out after a sharp thrust. “Don’t do that if you want me to last”

“What if I don’t want you to last”

He scoffs. “Then we’ll have to fuck again because I can’t get enough of you” he declares, pressing his mouth against yours to kiss you sloppily, your hand cupping the side of his face as he continues to fuck into you, not giving up on his rhythm. He hums as he desperately licks into your mouth, his thrusts growing messy when you purposefully pull on his hair again. “Sweetheart I’m not kidding” he warns in a breathy laugh, his forehead pressing against yours. “You’re gonna make me lose it”

You brush away the strands of hair falling over his face, “Then you better hurry making me come” you tease, making him huff out a sincere laugh.

But there is no challenge Poe Dameron doesn’t take seriously.

He fucks into you soft and deep, not letting up until he has you writhing underneath him, staving off his own release for yours. It almost feels like you’re melting into the mattress when you start to feel it, your fingers tightening in Poe's hair as he babbles incoherently into your ear, so close to his own peak; he finally lets himself go when you’re there, his stifled moan into your ear when he releases inside you extending the momentary haze buzzing in your head. 

It almost feels like you black out for a second; “Are you okay my love?” Poe asks concerned by your absent, weak blinks as his hand cups your face, his thumb gently tracing back and forth against your cheek. 

You offer him a small nod, and he shoots you a smile before kissing your forehead and jumping out of bed, coming back later with a washcloth to clean you up.

Then everything feels quiet again. The soft heaving of your breathing as his head rests over your stomach, his legs tangled with yours, the soft tickle of his fingers tracing circles and random shapes over any piece of bare skin he finds over you.

“I missed you too,” you declare in a weak mutter. “I didn’t say it back earlier.” 

You don’t see his smile, but you know it is there as he leaves a kiss over the surface of your tummy. He hums softly as you absent-mindedly play with his hair.

“I can't wait for this war to be over.” he admits. “We'll settle on Yavin, in a nice house not too far from my dad's,” he exhales softly through his nose at the idea of it all before he continues, “We'll have mornings to ourselves, like this, and we will have breakfast in our backyard where we’ll grow all kinds of plants and trees from all over the galaxy” he smiles, earning a sweet, longing chuckle from you that seems to still in the air. He pauses, waits for a moment before he says it– 

“I want to grow old with you.”

It’s in these moments that time feels like it slows down, but Poe sometimes wishes he could put this galaxy to a pause just so he could have more moments like these with you.

—

any and every comment is greatly appreciated!!

star wars taglist: @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @whatthefishh @dameronshandholder @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @spider-starry @jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @friedwings @luxisluxurious @stvnnie @dowbastan @il0vebeingdelulu @hammerhead96 @unear7hly

[starlightguh]

The Sharpest Tongue

Word count: 2,822

Summary: What if the stone Sylus won hadn't been the right one to send him and MC home to Linkon? As MC struggles to learn the local language, she finds herself the subject of the other warriors in the clan. Too bad it seems like Sylus has the sharper tongue amongst them all.

Tags: Cunnilingus, Grasslands AU, Jealous!Sylus

A/N: This is a bit shorter than I had planned, but I wanted to write something for the grasslands AU and saw someone mention we needed more jealousy grassland stories, so here you go! 100% transparency, I could not find anything on Talanian language, so I used Mongolian words, I'm not familiar with the language so if there are mistakes, I apologize!! I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Find this fic on Ao3 as well!

The Khan had given Sylus the bright red stone for his victory in the battle against the best warriors in the clan. My worries weren’t for nothing as there wasn’t any trace of meta flux emanating from it. No matter how hard either of us tried, we couldn’t resonate with it.

So we were stuck in the grasslands.

For someone who should have been happy due to our victory, both me and Sylus held somber faces around the celebratory fires and festivities. I could feel his red eyes staring at my downcast face as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“We’ll just keep searching kitten…As long as we’re together we can keep looking for a way to return home.”

I inhaled deeply and nodded silently as I turned to look at him, his expression was really soft and full of apology. I wanted to go home badly. But…Sylus had a point, wallowing won’t do anything. We’ll just make a plan to find a way back to Linkon.

I steeled myself by fixing my slouched posture and closing my eyes to take deep breaths. After a few moments I opened my eyes and smiled at Sylus, “Well I guess now is the time to embrace the nomad lifestyle…Until we find our way back home that is.”

Sylus stands, my eyes lingering on his distracting buff physique as he holds out his hand.

“Let���s not weep and try to make the most of our time together, hm? Shavanika.”

His baritone voice stirs an excitement in my belly as I take his hand and he begins to twirl me to the rhythm of the festive music the villagers are playing by the campfire. I feel the beads in my hair slap my cheeks as I spin around the orange hues of the warm flames near me. For a brief while as me and Sylus danced around the flames, my anxieties had drifted away. I was grateful to have him by my side and ease my worries.

My bare feet feel unsteady as I haphazardly try to follow the rhythm of an unfamiliar tune, but the warm and strong arms of the silver-haired warrior in front of me hold me steady. I smile and laugh at Sylus’ serious expression as we dance and lose ourselves to a night full of joy.

—————————

After the festival, we packed up and moved to travel alongside the rest of the villagers. Me and Sylus agreed we would adapt to our surroundings of the people around us as we tried to find any clues about a way home.

I was not the fastest learner, but I did get a few things down, the women taught me duties I was expected to help with, from herding livestock, sewing, cooking, and laundry, I was slowly earning my place amongst the others. However, I was struggling with learning the language. I could pick up a few words here and there, but I couldn’t really understand or communicate as properly as I would like.

Then there was Sylus, he was a polyglot so picking up the language wasn’t difficult for him. He must have been fluent only after a solid two weeks of study. I was envious, but also grateful since I relied on his help a lot to learn and understand.

The warriors happily accepted Sylus, he easily fit in and would help them with hunts for resources as well as military strategies and ideas. The Khan favored him a lot and Tara told me whispers of them wanting to promote Sylus to a general title.

While we hadn’t been traveling with our clan for more than a month, we easily slipped into our roles quickly. And now it seems we quickly have found ourselves involved in more politics than we would like.

It was like any other day, I was riding my cream-colored stallion through the grassy fields trying to get the flock of sheep on the right path. I called out the different sounds and commands I was taught while keeping a stead-fast pace on horseback.

My hunter's instincts kicked in as I noticed one sheep was away from the herd, and upon further investigation, it was being hunted by a hungry coyote.

“Shit,” I hissed to myself and acted quickly as I grabbed a rope from my satchel. As the coyote pounced, I lassoed it and used my strength to pull him away from the sheep.

I was heaving and sweaty as I just lifted the clueless sheep back to the herd. As I was getting back on my horse, I heard some whistles call out to me. I glanced around and noticed a group of four warriors walking up and cooing at me.

I didn’t really recognize them, I only knew they were of the same clan since their chest guards had the same color ropes that Sylus wore. The men spoke to me in Talanian, but I could only pick out words like ‘strong’ and ‘brave.’

“I uh…am not familiar with the language yet, chlaarai .”

They seemed to just smile as one made a comment to the group in Talanian, they laughed and just waved goodbye toward me as they rode off.

I didn’t think much of this encounter until the next day.

We had set up camps deep in the Northern Grasslands, orange was taking over the skies as the dawn broke. I was hanging clothes I had just washed in the river on a clothesline outside one of the elder's yurts.

Behind me I heard the sharp tongue of Talanian, I glanced and noted those same big warriors from the other day were talking. I had paid them no mind as I did my duties.

Suddenly I heard the sharp thuds of angry footsteps behind me and a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around my waist. I glanced up and saw a very pissed-off Sylus glaring off in the direction of the four other men.

He yelled at them in Talanian and growled when the other men responded in what I could only assume was a taunt. Sylus let go of my waist and marched up to one of the men and grabbed him by his leathers. People started to gather to watch the rowdy commotion.

I turned and saw Tarna and sighed in relief since she could explain what was going on, “Hey, Tarna….What exactly is happening?” I asked her urgently as it sounded like the men were raising their voices.

“Well…It seems the Khan’s second son Gansu said something about your er….” She paused and looked shy when translating what was said, “birthing hips, and how he wanted you as a wife to bear his children.”

I stood frozen as it all clicked into place. I looked over at Sylus who was still arguing with them, a scowl marred on his face.

“Sylus came in and said they shouldn’t speak about you that way that you were his beloved. Gansu told him that it didn’t matter to him unless you two were wedded or you were pregnant.”

“Seriously?!? If he’s the son of a Khan he can marry whoever he wants. Why would he want me?”

Tarna shook her head at me, “That’s why Sylus is arguing, he says that you are with him and will never have anyone else’s children.”

The arrogant Gansu held a smirk as he practically hissed at Sylus, a dark expression glazed over Sylus’ face. I’ve only ever caught glimpses of Sylus angry, but never this murderous.

“What did he say?” I asked Tarna, my voice full of worry. I could feel the icy chill of Sylus’ anger even from a distance.

“Gansu just said ‘well whoever takes it keeps it’ as a threat… I think you should go over and stop Sylus, if he gets in a fight with the Khan’s son they could severely punish him,” Tarna warned me.

I nodded and without a second thought, I ran up behind Sylus and gently placed my hand on his lower back. His tense body seemed to ease up a bit at my touch as I tried my hardest to speak in Talanian.

“ Amarkhan bai….S-Shavanika …” Fight not, beloved . These were the only words I could best make out with my limited knowledge.

Silently he grabbed my hand and glared down Gansu as he turned to walk away with me. I felt his grip on my hand tighten as Gansu and his men still taunted behind us. We began walking off towards our yurt and it wasn’t until we were a safe distance away I had to whimper to Sylus.

“Your grip is too tight it hurts,” I cried.

He seemed to snap out of his trance and he softened his grip and rubbed his large thumb soothingly across my hand, “Sorry sweetie… I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“I don’t exactly know what was said, but Tarna translated some of what you guys were saying. I didn’t realize the Khan’s son and his friends saw me herding sheep yesterday.”

“The Talanian language is very harsh, most of the words are very direct. The disgusting words from the Khan’s second son really got under my skin is all… Why didn’t you tell me you ran into him yesterday?”

“I didn’t think it was important… Also, I hardly saw you yesterday,” I sigh, “You came back to our tent pretty late… Are you sure you weren’t up practicing Talanian with the other village girls?” I hiss a bit. While the Khan’s son may be chasing my skirts, I can’t ignore the fact that all the girls of the village have been trying their hardest to catch Sylus’ eye.

Sylus stopped in his tracks and growled he turned to me and looked down with a sharp gaze, “How many times do I need to express to you I’m not interested in the other village girls?”

I match his glare and put my hands on my hips, “And how many times do I have to tell you I can handle myself, the Khan’s son doesn’t scare me. I’ll just refuse him.”

Sylus tsked his lips and leaned down to lift me up on his shoulder.

“Hey! Put me down!”

“No. It seems like I need to practice Talanian with the only village girl who matters to me,” he says sharply. He gives my butt a playful smack as I’m hoisted over his shoulder, my face in the direction of his backside.

I smack his butt back and he just chuckles, “You’re not getting out of this one Shavanika, so simmer down kitten.”

When he strutted into our tiny little yurt and set me down, his red eyes shined with a mixture of excitement and mischief. His hand remained on my waist as he spoke in a low and seductive tone.

My back arched at the feeling of his hands trailing down my waist and gathering my skirts up in his large rough palms. He set his other palm in the dip on my hip as he stared at me with almost an appraising look in his eye. “Let’s start with the lesson…What did that man call these?”

His left dominant hand was under my skirt caressing my thigh, I let out a shaky breath as I closed my eyes and tried to remember the foreign words spoken earlier.

“T-Toro? Kha-?” I sputtered out as his palm found its way to one of my bare-asscheeks. He squeezed it and tsked his lips as he brought his face closer to mine and he spoke lowly.

“Torkah Khongo,” the purr in his voice did nothing but further my arousal. I was being engulfed by the dominant energy Sylus was putting out. It didn’t take very much for me to become putty in his strong hands.

His other hand reached under my skirt as well and without further notice, the lengthy skirt that usually met my ankles were now scrunched up at my waist. Underwear wasn’t a common thing within the tribe, so I had been forced to forgo that luxury and be commando under my lengthy traditional clothing. I think for a situation such as a lustful Sylus, it was beneficial to be as naked as possible.

“Do you know what the translation is?” He quirked a brow.

“B-Birthing Hips?”

“Mhmm,” there was a slight growl to his response, “he said that you had the birthing hips to bear him many sons.” Sylus gripped my hips in a tightening grip. “Too bad for him these hips are miniikh.”

Sylus dropped to his knees in a squat as his mouth bit a part of my inner thigh, his hands rubbing the bare skin before him. “Do you know the translation?”

His mouth placed hot and wet kisses in my inner thigh, teasing me by being so close to where I actually wanted his mouth. I gasped out an answer as he was torturing me with kisses, “M-Mine?”

“Good girl, seems like you do know more than I thought,” he whispers breathlessly, “Let me reward you.”

He then licked my dripping slit, I let out a whimper in surprise.

“Tell me, who do these hips belong to?” He asked as he pulled away from licking my heat.

“Y-You.”

He smacked my thigh at my answer, “Ah-Ah-Ah, in Talanian sweetie.”

“ Ta,” I moaned out as he suckled on my sensitive pearl.

With a pop of his lips, he pulled away and smirked, “Hmm that’s a good answer, but I have a better one. Repeat after me: Nökhör .”

The pronunciation of the word feels strange as I try my best to repeat it, “noct-core?”

Sylus just shakes his head and repeats it slower for me, when I finally pronounce it right he rewards me by entering one of his fingers into my dripping center.

“Keep saying it sweetie, practice makes perfect,” he chuckles and his mouth finds my center again as he slowly devours me.

With his finger slowly pumping me and his greedy tongue flickering on my sensitive folds, my voice is nothing but a loud and needy whine of this new word he’s taught me and I haven’t a clue what it means. All I know is Sylus likes it as he happily groans into my dripping cunt.

“Louder. I want the whole tribe to hear you scream it, so everyone knows we belong to each other and no one else,” his lower face is dripping in my essence and his red eyes have a bit of a manic and desperate look as I look down on him.

“Sylus….” I lose my mind as he now has three fingers in me and the mouth of a sinner as he loudly slurps at my folds with his sharp tongue.

Ecstasy and euphoria wash over me as I come on his face with that new and unfamiliar word on my tongue. My knees shake and nearly give out, but Sylus stands and lifts me up so my legs are wrapped around his middle.

I lean my head forward as I pant into his ear, “What’s the translation of that word.”

He laughs as he rubs my back while I come down from my high, “Why, it’s my future title…It means ‘husband.’”

“Sylus! How bold of you to assume!”

He frowned at this and glared at me, “I'm not assuming anything, but unless you want to be the wife of the Khan’s son, then you must be mine…I can’t protect you from the leaders otherwise.”

I blush, “I-It’s just so embarrassing….I never thought about marriage.”

He smirks a bit, “Well I'm glad I can change your mind, at least while we’re here. Linkon has a very different culture from the grasslands, and we can talk about a proper marriage when we return home. Deal?”

“Fine but you’re not knocking me up while I'm here,” I huff at him as he lays me down on our pelts and strips off the rest of his clothes.

“I make no promises, but I’ll do my best. You’re just too tempting, Shavanika.”

“Only for you my Nökhör.”

That night Sylus made me scream so loud that the Khan’s son did nothing but glare daggers as Sylus confidently walked through the village the next day I, on the other hand, was forced to stay in bed due to my wobbly knees. When I finally returned to my duties after a day's rest, the other girls just giggled as they saw me.

Tarna translated a message for me that the elders are happy for whatever blessings me and Sylus marriage may bring, but to keep it to ourselves at night. I was horrified and embarrassed, while Sylus walked around as the proud warrior both in the grasslands and in the bedroom.

The strongest warrior and the sharpest tongue will always come out on top I suppose.

~fin~

Translation guide:

Shavanika - Beloved

Chlaarai - Sorry

Amarkhan bai - Fight not

Torkah Khongo - Birthing Hips

Miniikh - Mine

Ta - You

Nökhör - Husband

[tinytalkingtina]

Cool Whip

Rating M | WC 1330 | Ao3 link

Tags: getting together, first kiss, innuendo, bisexual steve and eddie, eddie speed-runs a sexuality crisis, inappropriate use of whipped cream, fast burn (these two have never gone slow in their lives), fade to black

Written for the STWG July 28 prompt "Oh. Oh."

Steve stared at Eddie in complete silence.

Eddie fidgeted under his gaze. “So. Perhaps. In this instance, giving into the gremlin that lives inside my head was not the best choice I could have made,” he said sheepishly.

“Really Edward. You don’t say.” Steve was still holding the incriminating weapon, had been since he confiscated it. Every so often he twirled it around in his hands.

“What if you uhhh, did it back to me? We’ll be even?” he offered. “Come on, it’s fine, I won’t even fight you on it!”

“Can’t do that because we’re at my house, not yours, and this was my last pair of clean pants and underwear. So, unless you want to walk around like Winnie the fucking Pooh for the rest of the night, maybe we don’t spray whipped cream down your jeans too.” 

Steve ran an agitated hand through his hair. “I’m going to go take a shower and wash this shit off of my junk now, ‘kay? Just put the ice cream back in the freezer, we can do a movie night together another time, I guess.” Disappointment was written all over his face. Oops, Eddie didn't realize how much he must have been looking forward to watching Raiders of the Lost Ark. 

As Steve turned around to go, Eddie knew he should let him. Unfortunately, Nosnum Eidde, the impulsive gremlin living in his brain, was still firmly in control.

“Wait, let’s not waste it. Let me clean you up!” He blurted out.

What?

“What?” Steve was staring again, this time with eyes wide in confusion.

“Let me…clean up the mess I made. On your body.”

“Eddie I really can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

It did sound like a joke didn’t it. But if it was a joke, why was the thought sending sparks of lighting along his spine. 

“I don’t. Don’t think I’m joking right now,” Eddie said slowly. “Give me a minute here.”

It wasn’t like his brain had a perfect track record when it let Nosnum have the wheel. Like those times it had told him that he could climb the tallest tree in the trailer park without getting stuck at the top, or point out how hypocritical O’Donnell was acting during class without getting detention. 

But it had also gotten things right on occasion. And with Steve standing so close, it was busy pointing out things Eddie hadn't thought about before: like for example, when Steve chewed on his lips in agitation, they became invitingly plump. And, despite the growing damp spot on the front, those jeans were still hugging Steve's ass perfectly. 

Perhaps most importantly, he wasn't rushing forward to punch Eddie's lights out for insinuating, well. He just stood there with a faint blush coloring his cheeks. In his house, a place currently unoccupied by anyone else, not even Robin. While wearing a shirt that was just on the wrong side of too tight with his hair coiffed for a night out and oh my G-d—

“Steve…was tonight supposed to be a date?” Eddie was shocked the question fell out of his mouth so steadily.

The blush on Steve's face grew darker. “I mean, sort of? Was getting mixed signals from you but—yeah.” He shrugged. “We haven’t been able to hang out one on one since I figured things out. Thought I’d see how tonight went before making a move.”

“Oh. You. You had a plan to seduce me.” Eddie wheezed a little. "You like me like that?"

“I uh, kind of put two and two together about a month ago. Had a really long talk with Robin, and turns out apparently normal men don't want to, you know, make out with their guy friends. Or imagine Harrison Ford holding a whip when he’s all sweaty and—wait, what about you, Mr. 'Propositioning My Friends To Use My Mouth?’ How long have you known?"

“About five minutes consciously.” Eddie said in a strangled voice. “Maybe ten if we consider what I did to your pants subliminal foreplay.”

Steve snorted. The gremlin in Eddie’s brain was convinced this made him even more attractive. Huh, maybe this had been going on for longer than he had realized, if a snort could set him off.

“Not really sure what submarines have to do with Cool Whip, but yeah we can probably count that. Welcome to the ‘part gay’ club man! You’re taking this really well, no offense.” Steve pat him on the back, the brief contact sending more sparks through his veins.

“Yeah, in 1985 I’d probably be doing something destructive right about now.” Eddie agreed. “But the me of 1987 can’t really muster up the energy for another panic attack after finding out about inter-dimensional portals or. You know. Everything else that happened.” Wow, real smooth Eddie, way to kill the mood of whatever fever dream was happening right now.

“Besides,” he tried for a joke. “1987 Eddie has a high school diploma. My brain’s so full of facts there’s no more room for anything else unless we shove it into my mouth and—“ His eyes widened as he caught up with what he was saying. He ducked to hide behind his hair. “Uh, what I mean was, um. Yeah I’ve got nothing to say for that.”

Steve gave another adorable snort and walked closer. “We may have to work our way up to that one, but maybe I could give your mouth something else to put its lips around instead?”

“Dude that doesn’t even—what, do you want me to vacuum seal your mouth with mine? How would we, wait, please tell me that isn’t the secret move you pulled that had all the cheerleaders in school losing their minds over?” Eddie squeaked out.

Steve blushed again even as he laughed. “First of all I only ever actually dated like, three people in high school, I wasn’t as big a slut as rumors made me out to be. And okay that might have sounded better in my head, but in my defense I kind of can’t think of anything but kissing you right now.”

Eddie rapidly nodded his head. “Yes, that’s. We should do that. Please.” After a slight roadblock in which both of them on autopilot tried to take the lead and grab the other’s face, they finally managed to actually press their lips against each other.

And oh. Oh. 

Look, this was far from Eddie’s first kiss. But this was the first time someone still wanted to kiss after seeing him eat eggs with maple syrup on them. Or who knew he secretly slept with his childhood stuffed animal. Because Steve wasn’t angling to get cheaper weed, or trying to get back at his parents by having Eddie knock on the door in his ripped jeans for a date.

Steve knew Eddie’s whole sordid history, and kissed him anyway, holy shit.

The kiss itself was short and relatively chaste. But after they stopped, Steve didn’t immediately lean out of Eddie’s space. Instead he gave the tip of Eddie’s nose a quick peck before resting their foreheads together. A giggle bubbled up out of Eddie’s chest.

Steve rapped his knuckles on Eddie’s head. “Everything okay up there?”

“You like me. Steeeeve Harringtonnn likes me!” Steve smiled softly at him as he cupped Eddie’s cheek in his palm.

“Yeah, I do, you big dork. And I’d love to continue this, but because someone sprayed whipped cream onto my junk, I need to go shower it off before it gets even crunchier because wow, this is uncomfortable.”

Now it was Eddie’s turn to blush. “Sorry about that again. But if you want maybe uh, maybe I could join you and actually help clean it off?”

Steve smirked. “I think we can work something out, yeah. Come on.”

Running up the stairs while Steve tightly held his hand, Eddie decided that perhaps this time, his brain might have had the right idea after all.

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

Later that evening:

Eddie: "Wait, I was flirting with you the entire Spring Break from hell wasn't I."

Steve: "That was point #1 on Robin's 'Eddie is into you' list."

Eddie: "In hindsight this does explain why she kept saying I could be myself around her last week. I used the opportunity to give her a 2 hour long intro to metal music lesson."

Steve: "Yeah, she said I still owe her for that."

@augustjustice @stellarspecter Come get your fast burn Steddie!

[leighsartworks216]

Sweet Tooth

Sylus x gn!Reader

I was nodding off while writing this cuz 1. I need a nap so bad and 2. It's just so peaceful the vibes of this fic are really nice

Edit: fixed some minor phrasing

Warnings: biting, kissing, established relationship, fluff, food/baking

Word Count: 1,771

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No matter how long you spend with Sylus in the N109 Zone, your sleep schedule remains persistent. Sure, you stay up as late as you can to spend the night with him while he’s up and about, but the darkness, warm ambiance, and your body’s own internal clock turn against you sooner or later.

Sylus does the same for you, too. He grumbles about it, but he does enjoy spending the morning with you when you’re extra cuddly, searching for the last vestiges of your sleep before you have to get up. He’s better at staying awake, but you catch him dozing a lot, head tilted back and eyes closed as he lounges in a chair near you. It’s adorable. You love the effort you both put into trying to maximize your time together.

But today, Sylus is conked out. He was gone for most of the night and came back worn and weary. He didn’t have any visible injuries, but when you cupped his cheek and used your Evol, you could feel how drained his own was. He nearly fell asleep right there, eyes closing dangerously as he leaned into your touch and the soothing warmth of your ability. You dragged him to his bedroom, kissed his forehead, and told him to sleep. He mumbled vague threats about you waking him up, but they fell into silence before he finished any of them.

With the mansion to yourself for the day, you have to find ways to occupy yourself.

The twins and you play Kitty Cards for a bit, but they cheat so horrendously and tease you for losing, so that’s out until Sylus can sit behind you and glare at them any time their fingers try to slip more than one card from the draw pile.

You go through his books. A few are interesting; texts about Protocores and Evols stealing your attention for a time. But they have you yawning and wanting to crawl into bed with Sylus.

You even go to his dedicated exercise space, but without a partner to spar with, you don’t even work up a sweat before leaving.

Normally, you aren’t so restless. Any other time you had to spend the day with yourself, you were able to settle on something for long stretches of time, even into the night if you weren’t careful. Now, you can’t sit still for 30 minutes.

You check the time. 9:56. It’s not even 10 yet and you’re already struggling to come up with things to do. You fall into a couch in one of the lounge rooms with a humph, pulling out your phone and preparing to fall into a doomscroll through old Moments posts.

Fortunately, one of the first few posts is the perfect motivator not to: a recipe promising to be the number 1 rated chocolate chip recipe. You click on the article and scroll through until you reach the comments.

These are the best cookies I’ve ever had!!!

mmmnn wanna eat the dough raw its sooo gooooood

Tossing my store-bought cookies out rn I will only be making these from now on

It seems promising enough… You look at all the ingredients you need. It also seems simple enough for you to manage without burning the place down. You’d be surprised if the kitchen wasn’t already stocked with everything listed. But just in case…

You head down to the kitchen where the chef is coming up with meal suggestions for dinner. He’s jovial, always red in the cheeks and bright eyed. You wonder how he got hired on. You ask for help gathering the ingredients you need, and he’s happy to bounce from cabinet to fridge getting everything. Once they’re all laid out on the counter, you thank him and ask if you can have the kitchen to yourself. He bows and tells you to have fun, going over his list of notes as he leaves.

You turn the oven on, setting it to the correct temperature and letting it preheat. You forgot to ask the chef about bowls and measuring cups, but you find them easily and set them on the counter with the ingredients. Once you have music playing (quietly) on your phone, it’s easy to lose yourself in the process.

The world hones in on each step. You measure out the flour and sugars, mixing them together with a whisk. Without any preplanning, you have to soften the butter in the microwave before you can add it. Eggs are cracked against the countertop, calcium-rich shells scraping quietly as you set them aside to throw away later. A dash of vanilla, and a generous amount of chocolate chips, and the dough is ready.

You find a couple baking sheets and line them with parchment paper. As you roll small amounts of dough in your hands, you bounce on your feet, excited to taste your sweet treats in just 15 short minutes. You pinch off a little extra from one dough-ball and pop it into your mouth. If this was a preview for the finished product… You hurry to get them into the oven and set a timer.

To distract yourself from constantly checking the time, you clean up your mess. You put away what you remember the designated locations of, and set the rest aside for somebody else to deal with.

Hm, you should probably leave some for the chef, as a thank you for letting you borrow the space. And save a few for Luke and Kieran, or else they’d bug you for “forgetting” them for the rest of your days.

You open up cabinets until you find plates. There’s a set, the perfect size to divide the batch of cookies between three parties. You reach for it, stretching to be on your tip-toes. You gasp as a hand comes into your vision. When you try to back up, you hit a wall of muscle. A clingy wall of muscle, if the way his arm wraps around your waist and holds you there is any indicator. He grabs a plate from the stack.

“Ah, I need three,” you quickly tell him. He sighs, but does as you say, bringing down three plates and setting them on the counter. As soon as his hand is free, you’re being fully embraced by Sylus, both arms holding you close to him as he presses his face into your neck. You reach up to run your fingers through his hair. “Did I wake you up?”

It doesn’t seem like he’ll answer for a moment, until he breathes in deeply and presses a soft kiss along your shoulder. “No. I could smell whatever you’re making through the whole mansion.” His voice is quiet and rough, affected by his slumber.

You smile and turn your head to kiss his forehead. “I’m making cookies,” you say. “They’ll be done soon. I was gonna leave some for the chef and the twins. But most of them will be just for us.”

You glance at the timer, anxious to know how much time is left, but you still have several minutes before you need to worry about it. You tap his arms and he reluctantly loosens his hold, enough for you to turn around and hug him back. His arms tighten once more.

“You’re clingy when you’re tired, you know that?”

He huffs a laugh against your skin. “As if you haven’t insisted on having me carry you around everywhere before because you were, quote, ‘too tired to walk anymore.’”

You tug playfully at his hair. He groans and bites your neck. It’s not harsh, but it does sting. You’re sure it’ll leave a mark regardless.

“Now you’re just being mean,” he growls.

You laugh and kiss his cheek. “Only a little. I think it’s cute.”

He doesn’t answer. His teeth nibble lightly along an invisible path, interspersed with light kisses. One of your hands combs through his soft hair, scratching his scalp lightly as you pet him. The other trails slowly along his back, side, and around to his stomach, searching for injuries hidden beneath his clothes. He notices, but he says nothing.

“Are you okay?” you whisper to him.

He pulls his mouth from your skin, finally lifting his head to look down at you with half-lidded eyes. The striking red of his irises seem softer right now, like the delicate plumage of a cardinal. “I’m alright.”

You study his face, as if you’d know if he was lying to you. But you believe him. So you nod and press a feather-light kiss to his lips. He sighs at the contact, like he’d never been touched so sweetly for hundreds of years. It’s such a beautiful sound.

The oven’s alarm startles you out of the moment. Sylus groans with a frown, letting you go and stepping away until his back hits the kitchen island. Your hand squeezes his side apologetically before you pull away.

You don a couple of oven mitts and open the oven door. The cookies are all aligned on the baking sheets, golden brown and slightly oozy from the overkill of chocolate you added. You excitedly pull each pan out and set them on the stovetop, before turning off the oven.

The recipe says to let them cool for five minutes… but you don’t have the patience for that today. You grab one of the plates from the counter and a spatula from a drawer, and carefully deposit some cookies onto the plate. You’re positively beaming when you bring them over to Sylus, holding the plate up to him.

“Want one?”

He hums. “Yes, but…” He takes the plate from you and sets it behind him. “You’ll burn your mouth if you eat one now.”

You half-heartedly glare up at him. “C’mon, Sy, I’ll be careful. I worked hard on these!”

“And you can stand to wait a few more minutes to taste the fruits of your labor, sweetie.”

“You just want more cuddles, don’t you?”

“Of course.” He grins. “Is there any better way to pass the time?”

You sigh, long and dramatic. But you wrap your arms around him, resting your head on his chest, right over his erratic heartbeat. He tangles a hand in your hair this time, cupping the back of your neck to hold you in place.

He feels the exact moment you go to reach for the plate and snatches your hand away from it, holding it captive by intertwining your fingers together. “Sneaky, but I’m not tired enough to pull that trick, kitten.”

You chuckle and press your nose against his septum. “It was worth a shot.”

[blackwidownat2814]

Steal My Thunder (T.Owens)

Pairing: Tyler Owens x female reader, Tyler Owens x shy!reader, Tyler Owens x insecure!reader

Word Count: 462

A/N: Welcome to my first Tyler Owens fic! I was throwing fic ideas around before I even saw the movie. I watched several interviews and other stuff on YouTube and took notes even. Then after seeing it the third time, I started working on this story. I don't anticipate this being a real long story, but I also will be a little slow to update because of work or writer's block or working on a crochet project I really need to finish. What I'm really saying is please be patient with me. Secondly, like in my other works, I'd planned to make this with a plus size!reader in mind, but I decided to go with insecure because I want to try and be a little more inclusive. Also, unless otherwise stated, my readers are always female readers. Lastly, I'm already working on Chapter 1, so keep an eye out for that. However, if you really like this, please let me know and I can tag you in future updates. And as always, I will be crossposting this to AO3. If you see this story anywhere besides AO3 or Tumblr, it's stolen Kthxbye! PS: Thanks to KJ & Jordyn for their help in beta-ing and title/chapter ideas! Love y'all!

Prologue

You were a Lead Meteorologist for the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.  You should not be handling school age tour groups.  You were just about DONE with being treated like a secretary.  The rest of them thought that just because Kate was gone that they could go back to treating you like they did before her.

You were quiet, shy, and someone whose love language was acts of service, so you loved to help people out.  The problem was that your co-workers abused that part of you.  They asked to lead the school groups, bring everyone coffee, put together packets for meetings, etc.  Complete nonsense…and you were done.

It was then, as you mentally typed up your resignation, that you received a serendipitous call from Kate herself.

“I believe the sayin’ is ‘No man left behind’.”

“You’re not an US Army Ranger, B.”

“Yeah, well…”  You trailed off, not wanting to burden your friend with your issues.  Kate always told you that it was okay to talk to her when you needed someone, but you were stubborn.  You were very much of the ‘friends aren’t therapists’ mindset.

“Talk to me B.”

“I’m happy for you, ya know?  You’re back to doing’ something I know you loved.  I can see it in your eyes with each video or stream I watch.”

“Okay, keep your secrets…and thank you.  I am happy.”

“So…what can I do for ya?  Why are you botherin’ me on my lunch hour?”

“Damn!  Sorry about that B.”

“You know I don’t actually care.  Tell me what’s up.”

“I’m callin’ with a job off-”

“I’ll take it.”

“Woah, I haven’t even said what it-”

“I don’t care.  Ever since you left, and because I’m a huge push over, everyone’s been walking all over me.  You know I had to do three tours today?”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“I know Kate.  Just…what’s the job anyway?”  Your friend was silent for a moment, before you heard her exhale.

“It’s storm data analysis really.”

“Elaborate.”

“We’re trying to really get down to the nitty gritty with the data from the EF-5 we got to dissipate last season and see where to improve, how to catalog it in our info database, etc.”

“I’m in”, you said.  “Y’all won’t treat me like some secretary, I’ll be close to home again, and I’ll get to spend all my time with you.”

“We most definitely will not treat you like some secretary.  We’re equal opportunity storm chasers out here.”

You tossed your empty sandwich bag into the trash and pulled up Word to start drafting your resignation letter.

“Say, what are the benefits as a Tornado Wrangler?”  Before Kate could reply, you heard Boonie baby! Woo! in the background.

With that enthusiasm, what could possibly go wrong?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging: @buckysdollforlife @13braincellsonly

[megwritesriddles]

Heavenly Torture ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 11 - Teasing & Degradation. After Hogwarts, Reader and Neville end up working together at Noltie's Botanical Novelties. Reader soon discovers she holds an unexpected power over Neville, one she'll have fun exerting over him at her whim.

Tags: Teasing, Degradation, Oral sex (m receiving), Neediness, Begging, Virgin!Neville, Sub!Neville, Dom!Reader, Slytherin!Reader, Set post Battle of Hogwarts, Coworkers to lovers (??).

Word count: 4.8k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: I know I'm running a day behind right now, I'll try my best to catch up when I can (hopefully monday)!! Another day, another submissive pathetic man... lol!! Also why did this end up so long... all this backstory for what?? Why do I keep doing this?? Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Getting the job at Noltie’s Botanical Novelties, the garden shop on Diagon Alley, had been one of the most relieving moments of your life. Not only did you have an income secured, but they’d hired you despite you having been in Slytherin. It seems silly for you to have been worried about this, given that people are starting to heavily advocate against stereotyping based on houses, but that didn’t mean it had actually stopped happening. At the moment, Slytherins were quite radioactive. Less than a year out from the war, all Slytherins near your age were assumed to be Death Eaters who just escaped consequence based on their age. This, of course, was not true for most of you, and certainly not for you. You’d been on the right side from… well, perhaps not the start, it takes time to shake your upbringing, but probably from some time in the fifth year. However, most people only remembered you as a Slytherin, and that was a decidedly bad thing to be currently. You knew you should have made more appearances at Dumbledore’s Army meetings, but back then you were facing the same issue, avoiding the meetings because when you did go, people would be distrusting of you because of the colour of your tie. Now people barely remembered that you’d been a member at all. It was frustrating beyond belief, but you just had to keep going. 

The job at Noltie’s was an undoubted blessing, just a few years ago it would have been a no-brainer for you to get the job, given your expertise, but this year it had truly felt like it wouldn’t happen for you. When you’d gone in to pick up your uniform about a week before starting, Edward Noltie himself had confessed to having been a Slytherin himself in his school days. You wouldn’t have guessed it, the kookie old man certainly reminded you more of the types that come out of Hufflepuff, but you told yourself to stop stereotyping, you had learned its inaccuracies over and over by now. It amused you slightly how much he tried to separate himself from the Slytherin label, only claiming the identity in the past tense, while most Gryffindors were likely to wear their Gryffindor scarves until at least their 200s. You thanked him anyway for his understanding, emphasising once again that you’d had no ties to the Death Eaters. As you were leaving with the bag containing your uniform, he stopped you.

“We actually have another employee with us from your year group at Hogwarts, a very talented young man, instrumental in winning the war, we’re lucky to have him, really. Joined a few months ago,” Noltie chuckled. You smiled and nodded awkwardly over your shoulder. You knew exactly who he was referring to. 

There’d never really been any doubt in your mind that Noltie had been talking about Neville Longbottom, but the suspicion is confirmed immediately on your first day. You walked in, hair neatly up as was required (less for aesthetic reasons and more for safety against the various plants stocked that had a tendency to thrash), your uniform tailored to fit you perfectly, and saw him behind the counter. You had been dreading this moment since you realised you’d be working with him. You knew what he’d say to you, how he would call you brave for going against your house, how much he appreciated your efforts during the war, things like that, and you couldn’t be bothered to listen to it. You just wanted to stop thinking about the war, and all the things you’d had to do to survive, but it seemed too much to ask. You took a deep breath and approached him and he did just that. With a serious and sympathetic expression, he began to thank you and commend you. He stared quite intensely at you as he spoke, which made you admittedly uncomfortable, your eyes flickered around the store as he spoke. 

“We barely had any Slytherins in the D.A. and I know some people gave you a hard time about it, so I think it’s–” he continued in his solemn voice. You squirmed in discomfort and decided to cut him off. 

“Look, Longbottom, all the same to you, yeah? You’re a war hero and all that, so… that’s great, congratulations! Can you show me how the till works now?” you huffed. He blinked in surprise at your little outburst, before flushing slightly, clearly having realised he’d made you uncomfortable in some way, even if he’d only been trying to compliment you. 

“Sorry, err… yeah…” he cleared his throat, showing you over to the till on the counter at the back of the store. You walked in front of him toward it and when you turned back to face him, you saw his eyes flick up and his flush deepen a little. You realise with a start that he’d been looking at your ass as you walked. These uniform trousers really were tailored perfectly, so you were sure he’d gotten a good view. You just smiled to yourself and filed the information away for later as he started to explain the machine to you. 

The next few weeks go surprisingly well. Sure, you’re only working the till and shop floor rather than actually doing any research or fieldwork, but at least you’re in your desired field, and the work is quite easy. The shop is never terribly busy, and the people who do come in like to spend a while browsing and contemplating, meaning you get to tell them all you know about the plants they’re deciding between, which you find quite fun. Neville works mainly in the backroom, counting stock, moving boxes, and maintaining the plants that can’t be kept on the shop floor because they’re too dangerous or require certain temperature conditions. You help with inventory, letting him know what’s running low on the shelves and making notes of what needs to be ordered for Mr Noltie. Mostly, you’re out of each other’s ways, but that doesn’t mean you’re not highly aware of each other. 

You knew Neville had changed over the years, every girl who’d been at Hogwarts was aware of it. You remembered quiet nights while the D.A. had been hiding out in the Room of Requirement, when a bunch of the girls would get together for some girl talk, trying hard to feel a sense of normalcy. Lavender Brown’s idea, which initially seemed silly, actually raised spirits quite a lot. You joined in, even though people were still rather wary of you, being one of only two Slytherins in the room, you mainly listened because of this. The girls huddled together in one corner of the room, while the boys chatted about who knows what in the other, and gossiped about the boys. There was hardly time for romance in the conditions you were in, which is perhaps why so much of it was happening, forced to stay together in one big room and fearing for your lives, you had overheard a lot you wish you never had. Neville ended up being the subject of a few of these conversations. He had changed a lot, becoming taller, broader and more handsome. He had also taken the role of the leader of the D.A., and many of the girls admitted that they quite liked the authoritative voice he used, which made everyone tease and giggle. He was nothing like the timid little boy he’d been for the first few years at Hogwarts, he was a man now, a strong, handsome man. However, no one ever reported any sort of action with him like they did with the other boys. At the time, he became sort of untouchable, which was odd considering he was Neville Longbottom.

These days, he was looking even better. His face was no longer so marred by the constant scrunch of stress as it had been during the war. He’d grown out his hair a little, rather than keeping it quite as short as he had during the war. He overall looked healthier, and even more muscular now that he was able to eat properly, his skin looking less pale and dull. Days of moving and stacking boxes in the backroom gave you plenty of time to subtly watch his muscles. He really was handsome now, though he didn’t seem to even realise this himself. Occasionally, when he’d be bringing stock out front for you to shelve, there’d be a woman in the store who would begin to flirt with him. He always seemed baffled and out of his depth, never flirting back and just trying to escape.

“What was that all about?” he asks you once, poking his head out of the backroom when she leaves. This woman had come onto him particularly strong, trying to touch his arm and invite him to the Leaky Cauldron. 

“She was flirting with you,” you chuckle, sorting the coins into the till. He scoffs.

“No, she wasn’t,”

“Yes, she was,” you laugh in disbelief. He chews his lip.

“Only because of what I did during the war,” he dismisses, fiddling with his wand in his apron pocket. It amuses you how insecure he is. But he is partially right, he’s become a bit of a celebrity in the wizarding world, thanks to Harry Potter’s insistence on mentioning Neville’s contributions every time he’s interviewed about the war. Sometimes you think it’s selfishly motivated, wanting the world to focus on someone other than him so he can be left alone, and dumping it on poor shy Neville.

“That could be true I suppose, but I bet she’d still let you shag her,” you grin at him. Neville splutters.

“I… I don’t…” he runs his finger through the collar of his shirt. You chuckle at his reaction, enjoying teasing him like this. “That’s not… I wouldn’t do that…” he swallows thickly. 

You’d discovered quickly that you had a certain power over Neville. At first, it was catching him occasionally staring. You’d be leaning on the counter, your ass jutting out slightly as you scribble down inventory notes and you’d glance at the door to the backroom, spotting him peering through the glass door. He’d immediately blush beet red and look away, clearly ashamed to have been caught staring at you. It was sweet, in a way, because most guys didn’t seem to have any shame in ogling at you, at least Neville seemed to know he shouldn’t be doing it, even if he couldn’t stop himself. Slowly, you start leaving more and more of your shirt buttons undone, revealing glimpses of your cleavage. You revel in the way his eyes constantly stray to you as he brings you boxes, taking shaky breaths as you bend over to pick up the little plant pots from the box and organise them onto the shelves. Whenever you talk, you take to standing just a little too close. His height gives you a perfect view down your top, and although he tries his best not to, he takes advantage of this fact often, his eyes flicking down and then his face going red. You like to innocently ask him if he’s feeling warm, which makes him stammer. It’s a bit of fun to fill your days, and quite an ego boost too. Every quiet moment in the shop you take to showing yourself off somehow, or even just chatting to him, which seems to fluster him too.

“You wouldn’t shag her? I thought she was cute…” you tease. He goes a deeper shade of red.

“She’s… it’s not… uh…” he stumbles. You smile, leaning yourself onto the counter in a way you know shows off your ass. His eyes flick immediately down your body and he goes redder, success. “I don’t… shag…” he coughs, looking mortified. 

“What? Never? But you’re the saviour of the wizarding world!” you taunt, pretending to be shocked, when really it had become abundantly clear not long into working with him that despite how much his looks had changed, and his confidence in every other area, women still made him unbearably anxious, especially you. 

“I- I mean I…” he stutters and then straightens up. “This is none of your business,” he asserts shakily. You shrug.

“Just curious about you,” you smile flirtatiously, watching as he blushes once more and avoids your eyes. “Do you never want to shag? Some people are like that and it’s perfectly fine–” 

“No! I… uh… I do want… oh Merlin!” he groans, burying his face in his hands. You press on, pretending not to realise how uneasy he is, delighting in his discomfort. 

“Well, then what was wrong with that girl? She was cute… more than willing…” you taunt, taking a few slow steps toward him now. 

“She just… it’s not… I can’t just…” he stammers, eyes following you until you’re right in front of him. You catch his eyes flicking down to your cleavage. You smile. 

“Are you a virgin, Neville?” you ask bluntly. He twitches anxiously.

“I’m not answering that,” he squeaks, but you both know that it’s answer enough. He sighs, seeing the smug way you’re smiling at him. “It’s just… the only girl I’ve ever liked enough to do that with didn’t feel the same, she… never wanted to do that sort of thing with anyone… like you were just talking about,” he mumbles, avoiding your eye.

“Luna?” you hum. He just nods. You’d heard about that through friends, his wartime confession and her confession that she did not experience romantic or sexual feelings for anyone. To many people, it had seemed a completely foreign concept. You imagined that, even though he’d been understanding, it had probably felt like another blow to his confidence. 

“It’s… that’s over now… she’s my friend and I respect her… I don’t feel that way about her anymore…” he rambles. His eyes flicker over your face. You believe him, you touch his arm, making him tense. 

“You poor thing,” you coo gently, rubbing your thumb over the bare skin of his arm, feeling the muscle underneath. “You must feel pathetic, saviour of the wizarding world, women lining up, and yet you’re still a virgin,” he jolts slightly, not expecting your words. He feels confused, your tone is sweet and soothing, but your words are insulting. 

“I- I don’t, I’m fine,” he stammers, his cheeks red as he looks at you cautiously. What are you playing at? You pout and tilt your head. 

“Poor baby,” you coo again, making him nervous. 

“Why are you–?” he cut off when the bell above the door jingles, signalling a customer entering. You pull your hand away with a teasing smile, he just stares a little dumbly at you as you return to the till and greet the customer. He can’t help his eyes from straying to your ass, perfectly hugged by your uniform trousers. He’s never felt this crazy before, this overtaken by lust. He wants you and something about your faux-pity has made it worse. He hadn’t felt this way about Luna, he’d liked her first and foremost, he never ogled her like this, never felt this maddened by her simple presence. He forces himself to return to his work in the backroom. 

You torture him the rest of the day. He knows you’re playing at something, but he’s not quite sure what. You keep flashing him mockingly sympathetic glances, showing off your body more than usual, touching him. You’re making excuses to come into the backroom, you’ve never been in here so many times in one shift before, perhaps even ever. Leaning over his shoulders, touching his back, stretching up to the top shelves in front of him. He’s oblivious, but he’s not completely blind and while he’s suspected before that you might have taken to teasing him, now he’s sure. After trying fruitlessly to avoid you most of the day, he gives in toward the end, letting himself admire your body and enjoy your closeness. He’s had a few relentless flirts at his neck since graduating from Hogwarts, but you feel different. Most girls flirt with him because they think he’s something special, something big that will help them earn fame and get them in the Daily Prophet. You flirt like you think he’s a pathetic little puppy dog, and perhaps he should take offence from it, but instead, it makes him need you even more. Because it’s what he is, he’s not big and strong when it comes to this, he feels small and he needs someone who understands that, which you seem to, in your own roundabout way.

He helps you close up the shop, at your request, which is something he only usually does on particularly busy days, yet he knows the question is coming. You pout at him sweetly and ask for help and he comes running. As a thank you, you lean over as you count up the day's purchases, emphasising your chest and not commenting when he stares and blushes. He wouldn’t mind being compensated like this more often. He sweeps up the soil that’s accumulated on the floor from the various pots being moved around. Technically it’s your job, but how can he say no when you look at him like that and push your tits together just so?

You’re still double-checking the accounts when he goes into the back room again. He checks on all the special plants, making sure nothing is wrong, before moving toward the little cupboards in the corner of the room. He washes his hands and unties his apron slowly. Rubbing a hand through his hair, he sighs. You’ve been driving him crazy today. The subtle way you mocked him made him so needy for you even though he should hate you for it, he didn’t want to psychoanalyse that. He hears you enter but does his best to ignore you, you never usually talk at the end of your shifts, usually too tired and eager to get home to bother small talking. You wash your hands and remove your apron too, hanging it up by the door, your name tag facing forward. You feel his eyes on your ass again, which makes you smile to yourself. 

“Is that why you stare at me so much?” you taunt, being purposefully vague. You glance over your shoulder at him. He’s bright red and chewing his lip. 

“What?” he croaks. 

“Because you’re a virgin? Is that why you stare so much? My ass in these trousers is the best view you’ve been allowed?” you mock, cooing as if you’re being sympathetic. He hates that you know, but he knows he hasn’t at all been subtle enough for it to be a shock. He just takes a shaky breath.

“I’m so-sorry, really… I don’t—“ he pulls nervously at his shirt. Godric it’s hot in here. You stalk closer.

“Poor thing, can’t control yourself around me, can you, hm?” you ridicule him, stalking closer with those dark seductive eyes. He realises you’re backing him into a wall as he takes a clumsy step back, moments away from hitting the hard surface. He swallows hard and you come closer, pressing your chest to his, emphasising the curve of your breasts. He can’t help but look, even if only for a split second. “Can you?” you prompt again, your voice lower. 

“No,” he chokes. You laugh, low and mocking. 

“No… you can’t control yourself around me… you pathetic little thing,” you finally backed him against the wall. He looks nervous, but you can feel his hardening arousal against your stomach. You shift yourself slightly, making him gasp and harden even more. You look up at him, smirking, the irony of belittling him in this way doesn't even matter, because you feel powerful and he feels small in this moment. You reach up and trace his cheek, making him shiver and his eyes flutter. “Poor little loser,” he whines loudly at that, and you watch carefully to see if you’ve actually hurt his feelings or not. When his eyes flicker open again, his pupils are wildly dilated and he looks desperate. You smile and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“I am,” he whimpers. You’re surprised to hear him talk, but you let him, caressing his cheek in a mocking gesture. “I don’t want to be pathetic but I am, I can’t— do this sort of stuff,” he laments. “What kind of freak am I? Getting off to you calling me a loser?” you giggle at him and he laughs slightly too, looking down at the ground, not before glancing once more at your tits. 

“You just want someone to see you for who you are and want you anyway, not put you on some pedestal,” you hum. He blinks at you. That actually… made sense. He glances up at you. “Isn’t that pathetic of you?” you tease with a smile and you both laugh a little. 

“Yeah, Godric… I really am pathetic,” he chuckles quietly, watching you. 

“A complete loser,” you chuckle, leaning up to kiss him. He squeaks, taken completely off guard by your lips on his. You fist your hands into the material of his shirt, forcing him to lean down to your level to kiss you. He kisses back, desperate and shaky. He pants into the kiss, already feeling a little dizzy. Your hand is reaching down and brushing feather-light against the bulge in his trousers before he can register what’s going on. His hips stutter and he whines against your lips. “So pitiful, barely even touching you and you’re whining,” you mock, brushing your fingers up and down the bulge, slow and teasing. His hands come to grip at your waist, exhaling shakily against you. “So needy,” you chuckle, pulling back and pouting at him. 

“Y-yeah,” his eyes flit all over your face. You smirk up at him, trailing your hands down his body as you move to kneel in front of him. He gasps, his hands falling to his sides, chest heaving. He stares down at you, wide-eyed. He mumbles your name in question, wondering if this is really happening. You reach up, still smirking and pop to the button of his trousers. “Ah… oh Merlin…” he exhales, his eyes closing. You gently tug his trousers down and then lean forward, nuzzling your nose against the bulge in his boxers. You watch as his face twists in pleasure, a strangled gasp on his lips. He leans his head back against the wall as you press barely there kisses along his twitching length through the fabric. “This can’t be happening right now,” he pants, pushing his hips towards your face. 

“Don’t you want it to?” you tease, gently licking the wet spot on the fabric, making him gasp. 

“I— yes I want it but—this doesn’t happen… to me…” he groans as you slip down his boxers, springing him free. He stares down nervously now, no one has seen him like this before. You just smirk up at him, gently massaging his thighs. 

“You want it?” you taunt, gently blowing on his length, making him twitch and buck. 

“Nngh— yes,”

“Then beg me,” you grin. “Show me how pathetic you are for me,” he stares down at you, chest heaving, heart pounding so hard you can watch his pulse. He should feel humiliated, but the pre-cum dripping from his tip tells the both of you the reality. You lean up, placing soft open-mouthed kisses against his length, making him inhale sharply. “Beg me,” you sing-song between kisses. 

“P-please,” he gasps. “Please, I’m pathetic, I need this so bad… I’ve never– ah–!” you cut him off by licking a stripe up his length. He dissolves into a string of shaky moans as you wrap your lips around his tip, softly suckling. He’s never felt this amazing before. He fights to open his eyes and look down at you, needing the visual of you doing this committed to his memory desperately, even though he knows it will likely haunt his every waking thought from today onwards. You look smug, even on your knees in front of him, and he knows you have him wrapped around your finger. He tries uselessly to dig his nails into the wall for purchase, watching as you slowly envelop more and more of him into the heavenly heat of your mouth. Your head bobs slowly, torturously slow, up and down the length of him. What you can’t fit in your mouth, you take a gentle hold of with your hand. Your tongue swirls and laves against him within your mouth, making his hips buck toward you. You immediately withdraw, making him sob. 

“You just can’t control yourself, can you?” you chastise harshly. “Needy and brainless,” he nods along because he really can’t help but think you’re right.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll control myself, I will, please… I need you,” he wails. You look unimpressed, slowly teasing your hand up and down his shaft. He whines, melting against the wall. “Please…” he whispers. His voice is entirely wrecked and he already looks thoroughly debauched by you, you find the image exciting. When he glances down at you with those pleading wide eyes, you can’t deny him any longer. As a final teasing act, you lean in and gently kitten lick at his slit for a moment, tasting the salty sweetness accumulating there. You feel him trying to twitch in your hand, his head falling back again and desperate groans leaving his throat. You take him as deep down into your throat as he will go, gagging just a little, and start to bob your head again. His fingers curl, and you can tell he wants to grab your hair, but he’s being good, you keep in mind to tell him he was good later. Your lips slide up and down his length, using your tongue to swirl and add an extra layer of stimulation. He’s very vocal, whining, whimpering, groaning, completely ruined. You stare up at him as you gently swallow around him. His eyes squeeze further shut and his hips cant forward, making you gag a little, but you do it again. He gasps loudly and his hands start to flail, smacking against the wall. You only realise he was trying to warn you between strangled moans when you feel the warm spurt of his release in your mouth. You swallow it down as he frantically withdraws himself from you, crying as he rides out the feeling of his orgasm, his legs shaking. He feels like he’s left his body and ascended to heaven, this was why all his friends were so crazy about sex. He got it now. Once he’s returned to himself a little, he falls to his knees in front of you. “I’m so sorry, I tried to warn you but I felt so good, I-” he fusses. “I’m so sorry, th-thank you,” he whimpers, wiping a tiny bit of cum from the corner of your mouth. “Thank you,”

“It’s fine,” you dismiss him as he holds your face and thanks you over and over. It amuses you how wrecked he is. “It’s alright, Neville,” you chuckle in disbelief, leaning forward and pecking his lips. He can vaguely taste himself on your lips, even without you opening your mouth, and it makes him groan. He chases your lips as you pull away, opening his eyes to give you a puppy-dog look. 

“Merlin … I really am pathetic,” he swallows and then laughs nervously, leaning back against the wall, smiling sheepishly as you tuck him back into his boxers. You sit on your knees in front of him and he stares at you, half in awe, half in apprehension. “Are you going to tell people about this?” he questions, slightly anxious, wiping some sweat from his brow.

“No, I can’t lose my job, we’ve just broken a bunch of rules, you realise?” you tease and he smiles slightly. 

“Are we going to do this again? Or you know… something else?” he glances at your body, feeling a little bad he couldn’t do anything to make you feel like he just did.

“Maybe, maybe not, you’ll just have to wait and see,” you taunt, pecking his cheek and rising to your feet. He cranes his neck to watch as you fetch your bag and coat. You glance at him over your shoulder, seeing him sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him, looking dazed and ruined. You can’t help but giggle, the sound stirring his stomach again. “See you soon, Longbottom,” you blow a mocking kiss and leave. He stares after you, both glad you’re gone so he can process what just happened, and also wishing you were never away from him again.

Tomorrow at work was either going to be heaven or hell on earth, and he found himself eager to find out. 

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[pinkykats-place]

BakuDeku ft. Midoriya-Sensei

Some include the new hero suit

AO3 Fanfic Recommendations

Disclaimers!

None of the stories below are mine.

Some contain mature content.

Read tags. Check Ratings.

@kyuriart gave permission to use art.

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!

Midoriya-sensei's boyfriend by @silverynight

Summary: "Midoriya-sensei?"

"Yes?"

"Is pro hero Dynamight your boyfriend?"

Izuku wishes he didn't blush that often because it makes it look like he's lying. He gets those questions a lot, but hasn't gotten used to them.

"No."

"Are you dating a pro hero?"

"No."

"Is he your husband then?"

"No." Izuku holds himself back from covering his red face with both arms like he did in high-school when he was too flustered. "Ka–I mean, Dynamight-san and I are friends. There's nothing else to it."

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

Eight years and counting by @silverynight

Summary: "For young Midoriya?"

All Might already knows it's for Izuku, but the question is not exactly about that and Katsuki is perfectly aware of it; he can see it in the soft smile of Izuku's mentor, he can see it in the way his blue eyes shine with knowledge.

Katsuki blushes, but he doesn't look away from the former symbol of peace. He's not that middle schooler hot-heated kid anymore. He's done hiding his feelings behind anger and he's not ashamed about what he feels for Izuku. He's pretty sure All Might knows about that, he's probably waiting for a confirmation.

Katsuki nods, blush spreading down his neck.

"It'll take years to make something like that."

"I'm aware."

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

how i long for our trysts by nikkiRA

Summary: Most nights the only thing he has the energy for is crawling into bed beside Izuku and falling immediately to sleep. It’s why they’re taking such a risk and doing this here.

That and because it’s hot. Sneaking away to fuck like they were teenagers again. That and Izuku’s suit. Katsuki has a Thing for Izuku’s suit, how nicely it contours to his body, how strong he looks in it. Anytime Izuku got dressed up, all Katsuki could focus on was how much he wanted to undress him.

{One Shot}

Rated - Explicit

all my emotions feel like explosions (when you are around) by tiffaniesblews

Summary: He really could not think of a time in his life that didn’t include Midoriya Izuku.

OR: Bakugou pines for 4200 words.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

see you at home by marsbarrss

Summary: “Deku, you dumbass, you forgot your lunch again,” he grumbles, pushing the wrapped lunch box into his hands. The floral print flashes up at him.

“Ah, Kacchan, you don’t have to make me lunch, seriously!” Izuku flounders, but he accepts the offering anyway. He sort of has to, or else Katsuki will flip his shit. “I can just eat at home…”

The class immediately erupts in chatter, jumping to question both men about their relationship.

Five times Katsuki disrupted Izuku at work, and one time Izuku disrupts Katsuki at work.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

have you heard about the rumors? by DetectiveKirigiri

Summary: Everyone assumes pro hero Dynamight and infamous UA-teacher-slash-pro-hero Deku have been together for the longest time, but the thing is, they aren’t even dating, and Katsuki hasn’t even grown the balls to confess yet.

So what do their ever supportive and encouraging classmates do? Help Katsuki plan out the perfect confession to Izuku.

The only problem? So many rumors are starting to spread all at once. Also, they barely have any free time, and Izuku has papers to grade.

WIP | 14/? Chapters

Rated - Teen & Up

love is a gentle thing by tenthuser

Summary: Izuku takes pride in knowing Kacchan better than anyone else, but as they grow older, he realizes there are still things left to learn.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

Happy with that? by polkahdotti

Summary: The first issue was that he and Midoriya hadn’t spoken in seven years, and likely the stupid brat didn’t even want to be a hero anymore, and had completely moved on from Bakugou for good.

The second issue was that the suit was nearly finished.

And Midoriya didn’t know a damn thing about it.

— — —

Or: Bakugou manages to be a pining loser and oblivious about his own feelings and Midoriya isn't much help. They'll figure it out.

Complete | 2 Chapters

Rated - General Audiences

wreck my plans (that's my man) by Icantthinkofagoodusername7

Summary: One of the students raises her hand and upon being called on asks, “Dynamight, sir? Is Mr. Midoriya your husband? Your rings match,” She points toward the chain around his neck.

With that assumption, the other students also start to whisper about how right this student likely is.

”Wait, that’s so right. Plus they seem so close, Dynamight’s always hanging around here.”

”Oh also a couple weeks ago when Yui, Haruko, Mizuko, and I came here for lunch, Mr. Midoriya was on the phone with his husband and called him Kacchan, which could be a play off of Dynamight’s given name.”

“Oh my gosh that’s so cute, y’know if they aren’t married I wanna figure out who goes by Kacchan, that’s so cute.”

”Also, remember when Dynamight showed up like a month ago or something and then after he left, Mr. Midoriya was wearing his wedding rings?”

”I’m just seeing evidence after evidence.”

*

OR 5 times Midoriya and Bakugou nearly reveal their relationship to Midoriya’s students + the 1 time they actually do

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

Recharge by @silverynight

Summary: "Your childhood friend is taking too many extra shifts; he'll pass out soon at this rate."

Aizawa does that a lot lately; he casually walks into Izuku's classroom or his office, only to drop random information about Katsuki. It's usually something Aizawa disapproves of.

Izuku sighs, looking up at the window from all the essays he has to grade. Lately, Katsuki is making him worry too much.

The funny thing is that Aizawa believes he has some secret power to make pro hero Katsuki stop or change his mind; sure, they're friends, and he often listens to Izuku (yes, he also pays him a lot of visits) but it's not like the young teacher can work miracles.

***

A glimpse into their lives during those eight years.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

[jen-with-a-pen]

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 1/2

summary: Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 1.3k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blood mention, knife mention, beer mention, Wade's fuckin horny and thirsty y'all, pining, cursing, claws, Wade is looking ✨respectively✨, crude humor and language, slight Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, no smut (yet, sorry)

a/n: AUGH DONT LOOK AT ME (actually please do I cannot hold this in any longer.) currently part one of two parts. posting the first one now as I am currently traveling for work and won't be back until beginning of September and then part two will be out when i either A. Get home or B. Finish it and format it in between running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Please be patient with me! I will not tolerate "whEreS PaRt Two?¿??" when I literally just told you. Hope y'all enjoy one of the many products of my brain rot. More to come in due time ✨

Not beta'd. Written on my phone and edited via gdocs. Post formatted on mobile because I don't wanna use my work computer lmao

Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

The abs are great. More than great, actually. In fact, they're all Wade thinks, dreams, and fantasizes about. All day, everyday, non-fucking-stop. The moment replays over and over in his fucked up noodle brain like a scratched record. He knows muscle memory is a thing, but what about salivatory memory?

Christ. He's gotta get a grip instead of getting hard.

But what about when Logan isn't flexing hard enough to rip his goddamn suit off?

Wade notices Logan becoming more relaxed around the apartment as the days pass. Adjusting to his new life, coming out of the bedroom earlier than he has to on days when he gets a turn to sleep on a real bed. It's Sofa City most of the time– which he really doesn't mind, he almost prefers it most of the time (since it's in clear sight of the front door) but Wade more often than not likes to insist they share his 'much-too-big-for-lil-old-me' twin XL mattress that's seen more stains than sex in the last year alone.

Logan's compromise is he'll take the bed and Wade the couch half the time. Alone. They're still working on the negotiations of said compromise, but the jury– Blind Al– is still out on recess.

Once he's more settled in, Logan learns that it's okay to kick off his boots and put his feet up. It's not often, but enough that Wade silently wishes he'd rest those big meaty calves on his lap instead. He's been needing a new weighted blanket and Adamantium-coated tibias and hairy legs are so in right now.

Logan doesn't know it, but Wade secretly plays 'ohmygodhetotallylookedatme' whenever he so much as catches a glimpse of Wade oggling at him in his peripherals. Wade can't help it when Broody and the Beast's ribbed white muscle shirt pulls taut against those deliciously plump pecs that he silently prays it'll burst off again. Or he'll rip it off. Or Logan will rip it off. For him.

A boy can dream.

It's especially hard to win at 'OMGHTLAM' when Logan accessorizes– AKA throwing on whatever flannel is in rotation out of the several he finds at the thrift store a few blocks over. Wade feels his throat tighten like his jeans do when Logan wears the forest green one. Really brings out his eyes.

And smile. And lips. And–

It's still summer, so on the hotter days, when sweat glistens on his brow and Wade desperately wishes to be the back of Logan's hand, the tank top comes off. All Logan's sweaty, gloriously muscular body has on is a wonderfully worn-in pair of jeans with the hem of black briefs poking out behind the denim waist.

Do they have AC? Yes. Because Wade would have to plan a funeral for Al if they didn't.

But when she's out and about, he likes to turn it off and let the New York heat wave run its course. Sure, it leaves him sticky and gross, but he'd rather be sticky and gross and hard when he can help it.

Luckily, Blind Al is gone for the whole weekend. Some girls trip or a drug mule job. Same difference.

Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

With the push of a button and a sprinkle of patience, Logan is splayed out on the couch in a matter of hours with a lukewarm beer in hand while fighting his eyelids from dozing off to some random war documentary. Sweat beads on his temples and there's a slight sheen to his skin from his biceps to the lower V pointing down to between his thighs. He chuckles every so often, mumbling things to himself between swigs of beer and shaking his head when the narrator gets something 'wrong.'

Wade busies himself in the kitchen but his eyes are permanently glued to his roommate. He doesn’t miss the way Logan's stomach rises and falls gently, the rock-hard six pack softening into rolling hills of muscle with a layer of dark hair covering as much surface area as immortal-like hormones will allow. Grown out beard, chops, and messy hair really throw the whole look together; very 2000s, if you ask Wade. His pecs look just as soft as a pair of titties, if not softer, and Wade knows it. He'd do anything to lay his perfect little head on Logan's chest. Maybe lick it too, if he's a good boy. 

Logan perks up suddenly from the couch.

Oh God did he say that out loud?

"Wade?"

Wade doesn't hear him. Can't hear him. Half-refuses to hear him, honestly. Daydreaming takes up a whole lotta brain power and this show isn't running itself. Economy, budget cuts, unprecedented times. You know the shtick. 

"Wade."

Nothing but a bead of drool comes out of Wade's mouth. 

Suddenly, there's a crash right behind Wade's head and now he's awake. He whips around to the ale-spattered wall behind him and back to Logan, who's now standing with claws drawn and chest heaving.

Wade swears he's blushing. 

Eyes wide and brow standing up straight like his good little soldier, Wade looks down at the counter before him to find a bloodbath of a scene: one hand's on a knife while the other spews blood all over the yellowed counter tops; there's remnants of a carrot that was finished five minutes ago, followed directly by remnants of fingers cut down to the last fucking knuckle and slice marks beginning down the back of his hand.

Wade holds up his spurting stump, gashed artery doing a spot-on impression of Ol' fucking Faithful.

"Oh. Huh. Thought I smelled something," he says, staring at his now-tingling hand. Baby fingers for the rest of the night were so worth the staring contest with Logan's beautiful body.

"Fuckin' idiot," Logan mutters, sheathing his claws and striding over to the hall closet to grab a towel. Wade's already stopped bleeding, but just because they might be immune to bloodborne pathogens doesn't mean Al is.

"Gah– get back, damn mutt." Logan shoos Dogpool out of the kitchen to prevent her from lapping up her papa's bodily fluids. He throws the towel in Wade's face and goes to grab the bleach out of the cupboard under the sink. Logan learned very quickly where to find it the first time this happened a month or two ago.

"Sorry baby, Mommy's got a boo-boo and Daddy's just trying to help," Wade coos at Dogpool. "You're too good to me, peanut. Someone oughta wife ya up before I do."

Logan responds with a scowl as he tosses the carrots out and tries to keep the counter from staining. "Why th'fuck did you do that?"

"It was time for a new hand. Old one was so last season."

Wade mops up the blood from his arm and wraps the towel onto his head like he's just gotten out of the shower. Holding up his regenerating stump, he poses like a cover model for Vogue.

"Whatcha think, peanut?" He strikes another pose. "Is this doing anything for ya, big boy?"

Logan grunts as he tosses a wad of paper towels into the trash can. He turns to leave the kitchen, eyes flicking to Wade. It's the quickest once over ever, but Wade sees it. Commits it to memory while he pulls a Flashdance in a chair from the kitchen table and follows Logan's denim-clad ass as it sways off to the bathroom. 

"'M gonna go shower. Don't wait up,” Logan calls before shutting the door and locking it. 

Sighing, Wade looks down at his crotch, pants tent pitched higher and tighter than a first-timer on Everest.

Good thing he's ambidextrous.

[andcars]

# 𝗖𝗦𝟱𝟱 ─── TO THE PODIUM N' BACK DOWN MASTERLIST . . . REQUEST ME . . . TAGLIST . . . AO3

IT'S YOUR FIRST WIN with carlos trailing behind you. to celebrate, the both of you hit the club. things ensues, sexual tensions are sexual, and holy shit he just pinned you to the bathroom door and fucked you raw. ────── original prompt req.

PROMPTED DIALOGUE . . . # “We can run away together, somewhere far away” + “We’ll only be caught if you’re loud” PROMPTED TAGS . . . # breeding kink, bareback, obsessive behaviour, body worship, teammate!reader ADD. TAGS . . . # cunnilingus, slick as lube, wall sex, semi-public sex, creampie WORD COUNT. . . # 2k

────── AO3 VERSION

The victory anthem plays as champagne is sprayed all over you. There’s nowhere to hide from the liquid shooting at you from both ends. It’s warm. It smells addicting. You’re living the high of being a winner and Carlos is right there with you.

When most of everyone’s champagne has spilled, you drink yours to the bottom of the bottle. The adrenaline screams at you. Your heart is still finding its resting pace. You think to yourself, You really got your first fucking win.

Coming down from the podium, Carlos has a hand on your back. “You did well, mi reina (my queen). How are you celebrating?”

You don’t have to say a word to him to tell him. He laughs beside you when you stay silent.

“We can always run off,” he suggests, “we aren’t needed anymore.”

“I’m pretty sure we will be,” you retaliate, despite not caring anyways.

He tells you, ignoring your concerns, “We can go somewhere far from here. Where they won’t find us.”

You look at him then. He’s already looking at you. The smile on your face is something he’s seen time and time again. You don’t think he’ll get tired of it. “Sounds like a plan.”

────── SHORT WHILE LATER. . .

The club music roars in your ears. There is not a single drop of alcohol in your body and yet you feel like you’re intoxicated from the win alone. It’s like your body knows.

In the edge of the crowd, your body is pressed up with Carlos. For the greater part of this season, he has been helping place high into the ranks. More often than not, you out-qualify him in the race. 

Ferrari finds their strategy and you have never been more glad to be the one to receive the win. Turning around, you place your arms around Carlos' neck.

Maybe it’s still the high of the win. Maybe it’s because Carlos has been nothing but a good teammate.

It really could just be because he’s really hot.

“You’re looking at me,” he says, like an idiot.

“Not like you don’t look at me first,” you tell him. “Always following me around, one would say you’re my stalker.”

Both of you know it’s true. The amount of times he would follow you around the garage though he has his own duties. In the hospitality, he would find anything just to keep the both of you together.

You've watched the onboards, him always inquiring where you stand. You know he always finds a way to make sure you’re beside him in the rankings.

He shrugs, barely hiding it. “I like being with you. Should there anything be more than that?”

Without thinking about it anymore, you pull him for a kiss. He comes easily, body pressed against yours as warmth spreads between the two of you. The taste of champagne is still on his tongue.

Of course he loves you. It’s like he got one taste of you and he can’t get rid of you now. His tongue memorised the shape of your lips. His mouth can’t help but utter your name. Now, his hands find themselves on your hip. In slow strokes, he caresses you tenderly yet his kisses tells differently. It’s hungry. It’s insatiable. You can barely breathe under the pressure.

When his lips trailed down your neck, you moaned.

“You like that, corazón (heart)?” he gasps, the sound barely noticeable over the deafening music. “You like it here?”

He doesn’t need to hear your response as his kisses and turns to bites. You squirm under him. Both of his hands come to steady you by the hips, immobilising you in his arms. He’s heavy on you, his dominance alluring you to give in. Fucking addicting, so fucking good.

You don’t think about why you let Carlos take you like this in the corner of the floor. His touch feels electrifying. His body is warm—fucking hot. It’s in the way he sways you to the music and the open mouthed bites on your neck.

“Carlos,” you breathe out as you pull him away, “maybe don’t fuck me in public.”

He laughs, seeing the sly grin on your face. “Surely you won’t mind the bathroom? I don’t think I can go far like this.”

Pretending to ponder about making Carlos exit the club with a hard on and you by his side, you lean against him. “I'll tell the whole world how ungentlemanly you are.”

“You’ll tell the world about us?”

You smile, “I’ll tell the universe about us.”

With his hand in yours, he leads you to the bathroom. You’re thankful that it’s not like one of those dingy bathrooms in most clubs. Despite wanting to fuck your teammate this bad, you don’t think you can stand the smell of vomit and piss.

Carlos takes you to a room inside—this level of privacy for a singular toilet is crazy, but then again, you're sure this was often visited for sex—and pins you by the door.

It’s not tight in here and yet he finds a way to suffocate you. One of your legs wrap around him as he undresses you. The strap of your dress falls and the skirt is pulled up. He moans against your skin as his hands love your ass.

“Carlos,” you moan, his hands feeling your cold skin, “fucking hell…”

Distantly, you hear the bathroom door open. Carlos chuckles against your neck, kissing it after. “Better be quiet, corazón. Unless you wanna tell the universe now?”

“Shut the fuck up, Sainz.” You pull him to a kiss as he unbuckles himself. The need to grind into him is convincing. You’re weak against him, letting your panties caress his erection.

He sighs, his mouth biting at your bottom lip at your crudeness. You hear him swear under his breath, mumbling something in Spanish as he finally pulls out his cock.

Before you could offer him anything, he pulled away to kneel. You moan at the sight. He pulls up your skirt and practically breathes in against your clothed cunt. Your underwear is a futile barrier.

He pulls it off with one hand as he spits in the other. You tug at his hair as he goes forward, kissing your clit and his finger fucking into you.

“Shit…” you moan, trying to stifle it afterwards with your arm, “Carlos.”

His eyes look up at you. Your little pleads don’t stop him as his mouth trails lower to your hole, peppering kisses on it as his finger rubs your insides. He gets two more fingers in easily with the wetness. Your thigh quivers around him and you pull his hair.

A whine leaves you when his fingers leave. It was too short. You want more. He hears you and is quick to replace it with his other fingers, drier yet more eager to stretch you out. Though your view is obstructed, you can hear his hand working his own cock. 

It makes you feel manic the fact he’s using your own slick as his lube.

“Fuck, Carlos,” you moan, a leg over his shoulder. Your cunt is directly over his mouth, his nose bumping into your clit perfectly. This is enough to drive you fucking crazy. 

You’re close. The beat of the club thrums with your heart. His tongue is lapping at your leaking pussy as four fingers stretch you out. You’re entirely sure that you’re being heard throughout the bathroom now. It doesn’t matter. You don’t care—

He stops. You squirm on top of him as he comes back up to you. “Corazón,” he whispers as his fingers pull out to tease your clit. “So pretty, so good for me…”

“You fucking tease,” you grunt. He smiles at you.

“I want you to cum on me, huh?” his hand is noisy as it fucks his cock with your juices. “My girl, always want to see you come apart for me.”

However much you wanna hit him right now, it dissapates as his cock slaps at your hole. You wince, “Carlos!” and throw an arm around him.

“So beautiful,” he pants, “tastes so good to me. Tastes like a winner.”

You wanna retaliate. You wanna whine and say no to his love. But he pushes his cock inside of you without protection and it makes you lose your head.

“Carlos, condom—”

“There’s none here,” he says, breathless as he enjoys the way you clench around him. “There’s none. Either I leave you like this or I fuck you raw.”

True to his words, he does fuck you raw. Every thrust of his bare cock inside of you drives you crazy. His warmth, his skin, his leaking pre-cum all touching the most intimate part of you. Just the thought that this is the closest he's ever been with you makes you wanna cum.

“So fucking good,” he says, breath tickling your neck. “My girl, corazón, so fucking loose on me.

“You’re so hot. So wet. I want to keep fucking you like this. Feel my cum drip down your cunt—” you moan—”as you get so full of me.”

Carlos is lost in his own fantasy. He thrusts into you harder, your hips moving along his as you relish in the idea together. He doesn’t miss the way you clench harder on him. The way your moans just get a little bit louder.

“You’d like that?” he asked, “Don’t want me to pull out? Does my girl want to keep my cum inside of her? Fuck her full until she’s bred full?”

“Carlos—!” you scream out into his neck, hiding your red face. “You fucking- oh God, yes, fuck! Just like that, baby. Fucking breed me.”

He doesn’t need to be told again. Your moans echo through the room as your hands pull at his head. He kisses down your jaw, to your neck, and bites and marks you.

You don’t understand him anymore. He murmurs to you in Spanish which you don’t understand. But the way his teeth scrapes, his hand tightens, his hips fucking into you like they’re determined to stuff you full with his semen. You can’t stop yourself from cumming all over him.

His pace is overstimulating, too much for you. Though he slows down, his cock grinding into you has you punching his back.

Carlos understands perfectly. He pulls out with only half his cock inside, still erect, still wanting to feel you. You don’t get him soft as your hands go down to finish him off.

“Fuck,” he grunts as you feel him resist the urge to fuck your first. Your delicate hands moving on him with the head of his cock still feeling your pulsating pussy. He’s fighting everything not to give in to this bliss.

“Come on, Carlos,” you say, “cum in me. Let yourself win today too.”

He looks into your eyes and you can see something primal behind them. Though he doesn’t move, he forces your lips to lock with his. Your hand falters as you taste yourself on his tongue. But his hands intertwine with yours, helping you finish him off.

“So good,” he says between breathing, “letting me have you like this—how I’ve always wanted.

“I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m gonna cum in your pretty little pussy.”

Few more strokes and he finishes inside of you with a loud moan. You feel it splatter your insides and your legs give in for just a moment. He holds you upright. His grip on you is strong but never enough to bruise. You know that he was never one to hurt you.

Only after calming down could you hear both of your cum drip down onto the tiles. You blush, whining a little. “Carlos,” you say, “I can’t go out like this.”

“Like you became mine?”

You punch his chest. “Like I’m a fucking whore!”

He laughs and presses a short kiss on your lips. “Mhm, I don’t know, I like seeing you dirty like this.”

After he cleans you up, you hit him in the head for being such a dumbass. He doesn’t really look like he cares. Not with those hearts in his eyes.

🗒 𝗣𝗔𝗣𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗟 . . . the funniest bit is that i was finishing up the graphic for this fic as i watched carlos hit the barriers in singapore q3- so, that happened. anyways! working on a lot of requests so i hope this one is a great start for everyone . ˎˊ˗ ᝰ. ──── 📨 @delululeclerc @hiireadstuff

you support me best on tumblr with reblogs and comments ! ── by andcars ⟡

[notjustjavierpena]

Te Quiero, a Husband!Javier Valentine’s Special

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This is for all my readers who have wanted to get an insight into Hubby and Wife’s dynamic, backstory and family life. I hope you enjoy it because I put my heart into this mess of a fic. Thank you @strang3lov3 for always inspiring me, thank you @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for always being a great beta-reader and here’s to @morallyinept who told me to tag her in any V-Day fic I post!l

Summary: Your husband has made big plans for Valentine's Day, beginning with breakfast in bed, but not everything goes as smoothly as expected, and suddenly you are faced with a big surprise. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, hubby!Javier, tooth-rotting domestic bliss, breastfeeding, playful banter, Chucho makes an appearance!!, siblings being siblings, Javi loving you and his kids, negative feelings about your mom-body, insecurity/comfort, spontaneous sex, pussy eating, (Spanish) dirty talk, fingering, unprotected piv sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, silly people in love, LOTS of kisses, lots of i love yous, mention of pregnancy and its symptoms    

Word count: 11.7k (i am so sorry)

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53757202

Te Quiero

You open your eyes, reaching to rub them as the door to the bedroom opens by Javier using his shoulder and backing into it. There’s a crease on his forehead, between his furrowed brows, from looking extremely concentrated because he is carrying a wooden tray in his hands. 

Most days you are a heavy sleeper. It is a result of having two children without an understanding of the concept of privacy when it comes to their parents. However, what truly wakes you up is the concerning rustle of utensils, plates, and mugs that your husband is balancing as he nears your shared bed. 

Because Javier has his back to you, you close your eyes again and pretend to be asleep, not wanting to ruin the surprise. The tray is placed on the foot of the bed, and you fight a smile as you hear his footsteps coming around the end of the bed and closer to your side. 

“Buenos días (good morning),” he whispers to you, and you roll onto your back and sit up. Javier stands by the side of the bed and waits. 

Like in a movie, you blink awake slowly and lift your arms up over your head to stretch and yawn. Javier looks at you expectantly, and you catch a glimpse of why your son resembles him so much. They both have that boyish charm, the ability to look excited in the exact same way when waiting for a reaction from you. 

“What’s all this?” You ask with a grin. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, mi vida (my life),” he says and leans down to initiate a kiss.

“I have bad breath,” you point out.

“I have coffee,” he replies and kisses you anyway, “And today’s crossword puzzle.”

“I knew I married you for a reason,” you scoot to sit back against the headboard. Javier moves to get into bed with you, pulling the covers aside to get under them while you reach for the tray. You place it between the two of you as if you are about to have a picnic in bed. 

“Did you check on Seb?” You ask as you marvel at the breakfast that Javier has put together for the two of you. There are heart-shaped chocolate chip pancakes, an abundance of fresh fruit (including blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, and banana), whipped cream, syrup, and coffee the way you both like it; black without anything more which Javier claims - to this day - is still one of the reasons that he fell for you. 

“Still asleep for now but I suspect he’ll want one of us soon because he can hear us,” he tells you and reaches for his mug after handing you yours. 

“I’ll enjoy this while it lasts then,” you take a sip of coffee, humming at the taste. Then, after putting down your mug, you pop a blueberry into your mouth. 

“I think Lucas has a crush,” Javier tells you in a heartbeat later, smirking into his own cup of coffee. 

You raise a brow in suspicion and surprise, looking at him without turning your head. You swallow down the blueberry and go for the pancakes next, “What makes you say that?”

“Well, he got shy when I asked him if they were making Valentine cards at school today. So I figured something was up because he usually doesn’t get quiet about all those things, you know, he’s touchy-feely,” Javier explains. As he talks, you pour syrup onto the stack of pancakes on your plate, “Inés nearly fell off her chair as she talked about what the school has planned. So yeah, whatever, he’ll tell us if he wants to.”

“Well, perhaps, and hopefully I might add, he’s inherited his dad’s charm as well as his good looks,” you tease, tapping your chin as if you are trying to remember something, “What was it Connie called you? Think it was serial romancer.”

“Hold on, you’ve never told me this,” he pretends to look offended, “When was this?”

“At the bar… just after I laid eyes on you,” you sprinkle fruit on top of your breakfast and wipe your hand on your tank top, “She told me not even to think about it but I knew that I was done for.”

“That damn woman,” he lets out a genuine laugh, “Better tell Steve to keep his lady under control.”

“Connie’s definitely the one keeping her man under control. Just like me,” you smirk, taking a bite that is way too big because your eyes can’t get enough. You groan at the taste. Everything is delicious, so you stuff your mouth and thus don’t have to reply to your husband’s outrage.

“Hey,” he says but you just grin at him, showing off each piece of pancake between your teeth. He sighs but there’s a hint of adoration in his eyes and you know he is fighting a smile, “Charming.”

When you finally swallow, he has dug into his own meal. You eat in silence for a moment, simply enjoying each other’s company as it is undisturbed by children. 

“Don’t you have work today?” You ask eventually. 

“I told them I was coming in later,” he replies, stabbing a strawberry with his fork, “They can survive without me until 10-ish. They’re gonna have to.”

You glance over at the clock on your nightstand. It is 8:16. There’s still time to enjoy each other’s company, maybe even have a cuddle or something more if you aren’t too full from breakfast. 

Javier has opened the paper now but he hasn’t gotten out a pen yet which means that he isn’t starting the puzzle yet. You continue eating, and meanwhile, conversation flows naturally around subjects like work, kids, and sweet memories. 

Suddenly, in the midst of reminiscing about your first trip out of town together, the light on the baby monitor comes on and Sebastian’s distraught, unhappy cries sound through the speaker. Javier puts down the paper and gets up before you. 

“Do you think he’s hungry?” You ask, already moving to pull your top’s straps down to reveal your breasts. 

“I know he is, that’s how he cries when he is,” he moves towards the door, already talking to his son throughout the house, “I’m coming, mijo (my son).”

“You’re so much better at the parent thing than me,” you try to remember which of your breasts you nursed from last night but you cannot, and therefore resort to feeling for the fuller one. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he leans down to kiss your lips before heading down the hall. You listen and wait, hearing Javier coo at his newborn and causing the cries to turn into hiccups instead. 

After a moment, he returns with Sebastian in his arms. You hold out your own and he carefully hands him over to you. With a grin, you settle your baby into your arms, “Hi, sweetheart. Hi there, baby boy, ooo, you’re hungry, aren’t you? Look at that big mouth you’ve got — Honey, can you get me a cloth?”

You don’t look up but hear Javier leave the room again but only briefly. He comes back and gives you a muslin cloth which you throw over your shoulder, a thing that always makes Javier joke about you looking like - and kind of being - a bartender if that bartender only served milk. 

Sebastian quickly latches on. He closes his eyes as he nurses, and you look longingly at your breakfast as he eats his own. You frown, “It’s getting cold. My coffee too.”

“Just sit back,” your husband reassures, shifting on the bed without making the tray tip over. He cuts a piece of pancake and stabs it with his fork, “Open up.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you smile happily but oblige. 

“You’re literally keeping my kid alive, mi amor (my love). The least I can do is keep you alive as well, fuel you up,” he feeds you with his own mouth slightly agape. It makes you laugh. 

“What?” Javier chuckles in his confusion.

“You look like a fish,” you tease as you giggle, letting Sebastian grab at your index finger, “I’ve never noticed if you look like this too when feeding the kids.”

“Cállate (shut up),” he laughs, consciously avoiding making himself look foolish again as he feeds you another bite. He purposely pokes your nose with the back of your fork to smear the tip with whipped cream, and you respond by looking shocked while laughing. 

“That’s so unfair, I have an actual baby in my arms,” you argue, looking down at Sebastian to give him the run-down on his father’s behavior, “You know, Seb, it’s a good thing I love him so much. Look at this. Absolutely ridiculous.”

“I think you might have deserved that one, baby,” he reasons, “Don’t think I feel bad. Seb agrees.”

“You don’t know that,” you use the muslin cloth to wipe a little milk off of your child’s cheek and then wipe whipped cream off your nose too, “Now, please, feed your starving wife. I feel weaker by the second.” 

“Always the dramatic,” he replies but follows through. 

The teasing dies down after that. You eat whatever Javier gives you whilst you are breastfeeding and Javier eventually finds the crossword in the paper to do it during your quiet morning. 

When Sebastian is done eating, cooing happily, you bend your knees and place him against your thighs. You hold both of his hands, doing a little dance with him whilst your husband reads clues aloud. 

“Another word for radiance, four letters and beginning with g,” he says. 

“Glow,” you reply instantly.

“You’re so much better at the crossword thing than me,” he winks and writes down the remaining letters. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” you smile at him and he smiles back. The morning is perfect. 

*

After a cozy morning, Javier has to leave for work. He kisses you and Sebastian goodbye and takes the breakfast tray down into the kitchen with him so you can sleep more if you want to. 

You protest at first - it really hadn’t been your intention - but seeing your baby yawn and coo in your arms makes you sleepy, and you end up on your side with Sebastian on Javier’s side of the bed. He has his arms above his head, face turned towards you and you rest an arm over him whilst you snore lightly. The few hours of sleep you get like this without any interruption are fantastic, boosting your productivity for the rest of the early afternoon. 

You dress casually and wrap Sebastian in a sling, so he can sleep against your chest while you clean up from breakfast, fill and start the dishwasher, and do a round of laundry before having to pick up Lucas and Inés from school. 

However, when you start to get the car keys from their place in the hallway, you hear the door open and the familiar sound of children’s voices filling the house. You can hear the enthusiasm in their voices as they talk to who you assume is your husband but when you turn the corner, you see that it is, in fact, your father-in-law.

“Hello, mija (my daughter),” Chucho says and takes off his hat. He hangs it by all the coats and scarves, “Javier told me to pick up the kiddos.”

You look a little dumbstruck, having been taken completely by surprise but still, you walk over to give him a hug and receive a kiss on the cheek, “Did he say why?”

Chucho kisses Sebastian’s head too, who only coos quietly against your chest. From below, Inés is trying to get your attention. You run a hand over her hair without looking at her, trying to get her to tone down her enthusiasm as you search for answers. Chucho just smiles. 

“It’s Valentine’s Day, sweetie,” he reasons with a gentle smile, “I think he has his reasons. All I know is that I’m not supposed to bring them back here before tomorrow afternoon after school.”

“Abuelo promised that we could get pizza for dinner,” Inés interrupts again. You smile down at her whilst trying to process having a whole twenty-four hours off from being parents. 

“Ain’t you lucky,” you say with a grin. 

Chucho beckons Lucas over who brings his school bag with him, “But first, I think these two have some things to show you. Lucas, c’mere.”

“We made presents!” Inés says and Lucas glares. He frowns at his little sister, placing his backpack by his feet and throwing daggers in her direction.

“Inés, you’re ruining the surprise,” he grumbles despite still digging into the bag. Inés seems unbothered about his irritation, simply joining him to stick her hands into the bag as well. Lucas continues, “Don’t tell Mom what it is.”

You and Chucho watch them, hiding a chuckle as Inés eventually still states that she wants to show her drawing first and Lucas starts groaning. 

“Mom!” He says with exasperation. 

“Ay, Inés, por favor (please),” you say, “Let Lucas share his surprise. It’ll be your turn soon.”

“Mine is for Papá,” she states proudly. 

“She’s just excited, hijito (little son),” you hear your father-in-law say. He puts a calloused hand on Lucas’ shoulder, whispering quietly, “Show your mom your present. Inés’ll be too busy talking to notice.”

It is true. Inés gets a hold of her drawing and spends her time admiring her work, and Chucho is sweet enough to indulge her to give you and your son a moment alone. 

In his very own gentle nature, Lucas finds the card that he has made for you just next to where Chucho had told him to store Inés’ drawing as well. He blushes as he hands it to you, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mom.”

You inspect it before opening it; it is a blank card that Lucas has decorated with colorful stickers and glitter, having drawn shapes and patterns along the sides and a big heart in the middle where it says To Mom in his wonky handwriting. 

You open it to reveal a little letter addressed to you. It is framed by another border of glitter:

Dear Mom,

Happy Valentine’s Day! I love you a million billion times around the Earth. You take care of me and Inés and Sebastian. And you always make me happy when you give me a hug. 

Love, Lucas

You find yourself speechless for a moment and out of the corner of your eye, you see the familiar expectant face that Javier sported earlier too. It takes your breath away. 

Carefully, you crouch down with Sebastian still in his sling. It gives you the opportunity to embrace Lucas from the side, hugging him close and kissing his hair repeatedly. You whisper endearments to him, tell him you love him and he gets shy as he reciprocates, using the time to caress Sebastian’s fine hair on top of his head. 

“I love you so much, my Valentine boy,” you say with a soft voice as you pull away, stretching again and running your hand through his dark hair repeatedly. You can feel a few more tears escape your eyes, your heart pinching in your chest from how much love you feel. Could the day become more perfect? You doubt it. 

“Dad asked me about it at breakfast but I was scared of him telling you so it wouldn’t be a surprise because he always does. But then Inés did it anyway…” he grumbles and looks up to see your tears. His eyes widen, “Mom, are you crying?”

“It’s just happy tears, mijo (my son),” you reassure, “Sometimes having babies makes you cry a little more often.”

Lucas seems a little confused by this. You tell him that he’ll understand when he gets older. After all, he only has so many years until hormones will start to rage through his own body. 

Suddenly, the front door opens and closes in the next moment, and Inés giggles loudly as she recognizes the sound of her father’s footsteps. When he enters the kitchen doorway - his steps are way bigger even if Inés is running - he crouches down and opens his arms, “There she is! Mi diablilla (my little devil), how are you?”

Inés throws her arms around her father’s neck, drawing still clutched in her grip to the point where the paper crinkles. You feel like it was a waste of time to try and wipe away your happy tears because the sight makes them well up in your eyes once more. 

“I made you a drawing. Abuelo told me I could give it to you before we go to his house. Did you know we are having pizza tonight? I can have a whole pizza to myself and I want the pizza to have pepperoni,” Inés announces, squealing with delight as Javier wraps his arms around her before stretching to his full height again and picking her up with a dad-groan. He places her on his hip, bumping his nose into her cheek.

“Christ, you get bigger by the second. Pizza? I don’t remember you liking pizza,” Javier teases, walking across the room to the rest of his family. He smiles at his son, reaching out to rub his shoulder with his free hand and winking at him before talking further with babbling Inés, “Hold on, I thought you liked broccoli and spinach the most. Do you really want pepperoni? I think you should get broccoli on your pizza.”

Inés loves it when her father teases her. He’ll act dumb and silly on purpose - her favorite thing a year ago had been whenever he made himself purposely bad at puzzles, and he’d try to piece two corners together -  much to his daughter’s delight. 

“Nooo, ew!” She says with a grin, clinging onto him. 

“She only wants it because I want it,” Lucas says matter-of-factly, still a little frustrated with his little sister. He bounces back and forth on his heels. 

“Then you can have her leftovers, mijo (my son), she never eats a whole pizza anyway” Javier reasons and mouths the last bit of the sentence, moving the hand on his son’s shoulder to put it on the back of his neck. He gently tugs him into his side. Eventually, your son gives in and hugs him around his middle.

“Hi Dad,” he says softly, hugging him tightly even if it’s briefly. 

“Hola,” he smiles. 

“We should get going,” Chucho interrupts gently and reaches for his hat again, “We’ve got a lot of things planned this afternoon. The animals won’t take care of themselves.” 

“My drawing!” Inés yells, squirming in her father’s arms from eagerness and rushing, so much that she nearly smacks the picture into his face. She holds it too close to his eyes so that he has to take it and hold it for her. 

You find yourself tiptoeing up behind them to look at the picture yourself, trying not to distract anyone from what they’re doing. 

It’s a picture of your house. There’s a fire in the chimney but its smoke blows the opposite way of the way that a cloud is raining. She has just started drawing butterflies but they’re as big as the trees in the garden and with multicolored wings. 

In the bottom right corner, she has written I love Daddy but replaced the word love with a heart instead. Underneath is her signature. The S in her name is turning the wrong way but it’s her name nevertheless. 

“This is so good,” Javier says enthusiastically, “Tell me about it. What is it?”

“It’s my house! I drew a lot of butterflies in the garden,” she explains proudly. In the background, you notice that Chucho is carrying bags, which you had no idea were packed, out of the front door. 

“I can see that. You really know how to color. The green one is my favorite,” Javier continues, “Do you want me to put it on the fridge for when you come home tomorrow?” 

Inés nods eagerly. She beams and then turns serious, “Yes! If— if you want to take the rabbit one down that’s okay.”

“Oh, I am gonna miss you, mi vida (my life),” Javier pecks her cheek and she giggles, “So much.”

“It’s only till tomorrow,” you point out with a giggle. 

“Doesn’t mean I won’t miss these rascals,” Javier puts Inés down on the floor again, still holding her drawing and making sure not to crumple it. He ruffles Lucas’ hair, “You too, hijo (son).”

“I love you, Dad,” he says with a shy smile. 

“I love you too, Daddy!” Inés joins in. 

You mimic a wave with Sebastian’s little hand, “I love you too, Papá.”

“Now, now. As much as I love you, say bye to Mom,” he protests, nodding towards his infant son, “Want me to take him?”

“Yes, please,” you say and carefully unwrap Sebastian from his sling. It’s not a difficult transfer, something you have done a million times in the past many years. Sebastian only complains a little, Javier tuts and bounces him and the paper in his hand flaps. 

You hug both of your kids at the same time, kissing them repeatedly on their heads, “I love you very much, my babies. I hope you have a fun time.”

“That’s the car packed,” Chucho announces as he comes back inside, “Come on, kids.”

“Right, I’ll put Seb in his car seat,” Javier replies as Inés and Lucas run to their grandfather’s car. Chucho goes with them to put on their seatbelts. 

“Sebastian is going too?” You tense up. This hasn’t even crossed your mind. 

“It’s just supposed to be us tonight,” Javier says, having put Inés’ drawing on the kitchen counter and already moving towards the front door where the car seat is on top of a cabinet. You hear shuffling around as your husband clicks the safety belt on, and you instinctively follow. 

“We haven’t done that since the summer,” you argue. 

“All the more reason to do it again if it’s been that long,” he responds with a little smile.

“Well, does he have enough milk?” You ask, moving your weight from side to side. 

“More than enough, I packed extra.”

“O-okay.”

Javier leaves the car seat on the floor, steps close to you and cups your face, “He’ll be fine. Just like Inés and Lucas have been in the past. Relax, mi amor, no pasa nada  (my love, it’s okay).” 

“Okay,” you take a deep breath and nod, holding onto one of Javier’s wrists for a moment as you steady yourself. He looks like someone ready to catch you, “Está todo bien (it’s okay).” 

“Now, let’s say goodbye so I can have you to myself, vale?” He smirks, leaning in to kiss you just barely. 

“You have to tell me what you have planned tonight too,” you say and he nods. 

“Claro (of course).”

It takes five minutes to get Sebastian in the car, secure him properly, and wave goodbye to your kids from the driveway. When you cannot see the car anymore, you walk inside and the house gets incredibly quiet after you close the door. The both of you let out a sigh. 

“What now?” You look at Javier questioningly. After all, he is the one who has planned the next 24 hours.

“Honestly? I just want to take a nap,” he finds your hips and steers you closer, linking his arms around your waist. You reach up to rest your palms on his chest, scratching slightly against his shirt. He chuckles, “Do you want to take a nap with me?”

“Just a nap?” You raise a brow. 

“Yes, just a nap,” he confirms with a boyish twinkle in his eyes.

“I’d kill for a nap but only if you tell me what’s happening later. I don’t like surprises,” you remind him when he already starts dragging you by your hand toward the stairs.

Javier waits until the both of you have ascended the stairs before telling you. You don’t say it but there’s a bit of relief following as you thought that he had forgotten what today was, especially because you usually at least get a present from him. He smiles brightly as he speaks, seeming proud that he has managed to keep it a secret from you, “Well, first you are going to wear something nice, a dress, and get all gorgeous for me.”

He continues as you reach the bedroom, toeing off his shoes, “Then at eight, I’m taking you out to dinner at that new place downtown where the portions are fucking tiny and ridiculous.”

“Wait, the gourmet restaurant?” You have let go of his hand to undo the baby wrap, folding it afterward and placing it on your shared dresser, “They’ve been fully booked for months.” 

“Well yeah, and guess whose name is on one of the bookings,” he smirks, crawling onto the bed and waiting for you to follow. 

“You spoil me,” you lay down on your respective sides and turn to face each other. You rest both hands underneath your cheek, grinning at the way that Javier looks so mischievous but suddenly, something in his eyes darkens. 

“What?” You ask.

He reaches out for your waist, “And then when we get home, when you are all giggly from champagne, I am putting a baby in you.”

Your heart skips a beat. All blood in your body goes south. Without thinking, you sling a leg over his body and move closer, “Is that so?”

“Indeed, mi vida (my life),” the hand on your waist goes to rest on top of your thigh. He rubs it once and then twice but doesn’t do anything further, “But not now. Have a nap, wake up, and get pretty for me. You won’t get dick before tonight, lo siento (I’m sorry).”

“Unfair,” you mumble with already closed eyes. 

*

It turns out to be just a nap. You wake a good while longer before Javier, knowing that you need more time than he does to get ready if you want to feel good about going to a fancy restaurant. 

Besides you, your husband continues sleeping soundly. He doesn’t even sense it when the mattress shifts, bed springs creaking a little, as you leave the bed, and you make a mental note to ask him about his day to figure out what on Earth has made him this tired. 

You have a checklist in your head with steps for getting ready to go out. It changes with the details of the event, so you pull out the one that includes what you like to do to look pretty for your husband. However, all the lists always start with a shower. 

The spray is hot and soothing against your skin. You wash your hair and leave in your conditioner while you scrub your body, giving it extra time to work as you top your normal shower routine by shaving your legs. After struggling with balancing your leg against the wall for what has seemed like forever, the last five minutes of your shower are just spent standing underneath the shower head to feel the water cascading down your clean, smooth, and soft skin. 

It takes you twenty-five minutes more to put on lotion, brush your teeth, blow dry your hair, and choose an outfit. When you leave the bathroom to put on your dress, Javier kisses you in the doorway before popping into the shower himself. 

Now the hard part, you think to yourself. The dress you have chosen is from your anniversary a few years ago, consisting of tight red fabric. A part of you knows that it’s a bad idea as soon as you take it off its hanger and start putting it on, stepping into it, and pulling it up over your hips. 

When it hugs your body in a way that feels unfamiliar to you, you step towards the full-body mirror on the bedroom wall with the intention of seeing if it needs any adjustments around your chest and waist. What greets you is not something that you wish to continue looking at but staring into the mirror, you find yourself unable to look away.

A reflection of your post-baby body stares back. You aren’t anymore who you were when you had Lucas, and thus getting back into your usual shape after giving birth to Sebastian has not become a reality despite the pressure from people around you being there. 

There’s not much to say about it except your hips are wider and your stomach protrudes more than it did before. Usually, you haven’t worn a dress before getting down to your pre-pregnancy weight but Javier had made it sound so easy and now, it is so difficult; insecurities whisper in your ear as you try to flatten the fabric in hopes of looking prettier.

However, the scrutiny you put yourself under only intensifies and self-doubt becomes the uninvited guest that insecurity brings to the party. Should you ditch the idea of a dress altogether? You think yes and start to undress again because it’s way too tight around your middle and torso.

When Javier comes back into the bedroom, his hair is still damp and he has put on black underwear. You cannot help feeling the tiniest bit bitter at how well his extra pounds suit him and simply leaves him with a so-called dad-bod. He finds you stepping out of the dress as it has pooled around your feet. You look on the verge of tears at this point, knowing that you are not the woman that he chose to marry ten years ago. 

“¿Que pasó (What happened)?” He is just about to head for the dresser when he stops in his tracks and turns on his heel to face you, noticing immediately the way your shoulders slump when you feel defeated.

You smile at him in the mirror, slightly unsure, when he catches your eyes, and you shift a little on the spot when he goes to stand right behind you.

“What?” You ask.

“What’s wrong?” He inquires once again. 

“Do you think I’m pretty?” The question leaves your mouth before you can stop it, and Javier raises a brow. 

“Is this a trick question?” He continues with a smile, “Baby, you are pretty, so pretty. You look incredible. As in, it is actually illegal or should be.”

Your attempt at a smile falters and Javier seems to realize that he has overdone it. You don’t believe him when he goes too head-on with the compliments. 

“I don’t have anything to wear,” you say in frustration and reach up to rub your face, finally turning around to avoid the mirror completely, “My boobs are too big, my thighs and waist too. Nothing looks good on me, especially not a dress.”

“Ay, slow down,” he looks down at your half-naked body and smirks a little. It mostly just makes you want to cover up again, “First of all, your boobs are great.”

You try to laugh but it just sounds painful. Then he finds your eyes again, watches the pout on your face, and tuts when a tear escapes your eye and rolls down your cheek. 

“I’m not beautiful anymore,” you say as if it’s a fact, “I look so different from when you met me.”. 

He wipes the tear away with his thumb, saying your name gently and you find your eyes prickling with more frustrated tears. 

He lets out a soft aww, baby, and steps closer to pull you into his arms, holding you as he lets you whimper quietly and then cry softly into his shoulder. His hands rub up and down your back. He is so warm.

“How about I choose something?” He suggests after a long silence filled with a bunch of silent tears. He pulls back to look you in the face, “You know I have a favorite, and then it won’t be as much pressure if you worry that I won’t like it. Even if that’s bullshit.”

“O-okay,” you sniffle, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“Okay, baby,” he smiles genuinely and pecks your hair.

He goes to browse through your clothes and you stay by the mirror, still not turning around to look at yourself but instead looking at your feet like a child feeling guilty. It takes a moment for him to find the dress that he refers to as his favorite but when he returns to you, you look up again and are surprised by the one he apparently likes more than all the others.

It’s a navy blue satin dress that you bought last year when you were pregnant with Sebastian, and it quickly became your favorite dress for the summer because it had to be tied just below your breasts and therefore didn’t sit tight around your belly. It has butterfly sleeves and a flowy skirt that is slightly longer in the back and stops right at your knees in the front. It’s a wrap-around too, which means that it shows enough cleavage to make you feel sexy for him and to top it off, holds your breasts in place so you can avoid the annoyance of a bra. 

You don’t know why it didn’t come to mind but you suspect that given how much you wore it last summer, it didn’t feel special enough. However, the fact that Javier likes it so much seems to transform it into the most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen. 

Javier pulls the dress off its hanger and walks around you. He puts it on you like a coat and then stands in front of you to tie a knot on the front, undoing it and redoing it when he isn’t satisfied with his creation the first time. None of you say anything. None of you feel the need to.

His hands smooth out the fabric in a careful manner, and you suddenly find that Javier making you feel loved is so interchangeable with you feeling beautiful that you don’t have a clue why you had been in tears five minutes earlier.

He helps you into your heels too, lifting your feet one at a time by holding your ankle. The action is so gentle that you forget to breathe, even more so when he stretches to his full height once more and cups your face. 

“Listen to me,” he says and there’s a certain sternness in his voice. Despite this, he doesn’t sound mean or angry, “I don’t ever want you saying these things about yourself again, okay?”

You nod your head as much as you are able to. A whimper wants to escape your lips but you hold it back. 

“You are my wife, mi vida (my life),” he begins, letting his hands smooth over your shoulders and then down your arms until he can hold both of your hands, “I don’t give a shit about what you used to look like, it’s past, it’s not important. Eres tan hermosa (you are so beautiful). Look at the love you pour into our family. You’re the best Momma in the world, patient and kind, and I am in awe of you every day to the point where I can’t stop falling for you in new ways. You make me happy, make it worthwhile to power through at work so I can come home to you and the kids.”

“And you have never looked sexier,” he continues, eyes going down your body to see for himself that he is undoubtedly right. He grabs your hips, rubbing circles with his thumbs, “Your hips, your thighs… You’ve carried my children, for fuck’s sake. Without you, I’m nothing.”

“I mean look at you…” He trails off for a moment, looking down at where his hand is resting on your hip. You cannot help thinking about how warm his strong hand is, radiating comfort throughout your body. He looks lost in his thoughts and licks his lips without thinking. 

“Javi,” you say quietly. 

“Do you understand?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say almost nervously.

But then suddenly, his arms are around your waist and he is pulling you in for a kiss that makes you forget about the dinner reservation, the insecurities, and the time management altogether. You sling your arms around his neck and give in to his lips on yours, following him wherever he goes as he tugs you away from the mirror and towards the bed. 

Before he instructs you to lie down, his hands find the knot on the front of your dress. He undoes it slowly, letting the dress fall open like a satin robe and groaning at the sight of your lack of a bra. He lets his hands go inside the dress, skimming his palms around your waist to pull you close and your head swims from the feeling of his skin on yours. 

“Hermosa (beautiful),” he says, hands going up and cupping the underside of your breasts, You smile shyly, looking down to where he is touching you. Warmth has started to burn low in your belly just like before you fell asleep. 

With newfound bravery, you reach up to peel the dress off of your shoulders. It falls down to your elbows, exposing your chest and tickling your back, until you let it slip off onto the ground in a pool around your feet. Javier looks like he might need someone to tell him to breathe. 

He wraps one arm around your body and reaches behind your thigh with the other to pull your leg up slightly. Allowing him to slip you off your feet, he moves you onto the bed in a swift motion. 

You kick off your heels as soon as you can, crawling back towards the headboard and Javier follows you without having to get undressed. After all, he never got any further because he saw you. You feel like you want to giggle with glee at the fact that you still have this effect on him years later. 

Instinctively, you bend your legs and plant your feet flat on the mattress and without hesitation, Javier crawls between them to look down at you and marvel at the sight. He looks like a child on Christmas Day, hands reaching out to run up your shins, over your knees, and to grope at your thighs. 

“Qué fuerte (unbelievable), are you really my wife?” He muses while rubbing your thighs absentmindedly. You reach for his hands and tug him down to you. 

“Sí, mi amor (yes, my love),” you sound drunk on him already, using his own words against him. He is so close to you as he lies on top of you, crushing you so heavenly with his weight.

He kisses you longingly and gently scoops you into his strong arms whilst he does it, holding you flush against himself so you can feel your nipples harden against his chest. When you inhale through your nose to keep the kiss going, his scent fills your nostrils and God, he smells like soap and home.

It takes a minute to move on. You can see how he wants to descend on your body but each time he tries, you want another kiss and he happily indulges you. Like a couple of teenagers, you only stop when both of you have slightly swollen lips and he has a hard-on poking into your thigh. 

“Let’s get these off,” Javier crawls back on the bed with elevated breath, fingers slipping underneath the waistband of your panties. He tugs them down your thighs and you help by lifting your ass off the mattress for a moment. His eyes are glued to your soft, fresh-out-of-the-shower and glowing skin, kissing your ankle as he slips your underwear off your feet and throws it to the side. 

“You are so fucking hot,” he sounds in awe, “Look at you.”

You cannot stop grinning. Even when he lowers himself down on the bed again and gets comfortable between your thighs. 

When he settles, he takes the sight of you in. You can feel your heartbeat in your untouched clit, and it only gets more powerful when Javier looks between your legs as if he is starved. He noses along your knee and then bites your inner thigh, growling under his breath. He moves inwards towards your quivering cunt then finds your eyes just before he dives in, indulges, “Do you know how fucking wet you are for me?”

You do know. It has steadily gotten to the point where you know that when you are going out later, you need to wear a new pair of underwear since the white cotton has probably become see-through and shiny. 

And then his mouth is on you and you throw your head back, nearly breaking your neck and letting out a hah-sound as you stare up at the ceiling.

“You’re so good at that,” you moan, letting your eyes fall shut so nothing can distract you from the way his velvety tongue feels between your legs. It is intense to focus on nothing but the way he can guide it over your clit until your toes start to curl, “Oh my God, baby!”

When he kisses your clit and then sucks on it afterward, you lose your mind. Both of your hands come down to rest on the top of his head and when you feel the first flutters of pleasure that tell you that you are getting closer, you cannot keep your hips still. You move underneath his mouth, pushing your pelvis upward occasionally to let him devour you even further.

He eats you until you are seeping arousal into the bedsheets, pussy aching to be filled and stretched in only the way that his cock can. You twitch, clit pulsing, when his mouth leaves you briefly but you know what is to come - other than you, obviously - so you don’t complain. He does it to concentrate on slipping two fingers inside of you, pressing them upwards toward your g-spot before curling them over and over again. 

His mouth finds your clit again and he is beyond his usual enthusiasm. The hands on his head stop simply resting there. Instead, you thread your fingers through his hair to channel the way you want to scream into something else because oh, mmhm, oh… oh! 

You come on his tongue, shaking like a leaf and with a high-pitched moan that bounces off the walls. Your whole lower body spasms, walls clamping down on Javier’s fingers which still press towards your front wall and make you delirious with pleasure. 

“Fuck!” You cry, “Fuckfuckfuck!”

Javier has pushed himself to his knees to watch you. He replaces his tongue on your clit with his thumb, teasing out the very last twitches of your high by going in circles until you need to yank his wrist away from the overstimulation. 

After a moment, you begin to giggle. Your hand skims over your forehead, holding it there afterward in an almost soothing manner. Javier is looking at you, having wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and is now trying to decipher whether he can move on to something more or if you need a break. 

At no point do either of you think about checking the time. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day to me,” you say when you finally get your breath under control. You still feel giggly but instead, it comes out as a soft chuckle as you speak. 

“You make it sound like I don’t do this often,” he crawls closer to you again, and you tell him to come here as he enters your arms. He kisses your neck a few times and then looks up at you, “I go down there quite a lot and often, you know.”

“Yes, yes, like a good boy, I know,” you tease him, reaching for his chin to pull him into a soft and lazy kiss. He tastes like you, and you lose yourselves in each other once more until Javier pulls off his briefs with one hand. He discards them without leaving you for too long, throwing them to whatever spot he had aimed your own underwear at. 

“Need to have you close,” you voice what you long for, having grown needy from seeing him undress completely. The sight of his beautiful cock is enough to get you fired up again, clenching around nothing, “Please.”

You spread your legs even further and Javier lies between them, reaching down to ease his cock inside of you. He enters you slowly and with a shaky breath, the both of you staring down to watch as he disappears inside of your cunt. 

You hold onto his arms, breathing hard and trying to relax as it stings slightly due to his generous girth. The second he bottoms out, you whine feebly as if you have been holding it back and it’s now safe to do so. 

“Lo sé (I know),” he soothes.

“You feel so good,” you babble, “I love you.”

“Y yo a ti (I love you too),” he bumps your noses together, looking into your eyes as he moves once and then twice. Your mouth falls open in a gasp and he uses the opportunity to lick into your mouth and kiss you deeply. 

You slide your hands underneath his arms to hug him close, letting them go up along his broad back and each ripple of muscle that flexes as he fucks you until you can clutch onto his shoulders. You rock with him, relishing in the smooth motion of his hips moving back and forth to stretch your cunt open again and again. 

Your fingers dig into his shoulders until your knuckles start to ache. No matter how many times he is with you like this, it will never be enough. It will never be enough because you need him to be this close and connected to you every goddamn day. It’s like a hardcore drug that clouds your brain, like the oxygen that you breathe in daily, like the food and drink necessary to survive. 

Without interrupting him, you move to dig your heels into the back of his legs. With each stroke of his cock inside of you, each roll of his gorgeous hips and pelvis, you can feel the muscles of his calves tightening and relaxing. Your limbs tangling around him allows you to angle him how you want it most, so you mumble something and dig your heels in further. 

Suddenly, his pelvic bone crashes against your clit, and it continues doing so until you know that this is how you are going to come a second time. 

“Oh, just like that,” you let your head fall back into the mattress, “You’re gonna make me— Javi! You’re gonna make me come, baby.”

“Is this pussy mine? Esta cosita linda (This pretty little thing)?” He asks with a growl, sounding so sexy that you know he is determined to make your orgasm approach even faster because his thrusts speed up.

“Para toda la vida (for life),” you say breathlessly, panting as you near your crescendo. It only takes a few more strokes against your clit and then you are done for, coming a second time with a sharp intake of breath and then a cry that could disturb the neighbors from whatever they are doing.

He kisses each whimper from your mouth and slows down a little to give you space for you to return to him. However, you know that this isn’t the end. His stamina today is mind-boggling but you don’t complain, instead take what he can give you even if it leaves you sore until the next day.

“You okay?” He asks when you have calmed down. 

You let your arms and legs fall down to your sides with a blissful expression on your face. You nod, reaching up to rub your eyes as you feel deeply sated, “Just give me a moment.” 

“Think you can take anymore?” He pulls out of you to get back onto his knees. You make a noise. On his shoulders, you spot the little crescent marks that your nails have left. 

“We’re making babies, right?” You note.

“Claro (of course),” he snorts. 

“Then you better screw me silly, Mr. Peña,” you shift slightly on the bed to present your spent cunt for him once more but more obscenely this time by reaching down and spreading your lips open. He groans at the sight, especially when you visibly clench around nothing and silently promise him what’s to come.

“Anything for you, Mrs. Peña,” he almost sounds in pain from the desperation to get back inside of you.

The sweet tenderness and romance are put on hold for something dirtier to take their place, Javier moving forward until the front of his thighs touches the back of yours. He pushes inside of you again with a gasp of your name and places his hands on your hips, holding on tightly so he can pound you into the mattress. 

The sound of his skin slamming against yours fills the room along with your moans, and each thrust sends ripples of intense pleasure through your body now that you are so sensitive. You allow yourself the relief of crying out towards the ceiling because, for the next twenty-four hours, you are completely child-free so who cares?

Javier’s eyes burn with desire at your noises. He is so beautiful, mouth hanging slightly open as he pants and his shoulders looking even broader when he hovers above you. And his noises, he is louder than normal too, you realize, with no intention of quieting his moans down either. 

A particular snap of his hips sends you reeling as he nudges your g-spot just right and makes you grip at the sheets. Javier is on you like a hawk and notices immediately the way that his cock has severed connection to your brain for a moment. 

“You like that? You like my cock?” He digs his thumbs into your hip bones, indulging himself by staring down at where his cock pistons in and out of you. His length is sticky with your arousal, “I can tell you like my cock, God, your come is all over me, baby.”

You bite your lower lip, furrow your brows, and nod repeatedly, “Yes… yesyesyes!”

“You’re on fire today, mi amor (my love), makes me wanna come inside of you like I’m meant to,” he spits filthy words as he goes harder, “Think you can give me one more? Make those gorgeous legs shake?”

The comment about your legs makes you bend them to your chest so you can link your arms under your knees. The position makes Javier swear under his breath, and when you squeeze around your calves, he becomes a tighter fit inside of you and a sob escapes you. 

He is the one to look drunk now, fighting the urge to let his eyes roll back into his skull in case he misses anything you do while he drives into your pussy in this new position. He moves his hands to place them on the back of your thighs and contort your body slightly. He digs his fingers into the extra pounds there and then fucks you with your shared pleasure in mind. 

The squelch of your cunt is obscene and you almost sound like you’re crying from how he pounds your g-spot. A third high, which started building slowly, approaches so quickly that you squeeze your eyes shut and nearly choke as you scream for him, “Yes, oh my God, yes! I’m—“

“That’s my girl,” he sounds close too, “Get it all over my cock, baby.”

The bliss you feel as you come a third time turns your demeanor from pathetic and whimpering into smiling and giggling instead. You look up at him with hazy eyes while you are grinning, moaning, and coming so hard that Javier cannot stop himself from laughing slightly even if it’s interrupted by his own moans.

“Fuck, you are gorgeous coming for me,” he praises with a shit-eating grin, gasping sharply at reaching his own peak a second later because he just cannot hold back any longer. He pulses inside of you, breeds you until you are filled to the brim, and you can feel some of it spilling out onto the bed sheets. 

Exhausted is not the right word. Your whole body slumps when post-orgasmic bliss hits you and you groan as Javier topples down on top of you as well. You melt together and breathe hard, one big tangle of limbs turning you into an octopus. 

“Definitely didn’t have time for that,” you say eventually.

“Stop being so hot then,” he jokes. He lifts his head to kiss you longingly and you allow yourself to lose yourself in it, again forgetting about the time that’s ticking by. 

As Javier reluctantly tears himself away from you, he casually looks at the clock on the nightstand and gets up so quickly that he needs to find his balance. He seems to realize that you are not just fashionably late but actually really late, “Mierda (shit).”

You check the time too and swear as well. It is twenty minutes to eight, and it takes at least fifteen minutes to drive to the inner city. There’s no way that the two of you are going to make the reservation, and you will just have to hope that they are kind enough to hold onto your table the minutes you are going to be late. 

It seems like you turn into the stars of your own romantic comedy, the only thing missing being the laughing track in the background because you move through the house so quickly that you almost forget to put on underwear after getting cleaned up in the bathroom. The rush doesn’t even give you time to ponder your shape in the mirror again.

By the time you actually leave the house, you are laughing at the ridiculousness of it all and looking disheveled. In fact, you have to stop Javier from getting into your car because his buttons are buttoned unevenly and his collar looks like he’s been out in a storm. 

“Right, fuck, what’s the time?” Javier asks when he slams the car door on his side. 

You look at the car radio’s clock, making a concerned noise, “Hmm… Ten to eight. If you speed a little?”

“I’m law enforcement,” he deadpans. 

“You’re also late for a booking you have had for months,” you argue. 

Javier pulls out of the driveway but despite it all, he still doesn’t speed with the mother of his children in the car. 

However, he does use his badge in the window to get a parking spot close to the restaurant. He pulls it from the glove box and you raise an eyebrow at him, to which he simply tells you to shut up with a tiny glint in his eye. 

Your heels click on the sidewalk as you speedwalk towards the restaurant’s main entrance. Javier holds the door open for you, and for a moment, you actually look like a couple who has it all together and is on a date. 

Despite this, it seems that impromptu sex is apparently not good for new restaurant businesses, even if it starts out innocently with an intention of comforting one’s partner, because your table has already been given to someone else. You can see Javier’s fist tightening into a ball at his side as he is told this. 

The man at the front desk looks unimpressed with your husband’s attempt to make him show you to a table anyway, and you even hear Javier saying that he cannot, in good conscience, let you starve. 

You stand a little behind your husband who quietly fumes because nothing seems to work, “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid we’re fully booked tonight and many nights ahead. It is Valentine’s Day after all.”

“Yes, I am aware,” he replies with gritted teeth. 

“Honey,” you reach out to put a hand on his arm and he whirls around, only to look a lot more calm the second he finds your gaze, “It’s fine. Come on, we’ll find someplace else.”

“But you’re starving,” he says helplessly. 

“Then let’s not keep this up. I know a place around the corner,” you smile at him, holding out your hand until he gives in and takes it, “Besides, they can keep their tiny portions to themselves.”

It may just be the last remains of what you did half an hour ago but Javier starts snickering while you guide him through the door and out into the evening air. He only manages to walk down the street with you for a few yards before he presses you against a brick wall and kisses you. 

“No,” you scold him playfully and place your palms on his chest, “I don’t care if you’re Laredo’s local hero. You couldn’t get a table so we’re not wasting time by making out in public. Like you said, I am starving.”

“Descarada (cheeky devil),” he pecks your lips but lets go of you, “Fine, lead the way.”

The two of you start walking. The place you have in mind is only a short walk away and it’s a nice night, so you don’t mind. Especially not when you can walk hand-in-hand with Javier the whole way and not have to say a thing.

You end up in front of a food truck that sells tacos. It is the perfect spot for something low-key which makes your whole night seem even funnier now that you are so overdressed. The two of you snicker together as you wait in line, mostly resembling a couple who have escaped a tedious wedding to get junk food. 

“My treat,” he says.

“You better. It’s your fault we’re here,” you tease.

“I think we have different versions of what happened back home,” he winks, “But fine, order whatever you want. Like always.”

You order your food, telling the owner of the food truck to go heavy on the pico de gallo and Javier follows behind with his own order. After paying, you take a step back to let other people buy their food. 

“This is where we had our first date,” he notices, an arm around your waist as you wait for your food. He tightens his grip around you as he speaks, “Where I knew I wanted to marry you, have kids with you.”

“This is not where we had our first date,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, looking at him long enough for him to give you a kiss. 

“Yes it was,” he replies. 

“No, you were drunk and we were heading home from the bar a few blocks from here,” you remind him, “We’d only just met. Connie told me not to follow you.”

“Fuckin’ Connie,” he shakes his head, “No, that was definitely our first date. I don’t care what you say. I just don’t wanna think about the disaster that followed even if you want to call that the first date.”

“You were late and we missed our reservation,” you reminisce, “Just like today.”

“Which is why I am not calling it the first,” he lets go of you as the woman in the truck places your orders on the counter. He hands you yours and then takes his own, “We had food, talked for hours and you were wearing that dress with the bows.”

“No more talk about dresses,” you groan as you walk to find a spot, “You’re making me depressed.”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs with a grin, “I knew then.”

“Well, I knew when Connie told me you were forbidden fruit,” you smile back at him, and there’s something strangely comforting about knowing that he follows right behind. 

The food truck's sitting area is right behind it in a cozy nook between two buildings. As disappointed as you were at not getting to try out the new restaurant in town, the picnic tables, and colorful plastic chairs more than make up for it. It is a lot more romantic than what you assume the gourmet restaurant would have been, and you choose a spot right underneath a blanket of string lights that seem to imitate stars. 

There are a few guests aside from you, and you feel warm at hearing their voices filled with laughter and joy. 

You sit down on the bench and tuck your skirt between your knees, getting comfortable and looking excitedly down at your soon-to-be-devoured food. There’s something uniquely satisfying about a greasy meal after sex, and even more so when your husband indulges you to have whatever you want. 

You pick up your taco and bite into it, doing a happy dance as you chew whilst Javier watches you with a grin on his face. However, the happiness is short-lived because something in the taco triggers a wave of nausea and you soon realize that it is the pico de gallo. 

“What is it?” Javier has caught on because you cannot help but grimace. 

“This tastes funny,” you say. Puzzled, you take another bite but quickly stop yourself before you are stupid enough to go for a third. Your stomach growls but there’s no way you are eating the rest without at least scraping it off. 

Carefully, you place the taco back down on its paper tray and take a few napkins from the dispenser on the end of the picnic table. You spit your latest bite out into one of them because your body does not agree with the idea of swallowing the acidity again. Then you take a long sip of your water and wish you had something to neutralize the taste in your mouth.

Without thinking much of it, you start to rid your food of the salsa fresca. You use your index finger to scrape it out onto the napkin and pick any remaining pieces off too, avoiding the natural instinct to suck your finger clean and wipe it on a new napkin instead. In front of you, Javier has stopped eating and simply watches you. 

You feel slightly judged by him, narrowing your eyes from annoyance, “What?”

“Are you pregnant?” He asks with a furrowed brow.

“What? No way,” you let out a chuckle of disbelief, “That’s not funny.”

“Honey,” he continues, nodding down at the napkin, “You love pico de gallo.” 

“So? The only times I haven’t eaten it has been when I’m pregna—“ your eyes widen, looking down at your taco for a moment before staring at Javier again. He looks just as alarmed by your food which is only two bites down, “There’s no way.”

Around you, people have started to notice a shift in your voice. It probably sounds like you are upset, like Javier is using Valentine’s Day to break up with you. 

“Baby, there’s no way,” you say again and your voice has become a little higher pitched, “I’d only be five weeks along.”

To the opposite of you, Javier is speechless. He has stopped eating his own dinner, sitting with his own taco but is unable to figure out how to react. 

“We can’t have been lucky the first time around. My period is due in a few days. This is ridiculous. Sebastian is only just about five months old,” you are starting to sound frantic, “Javi. Baby, I am freaking out.”

Javier blinks a few times almost as if he is mentally shaking himself out of his trance. He reaches across the table and takes hold of your wrist, “Calm down. Let’s just finish eating and then we can go get one of those early detection tests, yeah? Te prometo que todo va a salir bien (I promise you that everything is going to be okay).” 

“Yes, alright, you’re right,” you feel instantly calmed by his touch, turning your palm upward so he can hold your hand instead. Then you frown, “But I can’t eat this. It’s probably still going to taste like it.”

“Hold on,” he says, letting go of you to switch plates with you without hesitation, “There, now you can eat.”

“Te quiero (I love you),” you sigh happily, smiling at him from across the table. 

“Love you too, now eat, so you can feed my kid,” he starts to load the taco with pico de gallo again. 

*

The late-night pharmacy, just opening, exudes a subtle but steady hum of activity, bathing in the fluorescent glow of overhead lights. Shelves are neatly lined with pharmaceuticals, and you scrunch up your nose at the faint scent of antiseptic. Javier keeps a hand on the small of your back the whole time, steering you gently toward the counter as if this new piece of information has made him instantly more protective.

There’s only a single pharmacist behind the counter, a middle-aged woman with her glasses around her neck in a chain, but she doesn’t blink when you explain your sudden emergency. She beckons you down along the aisles and grabs a few different pregnancy tests for you to choose from. 

“This one is more certain but it does cost a little extra,” she explains and holds up a Clearblue digital test. Javier quickly exchanges a look with you. 

“We’ll take that one, actually make it two,” you say, tapping your feet nervously on the floor, “Can I use the bathroom here?” 

“We’re that eager?” She smiles, “Sure, dear. Let me just get the key.”

Javier pays at the counter, a twinkle in his eyes as he makes a joke, “My treat again.”

“You better; you’re the one who got us into this mess - again,” you giggle and it even earns you a chuckle from the pharmacist. 

“I hope you get the result you are hoping for,” she says when unlocking the door to the staff toilet. She ushers you both inside the door and then closes it behind you.

Silence at last, you think to yourself and even find that the water you drank with your meal earlier has run right through you. You pull up your skirt, twisting it and tying a knot to keep it from falling down again. You go for your underwear next, bending over to pull them down your legs to your ankles. You feel Javier’s palm steadying you without thinking.

Besides you, Javier starts tearing open the Clearblue boxes. He hands them to you one by one, and you finally sit down to pee, angling your wrist awkwardly to make sure you use the sticks correctly. The both of you stay silent through the whole ordeal.

You wrap both pregnancy tests in toilet paper and hand them to Javier who places them on the edge of the sink so you can finish up and get dressed again. He takes a step to the side to let you wash your hands, having crossed his arms over his chest and started tapping his fingers nervously.

While you listen to the sound of the water running, the air in the tiny, poorly lit bathroom seems to hang thick with anticipation. You want to say something but there is nothing you can say that’ll ease your shared, anxious heartbeat. Eventually, Javier beats you to it.

“Don’t be disappointed if it’s negative,” he gives you an uncertain smile. Mostly, it sounds as if he is talking to himself. 

“You know I will be,” you sigh, stepping close to link your arms around his neck. He nods in understanding, cupping your waist and rubbing soothingly with his thumbs.

“Me too,” he lets out a shaky breath.

“I know,” you automatically tighten your grip on him as the minutes go by, knowing that he needs it as much as you. On the sink, the white plastic sticks seem to mock you with their silence. 

Come on… 

A few minutes more and suddenly, you know there is no way back. It seems ridiculous that a stick with your pee on it has the ability to predict your future but here you are. You shake your head after untangling yourself from your husband, “I can’t look.”

Javier bravely takes them from their place on the sink. Your stomach does somersaults as he unwraps them, twisting them so their displays face upward. A slow, relieved smile spreads across his face and he looks up immediately, “You’re four to five weeks pregnant.”

“What?” You grab his wrist to take a look for yourself, “There’s no way!”

Sure enough, both displays show a positive result and an approximate number of weeks. Calculating in your head, you know it has to be that one time in the middle of the night in January. The thought of getting it right without even really having begun is crazy because it’s so unbelievable. 

“That’s so surreal,” you walk straight into his arms. He hugs you tightly, resting his lips on your forehead and you can feel his elevated breathing because you are so close to him. 

“Pop is going to have a heart attack,” he mumbles with slight amusement, although you can hear the tremor in his voice. You look into his eyes, reaching up to cup his cheek and smiling softly.

“We can’t tell anyone yet, it’s not been three months,” you say, lost in just staring at him. He is so beautiful when he is happy. 

“God, I know, I'm just so excited,” he chuckles, a little embarrassed. 

“I’m sure you’ve already figured out that it’s going to be a Halloween baby,” you grin. 

“Oh fuck, forget about Pop; Inés is gonna get so pissed if she has to share Halloween with a birthday child,” he starts to laugh after he has said it. You join in, high on the happiness you feel.

“I love you so much,” you say when the laughter dies down. 

“I love you too,” he kisses you after saying it. 

“And happy Valentine’s Day to us,” you continue, letting Javier pull away to throw the pregnancy tests out and wash his hands. 

“See? Now you’re using it right,” he teases after drying his hands. 

Then he opens the door and waits for you to step outside. Everything seems possible tonight.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[wwinterwitch]

teasing — anakin skywalker

summary: just anakin being a little tease before he goes down on you

pairing: anakin skywalker x princess!fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

tags: smut, secret relationship, teasing, masturbation using panties, pet names (baby, my love, good girl, darling), biting/marking, reader gets slightly insecure, softdom!anakin, body worship, he likes your scent hehe, oral (f receiving), he eats pussy like it's his life purpose, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, fingering

reblog or comment if you enjoy please!

all masterlists | star wars masterlist | read on ao3

Anakin smirks devilishly before his lips press against your lower belly, daring to nibble on your skin in an effort of teasing you even further. His erection feels almost painful, hidden inside his trousers; the sight of you looking down at him as he explores your body, the soft sounds coming from you as further confirmation of your pleasure, and the way your hips repeatedly lift themselves off the bed in clear urgency for more do nothing to help his aroused state.

Whenever he manages to have you like this– all his to enjoy, away from anyone who could dare to stand between the two of you, he likes to take his sweet time with you. With him in his endless missions as a Jedi, and your countless duties as the heir of one of the most prestigious kingdoms in the galaxy, it’s not easy to find much time to be together.

But sooner or later, he always comes back to you. 

Ever since he and Obi-Wan had the difficult task of rescuing you and another group of hostages from separatist forces, he’s been infatuated with you, and it didn’t take him much time to realize the sentiment was mutual.

After many stolen glances and a lot of interventions from Obi-Wan whenever he detected the slightest flirting between you, the two of you knew that the ceremony your father organized to celebrate your safe return would not be the last time you and Anakin would see each other.

The excuse was soon invented. You offered to help your father with all security matters on your planet, which inevitably meant having to interact a lot with the Jedi to keep constant and efficient communication. Evidently, you had chosen Anakin to be the Jedi you’d communicate with if your planet ever needed them– he saved you, of course you’d trust him the most.

Maybe not everyone bought it. Maybe the ones who did still have a few doubts when they realize just how good your communication is. It’s clear then neither of you care. As long as you’re able to see each other with a plausible reason and no one intervenes, it’s enough.

So technically, Anakin was back on your planet today for a scheduled meeting with you to discuss a few things. Nothing else, just following protocol. In reality, the two of you are in your chambers, away from prying eyes. Your naked body rests on top of the ridiculously expensive silk sheets, legs wide open for him to lay comfortably between them.

Leaning back, Anakin grabs your panties to push them up against your core, the fabric folding in a thin line that squeezes your clit in the most satisfying way.

He lets out a low groan when he sees the reaction on your face, staring back at you with evident pride and lust as he admires what a cute little mess you've become for him. Legs spread for him to do whatever he wants, your beautiful body all exposed to his hungry graze except for the panties you're still wearing, a few marks on your neck and breasts from his previous exploration just minutes earlier.

Not having enough just yet, he starts to move his arm rhythmically, causing the fabric to rub against your entire slit. You moan louder this time, looking down at him with pleading eyes as he continues his movements.

One of your hands moves towards your chest, urgently massaging one of your breasts. He smirks at the sight, speeding up so suddenly that you’re practically forced to close your eyes and lean your head back against the pillows. Your mouth stays in the shape of an ‘o’, moans increasing in volume, body tensing in pleasure.

Once he's satisfied enough, he moves his hand away, smirking as he stares at the absolute masterpiece between your legs. "Look at that," he comments in a husky voice, admiring the large stain of your arousal on your panties as his palms slowly trace up your thighs.

Anakin eventually reaches your inner thighs and he squeezes your flesh in a way that leaves you whimpering in both pleasure and pain. And then he squeezes again because he enjoyed your reaction a little too much.

His hand finally reaches its destination, the feeling of one of his fingers brushing against the fabric of your panties sending shivers down your spine. The contact is enjoyable, but you need more. "Fuck, your panties are soaked, baby," he practically growls, continuing to trace up and down in gentle movements.

His fingers stay there, carefully tracing your pussy with your underwear still acting as an annoying barrier that prevents you from experiencing the true pleasure that only his touch can bring you. He looks up at you, lips peppering small kisses up your inner thigh. 

At first you thought he’d keep moving upwards, maybe give you the satisfaction of leaving a kiss on top of the fabric, but as soon as he gets close to where you need him most, his lips move to your other thigh to repeat the same trail he previously followed from your knee to the edge of your panties.

You can't take his teasing anymore. Even when you should be used to this kind of behavior from him, you can't stand it any longer. It's all too much, but nothing at the same time.

With evident frustration, you find yourself rocking your hips against his fingers in an attempt to create more friction. The hand previously gripping the sheets moves to his hair, your grip on his light brown locks tightening when he gets closer and closer to your core. 

He looks at you with evident amusement, silent mockery shining in his eyes because he knows you’re getting impatient. Sometimes he’s feeling particularly merciful and he actually listens to your pleas right away, but there’s times where he likes to make you beg for it.

The disappointment is evident on your face when you see him move a hand to his hair, releasing his hair from your grip before he uses that same hand to push your hips down towards the mattress to keep you as still as possible.

"Anakin..." you breathe out in a desperate plea, practically pouting.

He seems to ignore you for a few seconds, almost hypnotized by the sight of you so desperate, distracted by the wetness he feels with his fingers. It's only when he lifts his head again to properly look at you that he finally seems to pay your apparent complaint any attention. "Yes, my love?" he asks playfully, as if he has no idea why you would be calling for him like that.

"Stop teasing," you whine, feeling incredibly frustrated as he just looks at you. The underwear you’re wearing is soaked and your body is completely ready for him to do absolutely anything, yet he’s barely touching you with his fingers.

Anakin ignores you once again, his eyes drifting down to your thigh. He’s leaning in once again, this time tracing his tongue against your skin before his teeth are sinking onto it without a warning, making you gasp as your back arches in response.

He barely moves back to admire the way his teeth marked you, using his mouth to suck on a spot just below the shape of them. The thought of how pretty a bruise –his bruise– would look on your inner thigh tomorrow makes his cock twitch.

"Is that an order, your highness?" he finally speaks, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You let out an exasperated sigh. You’re a woman who possesses an intimidating amount of power, but you’re completely defenseless when it comes to Anakin. You surrender all of it when you’re with him. 

He has a future queen wrapped around his finger, and that thought turns him on more than anything.

"Please!" you whine, fearing he’ll have you crying tears of frustration any second now if he decides to continue this torture.

To add to your growing despair, Anakin chuckles against your skin. "Now, we both know you can do much better than that," he whispers softly, encouraging you to speak up. After all, hearing your voice is one of the things he enjoys the most; he particularly likes it when it's in the form of breathless words and needy pleas.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment, not knowing what to say at first. Again, you should be used to him being like this, an annoying little tease, but there's something about Anakin that you'll never be prepared for. He’s unpredictable like that, but it’s one of the many things that made him stand out to you.

He's always finding new ways to keep you on the edge, to make you beg for it, to leave you ridiculously wet before he's even properly touching you. The fact that he has so much patience and self-control to keep his teasing for so long is deeply admirable but also incredibly frustrating.

Your breath gets heavier and your walls clench around nothing in torturous anticipation while he keeps his face dangerously close to your aching pussy, his eyes dark as he takes you in like your the most delicious thing on this galaxy and he just can't believe he's lucky enough to have you all to himself– yes, he likes teasing, but that doesn't mean he's not eager to please you, desperate to have his face buried in between your legs to drink up every drop of your delicious essence and stay there for hours. 

He just likes to make you work a little for it, because what’s the fun in giving it to you just like that? A person used to getting everything they want from the moment they were born should know what it feels like to be kept waiting once in a while.

The way his eyes focus on you, so intensely and lustful, does nothing to make you feel any less anxious. It's both exciting and nerve-wracking; to have him worship your body in the way he does, to feel completely exposed and vulnerable. It's more than enough to make you feel self-conscious.

Anakin seems to sense your increasing nerves, gripping one of your thighs as silent encouragement. "Come on, let me hear you," he insists shortly after, his voice softer than ever, almost begging to hear you say exactly what you want him to do to you– of course he knows exactly what it is, but it's so different when you say it out loud. 

After a few seconds, you finally managed to speak up despite your sudden shyness. "I want to feel your mouth on me, please..." you mutter, reminding yourself to look back at him as you speak. At that point, you thought you might even start crying due to how badly you need him. "Please, Ani...I can't take this anymore."

At first, you thought maybe you should've said more. As your words echo inside your head, you’re convinced that you should’ve tried harder. That they couldn't possibly be enough to satisfy him and he'll probably urge you to keep talking despite your embarrassment. Your thoughts were far from being true, however, and it becomes clear to you when you feel the bruising grip on your thigh and the way he groans against your skin again.

"That's a good girl," he says with a pleased smile, looking up at you for a few seconds before his eyes trail down your body appreciatively. 

He knows you're desperate, he knows you're barely keeping it together, and he knows you're trying your best to put up with his seemingly endless teasing. Perhaps it's time to finally reward you for it.

His fingers hook to the hem of your panties, trailing them down your legs before throwing them to the floor. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat in anticipation of what's to come, watching as he looks at your exposed folds with such interest and admiration, it almost makes you feel dizzy.

Before he does anything else, he reaches for a pillow that rests on the side of the bed he sometimes occupies whenever he can find time to spend a night with you, placing it underneath you on your lower back, raising your hips just enough. He wants you to be as comfortable as possible while he pleases you.

His arms sneak underneath your thighs to hold you, wanting to keep you in place as he spreads you wide open, fully exposing you to his hungry gaze. "Beautiful," he lets out in a low voice as he moves closer, "and all mine to enjoy."

You're so sensitive, so eager to receive anything, that you can't help but moan when you feel his breath mingling with your arousal, making you shiver as you lean back against the mattress.

A few seconds pass and you're once again slightly disappointed when you don't feel more. You were already expecting to feel his mouth on you, but nothing was happening.

When you look down, you're met with the hottest sight you think you'll ever see in your life. Anakin is laying on the bed with his head in between your legs, his strong arms keeping them open while his eyes are closed, simply taking in your scent. He stays there, enjoying the smell of you. 

There's something so intimate about it, worshiping you in that way, it makes you feel just as good as if he was actually using his mouth.

But eventually he does use it, and it makes your eyes roll to the back of your head almost immediately because you've been waiting too long for this. Long, excruciating minutes of him just teasing your body and leaving you aching for more are suddenly worth it when his tongue is licking one single strap up your slit, humming in delight as he tastes you for the first time that night.

He doesn't stop there. It's almost as if he became a hungry beast after the first taste, diving right in. His tongue presses harder against you a few more times before his mouth captures your clit, sucking on it in such a deliciously good way that it makes you gasp for air as you grip the sheets.

The exploration continues, starting to quite literally devour you. His tongue is eagerly exploring every inch of you, moving around to spread your folds to discover every part of you. Your legs would tremble every time he finds your swollen clit, pleasuring you with a hard suck or a series of rapid swirls of his tongue.

You're inevitably finding yourself in the need of rocking your hips against his mouth, craving more friction, but he quickly stops you by placing a hand on your lower belly to hold you down, making it almost impossible for you to move.

He leans back from you just enough, and that's when you're able to admire the way his face glistens with your arousal, coating his mouth and chin. "Stay still, darling," he instructs slightly out of breath, right before diving back in.

You try to do just that, moaning in response to his vicious assault on your pussy. The wet sounds of his mouth on you echo across the room and the fact that he has absolutely no problem with being loud and messy while he eats you out drives you absolutely insane.

His movements never slow down, rapidly licking up and down a few times before taking care of your clit and repeating the process. While he works on your body, he refuses to move his eyes away from your face, wanting to take in every single second of the pleasure that reflects on your features, even having the nerve to smile up at you as his tongue continues to taste you.

With the increasing volume of your moans and the fact that it's harder to keep you in place, Anakin can tell you're getting closer to your peak. The prospect of feeling and tasting your orgasm encourages him to continue at an even faster pace.

He makes sure to press his entire mouth against you, sucking as much of your arousal as he possibly can. The wet sounds increase even more when he begins to practically make out with your pussy, doing his very best to drive you closer to the edge.

One of your hands moves to his hair, tangling your fingers in it as you feel the knot in your stomach becoming impossibly tighter, breathing heavily as you try to keep it together for a few more seconds. "I– fuck, Ani, it feels so good," you moan out desperately. "I don't think I can–"

Before you can reply, you feel a powerful wave of pleasure running through your entire body. A loud cry escapes your lips as your intense orgasm takes over, making it impossible to form coherent words or do anything other than tremble and gasp for air, his name slipping past your lips in a breathless whimper.

Unlike what you expected, Anakin gives you no room to relax, continuing to move his mouth against you just as viciously as before, his nose repeatedly brushing against your clit because he's that pressed to you.

He groans against your folds, the vibrations doing nothing to ease the extreme pleasure you're feeling, unable to take a break as he hungrily tastes you. It's almost animalistic, the way he seems to be entirely concentrated on drinking every last drop of your arousal, not caring that you already reached your orgasm and you seriously need time to calm down.

You try to shove him away, pulling at his hair while attempting to close your legs too. Evidently, he's having none of it, spreading your legs wide as the muscles on his arms tense slightly due to the strength he uses to keep them in place and pressing his face to your core more insistently. He looks up at you with darkened eyes, silently demanding for you to take it.

Unable to do much about it, you continue to cry out in pleasure, the overstimulation and the fact that his attack is not slowing down only bring you closer to come, your second orgasm quickly approaching. Another explosion happens deep within you, making you close your eyes as your face contorts in a kind of ecstasy that borders pain.

His movements finally slow down when he feels you come against his tongue again, allowing you to climb down from your high. Anakin is considerably more gentle now as he uses his tongue to taste your release, loosening the grip on your thighs, fingers gently caressing your skin.

Once he's satisfied, he moves away from your sensitive core. A smirk appears on his face when he leaves a tiny kiss on your clit, watching as your body trembles from the contact. It's barely a soft peck, yet it has you instantly whimpering and spasming.

Your eyes remain closed, feeling the way he crawls on top of your body once again. His hand brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, satisfied with how pretty you look after he gave you two orgasms in such a short period of time.

The blissful moment of relaxation doesn't last very long, however, because you quickly feel one of his fingers slowly slipping inside your tight and wet entrance.

Opening your eyes with evident surprise, you notice his eyes already looking down at you, grinning when he sees the expression on your face after the unexpected intrusion.

"Please," you let out in a soft cry, pouting. "It's too much, Ani..."

"Shhh," he promptly replies in a soothing tone to calm you down, his finger already fully in. "You can take it."

Another pathetic little sound escapes your lips when he adds another finger in the same slow, tentative manner. He gives you a few seconds to prepare, his fingers knuckle-deep inside you before he starts to move them.

Anakin's face hides in your neck, a satisfied groan crashing against your skin when he feels your walls clench. "That's it," he whispers, his movements increasing just enough. "She has to be nice and ready for me before I fill you up with my cock. Isn't that right, my love?"

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Had a terribly great thought! The Ghoul and reader traveling together. She's a brat but loyal as a dog to that man. They get into a pretty bad fight and she storms off and he's too proud to follow after her, struggling with coming to terms that he's actually soft for her even though he's mean as hell. She finds him some days later, with her tail tucked between her legs. He's not surprised, comparing her to a female dog often. 👀 still, he's going to make sure she's sorry. Lots of groveling on her part, maybe some face slapping, boot licking, he gets off, she doesn't. Ends with her in his lap. Hair petting and praise for coming back to who she belongs to.

As A Dog

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 7,085

Warnings: smut (18+), DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Jealous!Cooper, canon-typical violence, intimacy issues, angst, insecurity, slightly fucked conceptions of love and loyalty, pet play-ish activity, hard drug use, forced intoxication, shotgunning, slapping, boot licking, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, riding, cannibalistic thoughts, orgasm denial (female), breeding kink, creampie.

Notes: I had several pieces in line in front of this one and then this prompt reached through my screen, sunk its teeth into my brain, and shook me until this came out. It really is a terribly great thought. Tagging heavy, since the themes/Cooper's mentality may be triggering for some. It is what it says on the can, folks.

I dunno what unholy demon you've unleashed on me here, Anon. But bless you for it. Another Coop POV because I have a problem. Thanks for the patience on this one; I've been doing some admin stuff the last few days, including setting up an AO3 that you can find here, where I'll be uploading all the long-form stuff. Enjoy!

Cooper's trigger finger was itchier today than it had been for a long time.

He was fully aware that he'd never be able to stop every man left in the world from talking to his little vaultie companion, but boy, he sure would love to try. On an average day, he struggled to hold his tongue as she drove away her own sun-baked suitors, standing silently aside until called up to defend her, no matter how badly he wanted to reduce whomever was bothering her to nothing.

Today was a worse-than-average day, and the girl wasn't helping anything, herself.

"Are you gonna be ready to go any time soon, princess?" he asked her acerbically as she passed by him for the millionth time, tossing his current cigarette down to the ground.

He'd intended to stop at this shitty little settlement, little more than a dingy bighorner ranch at first glance, for a few minutes at most, just long enough to unload some things and check to see if they had any vials on hand. Here it was, nearly four hours of glad-handing and chit-chatting and unnecessary gun repairs later, and he was still leaning against the same crumbing wall, still angrily smoking. She was pushing it.

"Oh, be patient." she shot back, rolling her eyes as she turned to saunter back to the little ramshackle counter. "I'm waiting for my gun back and I was having a nice chat with the mechanic. Try to be pleasant for five minutes, would you?"

She was so full of shit, he thought as he snuffed the still-glowing smoke butt out beneath the toe of his boot with just a little more force than necessary. Typically, she shied away from male attention at her most demure, refusing to acknowledge most advances, playing innocent, playing dumb. The big doe eyes and soft voice didn't hurt on that front, but usually didn't deter the more steadfast predators.

He preferred the days where she had a little extra spitfire, when she told them clearly and loudly to fuck off, no doubt emboldened by having the rather intimidating ghoul hanging over her shoulder, silently encouraging her as she did it. In the past, she had proven that she wasn't above evoking his capacity for violence as a threat when the desert trash was persistent, and it gave him a thrill he couldn't identify, one that ruminated deep in his gut.

That same gut feeling was burning him now, eating a hole in his patience as he watched her listening attentively to the third scrawny young man who'd approached her as she waited around the repair hutch to yap her ear off. She nodded and smiled politely, even laughed from time to time (the sound of which made him want to shoot he kid between the eyes just for that), but kept a respectful distance. Clearly, she'd finally learned that the sort of over-friendliness that she'd been raised with in the vaults could be read differently up here. The young buck, however, continued to try and dance into her space as he spoke animatedly, and, eventually, she reached out and quickly touched his chest.

The old cowboy was stomping across the sand to her before he was even aware he was moving.

His logical brain could see very clearly what had happened: the boy had advanced into her space for the half-dozenth time and she'd put her palm out to gently rebuke him, distracting him from the rejection with a laugh at whatever he'd said. But that part of his brain was rather quiet after a long afternoon of watching her rather blatantly flirt with the asshole she was having repair her plasma pistol (something that she would typically have him do, since it wouldn't cost her anything, and he almost certainly could do with equal or superior adequacy), and letting every other little piss-ant farmhand in the next mile radius chat her up.

"We're hitting the road in five. Get your shit and let's go." he hissed to her, ignoring the little scowl she shot him as he interrupted her newest conversation with the willowy, greasy mechanic, who was sliding her her pistol back across the knotted wood of the semi-exposed countertop. Flashing him that brilliant smile, the one that he wanted to be only for him, she checked the thing over before tucking it back into the holster she kept on her hip, pushing a stash of caps in a metal tin back his way. The old cowboy watched with inflamed indignation as the fucker opened the box, dug out a massive handful, and tucked them back into her hands, letting his own linger across her skin as he placed them back into her palms.

Frankly, he was impressed he was able to let her drop the things back into her bag before he grabbed her by the arm, none too gently, and wordlessly began to yank her back down the road, back in the direction they'd originally been heading in. He could've shoved the damn things in himself and just dragged her along; it wasn't like he was unfamiliar with where she put them. The long, sleepless nights could be boring, and early on, he'd been curious enough about her to nose through her things once or thrice. That, like this, had been quite illuminating.

"Oh, you're being such a prick today!" she yelled, yanking at his grip in an attempt to free herself. He humored her, dropping her arm and turning to face her, unpleasantly surprised as the last farmhand she'd been chatting with, the one she'd touched, came running up.

"Hey, leave her alone!" he yelled. Or, he would have, if he'd had a chance to finish.

The sound of Cooper's rifle butt cracking into the kid's face was incredibly satisfying, collapsing him into a limp, useless pile on the ground, deep crimson pooling around where he lie face-down in the dirt. The girl didn't scream, probably surprised that he hadn't outright shot him, but her hands did fly to her mouth in a quick moment of silent shock before she kneeled to quickly check his pulse, rolling his ugly mug to face the sun. Blood poured from his obviously broken nose, leaving the old ghoul wiping at his face to cover the smirk it sent twitching across his lips.

"What did you do that for?!" she demanded, frustration clear in her voice.

"Oh, my apologies, sweetheart. Your little boyfriend there was trying to join a party he wasn't invited to." he replied, though she was clearly ignoring him in favor of turning the boy onto his side and examining him.

His little companion let out a huff, casting a look between the body on the ground and the little cluster of buildings they'd just left. After a moment, she grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt the best she could and began to drag him back towards where he'd come from. The ghoul watched her pull him about five feet, red and huffing by the time she made it there, rolling his eyes deeply.

"Leave him. He'll be fine."

"He won't be if no one comes over to collect him soon, and you know it." she snarled, and her tone sent him seething, snatching the kid up over his shoulder like a sack of spuds and stomping ahead of her, depositing him unceremoniously against the ranch's handmade sign before yanking her along with him once again.

"Y'know, if you'd have just gotten in and out like I told you, that wouldn't have happened." he said eventually, dropping her arm once more.

"Oh, fuck you!" she hissed. "I was trying to see if I could talk him down on the price. And sometimes people know useful things, you know!" she yelled, exasperation clear in her tone as she threw her arms up in the air.

She pretended to be ignorant, but clearly knew what he was upset about before he specified. Interesting.

"Oh, I'm sure. Y'know, I'd wondered how long it was gonna take you to start sellin' that little ass of yours. Figured it would be for something nicer than a pistol repair or some bad intel, at least." he sneered. He could feel himself slipping further from rationality.

"What are you talking about? It wasn't even like that!" she insisted, an edge of something more worrisome creeping into her voice.

"Quit playin' dumb, doll. You make it seem too easy." he said, watching her entire face light up bright red in frustration. She was tersely quiet for a minute, the gears in her head clearly turning hard and fast as she worked to contain herself and formulate a response at the same time.

"I'm sick of you getting pissed off and treating me like I'm the stupidest person you've ever met." she spat, eventually, madder than he'd ever seen her. "I'm sorry that I haven't spent enough bitter fucking years walking around the desert and killing things and being an asshole to know everything like you do, Coop. I'm sorry I still have human emotions and desires. My sincerest fucking apologies."

That was it: the argument had officially become about...something else.

Honestly, he'd assumed that she was going to leave him a few days back, when they'd stayed in a rare hotel room waiting for a bad dust storm to settle, the little thing getting just a tad too tipsy on some whiskey he'd given her before trying to kiss him. He'd rebuffed her, though not as gently as he wished he had, and, feeling bold, she'd pushed back with surprising fervor, basically demanding to know why he wouldn't kiss her more, why he wouldn't sleep with her.

True, he felt closer to her than he'd felt to anyone or anything in a long while, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but, as embarrassing as it was, the idea of being expected to perform sexually so suddenly made him feel a seizing sense of panic that he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before.

What he'd wanted to say was "I care about you so much, but I'm not sure I'm ready to take that step." Instead, what had come out was "Why are you buggin' me about this? I said no. Fuck off." followed by him storming out to spend several hours smoking in the decrepit, junk-walled-in parking lot.

When he'd returned, she'd been asleep, her poor face tear-swollen and red. He'd waited for her to rouse and hash it out with him, but she'd slept through the night, and, the next morning, didn't bring it up or seem amenable to discussing it. She hadn't seemed angry, necessarily, perhaps a little sad, but in the few days that had passed since, she had definitely been colder, poutier than usual.

It seemed, to him, that she was punishing him now for not doing what she'd wanted, and it was pissing him off.

It didn't matter that he hadn't fucked her yet, that he didn't feel ready to expose the most vulnerable parts of him, inside and out, so openly. She was his; she belonged to him and she knew it as much as he did. The fact that she was even still traveling with him after all this time, after what happened at the hotel that night, was proof. She proved it every single time she came back from one of her little stomp-offs every time he ticked her off, lacking the wherewithal to ever even move fully out of sight before slinking down to pout awhile, inevitably peeking out from whatever she was hiding behind to see if he was still there. Despite her lack of proper training, she was a loyal little bitch.

The fact that she suddenly didn't want to act accordingly sat entirely wrong in his mind, wriggled under his skin like when his stash ran low.

"All's I'm saying, princess," he growled, throwing out the nickname he knew she loathed once more, "is that you're too fucking friendly for your own good, and you shouldn't be shocked when it gets people hurt."

"Why would you give a shit who I'm friendly to, anyway?" she spat, suddenly pushing her way right into his bubble and sending him baring his teeth.

"I wouldn't. Didn't I made that clear enough the other night?"

He knew that this particular barb would hurt her, but he genuinely didn't expect what she did next.

"Alright, then." she said; her voice was trembling noticeably, as was her lower lip. With that, she snatched her backpack up from the ground, jammed her arms into the straps, turned, and began to walk back towards the way they'd come from. He watched her silently, waiting for her to duck back into the ranch, but she didn't; instead, she kept walking, as long as he could watch her, until she disappeared over the hill that fed into the horizon.

The old man watched her go, dumbfounded as she actually continued to walk instead of stopping as she always did. For a while, he hung around, waiting for her to come huffing back, but she still hadn't by the time the sun had fully sunk out of the sky. Eventually, he resumed moving himself, stopping after about a mile in their original planned direction, settling down for a grating night of looking out over the road at every little noise.

She'd never even looked back. He couldn't shake that thought from his mind as he sat there resting overnight. It was basically the only thought he had for hours, plaguing him as he puffed his inhaler and watched the world around him brighten with the rising sun.

When the next day started in full, he'd resolved to hit the road, to resume his travels as he would be resuming his existence before the girl had come along. Compared to how long he'd been exploring the desert solo, she'd been but a brief blip in his life, and there was no reason to fret so much over where she'd gone or what could happen to her without him around.

For some reason, he only covered about half the ground he would typically cover on a day like this, and he found himself beyond unreasonably frustrated...with himself. Nothing about the conditions was slowing him down; he didn't run into more trouble than usual, and he was fine on supplies, vials, but for some reason he found himself hypervigilant, looking for any excuse to move up high and scan the road with his binoculars.

By the time it was too dark to safely continue, he was seething once again, but at his weakness, at his cowardice. After he chose a tucked away little corner to settle down in for a few hours, he quite literally couldn't dig into his stash fast enough, doing line after line, hit after hit of whatever he had on him, until the horrible pain he felt behind his breastbone melted away into a familiar, soothing numbness.

But his numb mind liked to wander, and soon he found himself thinking about the softness of her voice, her skin, her lips against his that night...

And, quickly, he was back to pain and anger, but an irrational anger fueled by a far-more than reasonable dose of basically every kind of stimulant known to Wasteland man. This pain, too, was chased away with more and more chems, until he was so fucked up that he could barely keep his eyes focused and open.

She truly did plague him now, just as she had all the months she'd traveled with him. She plagued his thoughts at all points in the day, plagued his worries about the future, and even as he attempted to snort and huff himself free of the thought of her, she plagued him, dancing up along beside him in a quiet, stalking creep, watching him daintily from the end of the rotted log he sagged himself on, his back wedged against the large rock cluster behind him. At some point, he'd tugged his gloves off and shucked them somewhere nearby, leaving him feeling quite naked as his hands fretted with themselves absentmindedly. Against his will, he thought about running them through her hair like he'd wanted to for so long, and the unpleasant flip his stomach did made him sigh.

"I'm sorry." came a voice on the breeze, so much like hers. The visions of her were persistent, annoyingly so, the one staring hauntingly at him from the side really starting to unsettle him. He was no stranger to visual and auditory hallucinations when he was this far gone, but she was so solid-looking out of the corner of his eye, watching him so close. Judging him and what a fuck-up he was.

He squeezed his eyes shut hard, willing her away, willing himself to go back a few days and redo this entire thing differently.

"Aren't you...gonna say anything?" came the soft, timid voice once more, this time from beside him. Firmer, realer.

He narrowed his eyes in her ghostly direction, focusing as best as he could on her blurry, swimming visage.

"Huh. Didn't know that was really you."

When had she arrived, exactly? Fuck, he was dangerously gone if she'd been able to sneak up on him like that.

She frowned at that, leaning close and sizing him up with worrying eyes. Gingerly, she placed her palm on the back of his bare hand.

"Jeez, Cooper. How fucked up are you?" she asked, her tone sincere, almost apologetic.

Her glaring worry burned into him as judgment, harsh and stinging, and he struck out in response, yanking his hand away.

"Mind your fuckin' business." he slurred, forcing himself to sit up straight enough to point his full anger in her direction, growing with each passing moment. "Think you're better'n me? Hmm?"

He'd fully expected this to ignite another yelling match between the two of them, but she didn't scream back; instead, she quietly dropped her head, avoiding his eyes as she gazed around where he'd chosen to bed down. Truly, he was quite impressed she'd managed to find him at all, let alone in the dark. Turns out he was rubbing off on her even more than he'd thought. The idea left him bitter.

A big part of the anger he felt, the ugliest, most violent part, was the Jet; he knew this. The stuff had gotten him into more than his share of scuffles through the years, making him even meaner than usual, his sharp tongue exact and piercing. However, beneath the amphetamine fog, there was a nugget of true bitterness, an open wound of insecurity that pained him into lashing out when she tried to come close. He'd lashed out in such a way that night at the hotel, despite how hard he'd tried to hold back his sour words.

There was a fear there that he'd felt before, but never so strongly as when he'd watched her disappear over that hill. If she'd tried to leave over that relatively small argument, when would she try to leave again? He wasn't a pleasant man to be around, even when he actually tried to be, a lot of the time. Hell, he wasn't even pleasant to look at; if he'd been a giant prick in his old life, at the very least, he had been handsome.

Increasingly, since she'd come into his life, he tried to reach deep, deep into himself and pull out whatever remained of the old him, the one who was kind and hopeful and actually knew how to talk to women, but the process was infinitely more difficult and painful than he'd imagined.

She clearly wanted and needed intimacy from him, on more than one front, and the pressure of feeling like he couldn't give her what she needed was increasingly getting to him in a way that embarrassed him more than he could possibly say (not that he'd ever say it out loud). Centuries of time had passed, and yet, here he was, still dealing with the same anxieties and feelings of inadequacy that he had before, just dressed up in a new, uglier face.

When would he finally succeed in pushing her away, in frightening her away from him 'for her own good'? The walls around him had never failed him before, for better or worse.

Things were quiet between them as she fidgeted in her spot, the tension of an inescapable conversation in the air, but the desert's constant score, the hiss of sand across corroded asphalt, the soft rattle of the wind in the rocky hills, played on. His muddled ears played tricks on him, making him hear murmurs and distant gunshots and the crack of his rifle butt into that farmhand's face, but he tuned them out, focusing on her steadying, but increasingly heavy breathing, his eyes unable to leave her mouth..

He let himself drink in the fact that she really was there, sat on her knees in the dirt before him and already begging him for his forgiveness, for his acceptance; corporeal, flesh and blood and her sweet smell and that wet, warm place between her legs. Only in his drug-induced private fantasies had he felt it, but he knew he wanted to bury himself there, as deep as possible, and never let her pull away.

"I really am sorry, Coop." she whispered, those big, round eyes brimming with big, wet tears. It wasn't difficult to see her sincerity, even as he struggled to focus. But that hot coal of bitter anger still smoldered in his gut; not replaced by the lust he felt, but fed by it.

Slowly, his own movements labored under the weight of too many substances, he reached out and ran the thumb of his sullied glove along her smooth, smooth cheek. Smearing the trail of wetness there until he was tracing the outline of those pouty lips, he pushed it into her mouth.

"Prove it."

She let out a pitiful little retch, though whether it was from the taste of the incredibly filthy material, or because he was shoving her tongue back in her throat and gagging her with it, he didn't know. What he did know was that the sound made his cock twitch, which was already more blatant sexual desire than he'd felt in ages.

"How?" she asked, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand as he pulled his own away. The wetness that trailed from his thumb, from her lips, made him feel feverish, and he quickly knotted his hand into the thick, soft hair at the back of her head, yanking her so close that their noses would've been touching, had he still had one. When her wide eyes met his, not so much as a sound escaping her lips at the sensation in her scalp, he finally gave in and harshly mashed his mouth to hers, swallowing the sigh that escaped her as he did.

Cooper was unsure how long they kissed, how long he plundered her swollen, eager mouth with his tongue before she stumbled onto her knees, pulling back slightly to pull air into her lungs. As she hovered there, eyes closed as she attempted to gather herself, he dug deep into the pocket of his duster and withdrew a Jet container, giving it a shake to prime it as she righted her breathing. Once she was steady once more, he cupped the back of her head again, bringing her to him and lifting it to her mouth. There was hesitation in her eyes, then disgust as the chem filled her lungs. It touched him with a twinge of amusement, knowing how badly the stuff tasted, watching her retch harder than before. He let her cough for a few seconds, allowing her a few half-cocked breaths of air before shoving the thing back between her lips and holding it down even longer.

By the time she managed to stop sputtering and drooling, he'd had a hit of his inhaler and started stroking his increasingly hard cock through his pants, watching her closely as she raised her now bleary, glassy eyes towards him. He waited for her to mouth off, to complain, to remark on anything that had happened, but instead, she sat there, unmoving, waiting for his instructions. She was the picture of obedience, but nevertheless, he could still see that glint of outrage behind her gaze, waiting to argue with him the moment she sensed an opportunity.

It pissed him off more than he thought possible, and, before he could even think to stop himself, he lashed out and slapped her across the face, the blow landing squarely in the center of her cheek and making her head turn away from him slightly. Surprising him again, she didn't make a sound, but she also didn't correct her head to look back at him.

Pulling a long drag off of the Jet inhaler himself, he held it deep in his lungs as he grabbed her by her long hair to kiss her again, exhaling the stuff right down into her lungs. She kissed him back until she choked on the sensation, leaning away to spew and cough more.

"Wanna prove you're sorry?" he hissed, his brain buzzing with the fresh hit as she leaned against his knee. "Clean my boots, vaultie. Show a little humility for once in your life."

His words were mean, meaner than he should be right now, but she didn't seem to register their full weight as she struggled to focus her eyes on the boots in question. When she lifted those dark, glassy pools back to his, he could see she knew what he meant, a heavy blush staining her cheeks and neck. Of course she knew what he meant; she was a smart girl, and her brain worked so much like his, even if she wouldn't freely admit it.

She looked up at him so dreamily through those thick lashes, though whether it was real affection in her eyes or simply the haze from all the Jet he'd forced down into her lungs, he couldn't tell.

In truth, his boots weren't as filthy as they could've been, as he'd cleaned the farmhand's blood off of them the night she'd taken off to get rid of the smell. But it wasn't about cleanliness; no, she'd humiliated him, her and her spoiled, entitled vault-dweller attitude, when she ran off, and he wanted to see her humiliate herself a little in kind.

The woman kneeling before him didn't hesitate as much as he'd thought she would, the red outline of his palm and fingers seeming to glow on her cheek in the dying firelight as she cast a vaguely-seeing glance around her, measuring her space before pulling herself into a sort of downward dog position, her round ass in the air as her marred cheek rested softly on the sandy ground. There was a moment of quiet tension as she seemed to study it, planning her approach before rather timidly leaning forward and running her tongue along the side, swiping a clean stripe across the tarnished black material from ball to toe. She gagged at first, likely from the dryness of the dust, but, again, she didn't complain.

He didn't have to tell her to clean the other boot; she did it with no prompting as soon as the first was finished, gagging less as she ran her pretty pink tongue all along the sullied, scuffed leather, and he couldn't believe how much it turned him on while equally failing to quell his indignation, his disappointment. Before she'd really finished her work, he yanked her up by her hair again; this time, she let out a slight yelp of surprise as he dropped her onto her ass, gesturing to her shabby, scavenged armor with one hand as the other began to wrestle his ammo belt, then his actual belt, open.

"Take that shit off."

Again, she did as he asked with only a moment's pause, placing all the little pieces of boiled leather and metal off to the side, her eyes flitting to him for a heartbeat before she proceeded with the rest of her clothes, quickly exposing herself completely. He could see her well in the moonlight, but not as well as he'd have liked, leaving her standing there, vulnerable and shivering ever-so-slightly as he took a good, long look at her. He was painfully hard at this point, desperate to have at least some minor relief from the confines of his trousers, but he was also uncharacteristically nervous at the idea of exposing himself to her this way. Beckoning her forward, he used her distraction as she kneeled once more to pull his cock free, grateful for the darkness and her weaker eyes.

"Suck me." he growled.

While he wasn't exactly pleased at how entirely fucked up he'd been going into this, he was sort of grateful that he couldn't feel almost anything with any vivid detail across the expanse of his body; the visual of her wrapping her dainty little fingers around him and obediently leaning down to take him into her mouth alone would have been enough to finish him if he'd have been able to feel her properly.

The way she went about it also seemed to indicate she wasn't entirely experienced, simply sliding her mouth down over his cock and setting to finding a pace that she could handle, as everything was surely spinning for her. For a while, he let her do so, fingers knotting into her hair again, before his patience wore thin and he began to push her head downwards, the sound of her gagging once more sending a thrill up his spine. Even with the numbness from the most recent hit seeping through him, he wasn't able to keep it up long before he yanked her back, taking in the drool hanging down from her swollen lips.

Cooper gave his spit-slicked cock a few firm tugs, hissing from between his worn teeth at her as he sat back, making room for her on his lap.

"Now get up here and show me you know who you belong to."

She didn't even look towards her bag, towards the condoms he knew she kept tucked deep inside her little toiletry pocket, as she quickly and sloppily pulled herself up into his lap. A part of him knew that he'd have stopped her if she did try to put one on him.

He tried so hard to not think of Barb as the pretty young thing on top of him began to sink down and envelop his cock in her heat, tried so hard to not feel guilty for giving himself to another, and he failed miserably. She felt heavenly, tighter and warmer and sweeter than he could've ever imagined, and he hated himself for how much he loved it, for how alive it made him feel when for so long he'd simply been existing. The choked noise that left his dry throat as the aching head of him fully breached her wasn't a sob, but he wouldn't have known what to call it.

It must've seemed to her, he thought, that he was forcing her to do all the work out of anger, wanting her to fully prove that she wanted him, that she was his; this was true, but he was also terrified, deep down, of how he would react if he allowed himself to freely touch her the way he wanted. He feared he would literally rip her limb from limb in his intoxicated state, sink his teeth into her pillowy flesh until it bled, tear a chunk off of her and swallow it so that she could be part of him forever.

He couldn't tell if the way she huffed and whimpered her way down his length was because she was high and hypersensitive or because she'd never been with a man this way before. That thought was quickly and harshly banished from his brain, however, his hands finding the plush fat of her hips, fingertips digging hard into the soft, supple flesh.

"Good pup." he breathed out when he eventually felt her ass rest on his thighs, fully sheathing him inside her.

The whimper she let out in response, her tight little clasp quivering around him as she clumsily reached out and braced her hands on his shoulders, made him throb hard, leaving him at least slightly grateful for his intoxication once again. If his numbed brain and body had been able to feel her fully, he knew he would've absolutely shot his load already.

Cooper struggled to stay still as she moved experimentally on top of him, lifting and lowering and grinding herself a few different ways before she found a rhythm that made him let out a throaty moan, the ghost of a smile flashing across her sleepy face as she rode away at him for a while.

What he really wanted, deep beneath all the unwanted feelings and unanswered questions about things he didn't want to think about right now, was to knock her up. For so long now he'd thought of her as his, and now that he'd claimed her, he wanted nothing more than to see her round and full to the brim of him. He wanted her to need him, to be completely dependent on him to provide for her and keep her safe.

He wanted her too vulnerable to get away from him.

On top of him, her movements were rapidly losing all coordination as her glossy, heavy eyelids drifted shut, her head nodding violently as she struggled to maintain her pace. He'd given her too much for someone who didn't use regularly, someone her size, and she was crashing out, falling asleep against her will right there. Poor thing.

He slapped her again, the sound ringing out across the vast, empty desert, watching closely as she startled back into a fully upright posture, her hips stilling for a moment before slowly beginning to churn again, her gaze unfocused.

"Mmm." she murmured groggily, leaning forward and placing her forehead against his shoulder, her arms winding around his neck as she tried her best to keep in some sort of motion.

This gesture, the way she cuddled up to him and sought comfort, support from him, even after the way he'd treated her, the fact that he'd literally just slapped her awake, was the only thing she'd done thus far that truly quelled the ugly, raging anger inside him.

"Thought this stuff was s'posed to wake you up." she sighed into the crook of his neck. She was entering the peak of her high, her body pitifully liquid against his chest as she clearly struggled to stay upright.

Personally, Cooper was reaching the un-fun part of his comedown, where everything started to feel grating and the mind began to uncloud, providing an increasingly painful level of clarity, but the senses remained muddled in a way that provided more discomfort than relief.

"Usually does. You had too much, baby." he responded, the mild chastisement in his tone doing a poor job of hiding the guilt behind it. His naked hands stroked reverently at her back, at the long, wind-swept hair that flowed down it, mindful to hold her so that she wouldn't lilt too far to one side as he attempted to soothe her.

Familiar with the unpleasant swimming sensation too much Jet could give you, he let her relax fully against him, the small sigh she let out one of gratitude as her whole body sagged even further. But she didn't stop grinding against him, probably out of some sort of pleasure for herself, he figured as he could feel her greedy insides tugging around him. He hid his grin again, this time in the crook of her neck as his hands found her hips once more, easily lifting her a few inches before dropping her down again, bouncing her on his cock as she rested.

Things went on like that for a spell, him bobbing and rocking her naked, lax body on top of his as she curled up on his shoulder, cooing and nodding off from time to time. As his high wore off, the sensitivity in his body was returning, and it made her feel more and more overwhelming as he continued to fuck her, her hot, wet little cunt leaking all over him as he continued to use her body to get himself off.

She seemed to be more conscious now than before, though barely, jostled awake by the increasing force of his thrusts up into her, bare breasts heaving with the movement. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to trace his lips down her chest, sealing them around her puffy, erect nipple and swiping his tongue along her slightly salty flesh. In response, her arms tightened around his neck, holding him on her breast as she clenched around him hard.

"Cooper." she whimpered, and that single little sound pushed him right into what felt like the most powerful orgasm he'd ever had, his fingers digging into her hips far too hard as he dropped her full weight onto him, grinding her down onto his cock and yanking her against him. His head dropped back, dead weight as he let out a feral snarl, tapering off into a throaty moan.

As he throbbed his gift up inside her, she squirmed at the feeling, tucking her bright red face into the side of his neck in what read as slight embarrassment, giving little huffs and whimpers as he continued to fill her. Another, smaller wave of guilt nagged at him as she clung to him, as he held her as close as he possibly could, struggling to regain control of his breathing; even if she'd had sex before, she'd never done this.

He held her as long as she could tolerate, her grip around him loosening slowly as she moved closer to real sleep. His girl was exhausted through and through, lightly snoozing against his chest.

For a few minutes, he let her rest uninterrupted, scanning her over to assess how badly he'd fucked up. She seemed fairly intact, though certainly more bruised than before. Eventually, he went digging into her bag, knowing (hoping) that she would have Radaway somewhere, and letting out a small sigh of relief when he found some jammed into the bottom.

Only one dose; he would have to find her more, and soon. This would be enough to see her through the next day, though, and he was pleasantly surprised to note that she wasn't showing even minor signs of radiation sickness as he found a vein in her arm, starting up the intravenous line to administer the thick, yellowed solution. Surprisingly, she didn't rouse fully when he slid the included needle into place, but she did begin to stir and groan mildly as the stuff began to effuse. Dimly, he remembered being given it when he'd been in the service, and how shitty it could make you feel.

Softly, he stroked her cheek with the backs of his bare knuckles before setting to jabbing her with a Stimpak from his bag around where she'd stuck some staples in her belly, making a note to ask her what had given her the several inches-long laceration he saw there.

He hesitated, though, when he moved to give her a dose of Med-X he'd dug out from the depths of his saddlebag. Most of the Wasteland's mind-rotting and pain-soothing substances were on the table for him, and in great amounts, but he hated the way the opiate made him sluggish and sleepy, reducing his accuracy in a fight significantly. The pain relief it provided wasn't worth it if he ended up dead anyway.

Smoothskins loved it, though, so he usually kept a few syringes on him for bartering purposes. Never did he think he'd be happy to give so much of his stash away for free.

He knew she must be hurting, or, she would be when she woke up, whenever that was. But he was hesitant to give her anything else, both for fear of how she would react, and, somewhat selfishly, because he knew a proper dose would make her sleep even longer, and he was desperate to actually get to speak with her again.

If she asked for the stuff, he'd give it to her. But...tomorrow. After they'd gotten a chance to discuss everything that had happened with cooler, more sober heads. After he was sure she wouldn't wake up in the morning and hate him for what he'd done to her.

His fingers played softly in her mussed hair as the indigo cover of night faded into the periwinkle of twilight, washing her nearly grey in his arms. She slept hard awhile, undisturbed until the awkward angle of her neck made him gently resettle her into a more comfortable-seeming position, letting her slip down until she was curled up in a ball on her side in his lap, her head supported in the crook of his elbow. Lying this way, he'd have to hold her up while she slept, but he found himself strangely excited at the prospect.

"M'sorry I ran away." she murmured suddenly after a long period of silence, readjusting herself in his lap to curl closer.

"I know, kid. I forgive you." he replied after a moment of hesitation, the words soft and strange as they formed on his lips. He petted her hair as gently as he could manage. "Did a good job findin' your way back to me, pup. Proud of you."

"Mmm. Please don't be mad at me." she echoed his own thoughts softly, so slurred as she finally began into unconsciousness that it was barely intelligible, her face buried in his side.

"I'm not." he said, fully, completely honest for once in his long life. He let his eyelids rest, his hand on his gun, ready to stop anyone who would try to ruin this quiet moment under the fading stars. "I promise. Now, get some sleep, pup. I know you came a long way today."

She sighed at that, as if to say "You have no idea." before flopping loosely into his arms, and was snoring lightly within a minute. He allowed himself a small smile at this, at how earnest and adorable she was.

"Good girl." he murmured.