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javierpena-inatacvest · 2 months ago

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Chapter 21- Paradise

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

Word Count: 13.9K

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

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

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“We have all of our bags?”

“Yup.”

“Passports?”

“Mhmmmm.”

“Plane tickets?”

“Yes.”

“We’re positive that we have-”

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

My wife.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh shit.

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

Your birth control.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck- Like, 40 minutes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“AHHHHHHH!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure you don’t wanna start walking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Pops.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sun, sand, and sex.

Lots of sex.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re such a dork, you know that?”

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

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

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

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

Mrs. Peña.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your birth control.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whoops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, Jav?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m being serious!”

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

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

“You’re joking.”

“Why would I joke about that?”

“16?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, actually?”

“Yes, actually.”

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

“I mean… they’re not that expensive.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“J-Javi- fuck, baby, fuck I can’t-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you so much!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

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

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

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

@msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler

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

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3 @survivingandenduring

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

573 notes · View notes

enwoso · 8 months ago

Note

You have somehow managed to make me fall in love with this little universe you created with grumpy and Alessia in such a short amount of time!

Would you be able to write something about when the England squad first found about Alessia having a child and how they handled that on camp and stuff? I feel like there would be quite a lot of protectiveness, especially considering how she's part of the younger group, particulalry from some of the older age groups, like Lucy, Leah, Ellen, Jill, Jordan, Millie ect.

MINI ME — alessia russo x child!reader

*oh my god i love writing this little universe!*

grumpy masterlist

alessia had never imagined that she'd be a mother at such a young age. she had always dreamt of having a baby at the end of her footballing career while being in a stable relationship, living in a comfortable environment with little to no stress allowing her to enjoy motherhood.

the total fairytale fantasy.

however that fairytale fantasy never became a reality as alessia fell pregnant at 20 while in university, after one too many drinks and night with a boy she did trust enough but clearly trusted too much as after she took a test and the two lines displayed on the test telling her she was going to be a mother — he left? he didn't want that type of responsibility at such a young age.

so when alessia moved back to england and signed for manchester united she kept you hidden from her teammates worried about what they may say or think, ella being the only one who knew about you. after all she would sometimes look after you when mummy had important adult things to do or pick you up from nursery when mummy couldn’t.

"y/n? where've you gone?" she whisper yelled, looking around the foyer. you were in that toddler stage of hiding at any chance you got, putting your mum on the verge of a heart attack everytime you went out places.

"this isn't the time to play hide a seek lovie!" alessia said, a slight sterner tone in her voice as she looked around for you.

"boo!" you giggled, coming out from your hiding spot from behind the large indoor plants, looking up at your mum a devilish smile on your small face. a pointed look on your mums face as she kneeled down, grabbing your two small hands in hers.

"lovie, what have i told you about hiding, especially when we are in a new place. what if i had of walked away? you would have lost me" alessia reminded you softly as you nodded, your smile that was previously on your face replaced with a pout.

engulfing your mum in a hug, "sorry mummy" you mumbled into her chest as she kissed your forehead.

"i didn't know you had a little sister?" a voice was heard from a distant as alessia handed her passports over to the staff members, getting her room key. the blonde looking around to see who it was before her eyes landed on mille bright, lucy and leah.

alessia could feel her cheeks going redder by the second, as she stood up picking you up with her and placing you on her hip. the blonde beginning to stutter out a a response however you beat her to it with your innocent smile covering you face.

"that my mummy! i no have a sister!" you smiled at the three girls, their eyes almost popping out their head as you spoke. shock consuming them as their jaws hung to the floor.

"oh my god" lucy whispered as she was the first to break the awkward silence. alessia setting you back down on the floor as you were wriggling to be down.

"this is y/n, my daughter" alessia sighed, there being a slight silence as the information was being processed by the three girls head as you walked a little closer to the three girls, leah being the first to react by crouching down to your height. "hi y/n! i'm leah" you smiled nodding at her name looking to the other two girls standing in front of you.

“i’m lucy”

“and i’m millie”

you said a small hi to them as you moved back a little so that you were standing near to your mum, an arm wrapped around her leg. “and how old are you?” leah asked as you hummed thinking as you held up four fingers, “three!”

the girls giggling a little at your confidence, your mummy putting your extra finger down and correcting you, “lovie that’s three”

“ah”

“you play football with my mummy?” you asked, looking at leah but directing your question at all three of the girls. as they nodded all in sync.

“we do and there’s a few more of us too” millie said as you looked back to alessia wondering if she was telling the truth as your mum nodded her head as a little gasp came from you.

“where they?”

“through that long corridor, getting ready for a training session later on” lucy commented pointing to the way before you turned to your mum begging her to let you to go and see everyone else.

your mummy nodding as you grabbed her hand, swinging it a little as you followed the three girls you had just met just moments ago.

“auntie ella!” you yelled as you brushed past lucy and leah as they stood in the doorway, running to get to ella as she looked up from her phone, a smile cracking on her face as her arms opened up for you to run into. faces stopping and watching the interaction with both adoration and confusion.

“hey tiny, you alright!” ella asked as you hugged the girl tight, you hadn’t seen her since the last manchester united game a week ago. your mummy having being busy with getting ready for camp and you being at nursery up until yesterday.

“yep, i met lucy, leah and mille” you proudly said pointing to each girl as they had sat down at a table beginning to talk most likely about boring adult things.

“oh that’s exciting, what about everyone else though?” ella said as you began to shake your head stopping moments later as the midfielder began to twirl the two of you around, giggles escaping from you as she did so. stopping when she got back to her original place.

you looking around the room, a few familiar faces that you had recognised from your mum playing with them in manchester seeing them when you went to games with your grandparents — mary, keets and lotte who you only ever saw if you were down in london. the rest were new people, new people to talk to and share you infectious personality with.

ella took you around each person introducing you to each person with the permission from your mum first of course. the news spreading quickly throughout the camp that you were here and whose daughter you actually were much to many’s surprise.

the day going a lot smoother than alessia could have ever imagined, she had spent the past week thinking over and over about how it was going to go. replaying over and over in her head about how her teammates would react to her having a child.

alessia spent a good part of the afternoon after the introductions were over in the garden of st george’s park explaining her story in depth to those who were most interested; leah, keira, beth, lucy, mille, rachel and ella.

“that must have been so scary, you were so young.” beth whsipers still loud enough for everyone to hear, the girls all so intrigued but also immensely proud of alessia for her whole journey since you had arrived in her life.

as alessia told her story from the start, how she found out she was pregnant to how she came back to football.

“it was, but she’s my reason now. everything i do is for her future” alessia said simply a couple of the girls humming.

“if you ever need anything and i mean anything even if it’s just for someone to talk to, don’t be scared to ask any of us. we’ll always be here for you less” leah said softly but you could hear the protectiveness in her voice, alessia nodding taking in the support of her teammates which had grown to be her family as her eyes trailed over to where you were, the other girls following where the blondes eyes were looking.

“she’s literally a mini you” beth commented the rest of the girls agreeing as they began to list the similarities between you and your mum. as alessia smiled looking at you kicking a football with jordan and georgia

“i know, my mum says all the times that’s she’s a copy and paste of me from when i was little - only difference is she’s a bit more chatty than i was” alessia pointed out, hearing you talk away to jordan about the flowers growing in the ground, as the midfielder picked the ball from around them.

“but i think she gets that from her auntie ella!” alessia grinned looking towards her best friend who threw her hands up in shock.

“hey!”

“mummy! mummy!” you yelled out, the blondes head turning from her conversation towards you as jordan passed the ball to you. “watch this!” you added as toy had the ball at your feet and began to juggle with it from foot to foot.

alessia watched on grinning, as jordan counted the amount you got as georgia cheered you on. a small buzz of excitement coming from you as the ball dropped from your control as you ran over to your mum.

“lovie, that was awesome!” mummy cheered, as she held her hand up for you high five. the other girls saying there well dones. alessia watching as you smile got bigger and bigger with each seconds.

the way you had bonded with the team in hours warmed alessia’s heart to no end. knowing that these girls were going to now be apart of your life forever. her two worlds had joined and she couldn’t even to describe how much she loved it.

“any chance we can borrow her when we play on tuesday!” jordan joked as she and georgia came over slotting in on the seats with the other girls as they laughed but agreeing. as they all fell into a deep conversation.

you climbing up onto your mummy’s lap, as her arms wrapped around your front. a yawn escaping from your lips as you slumped back into your mummy’s chest playing with the rings on her fingers.

liked by keirawalsh and 612,540 others

alessia new day, new faces🩷

comments -

bethmead dibs on being best auntie!

1h 140 likes reply

-> leahwilliamson no i am

-> georgiastanway no it’s me

-> lucybronze come on guys i obviously win!

-> ellatoone it’s quite clearly me!

-> millebright you all wrong it’s me.

-> maryearps it’s me

-> keirawalsh no me

-> racheldaly its obviously me!

574 notes · View notes

bitterrfruit · 3 months ago

Text

houndtooth [1]

[masterlist]

Ghost x f!Reader - tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, abduction, bodyguard, forced cooperation, smut 18+ mdni - cw: below the cut - 2.2k words

you're the pampered wife of a russian warlord. ghost hunts you down and finds a use for you.

Hello loves, a brief intermission from me (quick I promise) - I thought it would be fun to cross-post my Ao3 fic Houndtooth on tumblr. It is still in progress!

Needless to say, this fic comes with some content warnings: implied SA (not by Ghost), drug addiction, waterboarding, and heavy physical violence.

Reader insert goes by her alias, Mia, a name she invented to protect herself in her previous profession.

If I cannot be feared, I must be loved.

There’s something special about you.

Something sickly.

Your body, your lips, your eyes. Bait like dripping entrails in a loose twine net; dragging bloody along the wooded, overgrown path of your life, and luring ravenous carnivores to your trail around every bend.

It’s something you’ve grown accustomed to, expectant of – that lecherous scrutiny, from any man you have ever met, or ever might. Used to the huffing snouts that suck in the vapour of your beguiling skin, tonguing it like they might ever get to take a bite.

Offering mouthfuls of yourself is the only way you have been able to keep them at bay. Appeasing when necessary. Rebuffing only when you can be certain that your extermination will not be the consequence.

Sometimes they gnaw at you anyway. Sometimes their canines sink rapaciously into your soft flesh, popping through your skin like it’s the velvety hide of a peach. They drink the sweet pink syrup until you’re bled dry, careful to spit out the cyanide core once they've finished.

Until that poisonous pit, coated in the stringy viscera that those teeth had missed, was all that was left of you.

So, when your husband found you, dressed as the hound-bait character you played along the redlight strip, you were allured by the promise that he might plant you again. Maybe, with his exorbitant riches and clandestine occupation, he might water you and fertilise your soil, he might let your pit sprout into a sapling. Maybe, your branches might blossom again.

When he expatriated you to Russia, his snow-blown motherland, you imagined yourself a Tsarina; jejunely clinging to his arm like you might fly away with him, carried to an undefiled paradise as though he were your archangel and you his rapture.

That was the last time you loved him.

One step off that jet, the first leap with your exuberant paw; there was no paradise, no utopia waiting for you. Landing hard on icy cement, your husband was quick to stifle your lament. Offered you oxycodone like pebbles of dogfood in the palm of his hand, swearing you an unending supply – his remuneration for your services, whose nature you were not yet privy to.

But those opioids were your wage.

They were your shackles, too.

Even if you managed to outrun your paralysing addiction to them, it didn’t take you long to be tackled and smothered by your intemperate dependence on your husband himself.

On his status, on his money, on his reputation.

Without, you would have been long used and discarded, tossed hollow and floppy like freshly flayed doeskin; exsanguinated by the very men he colludes with, the very creatures that slither into your home, that sit at your table and speak puzzles in their Cyrillic tongues.

The very beasts who your husband endeavours to entertain and indulge with your presence at his side – a glittering trophy, or a ripe fruit, juicy and plump. He holds you in greedy hands and brandishes the shine of your skin, he polishes you with a firm palm on your ass, he boasts his possession of you with a hot tongue on your cheek.

The prize they can never win, that’s what you are. The meal they can never devour. Only his teeth have the privilege of gorging on your supple flesh.

With your English passport long stolen from you, you are left with no option but to be grateful for that fact – that your husband does not whore you out to his compatriots, does not sell your body for some other man to graze on or to pick at, like you used to do yourself.

That is one of the few reprieves he offers you.

Protection.

Maybe, if you had never met him, you would have eventually crawled out of the chasm that your previous life had sunk to. If you had never met him, you might have found a way to break free from your dependence on those poppies. If you had never met him, you might have found worth for yourself beyond the coins hungry men would offer you in exchange for a taste of you.

But any hope you may have had in those days is a distant, futile memory. A bittersweet daydream you sometimes venture to.

Frozen in your sordid reality, you’ve no option but to indulge him.

To oblige him, whatever he wants from you, you play the role he carved out just for you to fill. You massage his neck after a long day. You listen to his broken English as he does his best to explain what had happened at work, in as little detail as possible, in an effort to shield you from the truth of his profession. You swallow his cock when he asks you to. You pretend to let him satiate you all the same, a professional actor you are – you sing those moans for him, when he licks you, when he fucks you, when he pledges to impregnate you.

He doesn’t know you’ve got a copper coil in your womb. You tell him there’s something wrong with his come, he doesn’t believe you. He sends you a doctor, and with his money, you pay them to lie.

That’s the other perquisite, one you can’t belittle.

His money.

His mountains, mountains, mountains of money.

None of it tangible, no real cash, no paper stacks tucked away in places any brave burglars might be able to find it. All of it digital, little numbers, binary code hidden behind so many layers of encryption it’s a wonder it can be counted at all.

But there’s never a need to count it. All you know is that it is unending.

He lets you spend it how you like, and there’s no amount of expenditure that could ever put a dent in his wealth large enough for him to notice.

Still, the prince, he imprisons you in his castle. You can throw invisible money at whatever your bored and inebriated heart might desire, any priceless art, any extortionate car, any lavish designer shoes – and it means nothing. It fills no void. There’s nobody to show it off to.

It appeased you, at first, after your stint of homelessness, then your weeks living in a dim red brothel, until he found you. When he offered you such a nauseating amount of money as payment for your salacious dance, that you felt your knees buckle beneath you at the sight of it. When he took you shopping and bought new lingerie to decorate you with, when he carted you giddy to his private jet.

All too good to be true.

And it was.

Too late now, anyway. This is the hand you’ve been dealt; you play your cards as best you can. Close to your chest. Who knows when you’ll fold.

You lean over the marble vanity, the harsh, downward lighting of the gaudy ensuite carves out the divots and lumps of your face that are typically imperceptible.

You used to think you were beautiful. That’s what everyone told you.

But watching your husband’s cold semen trickle down your décolletage, saturating and staining the invaluable lace and silk chiffon of your rosy babydoll, drying flaky on your skin – you can only see lipstick on a pig. An ugly little creature, destined for the slaughter. Your belly waiting to be made into crackling, your ass into bacon. It won’t be long now.

You sense that you are beginning to overstay your welcome. What had once been pliancy had now turned stiff and sharp. Any sweetness you once felt for the man who swept you off your feet has since coagulated into bitter milk, too lumpy to swallow, so instead, you spit.

The contempt inside your husband has been bubbling, fermenting. You can see it, and feel it, and taste it. He made it known to you especially tonight, fucking you with the brutality of a rabid animal, clutching and clawing, tugging and throwing, biting and beating. Painting you with his come to humiliate you, to degrade you, to remind you what you are, and always will be. He got some of it in your eye.

There’s a bruise on your collarbone. It’s not the first he’s given you. It won’t be the last.

You wipe away the crusting fluid with an opulent towel, dampened with warm water; lush white cotton turning creamy and black as it cleans away the come and mascara. You use it to dab clean your negligee. It’s your favourite one.

Clink.

Your ears perk.

Clash.

Frozen on your feet, your head darts to face the door to the ensuite - heavy and ornate, it sits ajar. Last you checked, your husband was asleep, snoring like a fucking engine. The silence that follows the peculiar noise is what unsettles you most.

Maybe it was him reaching for the pills on his nightstand, or readjusting the eiderdown duvet he sleeps under. But you’d expect a grunt, at least, some huffs of complaint as he was forced to do something for himself for once.

Instead, quiet.

You know that your husband keeps guns around the estate. Both figuratively, in the forms of armed and well-paid sentries that roam the grounds and stand guard by the doors. And, literally. A pistol in the kitchen, a shotgun in his cupboard, an assault rifle under the coffee table.

And, you remember, a Beretta under the sink.

With quivering and cautious fingers, you reach for the brass handle of the drawer.

“Милый?” Sweetie?

You utter it softly, hesitantly, sweetly. He once told you your accent sounds native when you pamper him with pet names. English is your first language, Russian now your second. He doesn’t know how much of it you can understand. More than he believes.

But there is no answer from him. Not a word, nor a groan, nor a snore.

“Все ли в порядке?” Is everything alright?

Your careful fingertips dive into the drawer, momentarily peeking down to find the black metal. A pant of relief jumps from your throat when your fingers find it, that cold handle; you take it in the palm of your hand, it moulds to your grip like it was made for you.

He showed you once how to load it.

You remember.

You clutch the slide with a harsh grip, tugging it back, click-snap.

The safety is off. You’re not that stupid.

“Дорогой?” Sweetheart?

Calls turn to pleas.

You know vaguely the line of work in which your husband is a kingpin. You know it most likely involves bloodshed.

And, so, you guess it involves fucking people over. That it incites vengeance. That it creates martyrs.

Normally, the guards help you sleep, their thudding boots and murmuring chatter keeping the retribution at bay.

Why is it so quiet?

Thud.

Creak.

Now you resent yourself for calling for him. You’ve made your position obvious. You’ve handed yourself on a platter.

Perhaps you can sneak to the hallway.

Or, perhaps you can simply check to see if it’s your husband, skulking around your bedroom and choosing to silently ignore you out of spite.

So on your bare toes, you glide along the glossy tiled floor, pit pat, pit pat. Feline fingers clutch the edge of the door. You gently draw it open, ever so slowly, the golden hinges moaning quietly at their awakening.

You hold your weapon by your side. You keep your finger off the trigger. God knows what you’d do if you shot your husband by accident. You might be better off just turning the gun on yourself, in that case, rather than be left to the dogs. You know what their teeth would do to you.

The bedroom is dark.

The silvery glow of the moon is the only source of light, bar the dim orange now emerging from the open ensuite door. Your kittenish shadow stretches out before you onto the velvety carpeted floor, your shape carved out even through the sheer fabric of your negligée.

“Не двигайся, черт возьми.” Don’t fucking move.

Your breath lodges in your throat, wedged in your trachea like you had swallowed a jagged rock.

Not your husband.

No, that voice is far too deep, too grumbling, too threatening.

So who?

“Кто ты, черт возьми?” Who the fuck are you?

You hiss it, a growl, though only the kind a snarling little chihuahua might spit out when touched by an overbearing hand.

Hidden from the moonlight, the figure prowls through the shadow. Towering, imperious, that silhouette renders you frigid - you swallow as much oxygen as your stiff diaphragm will allow you. Not much.

Four red beads of light stretch in a line where his eyes should be, reminiscent of a hunting spider; high enough off the ground that it might be crawling up the walls, hanging from its silk, ready to ensnare you. No, that’s just how tall the beast is as it stalks you.

The glint of the moon reflects off the glistening barrel of his gun. Gun feels like an understatement. It’s immense, black. Machine more fitting. Pointed at you. Coaxing. Warning. He gives it a shake.

“Брось этот крошечный пистолет, шлюха.” Drop that little gun of yours, slut.

The more he talks, the more you doubt. His accent is weak. Not a Russian.

“Чего ты хочешь, мудак? Деньги?” What do you want, asshole? Money?

He scoffs. Arrogant. Scornful.

“I don’t want your fuckin’ blood money, you evil little bitch.”

English.

Explains the accent.

But, you’re left with more questions. One, what the fuck?

“Drop the gun. Or I might get your blood on that pretty dress.”

You hesitate. He pounces.

“Сейчас!” Now!

#call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost cod #bitterfruit fics #bitten-fruit

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writers-potion · 5 months ago

Text

When to Use "P" Sounds

to show unbending authority, bureaucracy and the law

for a character who prides himself in his masculinity

for eortic scenes with male action

for a display of power and pompousness

for a firm patriarchal society

"P" for authority and pride:

power, principle, parilament, empire, approve, impose, president, prelate, prefect, emperor, empress, pastor, priest, prince, pontiff, patriarch, parade, palace, portal, pose, display, pomp, peacock, prance, preen, pretend, imposter, importance, impress

"P" sounds for judgement and punishment:

police, penalty, punishment appraisal, probe, oppose, probate, approve, passport, apprehend, appeal, troop, platoon, deploy, poll, parish, population, protocol, parochial, position, plead, process, prison

"P" for stick-like objects:

pole, pile, pillar, pilaster, peak, pike, spear, poke, pierce, prong, push, pin, prick, penetrate, point, penis, patriarchy, paternal, progenitor

Other thematically unrelated words:

apply, park, perk, pug, puppy, posy, plug, apple, pear, grap apricot, peach, painting, portrait, picture, people, ping, peg, gape, lip, ship, pen, pulse, parchment, palaver, ploy, ape, sap, tap, sip, tip, pillow, pirouette, pry, ploy, slip, plant, peek, peer, nape, plate, platinum, planet, ship, rip, spin, wasp, lamp, ample, shape

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

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girlactionfigure · 6 months ago

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THURSDAY HERO: Glagolev Family

It is undeniable that the role of Ukraine in the Holocaust was shameful. Almost a million Jews were killed by Ukrainian Nazi collaborators, most of them shot and dumped into mass graves, many while still alive. Because of this ugly history, and at a time when the Ukraine itself is under threat, it is crucial to remember those Ukrainians who did the right thing, even at great risk to themselves.

Alexei Glagolev was a Ukrainian Orthodox priest who practiced his Christian faith despite severe persecution from the Soviet communists. Together with his wife Tatiana and their children, Alexei hid Jews during World War II, a heroic act that almost cost the Glagolevs their own lives.

Born in Kiev in 1901, Alexei was raised in a devout Eastern Orthodox home. His father Alexander was a priest and professor at Kiev Theological Academy and known to be an ally to Jews at a time of rampant antisemitism. Alexei, a stand-out student in high school, enrolled in the Theological Academy in 1919, and studied there until 1923, even after it was shut down by the Bolsheviks and the students had to study in secret. Alexei married Tatiana Bulashevich, the daughter of a sugar plant owner, in 1926. They had three children, Magdalina, Nikolei and Maria.

In 1932 the Glagolevs’ world was rocked when Alexei was arrested by the communists for “anti-revolutionary acts.” He was freed after a week in custody, but was designated a “cult leader” and deprived of civil liberties. With his professional options severely curtailed due to his status as leader of a cult (the Soviets considered all religions to be cults), he labored as a construction worker and security guard. From 1936 to 1940 he studied Physics and Mathematics at the Kiev Pedagogy Institute, while secretly running an underground church. After the war in Eastern Europe began, Alexei was ordained as a priest and served in the Pokrov Church in Kiev.

In October, 1941, Alexei’s sister-in-law asked him to help her brother’s Jewish wife, Izabella Mirkina, who was in imminent danger of being murdered by the Nazis. Without hesitation, Alexei and Tatiana determined to do whatever they could to help persecuted Jews, despite caring for their own three children in difficult wartime conditions. Tatiana gave Izabella her own identity card and baptism certificate. In his memoirs, Father Alexei wrote, “My wife almost paid with her own life for her reckless action. The Gestapo was going from flat to flat asking for papers, and when they found out that Tatiana didn’t have a passport, they were going to arrest her. Very few people returned to their homes after such arrests. We begged and managed to persuade them to leave her alone after a few witnesses confirmed her identity.”

Even with Tatiana’s papers Izabella was unable to escape and returned to the Glagolevs in desperate need of a place to hide. Alexei later said, “Tormented, we searched for a way to save her. What kind of Christians would we be if we refused this poor woman, who was reaching out to us and pleading for help?” The Glagolevs welcomed Izabella and her daughter Irina into their own modest home. When other desperate Jews approached for help, Alexei gave them fake baptism certificates and hid them in his church, even though hiding Jews was a capital crime punishable by execution. The Glagolev children also helped care for the Jews and keep them safe and fed.

In 1943 Alexei moved out of his home and into the hospital at Pokrov Monastery, where he lived beside the Jews he was helping. This was very risky because the Germans had forbidden Ukrainians to live in that part of Kiev. He and his son Nikolei were arrested in fall of that year and deported to Germany, where Alexei was brutally beaten by the Nazis. Somehow they managed to escape and returned to Ukraine after the liberation from Germany in 1944. In 1945, Alexei wrote a letter to Nikita Khrushchev, Secretary of the Ukraine, about the Jews he had saved.

Alexei continued working as a priest in the Pokrov church until it closed in 1960. He worked in several other churches despite increasing ill health caused by his brutal treatment while imprisoned by the Nazis. Alexei died in 1972. Journalist Sergei Kokurin wrote in an article about Alexei, “It is hard to understand to an average man the determination with which Glagolev went against the tide. In 1936 this fragile-looking intellectual publicly carried the cross taken off the Church of Nikola the Kind, and despite threats from the communists kept it in his flat. He was the only priest in Kiev who refused in April 1942 to hold a church service to celebrate Hitler’s birthday.”

Alexei, Tatiana and their children were recognized as Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Museum Yad Vashem in 1991. In January 2002, to commemorate the 100th anniversary of Alexei Glagolev’s birth, a memorial plaque to him and his brave father Alexander was erected on the wall of the National University of Kiev.

For their heroic actions saving Jews, and for practicing their faith in defiance of Soviet persecution, we honor the Glagolev family as this week’s Thursday Heroes.

#Thursday Hero

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yourlocalsmutwriter · 22 days ago

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notarialno zavereni angst, danny ric or whoever u want

American law - Daniel Ricciardo x reader

You didn't know what was worse - getting your marriage annulled only a year after or the flight there. In your entire life you had only been to Vegas once. And now you have to do it all over again. Your divorce could have been an email, you think as you board the Amsterdam to LAX airplane. At least Daniel was already in America, you think bitterly. Of course he didn't care enough to stay with you, putting as much distance as possible between you. The little voice in your head tells you that he would definitely make a paddock cameo. Or a surprise appearance at the Enchanté popup. A man of the people, new and improved. Showing everyone that after the official end of your marriage, he was free. He could try all the girls now or drive a 100 cars. Even if lately you'd seen snapshots of him on two wheels.

Truth be told, he looked like he was doing better. Yet you knew him best. He was packing his schedule with events, sponsorships, and new merch drops for a reason. If he was on the move constantly, he didn't have time to think about your breakup. Meanwhile, you had been drowning your sorrows in D3 wine bottles. The last time you tasted that was on your faithful wedding night. Vegas GP 2023, you would always be famous. Since the queue for passport control was longer than the text chain between you and your now ex, you could reminisce about better times. Times where the world consisted of just you and Daniel.

There was nothing more dangerous than a charming man with lots of class. Unfortunately your beloved couldn't really exude that now. Daniel was wearing a sparkly jacket over his race suit.

"Snazzy, isn't it. Think we can get your glitter and some glue sticks and make you a matching one? New Enchanté drop?" Daniel jokes, motioning to the sparkly eye makeup he saw you in. He loved how excited about this you were, despite this being your upteenth GP. You'd been his grid good luck charm, ever since you started dating in 2018. Usually you'd be in for one or two European races, but there was no way you would miss the last few races, especially considering that you skipped out on attending a chunk of this season. You ignore the horrible memories from the Dutch hospital where they tried to give your boyfriend an aspirin for his broken arm.

"If you touch my primer tonight, you are not leaving Vegas in one piece." You joke and plant a kiss on his lips. "Your quali's about to start, lemme take this." You shrug on the eyesore jacket. The black and bold RICCIARDO letters pop against the blue sequins. Danny chuckles. He thinks how good his last name sounds with your first one. He got the idea way back when he was filming the grill the grid videos. When the admin asked who was most likely to get married in the little chapel in Vegas, he threw Charles under the bus. But the truth was, it was himself. Daniel had the ring ready, planning to take you on a late night track walk and propose there. Maybe it was the smell of weed in the air. Maybe it was the plethora of cheesy Vegas movies you two had binged the night before. But one thing was apparent. Daniel Ricciardo was getting married in Sin City.

He presses you into a bone crushing hug before dashing to his car. Despite there being a garage of people who also rooted for him. Despite the roar of the crowds, both here and at home. You're the one that cheers on the loudest. The most loyal supporter. Truly, you loved him the most.

You were snapped back from the thoughts by a government official asking for your passport and boarding pass. They take in the number 3 driver cap you had to pull to the side. Your last name intrigues them, too.

"Huh, what a coincidence that you're a Daniel fan and you have the same last name." They note. Clearly they were not versed in the gossip that came hand in hand with their sport. That was better, you thought. You weren't ready to be excluded from the WAG list.

"Yeah, funny. I'm actually going to the race, so maybe it'll get a few chuckles in the fan zone." You reply. In your mind you rotate the idea of having to change all your documents now. After this weekend you wouldn't be a Ricciardo anymore. Plain old you. That's why you hadn't bought a return ticket yet. It would feel almost fake to travel under Daniel's name.

With some time to spare, you grab a few packs of stroopwaffels and water for the flight. Your eyes scan the shelves and notice you grabbed your ex's favorite brand by force of habit. Nothing said "Fuck you for leaving me after we tied the knot" like a syrup baked good. What was an appropriate thing to even say? You debated asking your friends. They'd probably give you some jab about how you're the one keeping your dignity, even though he had been the one turning bitter near the end. Even though you'd laugh at their "give him money for a Moët, since he wasn't getting champagne podiums" line, you wouldn't believe it. Nothing could help you. Nothing could change the fact that this trip was going to hurt.

This first Vegas weekend was hurting. The Alpha Tauri wasn't a rocket ship. It was a submarine, sinking. Danny had somehow finessed a mini stroll for the two of you after he qualified in P14. He was blowing off media duties, ignoring the pen of journalists that wanted to know his thoughts. He had only 4 words in his brain. "Will you marry me?" looped around his head. The ring was now loose in his gloves, the fireproof pocket being too obvious. He took your hand and spun you around on the Vegas street. The sphere was changing. He was convincing you that there was something great on it coming soon, making you not take your eyes off it as he turned his back to you and retied his shoes.

He asks you to turn around and help him up cause he's got a cramp. You're mid bad joke about how he's blowing your back out so good and the car is blowing his when your mind registers what's happening. Daniel is on one knee, a shining ring in his hand.

" I want the only VIP on my table to be the view of you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Better than any win. You've been with me through the highs and lows of my career. I want you to be there when I retire in like 10 years and then forever. Will you make me the luckiest person in this city by marrying me?" He asks. You say yes, through tears in your eyes.

"Good, because the pavement was killing my knees. This thing gets hot." He jokes as he slides the ring on your finger. He kisses you and you swear it's like the first one. You slide your hand in his as he tells you about the ring, the engravings inside.

"You know, I never told you this, but I always wanted to get married in Vegas. Other girls probably wanted a grand ceremony filled with family and friends. My practical ass wanted in and out." You say, admiring the golden band.

"I mean, the chapel is open 24 hours. Elvis impersonator and all. It would be refreshing for them to get someone sober. Should we do it?" Daniel asks.

"You're crazy. You have a race tomorrow. People will tear you to shreds for focusing on me instead." You reason. Daniel's life was neatly sliced in two. Driving and not driving. And the biting comments from fans and Helmut were nothing new. Danny had a bad weekend? Your fault. You were a distraction. Which didn't make any sense. Max was world champion and he had Kelly. What people didn't see was that you loved your boyfriend so madly. Keeping each other sane through the online scrutiny. Covering for each other in front of paparazzi. Even things like keeping a balanced diet. Perhaps you were the best thing that happened to Daniel. But for you, it was beyond the shadow of a doubt. You wondered how you had survived your life before him. At least now he was yours forever.

"Come on. You're my lucky charm. If anything, you make me a better driver. I'm faster when I think that afterwards I'm coming home to you. So, let's make the gossip pages go wild." He says, not ready for the night to end. You give in, only interjecting with a

"Fine, fine but we cannot even have a lick of....."

"Champagne, please." You ask the stewardess.

"I'm sorry, but we don't serve alcohol yet, it's an early flight. I can get you sparkling water if you'd like." She offers, the picture of professionalism.

"That would be great, thank you." You say.

A hangover was not a good idea. Apparently you were the only sensible one. You paid for the in flight wifi solely to be able to communicate with Daniel. He was picking you up from the airport, so you wanted to update him. But the reply you got from him was unusual. The Instagram voice memos he gave you sounded something like this: “I'm drunk and I've been staring at my hands for an hour. I wanna remember what it was like to have you in them.”. His voice is slurred. He's reckless. So are you.

“Enjoying the night I see. Did you find a girl who's gonna erase me? Did you find a love that's gonna kill mine?”. He replies instantly with a “I found her, it's the one asking me stupid questions.”. Daniel means you, and he doubles down. “You're not mine anymore, but I don't want anyone touching you.” you cringe at his jealous streak. Maybe it was the first warning sign you missed. You know you should stop reminiscing about your wedding day. Yet……

You two are the smiliest couple in line to get married. Truly, someone could count Danny's teeth to pass the time. There's a wonderful old lady that's telling her entire life story to you two. She's here with her husband to be, who was her childhood sweetheart. But throughout her life, they were both dating other people, too hesitant to admit each other's feelings until now. She asks you if Daniel has always been this wonderful.

"He was born almost perfect. Though I think he needed me to complete him, to make him even greater." Your fiancee plants a kiss on your lips, effectively half-traumatising the older woman and smudging your lipstick.

You excuse yourself to reapply it, not about to get married with pink streaks on your face. As you exit the bathroom, there's a very drunk Elvis impersonator outside.

"Hey, baby. Wanna become my Priscilla?" He asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You decline politely and try to get back to the guy who you were about to marry. The fake king of rock and roll doesn't agree with your decision and continues to chat you up. You're practically sweating through the rental bride dress when your eyes meet a familiar pair of brown ones. Danny moves faster than the speed of light, fist raised in the air. Before he can punch the guy you step in, not wanting to have him spend his race in jail.

The faux Elvis backs off and the old lady lets you two cut in line. As a couple exits the chapel, it's your turn. You're about to marry the love of your life in Vegas. All your dreams were coming true. You ask Danny to pinch you and he jokes that he should say Max’s name instead.

The whole flight you're antsy. It was heartbreaking. To have counted on Daniel for so long to this. It was a long time coming. The nails in the coffin were getting drilled since the start of the season back in March. Spain was the first big fight. It was the fact that your husband's life was in a pressure cooker. The online hate. His crash with Stroll. The fact that Yuki's contract was extended already. His career hadn't been much of a roadblock even when it was uncertain before. The McLaren exit was actually almost a turning point towards considering to settle down.

You couldn't afford to think the time line after, not right now. Your hands were shaking as you type "I hope you're here, just landed." to Daniel. Then you shove the phone so deep in your bag, not wanting to look at it.

His messy curls are unmissable. Despite trying to lay low, he is there, like an eyesore. Decked out in yesterday's clothes, judging from Instagram. Holding an A4 piece of cardboard. Of course, it doesn't say your name or Ricciardo. It just says Unforgettable. Pictures of Danny in the Vegas airport would become a rumor mill and meme in a matter of minutes. It doesn't help that as soon as he sees you, he starts crying, his eyes filled with tears. Were they for you, for himself, for both of you. You would never know. Instead of a hello, or a miss you, you say.

“I can’t wrap my head around why you’re doing this right now.”

"I can't believe you're crying." You whisper to Daniel. His misty eyes are also making you tear up. The "priest" marrying you doesn't care about this, doesn't even shush you. Since this was not planned, there's no time to have personalized vows. Still, in the way your husband's voice breaks slightly at the "to love and to keep" says it all. Rings exchanged, a kiss shared and it's official. You are married to Daniel Ricciardo.

It's so past his "bedtime" (the regime set by his personal trainer) by the time you get to the hotel, that you actually consider just falling asleep. Of course, he has other plans. Danny's lips are on your neck since the elevator. As you pat down your pockets for the hotel key, his hands are all over your chest, squeezing and groping.

"Baby, please." You moan out.

"It's our first night together as a married couple. We can't just postpone it because we're busy tomorrow. I plan to make you thank yourself for saying yes to me." He argues, his touches trying to find any bare skin.

"Danny, come on. You know how lucky I am to have you. And you're also aware that you're insatiable." You say, leaning into his touch. You're trying to reason with him, but you can't help but trail your fingers from his defined abs down to his happy trail. He groans and you're a goner. It's safe to say that you end up "consumating" your marriage in the Vegas hotel. Some would call it poor decision making. You can't help but be a sucker for your husband talking about love and then making it to you. The creak of your bed and the banging of the headboard at least rattles the poor driver on the other side of the wall. So, a bonus for Alpha Tauri, you reason with yourself.

You had nearly forgotten what it was to have Daniel touching you. But as he's leading you out of the airport, he holds your hand. Your fingers are laced together, like lovers. There's an intrusive thought in your head.

"Drop it, stop this, you can't afford him to do that to you, why, Jesus fuck, you still felt it". The spark. The need to pull him aside and kiss him. The want to see that look in his brown eyes just before he leans in, like a needy puppy. Daniel is intent on killing you, because he draws little figures with his thumb on your skin.

"So, do we have a plan?" You ask, as if you hadn't had to figure out the logistics of this for weeks now.

"We'll go there during quali. At least this way all the fans will be occupied, either at home or in the grandstands." He says. "That way you can still enjoy a day of the weekend in Vegas."

"I don't know about you, but I don't think I'll be thinking about gambling or entertainment after the official end of my marriage." You reply. You're not sure if he shivers because of the cold or your words.

"You're right, I'm sorry." He apologizes. He drops your hand to wave to the Uber he hailed. Then he reaches out again, this time going for your left. Your ring is pressed against his. Possibly for the last time. You think that you should have simply given yours back that day.

If you opened the dictionary to the words “media circus” you'd find the Singapore 2024 Grand Prix as the definition. And at the center of it are you and Daniel. You're not sure why the press picks up on your increased presence in the paddock recently. Since Spain, you haven't missed a race. You and your husband may be on thin ice sometimes, but it would shatter like glass under your feet if you aren't communicating and being there for eachother. Supporting Danny reminds you why you love him. He's driven. Relentless. Never backs down from a challenge. Yet, now it's extreme. He works himself to the bone. On the simulator, or in long talks with his engineer Pierre. There is no rest for the wicked or the treathened. You're on the sidelines, picking out restaurants that are open at least til midnight. Making sure he eats, that he still can enjoy at least something. You're no influencer, but you use your social media to bring attention to his sponsored campaigns, to the new Enchanté collections. Anything to keep the image of Danny positive.

It's not like people don't ask you about it. Friends, family, coworkers are all curious what it feels like. Your reply? Even if it's tough on me, it's a million times tougher on him. So when you see the interview, you're flabbergasted.

The fans tag you in it. Not that you need that, seeing as you've been glued to the F1 website and social media. Danny is on media day duty, Thursday in Singapore. One of the reporters asks.

"Daniel , your lovely wife is joining you once again this weekend. Do you think that will affect your performance?"

"When it comes to how I drive, that's all me and the team. I'm not a superstitious guy, I don't believe in good luck. Racing is about strategy and talent."

The next journalist latches on, wanting to get a quote too. It spirals because your husband does not and cannot address his early exit rumors. So he talks about you. But his words aren't his, don't come from the heart. They are what Visa CashApp RB wants to hear. How he manages his time or more accurately how he doesn't spend it with you. He doesn't tell anyone that he asked for this. After spending a couple days apart, he wanted you to be by his side. As you'd been before. All good, always. Daniel even tries to crack a joke.

"Honestly, I'm starting to think that she's using me as a travel buddy or a way to check off some destinations off her holiday bucket list.". It gets scattered laughter, most because many times before he's shared that you weren't interested in flying out with him that much. That it stresses you out, the airport a hostile environment rather than a relaxing one.

After the press conference he's pulled aside, you presume for socials. You reason that he's busy and that's why he's not responding to your texts. His team's Instagram shows him energetic, and dancing to 28 by Zach Brian. Your song. Maybe the chorus of how lucky are we resonated with him, but not you.

"You can't just pretend it's all okay. After what you did. I'm not the villain, okay. I'm not the one taking your seat away from you." You say, the moment he comes back in your hotel room.

"You think they're gonna fire me, now? What happened to having my back. Do you think I'm like Logan, huh." He says back.

"You throw me under the bus, you throw another driver, anyone else? Wanna drag the lizard during practice, too, while you're at it? We're not the bad guys here, Daniel. Go ahead, blame me for being unhappy, and blame me for having bad luck. Just remember that when you fall from the top, it hurts like hell.” you reply.

He thinks he will show everyone who doubted him on Saturday. Have a great qualifying, cement his place in the team. Danny wishes that he didn't have to prove himself to you, too. But he does. So all the angst is worth it. As a “I put us through hell, but look where it got us, we'll fix it now.” He's out in Q1. It was over. He was the biggest loser, forced to see others succeed.

After watching Max win in Abu Dhabi, you were tagging along to the belated celebrations. 3 consecutive championships was a big deal. So you had a few too many glasses of champagne with Danny's friend and former teammate. That resulted in your husband having to support you out, and tuck you in with a bucket next to you.

When the morning comes, there's a bottle of water and ibuprofen on the bedside table next to you. But no Daniel. You make your way to the kitchen in the spacious penthouse room. There was your beloved, making breakfast. An omelet with extra cheese signaled the start of summer break. But what surprised you was the abundance of bouquets, flowers covering multiple pieces of furniture.

"Did I blackout before you lost a bet or something? Why is there a botanical garden in our hotel room." You ask, admiring your favorite ones.

"Wanted to give you something pretty to wake up. Besides the obvious. Also, you got so drunk last night that you started singing this song about getting flowers." He explains.

You cringe as you recall shouting the lyrics, "Buying me all the flowers, swearing on yourself that you count on me," along with a few others.

"You let me get "belting out breakup songs" drunk?" you ask.

"Hey, who knows how many tipsy nights you'll have left in you?" He replies.

"Is this a jab about me aging, how dare you? You're older than me, you prick. Wait. Oh? Is this about?" You go on, then the realization hits you. Daniel's actually talking about

"A baby, yes. You are bad at picking up on hints. Do you think we should try for kids? I know we've had the conversation before, but are you still sure?" He asks. In truth, he hopes you'd still say yes like before. Screw being World Champion, all he wanted now was to be a father.

"I've never been more sure. I know I can count on you and you can count on me. Though let's wait a bit, I don't want to be giving birth in the middle of the Dutch GP or something." You add, shuddering at the thought of being pregnant in the paddock.

"Baby Zandvoort Stroopwaffel Ricciardo wouldn't stand a chance in the world." Danny jokes before pulling you in a kiss.

“I don't know, I think they're going places.” You say after pulling away.

As Daniel helps the driver with the direction, you quip

"Glad that you've had time to roam around Nevada while I was at home packing up my things from what was our apartment. In Monaco, surrounded by our friends' pitiful looks."

"My friends. They're my friends. Besides, one of us had to stay here for six weeks. Otherwise they wouldn't let us get divorced." he says.

"Oh, there was no graph on the fucking forms for custody of racing drivers. And maybe someone should have looked more closely at the law before complaining. You were so reckless and cheesy for proposing in Vegas. And now we have to deal with this." You argue.

"Well I wasn't the one who wanted to break it off. That was all you, sweetheart." He fights back. You're about to make a jab at him for not using that competitiveness on the track.

The man in the driver's seat just sighs and points to a decal above the mirror. It says "no conflicts, please." You can't help it. You want your ex to scream, swear, so you know he's hurting.

But you try to be the bigger person. You and Danny had always been explosive. Before, it was passion. Stolen kisses on busy streets. Hands dangerously close to intimate places on Australian beaches (accompanied by down under jokes that never got old). Hotel room pillows under headboards. It was a miracle that you actually didn't have to file for custody. You guess it didn't take. The universe knew. And despite all the happy, messy, angry raw sex you had, the tests always came back negative. You chuckle at the sweets still in your carry-on, remembering that talk about naming your child after Zandvoort. You extend a pack to Daniel, a peace offering. Stroopwaffels were truly the answer to everything.

"I can't believe you remember to bring me these. I thought you hated me." He says, when he's not sinking his teeth into the syrup filled snack.

"Despite popular belief, I don't live to see your downfall." You reply. We both already saw it is what you think. And when you hear your "other half" say it back to you, you almost believe in soulmates again.

Daniel and you make a few stops. First you two look over the divorce forms with his lawyer. Then you make sure they are notary certified. And lastly, you head back to the courthouse. Nevada is colder than you remember. You shiver as he wraps an arm around you. That's how you walk in to the building. Lovers, soulmates, best friends. Anything but strangers. This time Daniel's the one that breaks when he sees you crying. His thumbs are gentle, wiping the tears from your cheeks with such love that you're almost ready to take it all back. To say "sike", to tear the forms in stripes and use them as confetti you kiss under. To momentarily forget and keep doing that until you forgive him. Instead you go through with it. Right outside when you're officially legally single, you can speak.

"I get why you had to get wasted yesterday. This hurts." you say.

"Wanna go out drinking together. You know, one last time? As a warranty I won't dial your number after the last call like I did back then." Daniel suggests.

"Lead the way, Vegas boy." you reply.

You were lost, figuratively and literally. Singapore was not a good place to wander off in. The 3 cap on your face is pulled down to your eyes. In the end you decide to go back for the race. To give Danny a chance. He's too emotional to talk to you in depth. He kisses you, and your hands grip his denim like shirt. Good luck is all you manage to say. The stars in the Singapore night are what you stare at for the majority of the race. Even with the fastest lap, you can sense it's not enough.

Your heart breaks when Daniel doesn't get out of the car immediately. You wish you could rush over to him, talk. Then you see his face and know. He's grieving. For his legacy, his future. There's no send off. You stay with him until late, until it's just you two and the photographer on the track. You can't do this right now. It's after your flight back that you ask. You deal the final blow to Daniel's life. You ask him for a divorce.

He posts on Instagram before he replies to you. You like the picture, and you pour out your feelings in the comments. You tell him you'll always be proud of him and his achievements. You tell him that you love him. You can't bear to say anything about the future. Because his future is no longer your concern.

He calls you in the middle of the night. He's tired of everyone, drunk, super sad and tells you

"I miss you." as if you don't know. It brings you no joy to hear this. You just ask him to pass the phone to someone else in the bar and you get his location.

"You know, for someone who makes wine, you are a light weight." you comment as you help him back into your shared apartment. You don't wonder where he's staying and whether he likes it. You're lying. Even as you try to settle on the couch, you can't relax. You go to your bed and watch Daniel snore softly. You carefully get in next to him. Sensing the dip in the mattress, he immediately pulls you into his arms.

"Did we fight? I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I didn't mean it. Don't go on the couch, please." He whispers, voice groggy from sleep. He had gotten so wasted he completely forgot he was in the process of divorcing you.

"I'm right here, Daniel. I'm not going anywhere." you say as you turn towards him. You relax into his chest. For the first time in 168 hours you get a decent sleep.

The next day, he just packs some leftover clothes into a suitcase and leaves for the airport. You see him in America and remember the talks with Christian. The faint mentions of Redbull ambassador duties in the States. Despite everything, he chose the job instead of you. Even retired, he was more loyal to the team, which didn't even give him more than 3 photos and a paragraph on Instagram.

Daniel said he'd reject it. Yet, the moment he was free of you, he took it. You had been the roadblock again, being the thing making his career go wrong. After years of being his talisman, you had turned to a bad omen. Of course it was best for you to leave while you can, sprint towards the exit.

You're in front of a bar entrance.

"Is this a good idea? I know we've both been drinking away the end of our relationship, and marriage. So maybe tonight, let's not." You say, suddenly getting cold feet.

"You're right. Do you wanna see the apartment? Make it seem like you're here for a regular vacation with your husband?" He hesitates on the last word, yet still uses it.

"It would be a shame to not see what Vegas residency has done to your taste." You reply.

"You'll love the slot machine in the kitchen, brings the whole place together." Danny jokes and you laugh and it's almost like the old times. He's missed this.

Bachelor Daniel is different than you'd expect. He cooks you both pasta and has one of those fridges with a water and ice dispenser. After dinner, he shows it to you, and it escalates into a chase, pelting frozen cubes at each other. He catches you easily, damn his F1 reflexes.

The ice from his hand is violent poured at the front of your shirt and you fucking moan. Daniel watches the droplets and realizes you're not wearing a bra. It happens in a flash. You're pinned against the counter, your ex husband grabbing another icecube from his fancy fridge. It melts on his tongue, your tongue as you kiss. Daniel's cold lips make you shiver and beg for more as they move from your neck to your chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." He mumbles, now between your thighs. You tell him that " his whole life isn't going to be enough time for him to apologize to you, but this is a good start.". When his tongue licks a stripe down your pussy, it's literally frozen.

"Baby, it's like Frosty the snowman is eating me out, stop." You say and he pulls away immediately. "I need you still, though. Can you fuck me, please. It's been months." You continue.

He's on his feet, towering over you, lips on your neck.

"I don't have a condom though. Is that okay?" Daniel asks.

"Damn, single for 6 weeks and already banging other people raw. You don't waste time,huh." You recoil, trying to move away from him.

"I haven't been with anyone else. Only you. " He confesses.

You're back in his arms, this time taking the lead. It's a different kiss, slow and gentle.

"Then tonight's your lucky night, lover boy. A hot divorcee in your area needs you." You joke as you lead him to bed. You want to be in control, at least with this. For once, you feel at ease again. You grind against him, slowly teasing you both. You sink down on his cock, and he doesn't miss the hiss you let out as you get used to his size again. You ride him, gradually getting closer to your orgasm. You speed up the pace, asking him to fuck you. As you come, you're begging, needing and pleading him to come for you, to finish inside of you. Who is he to deny you? Besides he doesn't think he can get himself to pull out. He too wants nothing more than to spill his seed inside of you, to fuck you through his orgasm. And he does so.

You're both spent, as he pulls away. His mouth is moving faster than his brain when he says "I love you.".

"Don't be cruel, Daniel. Don't talk to me about love when you don't know it." you respond and leave.

You can't leave your house. Even though you're the one that ended it. You're stuck inside, sad songs and ice cream galore. You know that eventually, it will stop hurting. The endless edits of Daniel to Pink Skies aren't helping. You wonder how he is. You wish he wore the hurt on his sleeve. He looked so happy. With Josh, or at the stupid Red Bull event. It's selfish, but you wish to see how these nights end. It's time for him to cry. Because there's no sign that you'd been his at all.

Daniel somehow managed to lose you twice. You don't come back. You just send a text asking to keep the ring on. He takes it as a sign. But all in him that believed evaporated later that week. You're back with your friends. Danny remembers you had mentioned that you'd be staying with them. You neglected to say anything about what was unfolding in front of his eyes via Instagram. A divorce party. They threw you a fucking rager. He analyzes every second of every video. A stranger that’s there worries him. The guy looks freakishly like him. And he keeps hiding his face, clearly not belonging there. The motherfucker is in a 3 piece suit for fuck’s sake. And keeps orbiting in your personal space.

Then it's almost radio silence. You barely post. There's a picture of you, 2 dinner plates ,glasses of water and a fancy restaurant. A number and a heart is all he gets to know you've moved on. Daniel was never good at math, but it doesn't take a genius to calculate when this happened. The day after your divorce party. Because of your new beau, now you only post the occasional selfie. Then the bomb drops. A video of you and his doppelganger. At a fucking gender reveal. And you're the one expecting. The caption reveals the due date. Daniel wants to be spiteful. He wants to know just how many days after you two last saw each other you were fucking others. He plugs in the day you're about to be due into a sketchy fertility calculation website. It's actually very detailed and indicates that you conceived on the last day of your ovulation. Which just happens to be the last night you saw him.

Daniel was about to have a kid. A tiny human being in whose life he would never be a part of. He can't help but think what would happen if he could turn back time. His heart tells him he'd somehow still manage to turn the situation into this.

#f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 x you #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo angst #i fear this is my magnum opus #the power of tumblr mutuals on my writing should be studied #my eyes hurt #6k fucking words of Danny #save me 6k Danny angst #mara and her inbox

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reality-detective · 1 year ago

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"We're undergoing a soft coup... under the pretext of pandemic preparedness and the biosecurity agenda."

Dr. Meryl Nass explains how the WHO's proposed pandemic treaty will enable the WHO "to take over jurisdiction of everything in the world by saying that climate change, animals, plants, water systems [and] ecosystems are all central to health".

In addition to that, it will remove human rights protections, enforce censorship and digital passports, require governments to push a single "official" narrative, and enable the WHO to declare "pandemics" on a whim. 🤔

#pay attention #educate yourselves #educate yourself #knowledge is power #reeducate yourself #reeducate yourselves #think about it #think for yourselves #think for yourself #do your homework #do some research #do your own research #ask yourself questions #question everything #government corruption #government tyranny #socialism #communism

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collector-of-sticks · 3 months ago

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Ramble about if I were an alien and had a lil one. Just cause I can and am obsessed with the idea of being an alien 💫

✨I wish I were an alien on a big ship just floating through space, passing through colourful gas clouds and watching the stars. I’d love to have multiple arms and a tail I could flick around and hold things with. With multiple arms I could hold a little one while doing other things like watering the many plants inside the ship! I would probably hate other people touching my tail but would happily let a little one hold it! Ideally they’d hold one of my many hands though :3✨

🌒I’d have a nursery for them attached to my room so I could check on them during the “night.” It would have a star themed mobile above the cot and a lot of books on the bookshelf about space, other alien species and planets - but they’d all be kiddie books so my baby could easily understand.🌒

💤I’d hold their hand while we explore different planets with the rest of the crew. I’d probably be the live-in gardener - gotta keep all the plants on the ship alive for everyone’s mental health and so we can use them as food/medicine. Oh! I’d definitely grow a little bioluminescence (glows in the dark) plant in my baby’s nursery so it could be a nightlight for them! Gotta keep the bad dreams away somehow 💤

🔭We could collect stickers and every planet we go to we can put a sticker from that planet into a book/passport! And of course, we’d have to take tons and tons of photos of all these planets, cultures and other beautiful things we see.🔭

🫧With my multiple hands I’d learn how to do really calming/hypnotic movements to help my lil one fall asleep and just to generally entertain them! I’d even wear glow in the dark nail polish for it!🫧

Brrrrrrrrrrrr, aliens!

What would you do if you were a space travelling alien? What would you look like? What would be your favourite thing to do (explore new plants, learn about new animals, watch the stars, play in different streams, go floating in zero gravity etc)?

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mrgriffiths · 7 months ago

Note

A request for what would it be like for a fem reader to be stalked by Terry Silver.

Thankyou.

I'm so sorry for taking this long! Only a month late O_O

𝕾𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝕾𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯

<<𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜>>

- Mr. Silver had been associated with all kinds of people throughout the decades. He's seen the good, the bad, and the in-between. Ultimately, everyone just became a means to an end. So, for a lady to catch his attention? It would have to be someone who is different than what he's used to... even in the slightest way.

- In the 80s, he's a playboy. Always seen with models or with women who have a million dollars to their name or two in the upper crust society. The kind that he'd flaunt around with the intention of showing off his status. These conquests wouldn't last more than a few weeks. He gets a rush out of just seeing the paparazzi in a craze to get the latest scoop on him all while he is fully in control about what gets let out to the eye of the public, even the 'leaked photos'. Everyone is merely a puppet in his world, and it gets him cackling at the very thought of it.

- But that's not all. Hell, it's the tip of the iceberg for Terry. He'd indulge in the mediocre bar dancers and hookers from the dingy parts of LA and likely all over the world too, the man's got to travel for business and he's got to keep himself entertained while he's at it! Women would practically fall at his feet just for a chance, a billionaire with looks and charm that could put the best models and actors to shame.

- So I'd imagine that the kind of lady that would catch the eye of Terry Silver would be someone who he'd seen whilst pretending to be a commoner, a broke karate instructor who's got a blue pick up truck that isn't in good shape. A random woman who works or lives in the area, just a few blocks away from the dojo. Probably isn't one to be seen as a fast or pretentious like himself. One who would generally be described as sweet and humble but would stand her ground if she's pushed too far. I think he'd like the challenge of molding someone to his liking while they have a fighting spirit in them. Makes things a whole lot more interesting.

- It would start off small. Him keeping an eye on you every day, memorizing your daily times of leaving for work in the morning and returning home. The route that you take, whether you walk, take the bus, or travel using your own vehicle, that would most likely be of the same value of his blue pick-up truck. The people that you interact with on the way.

- He'd hire a team of private investigators to get every bit of information about you after you seem to be stuck in his head even while he's coked out in the sauna. 'Nothings for free' there's a price that you will have to pay for occupying the thoughts of Terry Silver, borderline obsession sinking in.Your past, your family heritage, everything right down to your passport and social security number. Any past lovers and their history, too. If you happened to have a lover at the time, they'd swiftly be removed from the picture. He's all about the extremes, and no one will get in the way of him getting what belongs to him.

- Whilst you're away from home, he'd enter with the spare key that he'd seen you put under the small pot plant near the door although a mere door lock isn't something that would be hard for him to pick. Your apartment is small but clearly lived in. He'd have a look at everything you keep around, your drawers and shelves memorizing your interests. Your wardrobe and accessories will definitely get an upgrade in his home. He probably keeps something of yours for himself as a momento of you, your scent lingering on it. You seem to have not found one of your underwear in your laundry this week. That's strange...

- He'd come by and hide in the dead of the night to watch you in your natural state. Your mannerisms and what makes you feel relaxed. The type of shows you watch, the food you cook and whatever else you like to do in your spare time, your hobbies. He'd provide you with it all and more when the time comes. You'd get the weird feeling of having eyes on you, yet everything seems to be normal, and everything around is still in place. Nothing out of the ordinary. He'd even follow you to work and at the spots you chose to spend your leisure time at. Watching who you confide in and who you wouldn't associate with.

- After days, maybe even weeks of stalking his prey, Terry might come over and introduce himself to you. Just taking a walk on the street and offers to help you with the groceries one day. "Hey, need a hand with that?" All smiles and very friendly. He'd pick up the conversation easily with you coming off as innocent as possible. "Terry Silver, nice to meet you! I actually run the dojo a few blocks ahead." He'd tell you whilst offering a handshake after setting your groceries on the kitchen counter..

- That night whilst getting a good soak in the tub, he'd be on a call with John absolutely cackling about it all and going over the details of his plans for you. "Oh yeah! I'm just getting started, John!"

- Present day Terry Silver has a much different style and approach to this kind of situation. His playboy reputation all cleaned up, and the CEO of Dynatox Industries, who used to illegally dump nuclear waste, is now seen as someone who is an environmentalist more than anything. He's sober, has been to therapy, and is now associated with 'like-minded 'people. Yet everyone is still a means to an end, and he's just wearing a mask in front of these people. They don't know him the way they think they do, nothing of his time in 'Nam and certainly nothing about his old-time friend Captain John Kreese..

- It isn't likely that a woman from the upper crust would get his attention this time around either. All of these people are around him because of his money and reputation anyway.. if anything, they would end up just like Cheyenne Hamidi. In this case, it's likely that the woman who catches his eye would be someone who works for him or maybe comes around to one of his dojos. After observing you for a while during the class and afterward in his office through the many cameras installed in the dojo, he'd come to the decision that you are going to be his. There's definitely a fire in you if you have the guts to try out something like martial arts even if you don't know what it is that you're getting yourself into..

- He'd take full advantage of the presence of technology these days and find out everything he needs to know about you. Stalking your social media accounts and using all means possible to get information on you. Again, he'd have everything on you down to the very last detail. No lover or potential lovers will get in the way either. All of that will be taken care of.

- He's more direct in his approach this time, he'd come off as the sensei who's intimidating during training with the most piercing eyes in the room, but the most humble and understanding man outside of it all. He'd make you feel like you could trust him and confide in him whenever you needed to. He'd easily gaslight you into the entire situation, making it seem like it was you the whole time, and he'd be downright successful.

- He'd talk you into telling him everything about you in the shortest amount of time and have you invite him over to your home with ease. He's an old man, he doesn't have all the time in the world to play these games like back in the 80s as much as he liked the chase he would likely speed up the process tenfold. He'd have a look around your home whilst you're in the kitchen or bathroom, and he'd memorize it all. Not a sound would be heard from him. For a man as big as him, he's the quietest. You'd often get spooked by his sudden presence around you.

- You'd find yourself running into him a lot these days, but you couldn't put anything past a coincidence. After all, he's the nicest person you've come across. He's probably got your phone taped while you were non the wiser. Everything you do would ultimately be in his control without him even moving past the facade of friendship with you. Your friends and family start to get distant, but Terry is always there whenever you need it... Once a snake has you secure in its coil, there's no escape other than that of death..

#thomas ian griffith #tig #terry silver #kk3 #karate kid 3 #cobra kai #old man terry #terry silver x reader #fem reader #terry silver x fem!reader #terry silver headcanon #headcanon #tw; stalking #tw; manipulation #tw; gaslighting #I've been a little busy but ill be around here a little more #my next request for Cash will be out in a bit as im going to start on that soon #thank you for sending in these wonderful requests

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akanegotlost · 2 months ago

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Prolouge (Batman x Aunt!Reader)

This is a few of origin I wrote for reader and will be edit in the future if I decide a few changes but so far this my perspective. Pardon my first time my writing like fr. Any ideas are welcome :D (I need friend in DC fandom ngl) warning: My eng is bad and possible multiple typos

Reader is little sister of Bruce. She's only few months old when their parents gone. Reader's existence is secret.

Unlike Bruce cold stare, she's a walking ball of sunshine but still inherit those features but only use it on necessary times

Reader live in the manor and get get proper education like a normal person to not make it suspicious

Reader known as grandchild of Alfred and study in medical course. Also involve with Batman stuff and work as a spy for him (Alfred teach her :))

Bruce afraid the recognition of reader to the media so he make a new identity so that she can live normally. Reader didn't get mad when she know, she saw how Bruce facing those medias and paparazzis make her uncomfortable. (found out herself out of curiosity)

Strongly against Bruce idea to get a kid (robins) involved in the activities that they doing

Become mother figure to the Robins instead. Always be in touch when the Robins out to mission and get their injuries shecked every patrol they did

Getting more protective after listening to their (Robins) story and traumas. Accidentally calling them as "baby/baby bird" many times and end up used to it

Jason's death making a huge impact to reader. Set an attempt to kill Joker herself but got stopped by Batman himself

Reader choose to live outside the manor to cool off her head from grieving. After 2 months living alone, she decided to settle things out with Bruce

Once she get to the Batcave and saw another Robin (Tim) instead of Bruce make her rage when she saw him just arrive. (imagine she punch shit outta him and pull his collar down to her level to talk some shit out)

She knows there was a tracker planted in her body as well during 2 months of her absence within manor before. She get furious when she found out about the tracker and operate to pull it out herself and bring it everywhere she go to play along

End up arguing infront of the new Robin (Tim) and accidentally get him into the arguments. After realize what she let out, she walk out from the manor

With a heavy heart, reader push away Alfred's word of advise and plea. She left the tracker and all of electronic stuff in an empty apartment (gurl i would torture myself if i ever did that)

Already prepared a new identity and passport just in case. Dressed up and move out from the city (to Blüdhaven we go-)

Put up a new mask and suit to make things right in her own way as ...

#batfam #batfamily #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #batman #Spotify

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mistydeyes · 1 year ago

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the deadly kiss of a woman

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summary: When the 141 isn't planting bombs and executing assaults, they're usually tailing a target or performing their own reconnaissance. What happens when you enter the picture and are sent to do your own recon on them?

pairing: Task Force 141 x undercover!fem!Reader

warnings: depiction of violence/weapons and drugs, swearing, wound depiction, reader being a bad bad girl (except in gaz's case lmao)

a/n: bro i love me a good spy storyline

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price - assassin

Finding Captain Price wasn't an easy feat. You were contracted by the traitorous General Shepherd and he was making sure you worked for your payment. You followed Price mission to mission but he was always one step ahead of you or surrounded by his teammates. You had exhausted all of your international passports and disguises until an opportunity presented itself. From a covertly placed comm, you heard that Price was planning on a retreat to his cabin while on leave. You sped your black vehicle away and raced to the airport. You smiled as you booked the next flight to Fort Augustus.

When you arrived, you booked an Airbnb under an assumed name and just happen to be sitting on the porch when your "neighbor" arrived. "Good morning," you waved as you put on your best fake American accent. He waved back as he casually sipped his morning brew. "Far from home are we?" he asked as he walked closer to the edge of his porch to talk to you. "Guess you Brits can spot an American from miles away," you joked, "The name's Virginia, I thought it was time to take a break from trips to Maine and try going abroad instead." "I'm John and, well, you picked a great place," he smiled at you and you returned the friendly gesture. "Maybe we could chat about some trails over dinner?" you asked and he looked at you surprised. "I just bought too many ribeyes for one person to enjoy," you said sheepishly and he nodded in response. "How about you bring them over and I can grill some up for dinner?" he offered and you agreed on a time for that evening. As you entered your cabin, you knew you would walking away with millions at the end of the night.

When evening finally arrived, you changed into jeans and a flannel shirt. The outfit functioned in multiple ways as the bulkiness of the flannel allowed you to hide your two weapons for the night: monkshood powder to sedate Price and a scopolamine patch to kill him with a seizure quickly. You smiled as you remembered their street names, wolfsbane and Devil's Breath. You grabbed the thawed pieces of meat and adjusted your brunette wig before heading over to his home. When you knocked on the door, he greeted you warmly and invited you inside. The house was warm and he quickly took the ribeyes out of your hand to prep on the grill. "Your place is amazing," you said as you took off your boots. "A slice of paradise," he said as he offered you some scotch. "I also made a tayberry pie for dessert, heard it's a Northeast specialty," he said before walking to the kitchen, "you're lucky they had some at the market." "Sounds great, let me know if there's anything I can do to help," you called out. You walked around the room, checking for any bugs or weapons that he could use to his advantage. Shepherd had informed you that Price was not an old man to underestimate and you took the threat seriously.

"Here you go," he said behind you and you turned with a smile as he held out two glasses. You reached out to grab one but "accidentally" tripped and caused the glasses onto his chest. "I am so sorry!" you said, "I'll pour us another if you want to change." He nodded in response and reassured you that it was alright. As he left to change his shirt, you poured two new glasses and covertly mixed the powder in. He returned quickly and you went to go present him his glass. "I'll drink in a minute, have to check and make sure those cuts haven't burned yet, love," he said before brushing past you. You patiently waited as you knew your opportunity would come soon.

After a few moments, Price returned with two perfectly charred steaks. "Mind just getting some plates for us?" he asked and directed you over to the cabinet. You put your drink down on the table and retrieved the items. Finally, you sat across from Price and sipped your drinks over the delicious meal. You made polite conversation about the variety of trails and enjoyed his cooking.

As the night continued, you felt faint but blamed it on the strong liquor. However, as your eyes began to close and your ears rang, Price quickly got up and moved you to the couch. "When you wake up you're going to explain everything," he cruelly whispered as you fell out of consciousness. "A good assassin would know that tayberries are only from California but I guess you didn't do your research," was the last thing you heard before you passed out on the leather couch.

soap - weapons dealer

Becoming friends with Johnny wasn't part of the plan. You just happened to hit it off at a bar in Scotland when you were executing a deal. You decided to keep him around despite the danger of him exposing you. You lived by the saying "Keep your friends close but your enemies closer” and while you were fond of the Scotsman, you weren’t blind to the fact he was a Sergeant who could implicate your entire business. You kept up a front as an influencer who got paid to travel to lavish destinations and enjoyed the finer things in life. He didn’t question you when you told him you were off to Amsterdam. “Enjoy the sights, lass,” he cheered to you and you made plans to hang out whenever you both returned. Little did you both know, you would be seeing each other much sooner than you expected.

As you sat in a dimly cocktail bar, you sipped delicately on a thousand-dollar rum. Your blackened lipstick stained the edge of the glass as you ordered another. You checked your watch and saw that your client was running behind. You didn’t interfere or ask what they needed the firearms for, you could’ve cared less. But this client was clearly a cartel member based on their Western Hemisphere accent and their offerings for some premium cocaine. “He’s late,” you said, annoyed, to your bodyguard, “I’m giving him five more minutes until the deal is off.” Suddenly, the doors of the cocktail bar opened and you could see three figures illuminated by the street light enter. “Here he finally is,” you exasperatingly said as you threw your hands up in relief. But you would soon swallow your words as a familiar face emerged into the red light.

Your bodyguard moved for his gun as this was not the client you were expecting. “Hold it right there and don’t move, sweetheart,” one of the men commanded as they approached. “Who are you?” you asked coldly as their presumed Captain took the head seat. “People who are very interested as to why you’re transporting guns for the cartel,” he said and lit up a cigar, using your rum glass as an ashtray. “And what makes you think I sell anything of that nature?” you countered as you caught Johnny’s eyes and he stared intently. “Well first because lying to a Sergeant is a federal offense,” Johnny answered with venom in his tone. “Looks like you’ve already been acquainted,” the other man answered and he looked to be the youngest out of the group. “Plus we tracked your client and he brought you to us,” the Captain said as he took another long draw out of his cigar. Every time he dumped ashes you gripped the tablecloth harder.

"What if I don't cooperate?" you asked as you tried to regain power in this situation. "Oh Michelle," Johnny said as he approached you and placed a dominating hand on the table, "or should I say Genevieve Aguillard." You swallowed harshly as he raised his other hand to brush a loose strand of hair. "I think you'll find a way to tell us, Bonnie," he complimented as you shuttered at his tone. Your smile faltered as you turned your attention back to the Captain. "Mactavish, take the Red Widow to another room, and don't come back until we have what we need," he said as you felt Johnny grip your arm and lead you for some light interrogation.

gaz - secret agent

Following General Shepherd's betrayal, the CIA placed you undercover to be their eyes and ears inside the 141. You were experienced with these types of operations and readily accepted the position. Intercepting the team was easy as Laswell had made sure to secure you a position as the task force's newest foreign operations specialist and linguist. The CIA helped to fabricate a dossier that developed your history as one of the youngest members to pass SAS selection and one that quickly climbed the military ladder. Now in, you impressed the men with your mastery of foreign military weapons and vehicles along with your deadly hand-to-hand combat.

After a few months of chasing Makarov, you were trusted to go on missions without supervision or instruction from the entire team. You primarily would go with Price and Gaz so your budding friendship with Gaz was no surprise. You were given the alias of Evelyn Hanssen, a name that combined a fictional special agent and a real one. Gaz affectionately called you Eve and would always be the first one to volunteer to go on patrol with you. One night you got in a pissing contest as you fabricated a lie regarding your times during the Special Air Service selection. "And I thought I had the best times, Eve," Kyle joked as you finished up another spring training. "You wish, Garrick," you replied before heading off to the showers.

However, your position would soon become compromised following a near-death experience with Gaz. You, Price, and Gaz were on the frozen cliffs of Kazakhstan to retrieve stolen American intel. While Price provided overwatch, you and Gaz were tasked with infiltrating the base and securing the American Attack Characterization System. That was the plan but after you had become captured following the data transfer, you had to shoot your way out and steal a Russian aircraft. You were lucky to be alive on the ride home but a bullet wound to your shoulder and Gaz's broken arm landed you in an office with Laswell, Price, and the CIA Director.

"What the fuck were you thinking Agent L/N?" Laswell yelled at you as you sat with Gaz in the large meeting room. "I did my job, Ma'am," you said through gritted teeth. Her tone was harsh, like a mother yelling at her child. It had been a grueling 2 hours of going over everything that had gone wrong during the mission. Gaz had said his peace and now it was your turn on the chopping block. "You blew up a secret Russian military base, where was that in the brief?" the Director added. He then directed his anger to Price, "I thought you said your men could handle this, John." Price's eyes narrowed at you before he responded. Following the fiasco, the team had been briefed on your "secret assignment" and it was clear that hostilities were present in your role with the team. "My men could have handled it but she's not one of mine, General," he said venomously and the tension between him and his American counterparts was evident. "You're done Agent, I expect you on the first flight home to Langley tomorrow," the Director said and dismissed you and Gaz.

As you exited, you tried to grab Gaz's shoulder as he walked away. He looked at you with a new form of hatred in his eyes. "Don't touch me," he said coldly as your grip on his shoulder loosened. "You come in here to babysit us and you can't even do your job correctly," he continued as you looked at him, trying to find something to say. "I'm sick of you messing up our operations, you're a flight risk that needs to run home to the States," he ended and walked away, leaving you to pack your bags and head home.

ghost - spy

Ghost knew he was being followed. As a grey man himself, he knew what to look out for when tailing a target. There were two options to execute surveillance, the first way is to make sure your targets never notice you and the second way is to make sure they only notice you. The young woman who had been mingling through the busy London streets was definitely following the former. Simon noticed you three blocks away when you emerged from a bookstore and had been casually keeping pace with him since.

He didn't know what she wanted but decided to execute his own countermeasures. He pulled off into a small trinkets shop and pretended to look amongst the aisles of vintage teapots. When he heard the signature click of the front door, he knew he had you cornered. You rounded the aisles and eventually pretended to pick up a plate and inspect its engravings. "You've been following me," Ghost said as he too was looking at a teapot. You swallowed and turned to face your target. "So tell me when are you going to ask for my number?" he said and you could see the corners of his eyes rise in a smile. You were suspicious as spies were often taught not to rely on coincidences but you played along. "Is it that obvious?" you flirted, "I'm sorry for being such a weirdo, I have seen you around town and needless to say, you've gotten my attention."

You moved closer to him and seductively bit down on your lip, staining your rouge lipstick. Ghost moved his hand to your face and wiped the stain from your lower lip. "What's your name, doll?" he asked as he stared at you intently. "Belle," you replied with your undercover name prepared, "what's yours handsome?" "Simon" he breathily replied and you knew you had the right person. As Ghost exited the shop with your phone number in hand, he knew he would keep you around until he found out who you were sent by. He was ready to dance this dangerous tango with you.

After weeks of sleeping and getting closer to Simon, you were prepared to give updates to your handler. It was easy to entice him into midnight meetings in darkened hotel rooms. You could have easily taken him out but your client had other plans for him. You exited your faux flat in a grey suit and jacket and made your way to the rendezvous point. Your heels clicked on the street as you perfectly blended in with office workers heading home or on errands after the long work day and entered a cocktail bar. "Just a table for two, in the back please," you asked the young hostess. "My date and I would like our privacy," you winked and they led you to a cocktail table at the back of the restaurant. You sat in the corner, facing the door, as you pulled out a compact to run your fingers through your blonde wig and adjust your brown lipstick. Your handler was to meet you in five minutes but it never hurt to be early.

As you examined yourself in the mirror, someone exited the bathroom and sat across from you. You closed it and tried to suppress your surprise when you saw Simon sitting in front of you. "Apologies sir, I think you have the wrong table," you lied as you donned a convincing French accent. "No I think I'm at the right one, Belle," he said as you knew he had set you up. You heard the click of a gun underneath the table and felt the cold metal brush against your knees and position your stomach. "But we both know, Belle isn't your real name," he said as he stared at you intently with those brown eyes that had looked down at you ever since you met. "Have to say Belle is a nice alias, the same one a Civil War spy had," he said and let out a sickly sweet laugh. As you shakily sipped your water, you prepared to either be shot or hear his demands. "Now you're going to tell me who sent you or you'll have some lead to accessorize with," he whispered before signaling the waiter for two glasses of Bourbon. This was going to be one hell of a dinner date.

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