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whore-ibly-hot · 25 days ago

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"What it takes to lead."

Yan!Dictator x Fem!Reader x Yan!Next in line.

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Non-con, mentions of violence, fascism, groping, p-in-v sex, sexism, questionable father son Dynamics, power dynamics, leather play.

AN: I recently began reading @yanderedrabbles works and they broke my brain, so when I saw they had a Yan!Dictator planned it inspired me. This is... meh.

You don't know how this could've happened.

It was supposed to be a routine visit. Your father was a well off oil baron, owning one of the largest refineries in America, not counting his export deals. You had gone with him, unaware of the tense political state of Dela Marina.

Admittedly, the American government was somewhat aware of the rulers less than conventional methods of maintaining control. Camps, strict surveillance, and a cutting off of outside media aside from those approved by the Dela Marina Media council, but for America's political interests, and more importantly your father's bank, the warnings signs went ignored.

It started off as just a nice, tropical vacation. White sand beaches, exotic meals, and a blaring tan from the sun. However, something soon seemed a bit off. The leader, El presidente Ramon Ballesteros, gave you chills. He said nice things, talked about his vision for Dela Marina, how he would shape the land and people to 'true culture'. It would be inspiring, if his faze didn't feel so dark, so imposing. It was as if hew was analyzing everything, every move you made.

Still, Féliz calmed you a bit. The son of Ramon, as close to a prince as you could be in this 'democracy'. He was nothing like his father. Quiet, more subdued, though just as analytical. His father takes thing in while he speaks, but Feliz stays behind, letting his father do the talking.

"Hello there, señorita." Feliz had approached you the night of the welcome dinner, a lavish affair with Del Marina's finest chefs on hand. "My father wanted me to welcome you personally, we are both youths, uh, leader of the future, he says. Your countries, and mine." He seems awkward repeating his father propaganda. Despite this, you like him. He's funny, he tells you about growing up in Del Marina, about the culture, the people. "You have to go to the beach with me, there all white sand. Is beautiful, and if we go early enough, we can see the starfish beach." You took him up on all his outings, you could tell he was deeply alone, at his core.

"Feliz?" You had asked once. "Do you... get out much? I mean, I'm one for decadence. Whole point of having a daddy with money is spending it." You laugh. You were privileged. You knew it, you embraced it. You had never had to worry about anything, never had a reason to loop beyond at the suffering of the others. Why focus on all that?

"No, I don't. It's tense, in Del Marina. Their are Terroristas, rebels. Mis padre would rather me be here, where its safer. Besides, partying isn't for me. I have to learn how to lead, to study and to help people. My people." He'd explained, fiddling with the white pressed uniform he so often wore, a less refined and adorned version of his fathers. "Loosen up." You had suggested. "We can have some fun, we're friends now, yeah? Let's go party!" Feliz had never wanted really to go to a club, to spend time with the privileged people while he knew others, those being exploitated, were suffering. But you were so, so pretty, and the only friend he felt he had. You made him feel special, not for bring the son of the president, or 'Del Marina's future'. You made him feel special for being him. He agreed.

He was terrified when you both snuck out, naturally it didn't take long for the guards to drag the both of you back to the palace, you kicked and yelled while he went quietly. He feared his father would turn his anger to you, he was ready to take the brunt of the anger. However, his father seems amused. You laugh along with his dad, not sensing the chilling undertone.

"Your son, and the american girl, Presidente." A guard said, bowing, hand over hid chest. "They were seen heading to a club on the north side."

"Ah, let them go." Ramon grins, waving a hand as the guards back off. "Kids, ey? Even at twenty, they still can't help.but wander off. It's good, independence. To think, to have fun. Kids behave this way, it's expected. Dismissed." The guards leave, and he steps down to you. "I ought to thank you, you know? No one has ever gotten my son quite so out of his shell. Feliz, I've tried to inspire that boldness in you, I suppose I didn't realize it would take such a lovely young lady to do so." Felix goes red, looking down. He knows this is a facade, and still can sense the danger in the room. Ramon takes your hand, kissing it. "But i should have known, he is his fathers son, and we are both red blooded men, yes?" He chuckles to himself.

"I didn't mean any harm, I just wanted to have some fun. And I thought maybe Feliz needed a friend." You mumble, heels scuffing the floor awkwardly. Still; you aren't sorry. "He needed a break. To live."

The president goes silent, but then nods, laughing with his arms going. "Of course! Dis boy of mine, always with the working, he wants to be like his papa. It's honorable, but a young man still needs to let loose while he's young. Next time, all I ask is you take an escort. These terroristas planning Del Marina won't care about your intentions, just the message hurting you would send." His gaze grows serious, and you gulps.

"Ah, y-yeah. I'll keep that in mind." You look down, stepping away. "I'll probably go to bed, I've had enough fun. Goodnight, Presidente." He smiles, watching as you turn to Feliz. The tan boy looks through his dark locks, trying to hide his obvious flush from his father. You didn't need any reason to be made to stay here, and he knew his dad. "Night, Feliz." You call, and he just sends you a weak wave. Worried you upset him, you scurry off. The moment you slip out of the heavy wooden door of the presidente's office; his happy and jovial expression falls, mask melting away.

"Why this sudden change in you?" "Papa, please, I didn't mean anything by it, it was all my idea-" His fathers raised hand silences him. "Enough, Feliz." Ramon sighs, strolling to his desk cabinets, hand running across the mahogany surface as he opens up a velvet box, pulling out a bottle of scotch. "I didn’t lie to you, I'm not angry. I wish that your judgment had not been blinded and you had simply brought a guard-" He pours to crystal glasses, the brown liquid filling the clear, ornate glasses. "But I'm proud none the less. You made a choice, a bold one. Hm, we drink, you're becoming a man!"

Feliz winces at the glass sliding towards him, but knows his father won't take no gore an answer. "It was nothing, Papa. Just a quick outing, she was bored and I went with."

"Oh-ho, it was more than that, my son. It's okay, I'm older, but I'm still a man. I'm not immune to the charms of a woman. She is beautiful, no?" Ramon takes a sip, relishing in the burn of the drink. "This is the real infatuation you've had, isn't it."

"Its not an infatuation, she's a friend and-" His father glares, he knows he hates liars. "I... I like her, of course. But its nothing serious, no more than a crush."

"Even a crush is serious for a stoic, quiet man like you, Feliz." His dad leans forward to lift his chin up a bit. "I've never seen you take to anyone like this, that's what makes it serious." Harshly patting the young man's cheek, he leans back. "Her Father is a great ally, a man willing to buy the vast amount of oil our country has. It would be incredible for Del Marina to seal a deal like this, to lock something down. And Feliz, I know you want what's best for the country." Once again, hisbfather cold demeanor returns, shifting from joviality frighteningly fast. "So, I tell you to pursue it."

"I don't even know if she feels that way about me, a-and I couldn't ask her to stay in some foreign country!" Feliz is spouting every excuse he can think of, to push you away, push his fathers implications away, to keep you safe from the truth. The dangers of Del Marina, of his father government and more importantly, his father. Another withering look makes him nod. "I'll... ask her out. See if she'll accompany me to the press gala." He mumbles obediently.

"Good boy. Go, get some rest." He pats his sons shoulder. "And remember, Feliz,-" He chides, turning away and taking another sip, back to the future of Del Marina. "Ballesteros's take what they want."

Lying in bed, the grandness of his room feels imposing. As cold and lonely as ever, his own oil portrait staring back at him. He never liked the commissioned piece. It felt... fake. An image of his, posed by a map, in his uniform, looking like his father. Just. Like. His. Father. The sound of a creaking door makes him sit-up, and he only feels the discomfort in his stomach grow as he sees your form slipping into his room, clad only in pajamas that cling to you. Despite the terror he feels, the pulse of arousal in his gut is prominent too. He grabs his silk pillow, covering up a growing problem as he sees you approach.

"You can't be here, w-what are you doing?" He asks.

You just shake your head and laugh. "Please, it's fine. Your dad made it clear he likes me, and I wanted to check on you." You plop down unceremoniously, groaning at the feeling of the luxurious sheets on your body. "Shit, that's good."

"Go, you have to go-"

"Are you mad at me?" You ask, pouting as you turn to face him. Hes cute when he's nervous, brows furrowed and dark hair tousled. His hands grip the sheets. "Cmon. I'm sorry if I upset you, I just wanted to have fun!"

"I know, I know." he shakes his head. "I'm not mad at you, I was excited. It's just that you don't know my papa like I do. He always has a plan, a motive, for anything he does. And i don't want you getting caught up in something you shouldn't."

You frown, but ignore his warning. "Nah, he likes me, it's fine. I'm not scared of some politician, no different than my dad-"

"No." Hes dead serious, seeing the soft, sweet man so serious makes you pale, gulping. "You have no idea what he's like. What our country is really like, I-" He puts a fist over his mouth, rubbing at his face. "Please. Just try to keep your head down. Okay?" Nodding, and cold at the severity of his sudden change, you scoot closer.

"Okay, okay." You put your hands up in mock defense. "I'm sorry, I'll keep in line. I just wanted to check on you." I pat his arm. "Didn't want you mad at me."

He relaxes at the feeling of your slumped, warm weight against him. "No, I couldn't be mad at you, amiga. You're one of the... few friends I have, even in the short time I've known you. I just don't want you hurt."

"I like you too, Feliz." You murmur, and the simple admission is enough to make his heart palpitate. He grips the sheets, before slowly putting a hand on you. "Go, you should get back to your room. I'll see you tomorrow."

Watching as you pad across the floor, he coughs. "And... there's a gala, coming up. A media event for father and yours to be shown getting along. If you... if you wanted to go. With me."

"Who else would I go with, Feliz?" You tease, making him just look down, nodding.

So how did it end up as this? You're stuck up in the room given to you at the Presidente's estate, it had once felt so grand but now felt suffocatingly small. A deal had been struck, something went wrong when you had been seen at the gala. Media went wild, rumors flew about the pretty new girl spotted alongside Dela Marina's darling prince. And Ramon approached your father with an offer. You don't know what it was, or why he'd agree to it, but it culminated in your father jetting off; leaving you behind.

"Please, please- I don't understand-" You whine, hands shaking and skin slicked with nervous sweat as you see guards sealing up the doors of your room. Trapped. "Presidente Ramon-"

"Shh." His gloved hand pressing a finger to your lips silences you, eyes wide. It is now you are beginning to see the side of the Dela Marina presidente you had heard of. Calculated, cruel. "There's no need to panic, little American darling. It's not like your losing any luxuries you had back home, perhaps you are even gaining some. Both me and your father think this is best, a joining of powers. Now, he was hesitant." Ramon rolls his eyes. "But you are a fierce little thing, and I told him you'd get a bit more discipline here. I doubt he was strict enough in your upbringing. Not that a spark isn't amusing, señora. It's charming at times." His smirk is that of a lion looking over it pray.

"You see," he intertwines his fingers together as he sits down at the foot of the four poster bed beside you. "My son. He loves you. He'll say it's a crush, but a father knows his son. He's always been good, my boy. Never asked for things, never taken what he wanted like he should. This is a push in the right direction for him. To make him make a move. I expect you like him as much?"

"I mean, I don't, I don't know-" You're stammering, hands shaking. It's all crashing down, overwhelming. The feeling of absolution in his town, of finality, is bone chilling. "He's my friend?"

"Ah, well, that's only his own fault. He has trouble taking initiative, and I dont fault you either." He sits up straighter. "Im a traditionalist, like my father and his before him. Of course it should be the man who propositions the young lady, but my son-" he waves his hand. "Has this idea in his head, silly notions about the changing of culture. I am fine with most of it, but a wife and children? Being the man for your family, for your country. No, that I will never budge on."

"Papa!" The heavy door slams open, with a frantic Feliz standing in the now open doorway. "What are you doing, why is she here-"

"Ah, my boy. Come, sit. Me and your friends father had been talking, she'll be staying for a bit. Good news, ay? Now, I'm sure you've got something you'd like to say-"

"Y-you can't do this, she doesn't belong here, papa-" Feliz juts his hands forward to help you, to try and think of a way out of this. "Are you okay? Did your father leave-"

"Feliz!" Ramon's voice booms across the room, causing both of you to still like deers caught in headlights. "Calm yourself, I'm helping you along in making a decision you are unable to make yourself. You will be grateful, and apologize."

It's shocking to see how Feliz shrinks, to see how his dad treats him behind closed doors. "I- I'm sorry, Papa. I just didn't want her in distress. I didn't want her feeling confused." He mutters, head down like an obedient hound.

"Of course, and that's admirable, but you should put more trust in your father to know I’ve already explained the situation. Now come here, come." He waves his son over, and the pair stand near you on the bed. "Tell her. Of your feelings, take charge."

"I-" Theyoung man is trying not to hyperventilate, hands gripping his white uniform short like he's staving off a seizure. "I like you, you know this. I feel emotions for you that no one else had made me feel, and-and if you'd have me-" he sounds like he's ready from a script, eyes clenched shut.

"Not if. Be assertive." His father hisses. "Tell her she is to be yours. Tell her your feelings are strong enough you won't be denied. Tell her what you can provide given your status." He's glaring like a schoolteacher scolding a naughty pupil, and the shaking boy nods.

"When- when you decide I am right for you, I'll provide what you need. Our country has vast resources, and wealth for you to enjoy. You would want for nothing." Its monotone, like an audio book, like it's pre-recorded. Seeing his fathers fist clench, he moves to kiss you lightly. As he approaches, he whispers a soft "I'm so sorry-" as he places warm, slightly chapped lips onto yours. Shocked, but to afraid to not play along, you kiss back. It's soft, it would be intoxicating if the sense of impending doom didn't weigh so heavy, being moved like dolls in a dollhouse.

"That was nice, Feliz." You can think only to reassure him, hand landlord on his neatly pressed shirt. "Very nice, I like you too, of course." You tuck his hair behind his ear, seeing the way his lip wobbles, his eyes water. He's so guilty, he never should have spoken to you.

"Wonderful." His body is jolted by a slap to the back, his father laughing. "Good man, now, shall I leave you kids alone? I'm sure you'll want time to yourself. Son, you understand what a man must take from his woman, yes?"

"I... our relationship is new, papa. I can't. I-I-" He pauses. "I won't, I won't do it. I can't, I wouldn't know how and I dont want her to do anything she doesn't want."

Ramon scoffs. "She's agreed to be yours son, go on! Of course she wants it, don't you, pequeña?" Ramon gestures to where you're laid, looking at you expectantly. When you say nothing, he raises his brows in suprise. "Unbelievable. I set the two of you up for every opportunity and you can't do that. Son," he grabs Feliz's shoulder roughly. "We are men. Conquerors, rulers. We take what we want, lions from lambs. How can you expect to lead, to protect this great country from terroristas if you cannot ask your woman for what all hot-blooded men desire!" He's growing angry, truly mad, his usual cool annoyance heating up. "You have to learn if you don't take what you want, someone else will. Your land, your power, your woman."

"Papa, please-"

"No. I have to do everything my self with you. I'm going to show you what happens if you don't take the first step." He changes his eyes to you, your cowering form. "Strip, girl." You're eyes widen, head shaking on instincts.

"What, no, no, I'm not going to-"

"The choice is not yours. I've got guards outside, you're in my country. In my home." He comes to the bedside, leaning down so he's practically nose to nose with you, dark brown eyes feel like a pool you're drowning in, swallowed whole. "The only thing you are in control of now is how gentle I am, sí?" You're still frozen, just shaking your head over and over again, resulting in him sighing. It's a minor annoyance to him, like he's not violating you but rather just dealing with a disobedient pup. "Everything by myself." He repeats.

Gloved hands brush across your collarbone, cool leather causing a trail of goosebumps to blossom on your skin. He jerks his hand back, tearing the buttons on your dress. The front pops open, buttons clattering to the floor with a 'tink-tink'. Feliz winces, hand to his mouth in horror.

"Papa, please, please don't..." He begs, voice as soft and light as he can make it. He was a good father when he was little. Doting, he'd comfort him when he cried, take him on little outings. A part of Feliz hopes that softer voice would remind him of the boy he once was, that he'd give in.

"This is what happens son, you don't take initiative, someone gets there before you." Ramon feels you squirm a bit and tightens the grip he's got on your left arm, gaze never leaving his son as he warns you. "Don't squirm, girl." He warns. "You're a lady, not some groveling worm, hold still, I'll get to you in a moment."

"Can I talk her through it?" Feliz asks. "Let me be by her side, or at least... I don't know!" He begs. Ramon tilts his head, then nods. "Alright. Second best option is getting in where you can. Rising through the ranks, get over here." Feliz scrambles to get to your other side. "Now, let's get this off." Ramon grabs the blade he keeps on his waistband at his side, pressing the cold still to your pretty skin while he cuts the lace straps of your bra off. "Aw, beautiful. Shame to hide such beautiful breasts away, without a man to reveal them." He coos. Rough lips place a kiss to your left nipple, making you whimper. "Just beautiful. Feliz, take it in. Your first woman."

Feliz is staring, both horrified at his biological reaction and awe struck at the sight of your newly revealed breasts. He'd stared many a time when they were covered, to see them exposed in front of him was a new feelings entirely. He reaches out, letting a breath he didn't know he was holding escape as he gropes your left tit.

"There we go, it's good, yeah? A woman's body is a miraculous thing." Groaning, he leans down and kisses up and down softly the nape of your neck. "Don't stay quiet, let me hear those pretty noises, girl." He whispers

"I don't, this can't happen, presidente. I don't want this." You whisper, and he just chuckles, looking up at you from his place on your chest. "Ah, amor, but you will."

A sudden pressure on your ass makes you squeak, his hands groping the meat of your ass firmly, sure to leave bruises. "Don't speak back to me, ey? Lay back and enjoy what a man in power can offer you, girl. And call me Ramone." He grins. "There's no need for formalities when I'm going to have you speared on my cock."

Feliz grimaces at the way your eyes water, so afraid. But not only can he not help, he's so horrendously turned on. Your heaving breasts, wide eyes and flushed cheeks. You're a picture of eroticism, and the hardening in his shorts is a clear sign that the part of him desiring you is winning him over. He watches his father roll you over, gloved fist kneading the cheeks of your ass.

"Just a short reminder to not talk back. To behave."

A sharp pain makes you yelps, a harsh slap to your ass. Immediately after delivering the blow, his gloved hand massages to red mark. "See? Even when in the throws of sex, you should exercise your control, my boy. Let her know you are in charge, regardless of their pleasure she is providing you." He scoots aside, petting half while looking at Feliz. Feliz swallows harshly, but hovers his hand lightly over your plump rear. Another squeak, as he delivers a softer, albeit still harsh spank. "Make sure she's okay now. A firm hand, not a cruel one."

Feliz shaky hand gently rubs the mark, mimicking Ramon's actions, and he leans down to whisper in your ear. "Not too much, right? It wasn't too much? You-" He's trying to justify himself, why he feels so aroused by all this, by you. "You liked it, right?"

You're shocked, but as you shake your head no, another slap. The gentle kneading afterwards does little to relieve the pain. You know not to protest. "It's fine." You whisper.

Feliz wouldn't normally believe you, he'd hear the pain in your voice, the tremble. He'd want to sooth you, but he was so unbelievably needy in those moment, for for relief and to believe you were happy with him. That this was a good, intimate moment between the two of you, without his fathers direction, without force. Thid was the moment he trusted himself, his virginity to you. He just smiles weakly at your statement that it's okay.

"So pretty, let's get these off of you, huh?" You can feel the gloves leather, once cool, now hot against your skin he snaps your pantie strap against your hip, making you flinch. "Hm, I bet you've had plenty of men. A rich privileged American girl, spending your papas money. Does he know, know that your a slut, or is he too busy?"

"I've only been with a few guys..." you weakly protest. "From... club and stuff."

"A few too many. If any proper man had had you, he'd be sure you only ever took his cock, allowed him inside of you." Once again grabbing that knife, he slides the blade across the strap he had previously snapped, the fabric tearing and loosening. "Beautiful..." he runs his finger over the lips of your pussy, puffy from arousal. He lets you feel each wrinkle in the leather of his gloves, before spreading your lips apart, strings of slick snapping.

Feliz feels his mouth is watering, your mouth watering, your most bare part vulnerable for him. He can't stop himself from cupping your mound, letting his fingers curiously trail up to your clit. You let out a reluctant moan at the feeling; and he just leans down to kiss your cheek. "You're so pretty. A-and you're doing so well..." Making sure his father is distracted, he whispers in your ear. "Im sorry our first time together had to be like this, but... its still nice, right?" He's still in denial about the horrors of his actions. "You still get to feel good, and you get to be with me. This... this is what we both want..."

"Feliz..." You whimper, but he just shakes his head. "No, don't tell me it's not. I can't handle that right now." Despite his good nature, Feliz has always been given what he wanted. He cant help but feel selfish, ask you not to hurt his feelings or overwhelm him while your the one being violated. He'll reflect on that later. His lips, slightly chapped, press hot against yours, once, then twice. "That was my first." He admits. "Wouldn't want it to be anyone but you."

Suddenly, his father grabs his collar, pulling me back a bit. "Come now, boy. Clear out, I need my time now."

Feliz pales. "Papa?" He's visibly confused. "You said... take what I want, be a leader, not a follower. I thought you'd be giving her to me, that I'd be having sex with her! You said a man should let his woman be only with him from the moment he decides he wants her?" His tan hands are shaking, flushed face a mix of embarrassment and frustration. All he wants is to tenderly relieve the pressure in his shorts with you, and as he sees his father let out a 'tsk', his frustration increases.

"But that doesn't apply, does it? She's had other men before, and she's not a true, proper woman of our country. If nothing else, it's better I be sure she's even worth it. It's not simply sex, this could be the woman you choose to lead alongside, boy." His father cold glare makes him shrink back, sliding off the bed.

"But, isn't it a test of my leadership that I take her first-"

"You wouldn't question your papa?" Ramom hisses, and Feliz wilts. He can't make eye contact with you as he leaves the room. When it's him violating you, he can at least pretend you feel safer because it's him, that you like it. But its his father, a ruthless dictator, and stranger. As he leaves and makes his way down the hall, he's determined to be ready to cater for you when it's all over.

Back in the room, you remain a trembling mess, watching the much older man removing his belt with a practiced speed. "Please don't, sir-" You ask. "I don't feel comfortable, I don't-"

"You should feel grateful." He reminds. "To have both the attentions of a leader and his son. I understand it might be frightening, you know the kind of man I am. How i stay in power, I've tricked your father but I've no doubt that boy of mine has admitted some things to you." As he removes white dress pants and dispenses of his gloves on the nightstand, he grips your chin with now-bare fingers. Calloused; from years of clawing his way to the top. "You aren't stupid. That's one of the things I admire about you, girl. Smart, if a bit spoiled. That's fine, respect can be taught, a place can be taught. Natural intelligence can be harder to develop."

"Why me?" You blurt. "Why are you forcing me into this, you could have any woman, I'm not even close to your age, a-and Feliz, Feliz likes me!" You hope to garner even a bit of sympathy for his son in this moment, hoping it would prevent him going all the way.

"He does not 'like' you, he loves you." He says matter-of-factly. "Which is precisely why this has to be done. You will be in the public eye, the first lady of this great country. I need to know you can be submissive, can provide as a wife should. But... I also need to know you can be taught, can take orders. My boy, he is-" Ramon shakes his head. "Meeker than I would like, despite my efforts. I need to know even with his less than firm hand that he can ensure you behave. And ones true colors come out in the bedroom, I find."

He pounces, baring down rather suddenly, grip on your jaw near crushing as his free hand strokes once, then twice over his cock; brown with a curve to it and a purple tip. "But, I am also not a liar. I admit the idea of having a beautiful young woman around my manhood isn't-" he nips are your ear, breath hot yet making you feel frigid with fear. "Intoxicating."

"It's been a long time." You whisper, and he feigns a caring pout. "Ah, I'm sure. Don't worry, I won't let you hurt. But remember, this is about taking orders. First, take me in your hands. I doubt you're inexperienced in this, so don't feign naivety." His voice is low, threatening. Despite the churning feeling of sickness, you take his length in one shaky hand, wrapping round the erect shaft, and refusing to meet his gaze.

"Good. Go on now, kiss it, just the tip. I want to see you practice restraint, just because you don't want this doesn't mean I will rush." He warns. Your plush lips gently press the bulbous tip, you can feel a shiver run up him as you do. Testing the waters and desperate to get it over with, you slowly slip in the tip, tongue pressing against the vein under his cock. He doesn't thrust, not allowing you to take hin in fully; but the clenching in his jaw shows the effect it's having.

"Wonderful..." He groans. "Very good, take a little more, yes? I know you can, shit-" He rolls his hips, the salty flavor of skin filling your mouth further as you take him in deeper. "Good, suckle. Suck the cock of El presidente-" He's beginning to get a bit lost in his praise of himself more than you.

Sloppy, wet sounds fill your ears, eyes screwed shut as a few tears slip from them. Ramon grunts, whispering another moan of pleasure before noticing and sighing. He wipes some tears with his thumb, licking up the salty water to your shock. "Don't cry, cariño. I'm not being cruel. I'm being rather gentle with your pretty mouth; no damaged goods here." He reminds. You can hear his grunts increasing in frequency, his cock twitching in your mouth, when he roughly threads his fingers in your hair and yanks you off his cock.

"Hands and knees, face away." He demands. "Don't make me wait." Your knees dig into the silk of the bed, assuming an easily mountable position. Once again, you make a final plea. "Please-" Your voice sounds as though it could shatter. "Don't hurt me."

To your suprise, you can feel him freezing behind you, and hear a deep sigh. You scre your eyes tight as you feel him assume position behind you, leaky cock pressing against your folds as his chest, still clad in his white dress shirt, presses against your bare spine. One hand holds himself up, while the other takes your chin from behind, gentler than his initially grip. He places a few small kisses mixed with nibbles against the flushed shell of your ear.

"Being a leader-" he begins, "Is not easy. Being the wife of one, even more so. There is danger, societal expectations, and constant decisions that must be made. But know this, my touch is not something you need to fear, cariño." He's uncharacteristically tender now, and that frightens you more.

He finishes his speech with a kiss to the back of your neck, before sighing as he eases his tip into your wet folds.

"Ah-" You whine, it's thick, but it doesn't fully hurt. He's tender, he kept his promise. "Feel that? The stretch of a true Dela Marinan man?" He asks, working his way in a bit deeper. His balls, heavy, slowly crawl closer to the lips of your cunt as he further enters, groaning.

"Beautiful. Mmph, you don't have the makings of a first lady." He firstly pulls out, before sheathing fully again. "You're practically sucking me in, girl. You were made to take a Dela Marinan man, god-" His pace increases, gripping your hips as the thrusts.

"Are you close?" He asks. "Can you feel that coil of pleasure within you? Go on, release. Cum when the man controlling you demands."

Letting out a final mewl mixed with a sob, you can feel yourself beginning to spasm, walls twitching as a gush of fluids coats his cock. In a display of impressive control, though not surprising for the cold blooded president, he removes his angry cock without finishing. Quickly tucking himself away, back into his boxers, he towels the sweat from his brows as he appraises your fucked-out form. "You have the makings of a good wife. There is more to teach certainly, but there will be time for that. Though-" He tilts his head as if in deep contemplation, before leaning down to press a rather full kiss to your sweat-soaked form. It's passionate, surprisingly so, and he had held back from something that intimate so far. "As much as I love that boy of mine, I wonder if he is man enough to deserve a woman like you." He whispers, before pulling away and rather curtly leaving.

You can hear what sounds like voices in the hall, and soon two female attendants come to wipe you up. You're took sore to protest, and as they scurry out, the hurried footsteps of Feliz replace the noise they made. A look of worry fades slowly when he sees you, looking tired but mostly unharmed. He's got a glass of water in hand, a piece of chocolate, and other random medicine cabinet items. It's clear he was unsure what a woman would need for aftercare, and just took everything.

"I'm here, it's okay now." You can't even bring yourself to tale comfort in the words of your friend. You wanted him to have saved you, yet the most emotion he showed during the ordeal was learning he couldn't have you first. You just lay silent, still. He lays down beside you, fully clothed, curling into your side like a child seeking their mother's comfort. He pulls the sheets over you, kissing your forehead before closing his eyes.

"It'll be better next time." He promises. "It'll be me." That hardly soothes the pain.

#yandere #yandere oc #tw.yandere #yandere fanfiction #x reader #tw.dark content #yandere boy #yandere x reader #yandere dictator #oc Ramon #oc Feliz #tw.noncon #yandere ruler

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mykaelaaa · 3 months ago

Text

quit it

✰se-mi x fem!reader / ~3k

✰deciding to pair up with se-mi unaware what you're getting into

✰warnings: blood, suggestive, +18

"do you trust that guy?"

leaning on the comically big bunk bed far enough from the loud crowd, you stared at the plastic pig hanging in the air. filled with money, presumably real money.

maybe if you get everybody to climb on each other and take that thing down you could get out of this shithole you regret agreeing to.

some guy went on rambling about how he's been here before and you're too caught up in your thoughts to hear what he has to say.

what's his number? 456?

maybe you should spare him a chance. judging by the way he helped out. but maybe he's also full of shit, just like the rest of people here. you saw the field full of bodies and blood. if anything, he's a good entertainer judging by the green and greedy crowd he gathered around for the second time.

too lost to hear, but not to feel someone giving you a punch in the shoulder. quite a strong one. here we go, you thought. bribes, violence, torment, bed and food exchange just like in those world ending movies.

not having any partners in crime or knowing what any of these people are like you have to be wary. it's all about the money as the end goal for over 300 people here, which is a scary thought.

with annoyance and half-baked comeback, you turned your attention to whatever smartass that spawned next to you.

let's just say they sure did not disappoint. looks wise, of course.

but it's not time or place for that right now. right? besides, you saw a couple of sparks early on between players but surely surfaced level ones. the type formed in the span of one day of being here is not that romantic. more like a good distraction. but you can't blame them, maybe the next game is their last one so why not go out with a good makeout or something?

"what?"

"i asked you something." the girl spoke confidently, holding a strong gaze over you for some reason. she had her arms crossed, mimicking your pose on the opposite frame while you were gripped by uncertainty, she seemed more carefree and unbothered. it was almost reassuring, somehow.

you felt exposed and this time not by the debts unpaid and calls from the bank but whoever was in front of you.

with hard to miss piercings, silver rings that slipped passed the guards somehow and a discreet grin escaping her collected persona left the reply hanging in the air and led you to stare for longer than you should have.

you don't even know her but a recent memory surfaced. that thanos guy being rejected by her and making a fuss about it in front of everybody. you never even heard of him before. one hit wonder probably.

"oh, yeah. sorry, i was just thinking i guess," you muttered, rubbing your temple with a sigh.

"about?"

"nothing important," you replied flatly, regretting how it came off as.

"right, right. no biggie, thinking about if you'll be alive in the next 2 hours. a daily routine," she said in a sarcastic tone, causing you to roll your eyes.

the presence next to you made you somehow feel smaller than the weight of bunk beds and entire room already did.

"do you need something?" you dragged the question out, looking down at the wrinkled fabric of the number trapped between her folded arms, "380?"

"se-mi," she tucked her head to the side and half smiled, still done in nonchalant manner. "and yeah, actually. wanna pair up?"

you stared at her. if whatever this is goes right, and you're not being manipulated by a pretty figure facing you, although you don't mind at all, you must track down where this cocky confidence comes from. if it's normal and "i used to be in the army" story and not "i was a hitman" you will keep her close.

"aren't you with those guys?" you nodded your head towards the obvious purple hair guy and his crew amongst the mass.

"that self proclaimed rapper? nah, i don't really swing that way," she played with her lip piercing before shifting her attention towards you once again.

"oh, you don't really swing that way? or did i get that wrong?" she chuckled at your teasing tone and raised brows, "well, what can i say. it's kinda obvious. at least i hope so."

you squinted, amused and engaged. everything about her look screams the already mentioned but why not toy around more when there's nothing to lose. "obvious, huh? sure, whatever helps you sleep at night se-mi."

se-mi shrugged, took a quick glance as if someone's around. "i think i'm pretty clear about it. but since you're not convinced…" she leaned in slightly, dropping her voice just enough for only you to hear.

"stick around and i'll prove it."

your stomach did the weird thing, the one you wouldn't let her—or anyone know about.

fixing your weight against the metal bed frame, you scoffed. "right. because this place is swarming with opportunities to show off."

grinning, she pushed off the frame and cut the distance between you to down to a cruel and agonizing one. strands of her hair naturally fell over her eyes but it did not do a good a job hiding the intimidating gaze. crowd blended into silence and you could not pick whether to blame yourself for being so weak in the matter of seconds or her for playing dumb games.

you're were not that easy to impress just a week ago.

so she spoke, lip ring somehow reflecting off the dim lighting this chamber has.

"i'm pretty good at getting what i want."

you bit back a nervous laugh, trying not to let her and this proximity overcome you. "and what is it that you want?"

your desperate attempt to sound civilized and composed was shitty, and se-mi read easily through it.

"say yes and you'll see."

her eyes flicked to yours, lingering just long enough to make you feel like you lost the high ground. then swiftly she stepped back, taking all the tension with her. finally you could let out a breath you held unaware.

but before you could respond, a voice tear through the room.

"players, prepare for the next game. you have 30 minutes."

the announcement sent a wave through the busy crowd. voices hushed, movements quickened and panic was apparent. your chest tightened, probably the worst thing about this is not knowing what's next. if you ever get out, announcement lady is on the top of the list.

se-mi looked at the speaker in the corner. you wanted to ask her what's on her mind but devil works faster.

"time's running out, sweetheart. hope you're skilled with decision making."

"and if i say no?" you knew damn well that's not an option.

se-mi slipped her hands into her pockets, cocked her head to the side with that damn grin. slow on her feet she walked backwards, leaving you more and more with each step and it stinged.

"loss for both of us. and my bed is that way, by the way."

you watched her disappear in the crowd that rushed on the steps and just as quickly you were surrounded too. maybe, just maybe this is more challenging than the money winning itself.

✰

the game already morphed into a hazy fever dream of adrenaline and blood. it was oddly silent, compared to just a few hours ago when the main floor was brimming with "life". or better, those alive. now everyone that came back scattered around the room.

you weren't sure who's blood was blending with your shoes or who's splatter stained your jacket.

and neither was se-mi. however, she didn't seem shaken up, as per usual.

she followed you close behind, making a beeline towards the bathroom. the air inside felt much colder than the outside and the contact with the freezing sink proved it. in the mirror you caught a sight of se-mi leaning against the tiles, bloodied but stoic.

top to bottom, covered in blood with a cut on her face that she smudged further. she ran her hand through the hair in attempt to fix it, stretching her neck in the process.

quiet whimpers escaped past her lips. she unzipped her jacket, looked at the mess made. floor. room. and back at you again.

you admit you did look at her like a man starved. just blame it on the adrenaline. it's easier that way.

she clicked her tongue in fake disapproval, "no manners."

what a jerk.

"you're all bloody." you stated, hands working faster than your mind, already reaching for the paper.

"really?" she pretended to be puzzled. it made you sigh. "let's go in the stall."

"you don't—i can do it too, you know," now she felt slightly bad for making you more worried than you already are.

she sat down on the toilet with a loud thump, no protests or fight. her muscles aching but you were no better. you closed the door behind you, this place making you more paranoid than ever. borrowing a second of your shared free time to look at the piece of work across you.

with each second passing you realized this silence, comfort and unspoken longing became a luxury here. se-mi took a note of it too.

deep inside she blames the gods for meeting a pretty girl in a state like this, desperate for money, careless about debts, bloody and tired in this awful bathroom. you're no better though. and it made her feel a bit better. "what? do i look that bad?"

you snorted, shook your head no. slightly kneeled, you took the wet paper you gathered in one hand while holding the back of hear head with another. leaning in, you observed the cut on her face. a knife? no, unless someone smuggled it. you didn't see her in fight either.

a lack of self control let loose and your finger delicately ran across her cheek. blame it on just wanting to see how bad it hurts but she was no fool.

entire time she maintained eye contact. this is the closest she ever was. it's a funny thing to notice, she's not that hopeless. not in a outside world. actually, she doesn't wanna remember.

your hand was cold but it felt right. the stall seemed to shrink with you in front of her.

se-mi swore she could smell your perfume that still withstand these conditions. must be an expensive one. that's fine, 45.6 billion will cover it.

"you're shaking," her voice dropped and she teased. turning her head to the side, bemused.

"oh," you backed away lightly. "apologies. wasn't aware you graduated in body language." se-mi enjoyed this too much.

you took a deep breath and continued clearing her face. terrible at avoiding her gaze. "are you a hitman or something?" you started, truly curious.

"guessed it on the first try." "sooo you're not? good."

"i'd definitely make everybody pay me big if i was and wouldn't end up here. why?"

of course the smartass answer.

"just wondering how the hell nothing about this seems to bother you. people dying, not knowing who's next, guards just headshoting everybody…" you carefully moved her face to the side, causing her to shudder shyly.

"it was at first but there's a prize at the end. i think it's worth it. at least to get to the half of it. that was before i—whatever."

"yeah?" she watched you change positions and kneel down, all done with an innocent look boring through her. she doesn't know if it's on purpose or you're tired.

someone entered the bathroom and se-mi cursed them internally for distracting you but it also gave her spare time to stare.

swallowing harshly, se-mi did not let her mind flatter now.

doors closed. losing the advantage she convinced herself she has, with a heavy sigh and a fuck it, she looked away and closed her eyes. "we're paired up now. so…yeah. i guess i kinda have things to lose."

feeling your movements halt, se-mi opened her eyes. maybe that was too far.

"yeah, i-uh. same here."

you felt her eyes boring holes as you sloppily cleaned up the papers and threw them away, feeling your body burning.

everything about this was shitty. games, people, loneliness, food, voting. everything except this. yeah, she might look a little beat up with tired bags under her eyes but it was hopeful.

your shadow fell over her. the height difference meant nothing right now. neither of you moved. things unspoken seemed so, so obvious to both of you it was suffocating. she just hopes you don't treat this as a distraction.

"i—" se-mi did not let you finish. instead she got up with a newfound boldness, licked her lips and pondered. making you wonder what else is playing in her mind.

"thank you." it was sincere, raw. she took barely half a step closer in this cramped stall with dozen of obstacles around. you could feel the heat rising and hell if you weren't red yourself.

"you know, you also got blood on your face."

"do i?" not really, you checked yourself in the mirror. no?

"mhm," she confirmed and you almost missed it. again, se-mi closed the distance further. raised her hand to wipe the "blood" suspiciously close to your lips.

no, you definitely didn't have it.

"there." she barely smiled and your breath hitched. she picked up on it.

you felt drunk looking down at her lips. and you know what? you might die tomorrow for all you know.

"oh fuck you."

it sounded and felt desperate, muffled by the four walls; the way you pulled her by the jacket and kissed her. metallic taste absorbing you whole and the chapped lips mixed with her metallic piercing. you're done for.

se-mi smirked proudly against your lips, like her plan finally worked. too busy for good to answer her antics but enough to crush one of her plans which was her hungry grip around your waist. so she caged you with her arms around between the door and her body as you kept pulling her back in. no need because she already made up her mind she's not leaving anytime soon.

you traced your hands under her unzipped jacket that made her gasp. still feeling like she keeps her cool persona intact even now.

you took it as a chance to put your tongue to use. you weren't so experienced per se but it's natural talent. her on the other hand…

both of breaths blended into one and it felt hot, almost wrong. making you weak in your legs, forcing you to find a support behind her head. intertwining your fingers together, drawing her even further if possible clearly left no more gap present.

your bodies connected fully, se-mi was so lost yet too aware of everything you did. your touch was setting her on fire everywhere at once, teeth bumping in rush, small noises you made and she doesn't recall last time she took a full breath.

out of nowhere you felt a knee pressing between your legs, making you to throw your head back harshly and let out a moan that se-mi had to cut short. unfortunately.

there was too much going for the door to handle and keep it low-key.

"come here, you're too loud." se-mi whispered, catching up her breath as she sat back down again.

"and that's my fault?" you regret saying that because you weren't sure if she even understood you.

gasping and impatient was the sight of se-mi, lazily sprawled and hair messy. a genuine thought of staying here until guards have to break down the doors sounded pleasing.

each leg on her side, her hands instantly wrapped around you and lips chased for more. she's just as hopeless as you in the end. your body flinched upon feeling her hands sneak under your shirt. making a tour, stopping at your waistband. it was attentive, studying your reactions carefully, less in rush now. she was in control.

se-mi left your lips for a while, kissing path down your jaw to focus on your neck. she's glad you can't read minds.

your hand found hers buried under your shirt, hinting at whatever she has in mind to make it true. "we might be in a bathroom stall but i'm still a gentleman." you felt her hot whisper hit your ear.

"w-what?"

"can i?" she looked at you with a darkened gaze, twisting a knot in your stomach. at this point you had no energy but to groan and nod yes, letting your head fall on her shoulder if it wasn't for her grabbing your jaw and making you lock eyes.

what you said about her demeanor, you take it back.

"no, no. speak." briskly she nestled in the crook of your neck and licked a stripe there.

"i…you're a tease." the answer was transparent.

chatter from the outside made you freeze vaguely, se-mi kept her pace on. "you gotta be quiet now."

her fingers slipped past the tight band, further and further. cold metal of her rings added to the feeling. you whined but se-mi shut you up with a kiss. she leaned her forehead against yours, a smug look on her face since she's leading the game.

her fingers made contact with your core, maybe if you just let out a scream right now you'd scare those women away.

"it's okay, you can do it." it did not help.

"please se-mi, i can't—"

the second doors closed, she wasted no time slipping her fingers into you. you held onto her collar like a lifeline, head thrown back and air knocked out.

se-mi was mesmerized. wished it was a club rather than a place you have to get knocked out and drugged to be taken to. she will get you two outta here any means.

hitting all the right spots, distracting you with kisses and wandering hand you're about to collapse. "i'm-i'm close—"

"i know, i know," so she sped up, watching you fall apart, hitched breath in her ear so addicting, soft pleas she can't answer and oblige right now, hands gripping her hair. she'd take her time if she had one, hoping these cameras have decency so she can save you only for herself.

the least she can do in this short time is fix your shirt and jacket and pray you're coherent. "no worries, i don't leave a lady just like that but we gotta get out."

"hmm? sure, just give me a moment."

she chuckled, "not in that way. i'll tell you when we get back."

#se mi x reader #player 380 #squid game x reader #squid game imagines #squid game season 2 #all girl kissers die in the end what a loss for community #just realized its always in the bathroom

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lexiputellas · 24 days ago

Text

Echoes of Us - From the Broken Vows series

The alarm shatters the silence, yanking you from restless sleep. It cuts deep, burrowing into your skull, dragging you into the kind of morning that already feels too heavy.

You groan, rolling onto your side. The sheets beneath your fingers are cold.

Cold. Empty.

Your stomach knots.

Three months.

You should be used to it by now, the way her absence has settled into the mattress, into the quiet of the house, into you. But some things don’t fade. They just change, reshaping themselves into something dull and persistent, like an ache in a muscle you’ve learned to ignore.

With a sharp exhale, you push yourself upright. Your temples throb, the headache spreading like ink beneath your skull. Too much wine. Again. It lingers in your mouth, dry and bitter.

The house is still. Too still.

No footsteps. No distant hum of a shower running. No sound of a voice calling your name from the kitchen, teasing and warm, already making plans for the day.

You move slowly, feet bare against the cool floor as you shuffle downstairs. The air smells faintly of lavender—leftover from the candle you forgot to blow out last night—but it’s empty otherwise. No trace of her.

Your pajama top hangs loosely over your frame, one sleeve slipping down your shoulder as step in the kitchen. The dim morning light filters through the windows, catching the edges of the marble counters, the gleaming faucet, Alexia’s untouched mug still sitting on the top shelf.

You don’t bother moving it. Not yet.

Instead, you go through the motions.

Yogurt and fruit for Iris. A smoothie for Nora. Coffee for yourself—black. You pour it slowly, watching the steam curl toward the ceiling, inhaling the scent. Dark. Sharp.

It used to be comforting.

Now it’s just… routine.

The silence presses in, thick and suffocating.

Until—

A door upstairs slams.

You barely brace yourself before—

"MOM!"

Nora bursts into the kitchen, all limbs and urgency, her hair an absolute disaster, her socks mismatched, her Barcelona shorts twisted at the waistband. She’s already mid-sentence, words tumbling over each other like they can’t wait to get out.

"Did you wash my shin guards? Because last time you forgot, and Coach said—"

"Yes, Nora," you interrupt, rubbing your temple. "They’re in your bag."

She doesn’t even acknowledge it, already laser-focused on the iPad waiting on the counter.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You don’t need to ask who she’s calling.

The familiar ringing fills the space.

You stir your eggs, pretending this doesn’t feel like a tiny betrayal.

A soft shuffle behind you. Small, hesitant steps. Iris stands at the edge of the room, drowning in her pajamas, hair wild from sleep. She blinks at you, fists rubbing at her sleepy eyes, quiet and expectant.

You set the spoon down and walk toward her. Bend low, arms open. She melts into you immediately.

Warm. Small. Yours.

You scoop her up, feel her settle against you, feel the soft sigh she exhales into the crook of your shoulder. She clings, tiny fingers curled in your shirt, the way she always does when she doesn’t want something—just wants you.

Then—

"Hola, mi bebé."

Alexia’s voice filters through the speaker.

"MAMAAAA!"

Nora practically vibrates with excitement, her feet kicking beneath the counter as she grins into the screen.

"Are you coming to my game today?"

"I’ll try, bebé," she says, voice smooth, careful. "Mom has a game too, and it might run late."

A scoff escapes before you can stop it. Loud. Unmistakable.

Alexia hears it.

Her gaze flickers.

"Is your mom there?"

"She is, Mama. You could come later."

A pause. A hesitation.

"I’ll try to make it to the game. If not, I’ll come over. Can I talk to Mom?"

Nora doesn’t wait for your answer before shoving the iPad toward you.

And there she is. Staring at you through the screen.

Alexia’s face is unreadable. Hair tied back, skin still glistening from practice, her Barcelona kit clinging to her like it was made for her. The sweat along her collarbone catches the morning light.

She looks too good.

Your fingers tighten around the device.

"Hi," you manage, careful.

"Hi," Alexia replies, just as careful. Her eyes flicker, scanning your face, the tired set of your mouth.

"How are you, baby?"

That word.

Baby.

"Fine."

She nods. "I’m good too."

Didn’t ask, Alexia.

You shift, pressing your lips to Iris’s hair. “Aren’t you going to say hi to Mama, baby?”

Iris hesitates. Then—quietly, almost imperceptibly—shrinks further into you.

Alexia’s jaw tightens.

"I’ll try to make it up to her later."

You let out a short breath, sharp and cold. "If you come."

It slips out before you can stop it.

Alexia flinches.

Nora, oblivious, barrels ahead. "Mommy, can we have ice cream? Or pizza?"

"I’ll see, okay, bebé?"

"Okay. Te amo mucho."

"Te amo mucho también."

The call ends.

Nora launches into a ramble about the game—how Coach Ellison, the new coach, says headers are important, how she thinks she might finally be better than Cleo, how Ellison is so cool—

"Did you know she played in the US? And she knows like, everything? Like, the other day she told us—"

You tune her out.

Your mind is still stuck on Alexia.

Her games don’t run that late.

Maybe she just doesn’t want to come.

And Eva—

You told her to fire her. Begged her.

Did she?

Iris sniffs, curling further into your chest.

Then—suddenly—she’s crying.

Quiet. But certain.

You press a kiss to her temple, breathing her in.

"You wanna come to Nora’s game, baby?"

A tiny nod.

That’s settled.

A few hours pass in a blur of routine. You braid Nora’s hair the way she likes it—tight, neat, not a single strand out of place. She’s always particular about that. Her uniform is crisp, cleats laced tight. She bounces on the balls of her feet as you double-check her bag.

Iris is easier. A quick change into something warm enough for the cooling afternoon, a light jacket zipped up, curls tamed as best as they can be. She lets you fuss over her, still slow with sleep, still attached to your side.

By the time you pull up to the field, the sun hangs lower in the sky, stretching golden light over the grass.

Nora doesn’t wait.

The second the car door unlocks, she’s off. Legs pumping, sprinting like she’s playing a Champions League final.

You shake your head.

"Nora, chill. This is not the World Cup."

She barely glances back, waving you off as she dashes toward her team.

You sigh, adjusting Iris against your hip as you shut the car door.

The field is already packed—kids warming up, parents scattered across the sidelines, the familiar buzz of pre-game energy in the air.

Your eyes skim the crowd and land on Evelyn.

Nora’s best friend’s mom.

Tall. Blonde. Dressed like she has nowhere better to be than a luxury brunch.

And already waving dramatically in your direction.

“Hiiiiiiii, girl.”

You brace yourself.

Evelyn is always a lot. Always talking too loud, always in everyone’s business. But at least she’s nice. And—most importantly—you can trust her.

She gives you a once-over, letting out a low whistle. “Damn, you always look so put together. I swear, if I had two kids and your drama, I’d be out here in sweatpants every day.”

You huff out a short laugh. “Tempting.”

"How are you?"

"So good. I need to update you on everything happening at school. The drama, the mess, the PTA fights—"

You tilt your head, amused. “Sounds fun.”

“Oh, it is.” She smirks, then eyes you curiously. “And you? How are you?”

The way she says it tells you she knows exactly what she’s asking.

You keep your answer simple. “Good too.”

Iris starts to sniff, rubbing her face against your shoulder. You adjust your grip, bouncing her lightly.

"I’m grabbing a seat. Catch up later?"

Evelyn waves you off. “Yeah, I’ll find you.”

You weave through the crowd, eyes scanning for an open spot near the front. The metal bleachers are cold beneath you when you settle down, Iris shifting in your lap, the scent of fresh-cut grass thick in the air.

The whistle blows.

The game starts fast.

The sounds wrap around you—shouts, quick commands, the rhythmic thud of the ball against cleats.

Nora is electric. Sharp, quick, precise. The way she moves—the confidence in it—makes something swell in your chest.

She scores twice.

Arms flung into the air, face split into a blinding grin.

Iris watches, eyes wide, tiny hands gripping your shirt. She doesn’t say much, just absorbs it all, a quiet kind of awe settling over her. But when Nora scores, she claps—small hands smacking together, face lighting up like she understands, like she knows.

You press a kiss to her temple.

The final whistle cuts through the air.

A wave of cheers follows, kids scattering across the field, their leftover adrenaline pushing them in every direction.

Iris tugs at your hand, shifting from foot to foot.

You smooth a hand over her hair. “You did so good sitting through that, baby. Did you like it?”

She shrugs, watching Nora dart between her teammates, glowing with victory. Then—hesitantly—she nods.

You smile.

Small victories.

The game is over, but the kids are still on the field, running wild, their laughter cutting through the crisp evening air. The sky is painted in soft hues of orange and pink, the last traces of daylight stretching thin over the horizon.

Parents linger by the bleachers, chatting in loose circles, but you make your way down toward the field, scanning for Nora.

“Nora,” you call, spotting her darting across the grass with Evelyn’s daughter. “Come on, baby, we need to go.”

She groans dramatically, slowing to a jog, hair wild from the game, cheeks flushed with exertion. “One more minute?” she pleads, breathless.

Before you can answer, Evelyn materializes at your side.

"You need to meet the new coach," she says, eyes gleaming. "Did you see her?"

"Nora mentioned her."

Evelyn tsks, looping her arm through yours. "That’s why I love you. You never know what’s going on."

Then she smirks.

"Look, there she is."

Your gaze flickers toward the sideline.

And there she is.

Coach Ellison.

Tall. Sharp features. Green eyes that cut through distance. A blue baseball cap shading her face, but not enough to hide the way her mouth quirks at the corners.

Your breath catches.

"Okay," you murmur.

Evelyn snorts. "Okay? That’s all?"

“She’s the coach.”

“Yeah, right. She can coach me any day of the week.”

You shake your head, adjusting Iris as she starts to squirm. “I should grab Nora.”

But before you can move, Evelyn’s grip tightens. "Oh! Wait. You should meet her."

You frown. "Eve—"

Too late.

Ellison turns just as you stop in front of her. Her gaze flicks between you and Evelyn, something unreadable passing through her expression.

Evelyn grins. "Coach, this is Nora’s mom."

Ellison’s eyes lock onto yours.

She smiles.

Not polite. Not empty.

Something else.

"Nice to meet you," she says smoothly.

Your fingers twitch.

"You too."

Her gaze flicks over you—quick, unassuming, but enough.

"Nora adores you."

A smirk tugs at her lips.

"Oh? Good to know I’m doing something right."

Your lips twitch.

Then—

"She’s single, by the way," Evelyn throws in, casual as a grenade.

Your stomach drops.

"No, I’m not," you snap.

Evelyn snorts.

"Yes, she is."

Ellison’s smirk deepens.

It’s light. Playful. But there’s something under it. Something that lingers.

Before you can respond—

Your phone vibrates.

You glance down.

Alexia.

The air shifts—heavy, cold.

Ellison watches you, gaze flicking to the name on your screen, then back up to your face.

The smirk is gone.

You swallow.

"I—" You step back, gripping your phone. "I have to take this."

Ellison nods. Doesn’t ask.

"See you around," she says simply.

You don’t answer. You just turn away, focus on getting the girls to the car, needing the space to breathe.

Nora groans when you tell her it’s time to go, dragging her feet, eyes pleading. You brace yourself for the meltdown, already picturing the whines, the pout, the bargaining—until you mention Alexia.

"Remember? Mama said she was probably coming over after. We need to be home to wait for her."

Nora straightens immediately. "Okay."

Crisis averted.

You buckle Iris into her seat, waiting for her to settle before you slide into the driver’s side. The moment you’re in, your fingers hover over the steering wheel before pressing call.

Alexia picks up on the first ring.

"Sorry I couldn’t answer before, it was crazy at the game. You’re on speaker," you say, adjusting the volume.

"Mama, I won!" Nora screams from the backseat.

"Congratulations, bebe!" Alexia’s voice warms through the line. "So, I think I’m picking up the pizza, right?"

"Yes, yes, yessss," Nora chants.

You glance at Iris in the rearview mirror. Still asleep. You lower your voice. "Nora, stop. You’re going to wake your sister."

She huffs, but quiets.

Alexia laughs. "Ice cream too, then?"

"Yeah, that’s fine."

"Okay. See you soon."

The call ends.

You exhale, gripping the wheel as you drive.

After a few minutes, that feel like hours, the garage door hums shut behind the car, the quiet finality of it making your stomach clench. You exhale slowly, resting your head back against the seat for just a second—just enough to breathe. To collect yourself.

Then—

Click.

Nora is already unbuckling her seatbelt, bouncing in place, her whole body practically vibrating with excitement.

“Mama is bringing pizza!” she squeals, as if she’s just now remembered. “And ice cream! Mom, can I get a soda too?”

“You know the rules,” you murmur, but there’s no real fight in your voice.

She groans, dragging her head back dramatically before pushing the door open and sprinting into the house. You shake your head, lips twitching despite yourself.

You sigh, shaking your head, before turning to the backseat. Iris is half-asleep, her tiny body slumped against the seat. Gently, you unbuckle her and lift her into your arms. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, her warm little arms curling instinctively around your neck.

Inside, the house is calm, the contrast almost jarring after the noise of the field. You carry Iris upstairs, carefully tucking her into bed. She shifts, her tiny fingers grasping at the blanket, and for a moment, you pause, watching her peaceful face.

Downstairs, Nora is sprawled on the couch, eyes glued to the TV. You move through the kitchen, setting the table, the mundane actions grounding you—at least, until the doorbell rings.

It’s fast. Too fast.

Before you can react, Nora is already up, sprinting toward the door.

"Finally!"

Alexia steps inside, carrying a pizza box in one hand and ice cream in the other. She barely has time to set the pizza box down before Nora throws herself into her arms, squeezing her tight.

“I missed you,” she mumbles into Alexia’s jacket.

Alexia laughs, adjusting her grip on the food to hold her properly. "Bebé, I picked you up from school yesterday."

"Yeah, but it feels like ages.”

You stand there, motionless, just watching.

Alexia shifts, catching your gaze over the top of Nora’s head. And for a moment—just a moment—her face softens.

You swallow, turning away. "The pizza is getting cold."

She’s wearing a Barcelona jacket over a fitted shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Simple. Effortless. Still, she makes it look infuriatingly good.

She sets the food on the table before turning to you.

"Hi."

Your throat tightens. You don’t know what to do with your hands, your body, yourself.

"Hey," you manage, voice more clipped than you intend.

Alexia watches you for a second, then shifts.

"Where’s Iris?"

"Upstairs," you say, moving a plate slightly just to give yourself something to do. "She was sleeping. I didn’t want to wake her."

"Want me to bring her down?"

You nod. "Yeah."

She brushes past you, and for a second, just a second, her fingers graze your waist—light, barely there, but enough.

Enough to make your stomach flip. Enough to make you hate that it still happens.

Dinner is a blur.

It’s easy, but only because Nora fills every available space with words. She barely pauses to breathe, recounting every moment of her game, every little detail she can remember. Iris is tucked at Alexia’s side, still drowsy but eating quietly.

You sit there. Pick at the crust of a pizza slice. Try not to let your hands shake.

Alexia keeps looking at you. Not obviously, but enough. Enough that you feel it pressing into your skin.

Then—

"Mama, can you help me sleep tonight?" Nora asks, already tugging at Alexia’s sleeve.

Alexia smiles. "Of course."

She stands, taking Iris with her, and they disappear upstairs. The second they’re gone, you exhale sharply.

Finally.

You reach for a wine glass, pouring yourself a generous amount, fingers tightening around the stem.

You take a slow sip. Another.

Upstairs, a door creaks softly, followed by the quiet murmur of Alexia’s voice—low, soothing. The rustle of blankets, a whispered goodnight. Footsteps move down the hall, steady, unhurried.

She steps into the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The weight of her presence fills the room, heavy and suffocating.

"You didn’t eat," she says, her voice soft but pointed.

You glance over at the half-eaten meal on the table, the uneaten food mocking you. Your stomach tightens, but it’s not hunger. It’s something else entirely, something you can’t swallow down.

"I had some," you reply, setting your glass down with a sharp clink.

"Barely," she presses, her gaze never leaving you.

You shake your head, pushing the frustration down. "Why do you care?"

It comes out too quickly, sharper than you intended. You watch as something flickers in Alexia’s eyes—a flash of hurt, of regret—but it disappears before you can fully register it.

"You know why," she says quietly, but the words hit like an accusation, like a reminder of everything that’s gone wrong.

Your fingers tighten around the countertop, your breath hitching. You exhale slowly, trying to keep control, but it slips. "Do I?"

Alexia rubs the back of her neck, the exhaustion lining her face. She looks tired, worn down in ways you hadn’t expected. But you push that thought away.

"You should eat something," she says again, voice softer now.

You turn, the frustration bubbling over. "Jesus, Alexia," you mutter, your tone sharp. "You show up, play house for an hour, and now you want to tell me what to do?"

"That’s not what I’m doing," she insists, her voice calm but firm.

"Really? Because it sure feels like it."

She sighs, looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to steady herself.

"Why are you really here, Alexia?" The words come out strained, a plea buried in the harshness.

A long pause.

"I wanted to see the girls." Her voice cracks slightly, as if it costs her something to say it.

You nod slowly, trying to keep your face neutral. "Right. And now that they’re asleep, what? You stick around for what, exactly?"

Alexia doesn’t answer right away, her eyes drifting over you. She’s searching for something, but you’re not sure what.

You shake your head, frustration leaking out. "That’s not fair, Alexia."

"I know." Her voice is quieter now, a confession in itself.

The silence between you stretches, thick and suffocating. The hum of the refrigerator is the only sound, the TV in the other room a faint murmur.

You find yourself staring at her lips, a small movement—she licks them, almost absentmindedly. Your pulse quickens, and you swallow hard, gripping the edge of the counter like it’s the only thing holding you upright.

"Did you fire her?"

Alexia freezes. The room goes still. Her breath comes slow, measured, like she’s bracing for impact. Then she exhales, rubbing a hand down her face.

"She was moved." Her voice is quiet, heavy.

You stare at her. "Moved?"

Alexia nods, eyes flicking to the side. "They transferred her to another department—less contact with the players."

Your stomach twists, something ugly curling in your chest. "So, she still works there?"

Her jaw tightens. She doesn’t answer.

"You think I didn’t try to fire her?" she finally says. Her voice is low, strained.

"Then why is she still there?"

Alexia presses her lips together, looking away like she doesn’t want to say it. She swallows hard. "The club wanted a reason. They wanted to know why."

It hits you all at once. The weight of it, the pathetic cowardice. "And you couldn’t tell them."

She shuts her eyes for half a second, then looks at the floor. "I—" She stops herself, shakes her head. "It wasn’t that simple."

You let out a sharp breath, something bitter burning in your throat. "It was simple, Alexia. You just didn’t want to say it."

Her eyes flash, something raw and defensive beneath the exhaustion. "You think it was that easy?" Her voice is quiet but strained, like she's holding something back. "You think I could just walk into their office and say, ‘I slept with her, now fire her’?"

"You should have," you snap, the words cutting through the thick air between you.

Alexia exhales sharply, raking a hand through her hair. "And then what? Have it become a headline? Have everyone looking at me like—" She stops herself, jaw clenching. "It wasn’t just about me."

Your chest tightens. "No, it was about protecting her."

She shakes her head, frustration flickering across her face. "It was about protecting everything. The team. The season. The girls—"

"Don’t," you cut in, voice sharp. "Don’t act like this was some noble sacrifice. You protected yourself, Alexia. You let her stay because admitting what you did—saying it out loud—would have meant facing it."

Her hands curl into fists at her sides. She opens her mouth, then closes it. No excuses. No defense. Just silence.

A slow, suffocating weight settles in your chest, thick and suffocating.

"You’re a fucking coward."

Alexia’s lips part, her whole body tensing like she wants to fight back, like she wants to explain—but nothing comes. She just stands there, her breathing uneven, her eyes heavy with something you don’t want to name.

You can’t do this.

Not tonight.

Your fingers tighten around the neck of the wine bottle as you turn sharply on your heel, your feet carrying you toward the stairs before you can think better of it. You don’t look back, but you hear her footsteps—hesitant at first, then more certain as she follows.

"Where are you going?"

Her voice is right behind you, close enough that you can feel it, like the heat of a flame licking at your spine.

You don’t answer. You just keep moving.

"I don’t want to talk."

"But I do." There's a sharpness to her voice now, frustration bleeding through. "Why can’t we talk like normal, functional adults?"

You stop. Your breath is unsteady, hands clenched so tight your nails bite into your palms. When you turn, she’s right there, too close, eyes searching yours like she’s desperate for something—an opening, a crack in the wall you’ve put between you.

"Because we’re not normal, Alexia." Your voice is quieter now, but no less sharp. "And we sure as hell aren’t functional."

The moment you step into the bedroom, the air feels different—heavier, like it’s thick with memories you don’t want to face. The faint scent of Alexia’s perfume lingers in the sheets, in the air, in your skin, like an ache you can’t wash away.

You set the bottle down on the nightstand with more force than necessary, the glass clinking sharply against the wood. Your hands move before your mind catches up—you pull at the buttons of your shirt, shedding the weight of the day, of the conversation, of her.

Alexia doesn’t stop at the doorway. She follows, closing the door behind her. "You shouldn’t be drinking like this."

You scoff, shaking your head as you pull the fabric from your shoulders. "And you shouldn’t have fucked someone else, but here we are."

She exhales sharply, doesn’t leave.

Your hands move to your closet door, pushing it open. The space is pristine, everything in its place—your shoes lined up in neat rows, designer heels alongside sneakers, your handbags displayed on glass shelves like artifacts in a museum. The scent of leather and cedarwood lingers in the air, blending with the faint, familiar notes of Alexia’s cologne clinging to the jackets she never took with her. The dim, recessed lighting casts a warm glow over the polished marble floors, the gold fixtures gleaming under it.

Alexia lingers, watching you.

You say, while pulling out a set of pajamas. "You can leave." Every muscle in your body is coiled so tight you feel like you might snap.

Alexia looks at you, eyes dark and unreadable, lips parted like she wants to say more. Like she wants to close the distance between you and fix something.

Instead, she rubs a hand down her face, and then—

"I’m sleeping in Nora’s room."

It takes a second for the words to register.

Your pulse stutters. Your fingers tighten against the dresser.

"You’re what?"

Alexia swallows, shifting on her feet, her jaw tight. "I’m staying in Nora’s room tonight."

A slow, disbelieving laugh forces its way out of you. It’s humorless, sharp at the edges. "You think you get to do that?"

"She’ll want me there."

Your stomach twists violently.

You step forward before you can stop yourself, rage flickering dangerously beneath your skin.

"You don’t just get to fucking decide that," you snap. "You don’t get to show up, say what you need to say, and then plant yourself in this house like nothing happened."

Alexia’s expression hardens, but there’s something desperate in the way she holds herself. "She’s my daughter too."

"And whose fault is it that you’re not in this house anymore?"

Her jaw tightens, her nostrils flare, but she doesn’t have an answer.

You shake your head, biting down so hard on the inside of your cheek you taste blood.

"Go home, Alexia," you mutter.

Alexia stays still.

You step back, shaking your head again. "I mean it."

After a long, tense beat, she exhales, looking down. "I’ll leave in the morning."

You press your lips together so tightly it hurts.

"Whatever."

You turn away before she can see the way your throat tightens, before she can catch the flicker of something shattered in your expression.

The bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

And you don’t look back.

#barcelona x reader #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #brokenvows

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moonlight-alexia · 2 months ago

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forever with you | a.p.

alexia putellas x reader | 2.5k | forever with you sounds perfect to alexia, there isn't anyone else she'd rather be with / alexia proposing to you

italics indicate that it's a little memory/flashback

ˏˋ°•*⁀ it is officially the 4th here in aus, my favourites birthday <3 so here is a little alexia fic for her birthday. i hope you all enjoy it

‘Ah mi amor,’ You let out a small laugh as Alexia gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you onto her lap. You’d both been caught up in celebrating the supercopa win, along with Alexia and her captain duties, you hadn’t seen much of each other, ‘I’ve missed you,’ You let out a soft sigh, smiling as she tucked your hair behind your ear.

‘I’m here now Ale,’ Leaning into her touch you placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth, lightly teasing her.

Though Alexia wasn’t having any of that and swiftly pulled you in for a kiss. Your lips softly brushing against each other, adding more pressure and deepening the kiss.

‘Dios mío, get a room,’ You heard Mapi yell before something soft was hitting you both making you pull apart. A silent agreement between you and Alexia that you were both ready to go back to your hotel room. Wanting to spend some time where it was just the two of you.

Alexia was already in bed when you came back from the bathroom. You always took a lot more care and had a much more in depth skincare routine than Alexia did so it was quite common for her to already be in bed, waiting for you. More times than not after a big match like the one you just played today, Alexia would already be asleep, even if she’d wake slightly when you slipped in beside her and protest that she was just resting her eyes and not really asleep.

But the protests always died when you’d pull her into your side, arm wrapped around Alexia’s waist, her neck snuggled in the crook of yours, a soft kiss on her forehead and she’d be back asleep within seconds.

Though tonight, even though she was physically tired, Alexia knew she wasn’t going to get the best sleep tonight. Even with the thought of being cuddled up against your side, the weight of the ring she had in her bag, packed so delicately and very well hidden in case you went to grab anything out of her bag like you normally did, would be on her mind all night.

No matter what the outcome of the final, Alexia had the proposal planned. Perfectly planned exactly how she knew you would like. Planned

‘Ale, did you need-,’ Except, those plans went out the window the moment she looked up at you as you were making your way to bed. You were wearing one of Alexia’s hoodies, the one that you’d claimed as your own when the two of you first started dating. Your favourite of Alexia’s and you’d always make sure she wore it right before you’d go to your respective national teams. Helped you sleep better before matches if it felt like Alexia was there next to you.

Most of Alexia’s clothes were slightly too big on you and the hoodie was just that. Your hair you had messily put up in a bun, not caring how it looked since it was only up so it wouldn’t get in your way when going through your nightly routine knowing you would take it out the second you got into bed. The warmth of the light from the lamp hitting your skin just right, along with the natural glow of your skin.

To Alexia, in this light you looked utterly beautiful, no words could accurately describe just how gorgeous you are. At least none that could ever do it justice in Alexia’s eyes. It’s in moments like this that Alexia wishes she could take photos with her eyes, she just wants you to see and understand how you are to her. As if the small smile and dreamy look in her eyes whenever her gaze landed upon yours wouldn’t tell you on its own. You were the one for her and she never let you feel any other way or leave room for you to doubt her feelings for you.

Alexia’s known for a while that she wants to marry you. You stole her heart and never gave it back, not that she minded you kept it safe and unbroken. It was a moment quite similar to this one right now when Alexia realised that she wanted to officially spend forever with you.

It had been a long day at training, even more so since you’d lost the last game. Losing wasn’t something you’d often come across these days playing at Barcelona, but it wasn’t something that you could avoid forever. The lows always helped to make the wins feel that much better.

There was always an intensity to training and after a loss it was always much more intense. So going home, the home you shared and built together with your girlfriend, made these days feel that much better.

‘Ale,’ You softly sighed, turning your head so you were looking up at her, ‘You’re sending me to sleep and it’s still so early,’ You were laying with your head on Alexia’s lap, a movie on in the background while she was caught up with, you were sure it was, something related to football on her ipad. Her fingers gently playing with your hair and, every now and then, running softly along the back of your neck.

‘Mi vida, just relax,’ Alexia’s attention was fully on you now, leaning down lightly kissing the top of your head, ‘You deserve it cariño,’ The softness in which she spoke to you always made your heart flutter and your body fill with warmth. She knew how hard you worked and how you struggled to let yourself rest when you needed it.

Alexia peppered your face with soft kisses, deliberately skipping your lips each time she got close, ‘Amor,’ You whined softly, Alexia smiled, her hand tracing along your jaw while her lips hovered above yours. You were about to whine again when she let them connect. A slow, deep kiss, lips lingering against yours momentarily when she pulled away.

‘Te amo,’ You whispered it back, both of you in your own little bubble, ‘Now rest, I’m right here if you need me, not going anywhere,’

Alexia gently rubbed along your back while you curled up even more against her. It didn’t take long for you to allow yourself to relax with Alexia, it had always come naturally. At the end of the day her arms were your safety, whatever happened during the day didn’t matter as long as you were in her embrace.

The glow of the afternoon sun slipped through the bottom of the blinds, the glow illuminating your face. Some days your schedules were packed full, so Alexia always enjoyed these quiet moments with you. Whatever she had been doing on her ipad was fully forgotten, she was captivated by you.

The thought of forever with you, of marrying you, popped into her head that day. Realising that she would be content with spending every moment of her life with you, wanting to share every moment and achievement with you. Knowing that without you by her side she wouldn’t feel completely whole. From that day she’d started planning and trying to figure out the perfect proposal, though Alexia would never forget the day that made her almost accidentally blurt out a proposal.

It wasn’t even a loss, but it was a very sloppy win and it hit Alexia harder than anyone could have anticipated. She had seemed fine afterwards, but you’d failed to realise she was just going through the motions completely on autopilot. Alexia wasn’t the loudest or most out there person but she wasn’t the quietest either.

Alexia couldn’t help but put even more pressure on herself. It was a habit she had, along with your help, tried so hard to stop. The pressure to be the best all the time, and you hated seeing how she would shut down when the weight of that came crashing down pulling her with it. That didn’t stop the occasional slip and Alexia falling back into that habit, one that came so naturally to her.

‘Lo siento, mi amor,’ You crouched down in front of Alexia. You don’t recall hearing Alexia speak a word since you both got home, though you’d been distracted trying to get the both of you something to eat, ‘I should’ve noticed,’ Your voice was soft and small. You weren’t necessarily talking to Alexia right now, knowing that she wouldn’t really be listening to anything outside of her own head.

‘All those missed chances,’ You knew she was thinking about the game before she’d even said it. She was fidgeting with her fingers so you took her hands in your own, your thumb gently rubbing over her hand.

‘You know it wasn’t just you. You don’t have to be perfect for us, there’s no such thing and you know that,’ Your voice still had a softness to it but there was a slight firm undertone, one that was needed to break through all the self doubts that was filling her head, you needed her to hear you, ‘There are days when, despite everything we do, it just doesn’t click for us out there. But we will come back stronger next time. You’re not alone in this and you don’t need to carry the weight of it all by yourself. You’ve always got me, the team and the fans. No one needs- I don’t need you to be perfect,’

You could see the conflict in her eyes, the hesitation to believe what you were saying, ‘It’s not you that has to fix everything all the time. Yes you’re our captain, pero amor, lean on us we’ve got you, I’ve got you. You are more than enough exactly as you are,’ You brought each of her hands up to your lips, softly kissing each knuckle while looking up at her.

A deep sigh, Alexia nodded slightly leaning forward so her forehead was resting against yours. You wrapped your arms around Alexia, tightly holding her against you, ‘Gracias, mi amor. How do you always know what to say, what I need,’

‘Because I just know you Ale,’ Another way to say you love Alexia, a way that means more to her than she could ever tell you, ‘How about a warm bath and an early night? Bubbles in the bath?’

‘I’m not a kid,’ Alexia’s voice was small and you could hear the small pout her lips were forming.

You chuckled softly, ‘Oh my mistake, so you really really don’t want a warm bath with little bubbles,’ Your tone was teasing.

‘Con una vela vainilla y pequeña, por favor,’ Alexia kissed the side of your neck, you could feel a small smile against you and your heart felt a little lighter knowing Alexia was going to be okay.

When you wrapped her up in a soft, fluffy blanket in bed later that night, holding her close to you. She almost asked you to marry her, while she took care of you, you never hesitated to take care of her. To let her know it was okay to not be the one to take care of everyone all the time. Alexia let you take care of her, she felt safe enough to do that with you.

Her plans didn’t matter anymore, right now was perfect.

‘Alexia…’ Your voice cut through, bringing Alexia back to reality. You were now standing at the side of the bed, lightly waving your hand in front of Alexia’s face. She registered the use of her name and raised an eyebrow at you, ‘Knew that would make you come back to me,’ You smirked knowing there’s only certain times when she doesn’t mind you using her name and right now wasn’t one of them.

‘¿Estás bien?’ You asked since it had been a long day, you’d more than understand her being tired but zoning out was on the more unusual side for Alexia.

‘More than,’ Alexia couldn’t wait any longer. You were confused when she sprung out of bed, almost like there was a fire she had to get away from as quickly as she could, ‘You’re so beautiful,’ Alexia had circled the bed, wrapping an arm around your waist bringing you into her, her other hand cupping your cheek. You leaned into her touch, your face heating up at the intimacy. After all these years together and Alexia still made you feel like you were a teenager having her first crush.

Alexia kissed you deeply, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed once she pulled away. There was this goofy, lovesick smile that wouldn’t leave her face when she looked at you. You sitting in front of her, in her hoodie, in your natural beauty and the thought of forever felt like it would never be long enough with you.

‘Mi vida, wait here, por favor,’ A small chuckle left your lips, still confused with Alexia’s sudden actions but she was cute so of course you listened and watched her rummage through her bag.

Walking back towards you, hands behind her back holding the box out of view for now, Alexia suddenly grew very nervous. She didn’t have any doubt that you would say no, but she was second guessing if it was the right moment for you. It felt right for Alexia so she pushed through the doubts, also worried that she wouldn’t find the right words or convey them in the way she wants to. She didn’t have that extra mirror practice like she had planned to have the night before.

A small timid, partly awkward still partly goofy and loved up, smile graced her lips, ‘Mi amor, I had this all planned out but looking at you right now, seeing you and just being here with you, nothing has ever felt more right,’ A small gasp left your lips when Alexia knelt down on one knee, revealing the box and the ring inside it to you, ‘You are so beautiful and I really love the life we’ve built together. There is no one else but you, you are the one for me, we just fit together like we were made for each other. Like you were made for me,’ Your eyes were starting to well up with tears with each word Alexia spoke. She was pouring all her emotion and feelings into her words and you could feel it so deep within you, ‘I want a forever with you, mi vida, will you do me the honour of being my wife,’

So overcome with emotion, it felt like all the air had been sucked from your lungs. You nodded furiously and let out the smallest, ‘Sí,’ while you pulled Alexia up your lips crashing onto hers. Deep, breathless and full of a joy that couldn’t be contained between you both.

Alexia chuckled when you finally let her pull away slightly, ‘Amor, amor, I need to put the ring on your finger, por favor,’

You laughed forgetting that you skipped over that part entirely, just wanting to be close to her. Alexia took your hand and slid the ring on your finger, gently leaving a kiss to seal her love that would stay with you for a lifetime.

Alexia held you in her arms, your eyes transfixed on the ring that shone beautifully on your finger. You still couldn’t believe it, ‘This was perfect Ale,’ Whispering out into the soft comfortable silence that filled the hotel room you were staying in, ‘I love you Alexia,’

‘I love you, more than anything,’

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

liked by alexiaputellas, marialeonn16 and 130,809 others y/n if this is what i get after a cup win, what could i get after we win the champions league again 😏 ps. forever with you has a nice ring to it mi amor ❤️tagged: alexiaputellas

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #barca femeni #barca femini x reader

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violetseaslug · 3 months ago

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Se-mi nsfw headcannons !!

tw: degradation, rough kinks, dacryphilia, and i think thats all that's worth mentioning but lmk if i missed anything :P

a/n: my first time writing anything nsfw😭 my reqs r open tho!! i love my wife, mei (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶) but its getting late for her and i dont want her to go to sleep </3

₊˚⊹⁠♡————— ⁠♡ —————♡⊹⁠˚₊

-she knows you have a thing for her voice, and she uses that to her advantage

"Oh? my voice is getting your pretty pussy all wet? I didn't know it had you that desperate, baby"

-shes really confident during sex and it turns you on more than anything

-got a tongue piercing js for you <3

-her fav part abt your body is your thighs, she loves when they close around her head as her tongue flicks over your clit, and she loves when you rest them on her shoulders

-forces your mouth open and spits into it before fucking you harder than before

-brat tamer, she loves hearing you beg to cum and she loves it when you get so desperate tears begin to fall because youre so overstimulated

"Aw, is your pussy overwhelmed? I can feel her clenching around my fingers everytime I curl them, is it too much baby?"

-leaves you unsatisfied for days on end, she'll eat you out and fuck you until you see stars but she wont let you cum that night

-oral fixation, loves watching you suck on her fingers. loves putting them down your throat and hearing u gag on them

-extremely touchy, even in public. she doesn't care about risks.

-rlly into overstimulation, makes you cum multiple times in a row in the same night if shes not edging you

-degrading. like alot of it.

"if you're gonna start begging for me to let you cum only 30 minutes in, maybe you shouldn't have tested me the way you did but lazy sluts like you don't listen, do they?"

-she'd never confess this secret to you but she wants to film you taking her strap one day

-anywhere anytime, you've fucked on almost every surface of your apartment

-loves mirror sex

-shes into bondage. typing you up, blindfolding you and all that stuff

-lowkey has a mommy kink but plays it off as just a joke </3

Aftercare:

-always has a sweet treat of some kind waiting for you in the kitchen when you're all cleaned up

-carries you to the bathroom so she can wipe the sweat of your forehead and help you clean up

-kisses your forehead as she tells you how pretty you look

"you did so well, my beautiful girl. You're so perfect"

-once you're done showering, she'll do your skincare routine for you !!

₊˚⊹⁠♡————— ⁠♡ —————♡⊹⁠˚₊

another a/n: the writers block got so bad i wrote nsfw guys </3 but i hope u enjoyed!!!!! have a good day/night :P

#player 380 #player 380 x reader #squid game fanfiction #wlw post #se mi #se mi squid game #se mi x reader #se-mi x reader squid game #squid game #squid game headcanons #squid game x y/n #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #se mi x reader squid game #se mi smut #squid games x you

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notjustjavierpena · 10 months ago

Text

Routine

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hi everyone! I told you that I had a hubby-treat for you, and it is finally here. I’m very excited to share this one with you as it is something that I’ve gotten a ton of requests for. You love the simplicity of domestic life, so here’s the life of Los Peñas after you’ve begged to see what their routine looks like. Like always: A huge thanks to @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for being a patient, sweet and talented beta-reader.

Summary: A day in the life of Javier Peña and his growing family.

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

Tags: +18, MDNI, hubby!javi’s POV and introspection, pregnant reader, pregnancy symptoms, family dynamics, domestic routines, tooth-rotting domestic bliss, siblings being siblings, married banter, heart-to-hearts, references to Reassess, family conflicts, casanova!javi turned oblivious!javi, javier with a baby needs a warning, handsy and inappropriate!javi, mention of javier’s mother, baby scan talk, hubby being a DAD!, couch cuddles (with and without kids), sex toys (not explicitly a rose but something along the lines, and while I know we are in the 00s, let’s pretend that sucking toys and cordless toys were a thing for the sake of the story), f masturbation, pregnancy sex, consent king javi, teasing, light dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, light verbal humiliation, nipple play, nipple orgasm, overstim, intense sex, multiple orgasms, m masturbation, wife is an insatiable brat and a screamer, slight dacryphilia, piv sex, rough sex, breeding kink, creampie, slight subdrop, lots of praises and aftercare, baths and hair washing,

Word count: 17.2k (sorry)

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56355349

Routine

Javier’s alarm goes off at 6:30 AM each morning. He breathes deeply in through his nose as he is woken by the beeping sounds of his alarm clock, pulls his arm out from under the covers where it is wrapped around your waist, and moves it to the button on top of the device. He fumbles to find it for a moment, ending up smacking his hand into the plastic with a grunt.

You stir beside him when he falls back down on his back. He rubs his eyes until he sees fireworks behind his lids, moving the hand down to smooth his thumb and forefinger along his mustache.

“It’s 6:30,” he then tells you, reaching for your shoulder to shake you gently until you whine a no and cover your face with your arms. He smiles as your half-asleep state makes you no better than his only daughter, “Come on, mi amor (my love). Another day.”

“Thank God, it’s Friday,” you mumble, “One more wake-up routine and I might leave to start a new life as an actually interesting person, maybe a psychic woman.”

“Telling fortunes?” He muses with a goofy smile even if you cannot see him. He reaches to pull your arms away, “C’mon now.”

“Yes, maybe,” you give in and sit up, resting your folded hands on top of your pregnant belly, “The spirits are telling me that you are waking up the queen of this household. I’ll take Seb later.”

You are still on leave after giving birth to Sebastian but after Javier has started his new job, the both of you have discussed the idea of you being a stay-at-home mother for some time after the twins have been born too. You do most of your work on your computer anyway, and if you quit your job, there’ll be plenty of opportunities to do some freelance stuff for extra income. Javier isn’t over the moon about you playing the part of the cherry-pie-making housewife but you reason that you only get to experience the kids as kids once which he can’t argue with (especially not when he chose a different job for the exact same reason).

“You sure have a gift, all-seeing wife,” Javier nods in agreement and kisses your lips even as you say you have a terrible case of morning breath. Then, resting on his hands, he bends down to kiss your stomach too, “Anything else Mamá wants?”

“Can you make breakfast?” You blink prettily, “I’ll do school lunches and coffee.”

“Sure,” he leans over you and smirks when your noses bump together, “How do you want your eggs? Except fertilized, obviously.”

“Javi,” you scold but giggle and initiate a kiss anyway. He kisses you longingly because he hasn’t for eight long hours of sleep. When he pulls back, heat has risen to your cheek, “Just scrambled.”

“You got it,” he moves and gets out of the bed. It is 6:36 AM now and he calculates the time he’ll have to wake up Inés as well as make breakfast if he needs to get in the shower before leaving too. He doesn’t have to stress.

“And Javi?” You call from the bed.

He turns around in the doorway to the master bathroom, “Yes?”

“Good morning,” you beam.

“Good morning, baby,” he smiles.

He takes a quick moment to wash his face, leaving the door open so you can run back and forth to pee the million times that you need to each morning. He doesn’t say anything, just listens to you moving around as you brush your hair and put on soft sweatpants. He tries to imagine what you’ll be wearing when he sees you later because you always shower after sending him and the children out of the door. He hopes that you will wear your blue sundress now that it's warmer than ever.

When he emerges from the bathroom to plan what he is going to wear for the day, you are already gone and he can hear the radio playing music in the kitchen. He revises his material for today’s lecture about criminal behavior as he takes a white shirt off its hanger and reaches for a pair of dress pants, but he can barely concentrate when he cannot wait to see you downstairs.

Finishing up his little routine, he walks out of the bedroom and down the hallway upstairs. He knocks once on Lucas’ door before peeking into the room, “Let’s go, muchacho (young man).”

Lucas passes him a moment later, fully dressed and with his school bag over his shoulder. He looks so grown that Javier wants to topple over, “Morning, mijo (my son).”

“Don’t worry, Dad. I’m up,” he smiles.

Javier raises a brow, “I can see that. Thanks for making my life easier. I’ll go wake up la monita (the little monkey) then.”

He continues to Inés’ room. She has not woken up yet, deep asleep with the covers half on the floor. She is lying on her stomach with her arms above her head, her mouth agape as she snores gently, her hair an unruly mess, and her pajama top askew on her back.

He crouches down by her bed and runs a hand over her back, speaking softly as he wakes her up with the intention of not accidentally startling her, “Inés, mi niña (my girl), it’s time to wake up.”

It takes a whole minute for her to escape the land of the sleeping and release the clutch on her pillow. She furrows her brow, yawns animatedly, and rubs her eyes with her tiny fists in the same way he does every day.

“There she is,” he smiles, “It’s almost seven, we gotta get up for school.”

“I don’t wanna,” she complains with a pout and earns a gentle hand running over her hair. She buries her face further into the pillow and looks like she’s already about to turn to her weapon consisting of crocodile tears.

“I don’t want to either but Mom is already packing your lunch. Don’t you want to see Ava and Jacob?” He helps her sit up, trying to distract her from her tantrum.

“Ava says her mom is sad,” Inés shakes her head but the accidental opportunity to talk about her troubles makes Javier able to undress her without much fuss. He gives her a sympathetic look. Mira, Ava’s mother, is still divorcing her husband Jonathan, and it is the first time that Inés has been confronted with the idea that not all parents stay together. He nods in understanding, “But Ava says that her mom is the one who didn’t want to be with her daddy anymore.”

“Sometimes you can be sad even if it’s a choice you make yourself,” Javier explains as he gets her out of bed, kneeling in front of her on the floor to help her into her underwear and bottoms. He pulls them up over her hips, “Maybe she thought it was nicer to leave so she could not make him sad again.”

Inés listens to his explanation but just as she is about to nod, she frowns and shakes her head instead, “That’s stupid. Mommy says that you stay and talk about things when you are sad.”

Javier pauses with the blouse you chose for her yesterday in his hands, trying to find the correct way to explain why adults act the way they do to his daughter. It’s so early in the morning and she had barely been awake two minutes ago. He takes a deep breath before speaking, "Well sometimes grown-ups have disagreements or feelings that are hard to understand, and when those feelings become too strong, they might decide that it's best to be apart instead of being sad together."

Inés furrows her brow even more but raises her arms up in the air to let him pull the blouse over her head, “Is Ava sad too?"

Javier pulls her arms out of the sleeves and brushes her hair out of her concerned and skeptical face, "Ava might be feeling sad right now too but she has her friends, you for example, and her family to cheer her up, just like you have me and Mamá.”

Inés falls into him and hugs him, giggling as he picks her up and purposely turns her the wrong way around in his arms until she tells him off with a squeal. She throws her arms around his neck when she finally sits on his hip and kisses his cheek, "I'm glad I have you, Papá. I love you!"

Javier vows that he won’t cry from emotion so early in the morning. He is worse than you sometimes when it comes to these things, chest constricting as tears well up in his throat, “I wouldn’t know what to do without you, mi amor (my love). Let’s go get breakfast before we do your hair. How do you want it?”

“Pigtails,” she decides loudly as they leave the room.

Downstairs, Lucas has chosen cereal for himself and is reading the comic he got last month at the dining table. Inés says hello to him from her seat on Javier’s hip, and he waves back at her until she giggles and hides her face against her father’s shoulder.

Javier carries her to you as you cut carrot and cucumber slices for her lunchbox. You turn to them.

“Morning, Mamá!” She chirps happily and you give her a kiss.

“Hi, baby,” you reply and notice the faint traces of tears in the corner of Javier’s eyes. You raise your brows, “Did you give your dad any trouble?”

“We had a little chat about Mira and Jonathan,” he explains quickly and stuffs a carrot in Inés’ mouth before walking to plop her down on a dining chair. Inés chews and immediately gets enchanted by her older brother, looking at the pictures of Spiderman on the pages in front of them while asking him to explain.

“Are you okay?” You put a hand on his arm, rubbing affectionately all the way up to the back of his neck. He reaches to put his hand on top of yours and smiles reassuringly.

“Just got a love declaration of the ages,” he explains before letting go. He moves to open the fridge and calculates the amount of eggs he’ll need.

“Ahh, sentiment,” you say with a knowing smile. Without a word, you get a pan out for him and place it on the stove, working with him in a symbiotic manner that he grows more and more fond of with each passing morning you spend together as a family.

He cracks the eggs out into a bowl to make sure there are no shells and then starts scrambling them whilst you click the button on the coffee machine. Soon, the delicious smell of fresh coffee and breakfast fills up the room and you open a window to let the sound of chirping birds join the music on the radio.

“Eat up, we’re leaving in 45 minutes,” he places the plate in front of Inés and kisses her hair. She takes the fork you bring a second after and stabs the eggs with determination.

She chatters excitedly about the plans for her day between bites of eggs and looks outraged when Lucas occasionally steals a piece from her plate. He makes a peace offering by moving his chair closer to hers so he can hold the comic in front of them both.

Javier goes to pour coffee into his favorite mug whilst you have tea and you eat the rest of the scrambled eggs directly from the pan together with him. He admires you whilst you rest against the kitchen table, having a conversation with your kids whilst nourishing your twin babies.

As the comfortable morning routine proceeds, he catches your eyes from across the room and you smile so tenderly each time. Rays of sunlight are coming in from the window, dancing over the fabric of your comfortable clothes and making your already glowing skin glow even brighter as you hold the mug of tea in both hands. He knows how lucky he is to have this life with you after the chaotic years of his youth. Who knew that life could start when one thought it was over?

He recalls the very first time he laid eyes on you and how he knew he wanted to marry you by the end of the night (you still don’t believe this). He remembers thinking that he didn’t deserve a life with you and all the love you brought with you, remembers how you said that the only thing that mattered was whether he wanted it or not. He has never once wavered from this want since you allowed him to kiss you for the first time.

Lost in thought, he almost doesn’t realize that you have started to move around the kitchen to clear the table and stuff the lunchboxes into each respective school bag. He takes a brief moment more to longingly gaze after you.

You are so graceful in your fourth pregnancy even if you deny it each time he compliments you, your stomach a bump so round and plenty visible already. The both of you are nearly four months into what has been the biggest shock of your lives. All the time, he thinks back to how difficult it was to conceive the first two of his kids and feels a tug in his chest of endless gratitude for being a father.

He could never describe the flood of pride that had erupted in his heart when he went from being a father of three to suddenly being a father of almost five in a matter of a single second you spent together in an ob-gyn's office on a regular Tuesday morning. He remembers seeing your overwhelmed and tear-stained face when you had thrown yourself back into the examination chair with simultaneous happiness and panic flashing in your eyes. The babble of words was barely comprehensible but they made him kiss your eyelids until you gave him a smile.

He had called you his very best girl when the doctor had left to give you both a moment of privacy, held your trembling hand, and told you that he would be right there with you every step of the way, which seemed to calm you instantly. He is grateful that he has that effect on you just as you have the very same effect on him. He knows he can never feel what it’s like to bear children but he knows that every fiber of his body tells him that he will never allow you to be scared if he can help it.

These days, he won’t even allow you to be exhausted either which is why he picks up Inés from her seat again and carries her upstairs to the bathroom. When pregnant, you always pack the car with Lucas instead of walking around with your preschooler on your hip.

“Right,” he hooks a foot around the leg of the stool underneath the sink and drags it out so Inés can stand on it. She grabs the edge of the sink and makes a face in the mirror now that she’s tall enough to admire herself, “Pigtails, wasn’t it?”

Inés nods eagerly when Javier gets out the box of hair ties from underneath the cabinet next to the sink, “I want the Minnie Mouse bows.”

“Excellent choice,” Javier praises as he reaches for her hairbrush too. He combs her hair, starting at the bottom and gradually going upwards just like you have taught him the second that he became a father to a little girl. You had even made a hair boot camp, sitting on the couch and nursing Inés whilst he practiced a few different hairstyles that you would rate on a scale of one to ten.

He parts Inés’ hair down the middle and starts with the right pigtail, gathering all the hair in his hand with the help of the brush. His daughter grimaces at the slight tug but then her face lights up as she remembers something.

“Daddy! Mommy says I have to do my daily affirmations before school!” She beams at him in the mirror, excited because complimenting herself clearly makes her feel good. Javier cannot believe how fantastic of a mother you are because it would have never even occurred to him that this was the simplest way of teaching his children to be kind to themselves.

“Alright, let’s hear them, mija (my daughter),” he says and finishes the second pigtail. He takes a step back, holding his daughter’s head in place like you have taught him to make sure the hairstyle is symmetrical. Satisfied, he looks at the digital clock on top of the cabinet. He figures they can spare the two minutes it takes.

Inés looks herself in the eye when he has let go of her again. She straightens her back like she has seen cartoon characters do, admiring her reflection, and starts reciting with a big smile on her little face.

“I am smart.”

Yes, she is. Sometimes too smart for her own good. Javier smiles. There’s a pause.

“I am brave.”

The bravest.

“I have good ideas—“ she halts, turning around to look at him with a frown as if it wouldn’t have the same effect if she had simply sent him the look through the bathroom mirror, “Daddy, you have to say it too.”

She watches him expectantly and he cannot bear to let her down even if he feels slightly embarrassed to talk so highly about himself out loud. He takes a deep breath, a weird feeling in his chest as he meets his own gaze, “I am smart. I am brave. I have good ideas.”

“Good, Daddy!” Inés radiates joy and sports a big toothy grin. She says another one, “I can say no.”

Javier doesn’t catch on to the fact that he has to keep going. Inés turns around to him again with her hands in her sides, “Now you say it, Daddy!”

“Inés…” He chuckles and feels slightly apprehensive. Vulnerability isn’t something he is insecure about but the act of openly saying such nice sentiments to himself hits a nerve somewhere in his chest, imitating a feeling of performance anxiety that he only recognizes from the times he has gone to an exam.

“Mommy says it makes us feel good inside,” Inés doesn’t let it go, dragging out the minute that he has put aside for this. He knows there’s no way around this and he knows that you would tell him to lead by example. He pretends to cough in an attempt to hide his hesitation, knowing that his confidence and self-love will only fuel his children’s. What more could he want as a father?

“I can say no,” he tells his reflection.

“I can do hard things,” Inés continues. Javier repeats it.

“I am a good friend,” she proudly voices and he hugs her from behind to parrot each word, tightening his arms around her more and more until eventually, he tickles her when she has said her last sentence, “I am loved. There’s no one I would rather be than myself.”

She squeals with delight and slight panic, laughing in his arms in the loud and free manner that only a child can. He gets filled up with warmth and baby fever, trying his hardest to compose himself since they have to leave soon even if he just wants to keep going.

“Time to brush your teeth and pee before we leave, monita (little monkey),” he tells her and she follows through without any protest.

When he has told her to help you finish packing her bag, he gets his clothes from the bedroom and gets in for a quick shower. He washes his hair and body, scrubbing his beard with his fingers while revising his material one last time.

At last, he stands in front of the mirror, putting on his watch, buckling his belt, and fixing the collar of his crisp white shirt. He finishes with his cologne, shaking his sleeve upward on his arm after brushing his teeth to check the time. 7:37 AM.

“Do you have everything?” You ask when everyone is back in the kitchen again.

“I hate leaving you alone all day,” Javier mumbles as you hand over his bag along with Inés’ school bag. Despite Javier’s hands being full, you still place your palms on his chest and kiss him on the mouth.

“Then stop getting me pregnant,” you whisper against his mouth.

“But it’s just so fun,” he notes and kisses you a few times more when you try to pull away, “They should stop making it so fun. You should stop making me feel so good.”

“Dad,” Lucas interrupts you with a grimace, “We’re gonna be late.”

“Alright, out the door, all of you,” you scratch Javier’s chest briefly before walking out of the room to the front door. You hold it open and watch the three of them scuttling out of the house. Javier wants to count the hours before he gets to see you again.

“And remember, Daddy’s picking you up after school today!” You yell from the door and he turns to walk backwards to the car with a grin on his face. He hears Inés cheer at this fact and secretly, he wants to cheer himself because he never gets to do it. You have an appointment with your ob-gyn doctor later to check if everything is alright with the babies, something they have insisted on since they found out there were two. He’ll have to leave work early but it’ll give him more time with his children in the afternoon.

He checks each of their seat belts to make sure they’re secure, hesitating for just a second as he gets ready to close the car door, “Hands inside the car, c’mon.”

Inés throws her palms up and he pushes the car door shut with a smile before walking around the front, tapping the hood with his knuckles and waving at you one last time. You smile widely and mouth that you love him. You close the door, and he only starts the car when he sees you in the kitchen window.

—

The car ride to school is fairly short but it consists of Javier listening to a lot of happy chatter about nothing from Inés in the way only a four-year-old can do. In the ten minutes it takes, he manages to answer questions about why the sky is blue, why there’s no such thing as dragons in Texas, if there are twin ladybugs just like there are twins in your tummy, and if she can try driving the car later.

Lucas only joins in when she asks whether they can get a dog. He grabs at the back of his father’s seat and lifts himself as far forward as the seat belt will allow only to get told to sit back down.

“A dog is a big responsibility, you know,” Javier swings the car into a parking spot. He looks back over the seat after turning off the engine, “Mommy and I have you and Seb to take care of, and the twins eventually too.”

“Nunca vamos a tener un perro (we’re never gonna get a dog),” Lucas grumbles and throws himself back into the seat. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks out the window.

“Never?” Inés’ eyes widen.

“Oye, eso no es lo que dije (hey, that’s not what I said),” Javier replies, pocketing the car keys, “I’m just saying that we’ll have our hands full soon.”

“That’s not my fault and I didn’t even want more siblings,” Lucas says under his breath and Inés squirms in her seat at the tension in the tiny space.

“Hey, that’s not fair. I don’t want you saying things like that,” Javier says firmly.

Lucas huffs. For once, Inés is quiet.

“Look at me,” Javier tells him and his son reluctantly finds his gaze again, “We don’t talk about each other like that and we especially don’t make each other feel unwanted.”

There’s a painful mixture of shame, vulnerability, and frustration on the eight-year-old’s face, “I know, Dad, I’m sorry… it’s just that sometimes it feels like I’m the one who has to always give up what I want.”

Javier knows the irony of his previous statement as soon as he hears those words. Accompanied by the look he receives from his son, it’s enough to make him swallow thickly, “I’m sorry, mijo (my son). I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

There’s a pause. Lucas starts to open the door, “It’s okay. I know that you’re right and a dog won’t be happy if we don’t have time for it. That’s what Mom says anyway.”

He gets out and Inés finally pipes up when they’re alone. She frowns and looks out the window to watch Lucas stand with his hands clutching the straps of his bag, “Can’t we just have a little dog?”

“I have to talk to Mom about it,” he sighs, “Let’s get through this day first.”

The two of them finally get out of the car to join Lucas. Javier locks the car. He starts to lean down over his son, wants to press an affectionate kiss to his hair that’s so much like his own it hurts, but Lucas shakes him off.

“Dad,” the eight-year-old bites at him, his tone full of embarrassment. He suppresses a scowl even if it’s only a half-hearted one and instead looks around to see if anyone saw him.

Javier straightens again, trying to pretend the slight rejection didn’t sting too much. Lucas is turning nine soon but he hadn’t guessed that he’d be so much of a preteen already. He has no clue if he is doing okay with him but he vows to get a smile out of him before they part for the day.

“I’ll talk to Mom about it,” Javier eventually promises. It’s not untrue.

“Whatever, it’s fine,” Lucas replies with a fake smile and looks away.

“Lucas, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you,” he drops Inés’ bag and thinks fuck it. He crouches down to hold both his arms, rubbing them soothingly, and feels relief at not being rejected again, “I know you really want a dog but you gotta cut your Mom and me some slack here, okay? We’ve never had three kiddos at the same time. Just like you’ve never had two siblings before.”

“Four,” his son mutters.

“It’ll be okay,” he tells him with a smile. He is steadfast as he continues, “And I mean it, I will talk to Mom but her verdict is final. She’s the pregnant one.”

“Okay,” Lucas says with uncertainty.

“Okaaay,” he parrots to him in a silly voice with a gentle squeeze.

“Okay,” Lucas says with a little laugh.

“Okay,” Inés chimes in with excitement.

Lucas laughs genuinely this time and Javier feels his heart leap. He picks up the bag from the ground and stands once more, only to bend down and kiss his son’s hair, “School waits. Inés and I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Dad, bye, Inés,” he nods, “I love you.”

“I love you too!!!” Inés yells loudly and Javier takes her hand with the one not carrying her bag.

“Love you, mijo (my son).”

—

The next stop is Inés’ classroom. She runs a few meters in front of him the whole way there but because of her little legs, he never gets too far behind her. He feels so relieved that she’s always this excited for school but with the way that you tell him that she’s so much like him, he also knows that it’s just a matter of time before she grows tired of school during her teen years. Teen years. He shouldn’t think about that already since the thought of her growing is unbearable.

“Inés, slow down,” he says despite not needing to, wanting a bit of control, “I don’t want you falling and scraping your knees, mi amor (my love).”

When she doesn’t immediately follow orders, he holds out his hand for her to take, “Inés.”

She turns her head toward him as she runs down the hall, so close to her goal which is her classroom, and tumbles into a woman coming out of the room. Javier puts a hand on his head in shock, dropping his daughter’s bag and walking straight to them whilst apologizing profusely.

“It’s alright,” the woman says with a sweet smile in his direction and then in Inés’ direction. She’s tall and blonde, wearing a coat in this boiling weather which must mean she’s not used to Texas, “We’re both alright, aren’t we?”

“Sorry,” Inés says genuinely.

“Well, aren’t you well-behaved?” She is grinning now.

“Daddy, can I go inside and play with Ava?” Inés looks longingly towards the door.

He goes to pick up her bag, “Sí (yes), but take your backpack and I’ll talk to the nice lady.”

Inés does as she is told, standing perfectly still whilst he helps the bag onto her shoulders. He kisses the top of her head, “Ves a jugar (Go and play). I’ll pick you up later today.”

“They’re great at that age,” the woman says with a dreamy smile after Inés bounds into the classroom, “I dropped mine off a moment ago.”

“They in the same class?” He asks.

“As of last week. Oh, and it’s Emily, actually, not ‘nice lady’,” the stranger reveals, holding out her hand for a shake, “And you’re Javier, right?”

“That’s right,” he shakes her hand. Great, even she knows who he is and he prepares himself for the usual speech about him being known all over Laredo, doing everything in his power to not make his mouth a straight line.

However, she nods towards the door and surprises him by saying nothing of the sort. Instead, she makes it about herself which shouldn’t be nice but it is, “Inés’ father? My daughter has mentioned her a few times. We’re new here, moved from Upstate New York. Work. You know.”

“That explains the coat,” he says with a little smirk.

She reacts by putting her hand on her cheek and then her forehead, feeling a blush that’s not there. He is too oblivious to know that she’s fishing for a compliment on her appearance, “That obvious, huh? I probably look like a red crab. I’m boiling.”

“You look fine,” he reassures, “But hit up the AC in your car or at least take that thing off. Survival mode, you know, do it for the kids.”

Emily giggles. He smiles.

“We should arrange a playdate sometime. My daughter could use some friends. I think we both could. We could get some coffee if you know a place,” she suggests in an attempt at a flirtation but even if it’s so glaringly obvious, he just doesn’t pick up on it.

Instead, his mind circles back to you in the kitchen he built for you, “I’m busy most days but I’m sure my wife would be thrilled to set something up. Inés can’t just be playing with our friends’ daughter all the time.”

“Oh,” there’s a slight change in Emily’s demeanor after that. Her smile falters ever so slightly, and there's a fleeting look of disappointment in her eyes but he can't quite pinpoint the cause of her sudden change in mood. He brushes it off, "Well, I should probably let you get back to your day. I suppose your name and number are on the class’ contact list?”

He tries to keep up the upbeat tone of their conversation but she just smiles awkwardly, "Yes. Of course, Javier. I'll look forward to it."

As he turns to leave, he catches a glimpse of Emily's expression, and he can't shake the feeling that something is amiss. He furrows his brow, wondering all the way to the car what he did wrong and doesn’t know that if you had been there, you would have been laughing your ass off the second Emily had left.

He brushes it off the second the radio comes on in the car and heads to work afterward. The day feels easy; he gets to come home, gets to watch his kids grow up in front of his eyes and in the evening he will make love to his beautiful wife. Such a fact makes days at work pass like seconds, and he smiles all the way from his car when the bell rings for his first lesson.

—

Around two in the afternoon on the same day, Javier enters his house with his kids following right behind him. He comes home to you feeding Sebastian mashed avocado in his high chair, and in the meantime cutely imitating his babbling about nothing right back at the little green monster that used to be his son. He walks up to you after putting his bag down on a dining chair.

“Hey,” you say with avocado on your forehead.

Javier reaches up to rub it off, sucking it off his finger before pecking your lips, “Hola, mi amor (hello, my love). How’s your day been? Scan go okay?”

He kisses Sebastian’s head too before turning his attention to you. You’re scraping the last bits of avocado onto the baby spoon before feeding it to your son.

“I’ll tell you about the scan later. I need to talk to you about it… but Seb and I have had such a good day, ain’t that right, baby?” You tickle Sebastian’s cheeks, not caring about being covered in green too. Sebastian giggles and clenches his fist around some of the avocado he has had in his hand for a while. Javier decides not to press any further since you don’t look worried, especially not as you watch Sebastian slam his fist into the plate in front of him afterward, “We tried sweet potatoes today, didn’t we? Y probamos fresas del mercado, pasta con un poco de queso (And we tried strawberries from the market, pasta with a bit of cheese)."

Javier grins at your excitement, watching you reach for a piece of paper towel to wipe off all the excess food from your child now that he has been allowed to eat more independently with just a bit of help, "Mi hijo es un foodie, ¿eh? (my son is a foodie, huh?)"

Lucas pops his head in through the kitchen door with Inés loyally following right behind, “Mom, did you say strawberries?”

You walk to the kitchen table and grab the cardboard basket of strawberries, holding it out for your eldest son. You shake it a little, “They’re really good.”

He takes one and hands it to Inés before he grabs one for himself afterward. He smiles contentedly after biting into it, happily chewing the sweet berry and looking down at his sister to see her reaction as well, “Good?”

You offer Javier a strawberry too. He eats a whole one, doesn’t even bother to pick off the green part, and earns a little crinkle of your nose. He winks at your reaction and the expression of disapproval turns into a smile that sets his heart into overdrive.

Inés lights up after finishing the berry, “Can I have one more?”

“Consider it your afternoon snack,” you say. You pull out a chair around the dining table, placing the basket of strawberries on the table, “Do you want a PB&J sandwich too?”

“Yes!” She runs across the room to crawl onto the seat, waiting patiently with her hands flat on the table until she cannot resist nearly smothering herself with another strawberry.

“Do you want one too, Luke?” You ask.

“Yes, please. Thank you, Mom,” he says politely and goes to sit down too. He taps a rhythm on the table that Inés fails at replicating. From his high chair, Sebastian joins in by slamming his palms into the table and the luckily empty baby platter.

“Javi, can you take Seb for his nap?” You ask while reaching for the jar of peanut butter in the cupboard. You cannot find it, frowning at the realization that you must have placed it somewhere else. Javier hears you mutter to yourself about your damn pregnancy brain.

He walks up behind you, a hand on the small of your back as he leans over you. You freeze but then relax into his touch. He reaches into the far back of the cupboard, feeling for the jar, and fetches it, “You told me to hide it, baby. You eat too much of it with just the lid off and a spoon.”

“I should stop denying the babies it if that’s what they want,” you giggle to hide your embarrassment at having forgotten and pat your pregnant belly. You look so pretty in your dress, the one he had hoped that you would wear; blue as the sky above with tiny yellow bees flying around on it.

He hands you the jar of peanut butter and cannot help but admire the gentle curve of your stomach, that certain glow making you radiant in the mundane setting of his kitchen. He can never help ogling you when you care for his children and it’s even worse when you carry them as well.

“You look so gorgeous right now, mi vida (my life),” he rubs the small of your back and slides his palm around you to your belly, breathing against your ear as he talks. You turn your head just a little to smile playfully at him and thank him in a soft whisper.

Javier looks back to see his kids chatting with each other, so he presses into you a little more.

“I got a bed with your name on it later,” he continues quietly as he still stands right behind you, letting his hand drop to your hip. You shove a little at him but it’s nowhere near enough to actually mean that you want him to stop. He lets his warm breath ghost over the soft shell of your ear until you let out a sigh that you only reserve for him. He continues until he can look at your neck and see your pulse throbbing under your skin, “I could just eat you up. Take you to our bedroom, lock the door… throw you on the bed, and take your clothes off with my teeth.”

“Pórtate bien (Behave),” you scold him with a bit more mischief than what he assumes is intended, “I have sandwiches to make and we’ll be sorry later if Seb misses his nap.”

He adds a finishing touch to his attempt at a flirtation by shielding you from his kids’ line of sight. The broad hand that has been resting on your hip slips further down. and Javier allows himself a grope to your backside. He jiggles the fleshiest part of it and you finally have enough, turning around quickly with a look of mock outrage.

“Thin ice, baby, thin ice,” you chide but he simply pecks you on the lips and turns towards his children again.

“Vamos, pequeño (let’s go, little one),” he says to Sebastian as he approaches him, lifting him out of his high chair and placing him on his hip. He feels your disapproving eyes as he walks out of the kitchen but just smirks to himself, heading for the stairs to go to the nursery.

In the room, he places Sebastian on the changing table and checks his diaper. He also removes as much clothing as possible, making sure he won’t overheat in the bassinet. His son grins up at him, not seeming tired at first but then starts blinking slowly as the nap ritual proceeds.

“Oh, you are tired, mijo (my son),” he whispers softly as he cradles him towards his chest afterward. He feels Sebastian resting his chubby cheek against his shoulder, breathing slowly as he starts falling asleep from being bounced in his father’s arms.

Javier hums, savoring the moment that he knows is fleeting with his son. He is reminded of needing to ask you about the doctor’s appointment again, excitement in his body as he thinks about two sets of tiny feet running across his living room floor at the same time. As a child, he never really understood why he couldn’t get a sibling but his understanding of what was happening to his mother only came a little later until he stopped asking altogether. He loves that his house is so full now.

When Sebastian is fully asleep, he lays him down on his back on the tiny mattress that belonged to Inés before. He runs his palm over the fine hairs on his head for a few moments, just staring down at his baby to commit it to memory. He tucks the blanket around him, turns on the baby monitor, grabs the other, and flicks off the lights.

When he returns to the kitchen ten minutes later, he finds you sitting by the dining table with a sandwich of your own. Lucas holds a pencil in his hand, your grocery list lying in front of him and his empty plate has been pushed away.

“I hate broccoli,” Inés says from her own seat, nose scrunched up. The jelly part of her sandwich seems more around her mouth than in her belly. She tries to look over at what her older brother is writing but he is hesitant in his spelling of the word.

“I hate it because I can’t spell it,” Lucas grumbles with concentration on his face, “B-R-O…”

“C-C-O-L-I,” Javier finishes, announcing his presence to them. You look up at him as he stops between Lucas’ and your chair, setting down the baby monitor on the table.

“Hey, he’s supposed to learn how to spell it by himself,” you tut gently but without any anger or annoyance. Javier kisses your jelly-tasting lips. You tap the list, “Lettuce.”

Lucas groans in complaint, “Mooom, all these words are hard.”

Inés giggles from her seat, “Lucas is bad at spelling!”

Lucas furrows his brow, looking to you for saving, “No, I’m not!”

You send your daughter a look, knowing you have the right thing to say to bring some justice into the world, “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Inés Peña. You have to practice your counting skills with Daddy.”

Javier snorts at the look of disgust on his daughter’s face. She comically throws herself back into her chair, arms crossed over her chest. He kisses her hair, “No angry faces, Princesa (princess). You’ll have plenty of time to play afterward.”

“Maybe I am bad at spelling,” Lucas says in defeat, heaving a big sigh.

“You’re doing great, sweetie. It’s all about practice,” you reassure and reach out to rub the back of his neck affectionately, “And I really appreciate you helping me with the grocery list. It’s a big job.”

“How about an easier word?” Javier suggests, silently eyeing your sandwich as he speaks, “Like tomatoes.”

Lucas smiles down at the paper, brightening at the praise you offer as consolation for his struggles. He writes down the newly suggested word with newfound confidence, “T-O-M-A-T-O-E-S.”

“Perfect,” you continue your praise.

Finally, Javier pulls out a chair to sit down with his family. He chooses the seat next to you but opposite Inés to keep her in line if she decides to have a tantrum. However, she just watches her brother scribble down word after word.

“What about ice cream?” She asks suddenly with her best pleading expression. She is more hesitant than usual, knowing full well that she overstepped the rules a moment ago.

“If Lucas can spell it,” you challenge with a sweet smile, raising a brow at your son.

Inés grabs at the edge of the dining table, moving to stand on her knees instead of sitting. She leans over the table to get a closer look, “You can do it, Lucas!”

“Challenge accepted,” he says with a grin, nearly breaking the tip of the pencil in his eagerness, especially now that his sister is cheering for him, “I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M.”

Both of them look to you expectantly, awaiting your verdict that’ll make or break the oncoming weekend. You nod, “That’s indeed how you spell ice cream.”

The both of them cheer. You laugh along with them, and Javier feels his knees go weak even as he sits down. He leans back in his seat with his shoulders completely relaxed, briefly recalling a time when his body being this calm was only a possibility when alcohol was in his bloodstream.

“What’s next on the list, muchacho (young man)?” He asks as the laughter dies down once again, casually reaching out for half of your sandwich. He earns a look of mock outrage from you, your hand reaching out to swat his arm.

“Get your own, Peña,” you scold playfully. He pulls away quickly and bites down into the corner. You roll your eyes, “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“And you love it,” he says around a mouthful of food.

“Mom, what’s ‘insatiable’ mean?” Inés asks curiously.

You look at him with a smirk as you reply, “It means Daddy always wants more.”

“More what? More food?” Inés furrows her brow in confusion.

“Something like that,” Javier says with his heart beating loudly in his chest at the mere thought of you. He leans closer to you, lowering his voice just enough, “And more of Mommy, too.”

“And I think that’s it for snack time!” You announce quickly after, heat in your cheeks as you push yourself to stand. Javier is pleased with himself as you walk around in a flustered state, “Lucas, do you have any homework?”

“I finished math homework in school,” he announces proudly, “Is the grocery list finished?”

“Can you add chicken too? Then I think we’re done,” you walk back to the table to gather the plates, not letting Javier put down his sandwich again. He feels triumphant at having caused you to feel like this, a sucker for watching your warm face.

“C-H-I-K—“ Lucas spells out loud.

“C-K,” you correct as you put the dirty plates into the dishwasher.

“Oh,” he turns the pencil around and erases his mistake, “C-H-I-C-K-E-N.”

“There you go, baby, good job,” you praise.

Lucas beams.

—

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly. Lucas goes to his room to play on his Game Boy, its faint beeps echoing through the house from the open door, Inés, after getting her face thoroughly wiped down, falls asleep on the couch after refusing an afternoon nap, and you and Javier begin the usual ritual of preparing for dinner while Sebastian sleeps undisturbed in his bed.

“You wanted to talk to me about the scan today?” Javier starts a conversation as he chops vegetables alongside you, your hip occasionally bumping into his as you mix a dressing.

“Yeah, and before you start to worry; yes, the babies are fine,” you reply and absentmindedly run your palm across your belly.

“But?” Javier puts the knife down to look at you.

“But nothing. I just wanted to tell you that they know what we’re having and they want us to discuss if we wanna know,” you smile excitedly. You mirror him by putting down the spoon and stepping closer to let him embrace you.

“They can tell already?” He asks as he places his hands on your hips, rubbing up and down soothingly. He pecks your lips, heart feeling too big for his chest.

You nod and lean into another kiss, “And they said everything looks great too. Nothing to worry about, and the due date is so far down the road that we can’t wonder about the delivery yet.”

“Alright, yes. Okay,” he nods in return, an overwhelmed smile on his lips. He releases a small sigh, “But do we want to know? We’ve tried both but I think it’s up to you.”

“I mean,” you think out loud while Javier takes the opportunity to rub your stomach, “I like surprises but with the stress the delivery will probably bring, it might be nice to know. Just to appreciate it more than when I’m a mess. I don’t know.”

“Well, I guess we don’t have to decide now. We have five or so months, have a think,” he reassures you and presses a soft kiss to your neck. He can feel and hear you draw in a deep breath.

You are interrupted by Sebastian’s soft noises through the baby monitor, tiny sounds of complaint indicating that he is just about to cry. Javier releases you from his grasp, “You get him and I’ll finish up here. Dinner in twenty, don’t you think?”

“Sure, baby,” you say with a final peck to his lips. You leave the kitchen, ascending the stairs with a little noise, and when Javier glances out into the entry hall, he sees you walk upstairs with a hand on the small of your back. Sebastian has started to cry but you reassure him all the way through the house, “I’m coming, mijo (my son).”

Javier finishes up dinner. He faintly hears you tell Lucas to go set the table, and when your son starts taking plates out of the drawer, Inés enters the kitchen while rubbing her eyes, awakened by the noise.

“Hola, mi niña cansada (hello, my tired girl),” Javier says as she leans into his side. He turns the pan on the hob so that the handle doesn’t stick out from over the edge, then runs his hand over his daughter’s hair.

“No estoy cansada, papá (I’m not tired, Daddy),” she protests while fighting a yawn.

“¿Entonces tienes hambre (Are you hungry then)?” He asks with a hidden, amused smile.

“Sí (yes),” she wraps her arms around his waist.

"Si tienes hambre, ayuda a tu hermano a poner la mesa (If you’re hungry, help your brother with setting the table),” he runs his hand over her back, caressing her gently while stirring the chicken and vegetables.

“Okay, papá,” she says, her stomach probably growling since she’s not protesting hard labor.

Lucas has finished carrying plates, glasses, and cutlery to the dining table. He pulls out a chair for Inés to stand on, directing her thoroughly on where everything goes until you enter the kitchen again with Sebastian on your hip.

“It looks so good!” You praise with a big grin, genuinely proud to see both of your eldest kids cooperating so well, “And the cutlery on the right sides!”

Javier turns back to have a look, holding a hand up to give them both a high five. You send him a smile only reserved for him, walking to put Sebastian into his high chair afterward. You go to the living room to find a few toys he can play with until dinner is ready.

“Can I watch Nanalan after dinner?” Inés asks during dinner, mouth full of food.

“If you practice your counting first,” you compromise.

Without hesitation, Inés starts saying numbers out loud, “One, two, three, four, five, six…”

“Inés,” you say, a crease on your forehead.

“You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Peña,” Javier teases, “But I think you walked right into that one.”

“Shush, you,” you tut and, out of spite, listen closely after any errors in your daughter’s count.

After dinner, you take on the job of clearing the table and filling up the dishwasher. Lucas gets a free pass from helping so he can go pop the Nanalan VHS tape into the TV, setting it up for you all to enjoy in just a moment.

Sebastian plays with a few toy cars as he sits in his high chair. He coos softly, making noises to match the tiny red vehicle.

Inés, still full of energy, practices counting backward with Javier while you wash up the pan in the sink. He can see you listening to them even with your back turned, knows that you are smiling without looking at your face.

“C’mon, baby. What comes after six?” He asks, having pulled her chair out to stand in front of her.

“Seven!” She answers confidently and it is technically not wrong.

He smiles with amusement, “We’re counting backward. Down from ten. Try again. Teeeen…”

“Ten… nine… eight…” she says loudly.

Javier waits patiently. He holds up the number of fingers equal to the numbers she is saying. She furrows her brows in concentration and continues, “Seven… six… five…”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he encourages.

Inés grips the seat of her chair in excitement, “Three!”

“Are you sure?” He stops her briefly.

She looks up at him, hesitating for a moment and seeking reassurance, “Four.”

He nods, “You got this.”

She smiles brightly, “Three! Two! One!”

“Bien hecho, Princesa (well done, princess)!” He praises loudly and leans down over her to kiss the top of her head repeatedly, “Eres mi chica lista (you’re my clever girl).”

She stretches up her arms to which he responds by lifting her up from the chair with a groan. She is getting so big, he thinks as he places her on his hip, or maybe he is just getting old. He gets an idea, even if it’ll hurt the muscles in his back, “You know, baby, counting backward is very important. That’s what they do when they launch rockets into space. Try again, see what happens.”

Inés’ eyes light up as she starts counting again. She rushes through it, seeming to do well when something unknown comes afterward. When she gets to one, Javier lifts her high into the air and spins in the kitchen.

“Liftoff!” He announces, moving around in figure eights to imitate her flying and she squeals with laughter. The sound is one of those that bubble up in her chest, completely unrestrained and pure in its entirety, and Javier’s heart goes into overdrive when he knows that he is the one causing it. There’s nothing that can hurt him in these moments, nothing that can bring him down from the pride he takes in making his kids feel safe and happy.

“Oh no!” He continues his part, “Inés Peña, well-renowned astronaut, is attacked by aliens from el planeta rojo (the red planet)!”

“¡Papá, no (Daddy, no)!” She giggles and wiggles in his arms as he buries his nose in her cheek, “¡No permitas que me atrapen los alienígenas (Don’t let the aliens catch me)!”

“Too late!” He tells her before pretending to sink his teeth into her round cheek. He growls like only an alien attacker would and his daughter shrieks with laughter.

He stops to let her breathe, her little form shaking as she tries to regain her composure. She throws her arms around his neck, looking over at you in secret and lowering her voice to a whisper that’s way too loud.

“Do it to Mommy!” She demands.

You perk up at hearing your nickname and turn around with your hands covered in dish soap and water. You watch, like a deer in the headlights, as Javier places Inés down on her feet. He smirks like a devil and you step backwards but only bump into the kitchen counter. Your wet arms come up to screen your face as he approaches you, looking devilish with his arms out in front of him. He makes grabby hands in the air.

“You are not doing that to me!” You squeak. He leans into you, and the look behind your arms tells him that you know it is a fight that you have already lost. Still, you try to sidestep him but he just cages you with a quick sweep of his arms.

“I got you now. No hay manera de escapar, mi amor (there is no escaping, my love),” he moves your arms away without caring about getting wet himself and pulls you into a tight embrace. He bites into your cheek a mere moment later, growling like a dog whilst Inés laughs so loudly that your look says that you might let him give you five more children if he wants. The nibbles turn into several silly kisses, eventually turning into a long, deep kiss too. God, he is going to make love to you tonight.

Behind the two of you, Inés makes a noise of disgust, “Ew! Mushy Daddy!”

Javier pulls away from you and wipes his hands in his shirt. He ruffles Inés’ hair, “Well, you better run to your brother if you don’t want to see Mommy get another big kiss from Daddy.”

Inés dashes off towards the living room with uncontrollable giggles. Once she’s out of sight, Javier turns to see you drying your hands in a kitchen towel. He seeks you out and you meet his embrace by throwing your arms around his neck.

“Do you think I missed my calling as an alien invader?” He asks with his lips resting against your ear as you hug.

He can feel you shaking your head, “No, husband, I think you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

“Mhm, wife,” he pulls back to kiss you again, and again and again and again.

“They’re waiting in the living room,” you stop him, a hand on his chest to reluctantly push him away, “I’ll take Seb.”

The five of you watch a few episodes together in a pile on the couch. Sebastian sits in your lap while Inés cuddles up into Javier’s side. Lucas mutes his video game but chooses it over the children’s show, repeatedly pressing buttons and trying not to make too loud noises when he wins or loses.

It ends with the usual bedtime routines an hour later. Teeth are brushed, all three children have no complaints during bathtime, bedtime stories are told and forehead kisses are given even if Inés is already out cold. Javier loves this the most, at least when it goes smoothly.

Eventually, the evening leaves your pile on the couch to only consist of the two of you.

“We put Inés to bed thirty minutes ago and we’re still watching Nanalan,” you note from your side of the couch, looking at Javier out of the corner of your eye and snickering before you reach the end of your sentence.

Javier tears his eyes from the screen, his body slumped into the corner of the couch and with the blanket draped over his body. He hides a smile, knowing he has the upper hand in this situation, “Well, get the remote then.”

You have your legs pulled up with them crossed underneath you. You grimace and pat your stomach, “Never gonna happen with this belly.”

He cracks a smile, tone serious in a joking manner which he knows always gets you, “Well then you sit there and keep quiet. I’m missing my show. I haven’t seen if Mona learns a lesson yet.”

With that, he fixes his gaze on the TV again. You throw your head back to laugh at his silliness and accidentally snort. You squirm and he knows you’re trying your best not to pee a little from the giggling. You cover your mouth but Javier’s head still whips around to stare at you again, looking like he should be a cartoon character with hearts in their eyes.

He starts moving, crawls further toward you, and drags the blanket with him to cover both of your bodies. You shove at him, “Get the remote, Peña.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” He scoffs, cuddling up next to you, halfway lying down and crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m not switching channels here. I like Nana. She’s wise.”

“She your favorite?” You smirk down at him, teasing him still.

“No, you’re my favorite, mi amor (my love),” he wiggles his brows, staring up at you with every intention of making you laugh, “Stop asking stupid questions.”

“Smooth,” you smile with a shake of your head. You purse your lips and he groans dramatically when he moves up to kiss you, pecking your mouth gently. You reach to ruffle his hair until it is untidy.

“You know, baby, my hair takes all night to style,” he sighs and starts to flatten the stray locks again, “You could be a little more considerate.”

“I’m pregnant,” you argue, “You try being considerate.”

“You’ve been pregnant for nearly two years straight,” his eyes wander back to Nana and Mona.

“And whose fault is that?” You start to watch too.

“Shut up.”

“I rest my case.”

The both of you watch Nanalan for a while. With a foot, Javier pulls the coffee table closer for you so you can stretch your legs and rest your feet on it. You seem less invested in whether Mona will learn how to take care of the baby bird in Nana’s garden than he is but it doesn’t matter because during the episode, your positions shift and suddenly you are resting against him instead. He feels like a teenager each time this happens, heart racing at having a pretty girl in close proximity, but unlike 16-year-old Javier Peña, he has already gotten the girl and is therefore without clammy hands.

He drapes his arm around your back until his hand rests on your waist, pulling your pregnant body against himself until you automatically lean your head on his shoulder. In the end, you doze off, having gotten into a habit of falling asleep in front of the television.

When the credits roll over the screen, he nudges you, “Let’s get you to bed.”

You whine so adorably and scoot further into his side, “I don’t want to go all the way upstairs.”

“If you don’t get up, I’ll do it again,” he says, intending to confuse you.

You pull back to look at him with furrowed brows, “Do what?”

Javier pokes the tip of his nose into your cheek and then imitates a series of bites to your face just like earlier. He makes the noise of a dinosaur this time, growling close to your ear and making you squeal from the tickling sensation it gives.

“No!” You shriek, “I’ll get up! I swear!”

“Are you sure?” Javier doesn’t stop, only nuzzles further into you and bites the flesh of your cheek for real this time. His whole body fills up with butterflies as you laugh at his torment.

When eventually showing you mercy, he throws the blanket to the side and pushes himself to stand up. You put your feet on the floor and take his hands when he holds them out for you. He hauls you to your feet.

After a quick shared shower, you moisturize your belly in the bedroom and pick out your sleepwear whilst he dresses in a new pair of briefs. It is a quiet and relaxing ritual where none of you speak a word, moving around each other in synchronous harmony.

It’s when you go to pee and change that he notices the little device on the nightstand, plugged in to charge, and he furrows his brow in confusion. The door is closed to the bathroom and he can hear the sound of your toothbrushing, so you won’t be barging in on him as he satisfies his curiosity.

With quick fingers, he pulls the cord out of the bottom and holds it closer to his face to examine the little pink thing. He hasn’t seen one of these before; staring down into the hole at the top and trying to make sense of what will happen when he presses the button.

The little thing whirs to life when he does and he can see the way the tip pulses erratically, sparking his interest and triggering the instinct to hold it against the palm of his hand. His brows nearly rise into his hair as he feels the way the vibrator suckles on his skin, so he taps his hand a few times to feel it let go and attach again. It’s when he realizes what it’s meant to do for you that he feels his cock move in his briefs. It happens again when he knows it means that you have used it today whilst being home alone.

He presses the button on the side again and feels the vibrations become more intense and he nearly throws the cute thing across the room when he tries to turn it off by pressing the button again and the buzzing only gets louder and louder and more and more intense.

“You two need a moment alone?” You ask from the doorway to the bathroom, smirking as he sheepishly finds your gaze. You have changed into a pair of way too tiny sleep shorts and one of his gray t-shirts, and it looks so naturally stunning on you that he nearly drops the toy. Why is he hard? Christ, he is possibly aching. He wants to throw you on the bed and pull those tiny shorts off and—

“Did you two already have a moment alone?” He asks when he has regained his composure.

“Maybe, and maybe it was pretty great,” you tease and make your way to him. When you stand in front of him on your side of the bed, your eyes wander downward until you stare at the bulge on the front of his briefs. Your tone is triumphant and sing-songy, “You’re hard.”

“You’re wearing my t-shirt,” he notes as if it’s the most logical explanation in the world. His gaze drops to the way the soft cotton fabric drapes over your tits, leaving just enough up to the imagination but clearly showing off the way your nipples have hardened at the conversation. He twirls the little sucking toy in his hands, wants to make you come with it attached to your nipple until he can see heat rising in your cheeks and then he’ll let the device do its job between your legs.

“Horndog,” you roll your eyes affectionately, “I can’t even wear clothes? I thought it would be not wearing any clothes that would get you.”

“Can I try this on you?” He decides to be straightforward and just asks while holding the vibrator up between the two of you, “You can guide me.”

“Now?” You raise a brow.

“Yes, now,” he huffs out a dark, little laugh and takes a step further toward you as if he is a predator caging his pretty prey. You don’t seem affected by it but your nipples might soon poke holes in your shirt, “I mean, I’m a little curious here, so if you’re up for it. I was gonna try to get laid anyway…”

“Charming,” you let yourself fall down into bed, sitting on the edge. Javier places the toy on the nightstand to grab underneath your knees, lifting your legs to help you scoot back onto the mattress.

“Is that a yes?” He awaits your green light.

“Yes. Don’t go overboard with it though. It’s pretty intense,” you reply and hook your fingers into the waistband of your shorts. You start to shimmy out of them and he helps you completely out of them when they sit around your knees. Then he bends your legs and spreads them apart.

“Tell me what to do,” he goes to grab the toy again, kneels between your legs, and awaits orders. He clicks the button and the little thing comes alive once again. You’re just about to reply when he cannot help but ask, “Does it work on your tits?”

“I thought you wanted me to guide you,” you retort but in response to his question, you reach for the hem of your t-shirt and start to pull it up over your pregnant body. He stops you when it sits just above your tits, coming closer to you by spreading his thighs until you drape your own thighs over them.

“Shut it… and listen to this. It’s pretty loud,” he notes as he feels the little sucker on his palm again, tapping the heel of his hand with it.

“It’s quieter when it’s in place,” you say with heat in your cheeks, anticipation evident on your face, “So don’t worry about switching up the intensity when I get close.”

“Ah… but no going overboard,” he nods, grinning down at you. Sure. He drags out the testing on his palm to get you worked up even more, knowing it will only increase the pulse in your whole body until you might cuss him out when he actually goes to work on you. He loves your body when it is pregnant and sensitive, and while he would never let anyone in on what the two of you do behind closed doors, there’s a part of him that wants to brag to Steve about how you cream yourself from getting your breasts played with whenever you have a baby - this time babies - in your belly or your body is raging with postpartum hormones. Oh, he thinks to himself, what a privilege it is to get to see you like he will in just a moment.

“Javi,” you complain beneath him.

“Yeah yeah, chica impaciente (impatient girl),” he tuts and finally places the toy against the skin of your cleavage. You suck in a breath, reacting already more intensely than he thought you would. He supposes that it’s due to knowing how it’s going to feel, and he elicits a little moan from you as he drags the head of the toy across your chest.

“Don’t tease me,” you grumble, squeezing your thighs around his waist. When he looks down between your legs, he can see the way it makes your cunt clench too. You’re trying to stimulate yourself untouched.

“Christ, you’re a dirty little girl for this thing. What magic does it do for you?” He raises his brows and inches the toy closer to your right breast. He dances around the swell and you bite your lower lip.

“You don’t understand,” you say breathlessly.

“Humor me,” he demands.

“It feels… like when your teeth nip at my skin,” you explain with eyes that are already glazed over with desire, “It feels like when your mouth is just about to get where I wa— Fuck.”

Javier has covered your right nipple with the toy and between your legs, a damp spot has marked the white sheets. He moves the head of the little sucker around your gorgeous, perky nipple and your moan only increases in volume.

“Shh, los niños están dormidos (the children are asleep),” he whispers above you, removing the toy to lean down over you and get closer to your face, “Keep your little mouth shut or I’ll need to stop.”

You look desperately at him, shake your head, and whimper at the threat. He pecks your lips with a pleased smirk before you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. It gets even harder for you when he descends on you, gathering spit in his mouth before letting it drip down onto your played-with nipple in an obscene manner.

“Waterproof, I’m guessing?” He awaits your answer.

“Mhm,” you nod and then writhe as he covers the peak of your breast again. You let your hand push down into the mattress, making a noise in the back of your throat as he presses the button to turn up the intensity. You fight between throwing your head back and keeping your eyes fixed on what he is doing to you.

“Eyes on me,” he decides for you.

“Baby,” you whine and follow through, thighs tightening around his waist as you stare at him. You start thrusting against nothing, lifting your pelvis to squeeze your pussy in time with the still somewhat slow pulses to your chest.

Javier straightens fully again and your gaze follows obediently. He lifts his left hand to his mouth, sticking two fingers past his lips to wet them with his spit, and then he finds your other nipple. He rubs in soft circles for just a moment before he pinches it between the two digits, tugging at it slightly until he sees slick drip from your aching slit. He cannot help the soft noise he lets out as he watches the drip of your come hit the bed. He is so hard it hurts from just thinking about being inside of you as you continue flexing your pelvis like that.

How the fuck are you going to come from just this? Has he really spent so much time in bed with you that this is something he can force out of you? He is struck by fascination at your trembling body, letting you breathe, even if it’s just barely, by swirling the toy around your nipple.

“More,” you pant in frustration, swallowing down a frustrated moan to not piss him off, “Turn it up.”

“Hey, that’s not how we ask for things in this family. What’s the magic word?” He teases, finger hovering over the button. He pinches your nipple with the fingers on his other hand, forcing a cry past your lips. You don’t even get to the please.

Instead, your hand flies to your mouth but you manage to calm your noises again, sliding your fingers into your hair instead. Javier decides then to press the button twice before putting it back on you, watching those fingers yank at your own follicles. You nod and your hips are practically gyrating by now.

“Javi, fu— fuck,” you gasp out, “I—“

“I know, baby. I can see it on you,” he says, making a noise low in his throat at the way your head falls back into the mattress. Your eyes roll back into your skull, your bottom lip getting caught between your teeth again as you teeter on the edge of your first orgasm. He cannot believe your clit is still untouched because when he dares look down, it peeks out from underneath its hood as if he’s been giving it attention.

“I’m gonna come,” you announce with a strained voice, still very aware of your noise levels. Quickly, you reach down to cover your mouth with the whole of your palm and then, with furrowed brows, you’re off into ecstasy. It hits you like a shot of adrenaline, your body going rigid before writhing on the sheets. The hand on your mouth turns your moans into desperate whines that stir Javier’s desire even more. His heart races at the sight, his eyes watching hungrily as you come undone the first time of many.

“Jesus Christ, Mamá,” he removes his hands and turns off the toy when you go from enjoying the tingling of pleasure to shaking at the oversensitivity of your breasts.

The hand falls from your satisfied smile to lay beside your head. You giggle as excitement is flowing through your veins, “Gimme a second and you can go again.”

“Is it better than me?” He smiles at your cute laughter and wiggles his brow.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you roll your eyes, “Not even close but it’s nice if you’re not available.”

“You know… I would come home during my break if you needed me,” he leaves the toy next to you so he can crawl over you and dip down for a long kiss.

“I’m sure you would,” you nod at his words, slipping your tongue past his lips.

He holds himself up with a forearm above you so he can use his free hand to push your shirt further up and over your head. You stretch your arms above your head to help him rid you of it completely, only breaking the kiss for the moment it takes.

“I’m ready for one more,” you say after a few minutes of just making out with him, arms slung around his neck in a desperate embrace and lips kissing him until they’re swollen. When he sits up on his knees again, he notices the way that his mustache has scratched you slightly and makes a mental note to trim it sometime tomorrow.

You look so radiant when you’re in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss, and while he gets his pillow to place it underneath your hips, he admires the beauty of you underneath him like this. You have your hair tousled, your eyes are half-lidded, barely open from the way remnants of pleasure still hasn’t been washed away from them, and your velvety skin glistens with a sheen of sweat that’ll make you shiver if he doesn’t heat you up again. Javier wants to lick it off, wants to eat you up until he has devoured you. You’re beyond softer and sexier than any other time he gets to witness you.

“Javi,” you murmur softly when he’s too slow.

“What, mi amor (my love)?” He pretends not to hear your demanding voice hidden beneath your tired one.

“I wanna do it again,” you have a playful glint in your eye.

“Again?” He teases but his cock pulses, heavy between his legs at the knowledge that he will see you come undone once more in just a moment. He chooses the word moment because the little sucker knows what it is doing and if you respond so well to getting your nipples played with, a part of him is afraid that it’ll be over the second it touches your clit.

“Javi,” you drag out his name in further frustration.

Javier rubs your thigh soothingly, “You’re obsessed with this thing. How long have you had it?”

“Uhh, not long,” you reply, visibly clenching at just hearing the toy start buzzing again. You scoot further towards him, presenting your pussy for him.

“So directly? Or?” He reaches down between your legs, the toy hovering over your mound for a moment before he decides to let it suckle on the skin of your inner thigh where he has just touched you. You breathe deeply in through your nose, wanting to look down at what he is doing but your pregnant belly is already shielding it from view.

“Yes but the lowest setting,” you instruct. Your hand dips down between your thighs to spread your lips, giving him access to your hard clit, “I’m still sensitive.”

“And wet, ¡Dios mío (my God)!” He marvels with suppressed excitement and moves the toy inwards, trailing its tip until it sits right by your hand. You sigh at the attention, dripping even more from your slit in anticipation.

Your hips hitch up when he finally covers your clit with the hole of the toy, a quiet moan slipping from your mouth as it falls open. Your face goes slack in contrast to the tension in your pelvis, your body subconsciously moving around to seek the most sensation.

He guides it steadily up and down, barely rocking it but still moving it enough to create just a bit of a tug on your swollen nub. He sees you lose yourself in it and stares down at you while cupping the bulge on the front of his briefs to relieve some of the desperate pain. He moans low in his throat, “Mi chica bonita (my beautiful girl).”

You respond with a little louder noise, an orgasm already creeping up on you. He shushes you gently, “No noise, baby. Try breathing through your nose or I’ll have to cover your mouth.”

You clamp your mouth shut and make a muffled sound.

“Look at that pussy flutter for me,” he looks between your legs then smiles up at you, pleased with what he is doing to you. He turns up the power on the toy. Your head falls back against the bed. He sees your brows knit together and then he knows, “Come on, baby, that’s it.”

Your orgasm hits you like a lightning bolt. Javier watches with his hand gripping firmly around the outline of his cock and the toy held firmly against your core. You do a fantastic job of making as little noise as possible but the desire to make a racket is there beneath the surface, especially when your high peaks and there’s a moment where you hold your breath just before shivering with the pleasure in your cunt.

He gives you another break but you shake your head. He looks curiously down at you, uncertain if you mean it, “No? Again?”

“Make it hurt, please, Javi,” you beg and he thinks he might come untouched from those words. It’s so rare to have you like this when the house is still full. He doesn’t doubt whether it is a good idea though, just turns up the heat and sends you hurtling towards another orgasm.

You gasp towards the ceiling and slam your legs closed while you grab at the sheets. You look like you are possessed, eyes rolling back into your skull as you come a third time. It must be painful because you are whimpering like a wounded animal, nearly ripping the fabric underneath you and begging silently by only mouthing the words in a worse manner than he has ever experienced as a father of three - soon five - children.

“Keep going,” you demand almost angrily, concentration on your face as he presses the button to the next level of pulses.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, “You’re about to levitate into the air, aren’t you?”

“I’m gonna come,” you inform him breathlessly.

“Already?” Javier’s brows are nearly in his hair. He is stroking himself on top of his underwear now, itching to feel something when you are lying in a pool of tears, sweat, and your come. Seeing you like this, he has no idea how he is ever going to get anything practical done this weekend; he’ll be doing you every chance he gets until you can’t walk. So hard that he’ll have an excuse to stay home with you on Monday just so he can spear you on his aching cock over and over. Even if you scream, even if you drool, and even if you sob.

When your fourth orgasm of the night starts to gain up on you, he observes the way your legs start to twitch. He holds the toy steady, pushing it against your clit as you nearly go cross-eyed with pleasure. His eyes are wide, the concentration lost for just a second too long when your legs start shaking as you near your end. The toy slips just half an inch, losing its grip on your clit and the accident turns you feral. You reach for his hand, yanking the toy out of his palm, and settle it back into place.

And then you come. So hard that he has no idea what to say or do, watching a steady trickle of pearly white mess gush out of you as your pussy jumps along with your heartbeat. You try so desperately to keep quiet but the sensation seems to be so intense that you might draw blood from your lip if you don’t get to cry.

“One loud one, no, no, look at me. One,” he tells you calmly, knowing you are probably seeing spots, “Let me hear.”

You don’t hesitate, face scrunched up in ecstasy while you let out a wreaking sob that’s so close to you screaming that he almost (but not really) regrets allowing you to be noisy. You pant, kick, and scream, tears running down your face as you are lost to the world, leaving him with nothing to do but stare hungrily as he thanks the heavens that you have found a toy that makes you look so happy and beautiful. He’d be its lead promoter if someone wanted him to.

When it becomes too much, you don’t even turn off the thing. You simply just let it fall from your hands and slump into the bed, your thighs sticky with sweat and slick against Javier’s own. He listens for the sound of tiny footsteps down the hallway for a moment but there’s nothing, not even a squeak from the baby monitor.

“Get inside of me,” you half-beg, half-order with barely any breath in your chest. Javier doesn’t hesitate to step off the bed, slipping his briefs off, and stepping out of them when they pool around his feet. Your eyes watch, huge and wet, filled with desperation for being stretched out after only having your clit played with. He will never dream of denying you when you look like that. You nearly hiccup, “Please.”

“Shh, you’ll get it, mi vida (my life), you’ll get whatever you want,” he soothes softly but then continues the rough streak. He curls his hands around the back of your knees and yanks you off the pillow towards the edge of the bed, sliding your body through the mess you have created.

You are like a siren with the eyes you are sending him, making his cock stand in the air and at level with your empty cunt. He grabs at the base of his length, guiding the thick head through your folds for a few seconds to slick himself up. However, the need to be inside of you, to pound into you, is too much and he pushes into you not long after.

The feeling of filling you up has Javier’s heart pounding against his ribs, endorphins running through his system as his mind quiets down completely when he has you like this. Your warm and familiar walls engulf his touch-starved cock and the both of you breathe shakily in relief as you melt together. You even manage a mix between a breathless laugh and a quiet moan, a sound that makes him twitch inside of you as he regains his composure. When he starts fucking you, dragging you by your legs down onto his cock over and over again, he realizes that he doesn’t even need to be careful, your walls so wet and soft from how much you’ve been touched.

He repeatedly snaps his hips forward to cause an obscene smacking noise that bounces off the walls. You nod frantically at the way he moves inside of you, nose scrunching up with concentration on the sensation of his dick slamming into your front wall. Yet it seems as if you’ve become nearly impossible to please from coming so many times; your hands are placed on top of his, frustration evident on your face, “Harder.”

“Nena (baby girl),” he pants whilst fucking you, “I’m already going hard.”

“I need it harder,” you whine, writhing slightly, “Please.”

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” He asks playfully and earns a glare that you only seem to perfect when you are pregnant and not getting your way. He smooths his palms up and down your sweaty thighs, thrusts coming to a complete halt, “Crawl back.”

He pulls out his cock with a grunt, letting you gaze hungrily at it when you’ve seen it glistening with your wetness. He is the one getting impatient now, snapping his fingers to keep up the part he is playing for you, his role as the man in charge even if it’s hardly true, “Go on then. Back.”

You move with shaky limbs, your body exhausted from its continuous stimulus. You end up lying flat on your back with your legs wide open for him, holding out your arms with a tiny dissatisfied complaint of a whimper, “Javi.”

Javier finally kneels on the bed and moves forward until he is hovering above you. He grabs the still buzzing toy on the bed and reaches for your hand. He places the toy in your palm and closes your fingers around it, knowing what he wants, “I just need you to promise me that you’ll choke my dick when I fuck you with this joining the fun.”

You nod repeatedly and that’s good enough for him to go crazy for you, even wreck the bed if that’s what you want to do. Thank God that there’s no school tomorrow because you’d be hobbling around with how sore he is going to make - and has already made - you. He leans down and cages you underneath him, buries his face in your neck as he bottoms out inside you in one hard thrust. His pelvis touches yours, his chest, your sensitive tits, his body unable to get close enough.

When he rocks his hips this time, he starts really putting his back into it. You slide your free hand up his bicep to cling to his shoulder, saving yourself from being pushed across the mattress with how forcefully he drives his cock into your heat.

He breathes hard as he exhausts his body to give you what you need, knowing that you can take it even if it aches. He can feel drops of sweat slide down the length of his spine, gathering at the small of his back as he switches to harsh rolls of his hips.

The switch gives you room. He doesn’t have to actively listen for the muffling of the sucking toy’s buzz to know that you have started to hold it against your clit because your whole cunt jumps at the attention.

You press your mouth into his bare shoulder to muffle your screams, bravely taking on another round of obscene pleasure as his lower belly burns with the desire to come.

His head swims with the overtaxing use of his muscles, the strain on his thighs that has started to ache from how much he wants to make your head spin. He feels a tear fall from your eye and drop down on his skin, your whimpering voice trying to encourage him not to stop the torture of your cunt.

“Fuck,” he gasps as the sensations are becoming increasingly more intense. He turns his head to breathe heavily against your ear, breathing damp against the shell of it when he tries to speak while his lungs empty as small puffs of air. He wants to tell you how good it feels, and concentrates on whispering filthy things in your ear, “That’s it, you can— oh God, you can take it, baby.”

You sound like you’re trying to overcome your own body, fluctuating between whines and groans. He goes on, “No wonder you’re always carrying my babies. You take it so fucking well each time, amor (love). Made for it. Made for getting knocked up.”

You lock your legs around his ankles, clinging to him as he crashes into you repeatedly. He hears you desperately move the sucking toy back and forth, hears the intensity being turned up to a higher level than he has even dared. You sound pornographic even in your quietness - like one of those videos where they don’t want to get caught but just cannot keep all noise at bay - as you get fucked by him whilst it sends you through the gates of pleasure heaven simultaneously.

“Please,” you whisper.

“And if you weren’t made for it, I’d be sure to mold that little pussy into shape,” he growls quietly. You start to have that dazed look in your eye, have a grip around his cock that tells him exactly what is going to happen, “Oh, baby. You gonna come on my cock, huh?”

“Yeah,” you squeak.

“Yeah?” He mocks.

Javier enters the final sprint, fucking you open in a frantic rush that almost borders on being gross, greedy and animalistic. You mewl pathetically from the intensity, biting into his skin as he makes you come with pleasure slamming through your body roughly enough to make you start crying.

To soothe you, he pulls back his head to kiss you longingly even if it becomes nothing more than a messy crash of your mouths together. He does it to quieten down himself too, finding that his stomach is tightening and his balls are drawing up from being so close. You’ve tightened around him too because whereas you should remove the sucker from your clit, once again, you don’t, and the questionable choice has your walls clamping down on him in overstimulation, squeezing his dick so heavenly that his hips stutter. He comes inside of you when the smaller fit has him seeing stars, groaning into your mouth as he pulses into you.

The buzz of the toy becomes louder again but only because it slips from your hand, your body trembling with overwhelming excitement as you come down from your millionth orgasm in a fairly short period of time. You sob without being sad, curling in on yourself as soon as he pulls out of the dripping mess between your legs. He is on you instantaneously, pushing your hair out of your face, turning off the toy, and cooing gently.

“Oh, Nena (baby girl), you’re okay,” he tuts while you cry quietly, several teardrops rolling down your nose as your body tries to escape itself. He kisses your shoulder, blows a raspberry on it, “You did so good for me. You’re okay. We just went a little overboard.”

Javier rolls off of you but instead of following the instinct to rest his exhausted body by lying down, he sits up in your shared bed. He scoots close to you until he can coax you to drag yourself into his lap with a feeble whimper, wrapping his arms around you and rocking you back and forth like a newborn. He supposes you must feel rebirthed. You sob into his chest, cheek pressed into where his heart hammers, and still overwhelmed with the painful pleasure that you have just experienced.

“Shh,” he whispers with his lips pressed to the crown of your head. He kisses your hair, rubbing soothing circles into your sweaty back until your cries turn into tiny hiccups instead, “It’s alright. You’re alright.”

The way you cling to him tells him that you feel safe with him. He dares lift your chin, looking into your puffy, red eyes and rubbing a tear-streak away from your face. His voice is raspy from sex, “Are you okay, baby?”

“I’m okay,” you croak with a tired and tiny smile, shivering as the sweat starts to cool down. He holds you a little tighter. You relax in his arms even despite getting a bit of control back, “Scatterbrained.”

“Lo sé (I know),” he huffs out a chuckle with another kiss to your head. He cups your jaw and dips down for a kiss on the lips too, thumb rubbing affectionately along your cheekbone, “Pero eres tan hermosa (but you’re so pretty).”

“Thank you,” you cover his hand on your face with your own, “I’m ready to conk out.”

“Shower?” He asks and suggests at the same time.

“I won’t be able to stand upright for that long,” you run your hand over your forehead instead, laughing quietly.

“Alright, bath it is then,” he gently runs his fingers through your hair, “Ready?”

“You’re going to carry me?” You ask with a raised brow as he starts moving towards the edge of the bed with you, “I weigh a ton with this pregnant belly.”

“I do lifts with our daughter on the daily, you know,” he jokes, “Best workout method in years. Even if she talks a lot.”

You yelp with a laugh as he picks you up effortlessly and carries you through the bathroom, crossing the tiled floor with you in his arms bridal style, and sets you carefully on the edge of the bathtub. As he turns on the tap and lets the tub fill, he imagines the cool porcelain is nice against your sore thighs and cunt.

After testing the water, he gently helps you into the tub with a comfortable silence between you. The content look on your face is a reward in itself, even moreso the sigh that you let out as the water envelops you and turns your tired muscles to putty.

Javier washes your hair, leaning your head back and scooping water into his hand to rinse out the shampoo. He runs his fingers across your back and shoulders too, relieving some of the tension he has caused tonight.

“What about dinner tomorrow?” You ask out of the blue and he nearly wants to laugh because, of course, you’re already back to being a mother.

He puts conditioner in your hair, “I was just inside of you.”

“And that means that I can’t start planning your kids’ best lives?” You tease.

He rolls his eyes affectionately, “Fine. I think we should just do something easy.”

“Actually,” you say. Here we go, he thinks. You turn your head to look up at him, “The kids have been talking about a picnic in the backyard, and Lucas really wants to try out the new tent we bought.”

“Mhm,” he hums, not protesting. It does sound fun.

“And I checked the weather forecast earlier,” you add then clarify, “It won’t rain.”

“Baby,” he says with an affectionate smile as he rinses out the conditioner too, “You need to shut down that brain of yours. You do plenty enough to keep us happy.”

“It does shut down sometimes,” you reassure him with a little smile, rubbing your nose in a manner that he always finds adorable. You lean back to simply soak in the warm water, belly just poking out above the surface, “When you touch me.”

Javier lays a hand on your stomach, caressing you in slow circles. He feels playful when he knows you’re getting back into your normal self again, “Guess I’ll just have to keep touching you then.”

“I guess so,” you reply simply, eyes closed and a lazy smile on your face. Jesus Christ, he loves you and everything you have given him.

“I’ll let you sit here for a few more minutes, really let you cook,” he tells you, bending down to kiss your hair. He pushes himself to stand, “I’m gonna go plug your new friend in all over. I think we drained the battery.”

“Don’t pass out,” you say in a sing-song voice, “Love you.”

“Te amo tanto, mi amor (I love you so much, my love),” he replies and leaves you alone with a hand on your belly. He hears you talk to his unborn children, and it’s almost sad that the time it takes for him to wash the toy gently in the sink, plug it in, and head back to you isn’t long.

Finally, with his help, you finish the bath. He helps you to the seat of the toilet, hands you a towel, and drains water from the tub.

“I had the same old question today,” he small-talks while you are on the toilet to dry yourself. He steps over the edge of the newly-drained tub to stand in it, pulling the shower head off the wall to wash himself down from the remnants of what you have just done in bed. He’ll hurry up to finish before you so you don’t start changing the sheets in your pregnant condition.

“Yeah?” You decide against what you are doing and go, albeit shakily, to find a flannel. You soak it in lukewarm water and instantly sigh as you place it between your legs.

“Lucas wants that damn dog so badly,” he continues as he washes himself, “I told him it was a bad idea. He got pretty upset.”

“Is it? A bad idea, I mean?” You wash the flannel clean after using it and wring out the excess water before hanging it on the side of the laundry basket.

“I said yes but I also said it was you who had the final say in it. I’m not carrying a litter,” he huffs a small laugh and steps out onto the bath mat. He dries himself, “Two babies, a toddler, and a puppy seems like pushing it, baby, no matter how well-behaved.”

“I had a dog growing up. It was pretty great and made me feel less alone,” you muse. You turn around to lean against the bathroom counter to steady yourself, watching him with a smile in your naked state, “We could find one in a shelter. A grown one.”

God, you are pretty. He hangs up his towel and draws nearer, stopping only when he has you caged between the sink and himself. He leans in for a kiss and you cup his face whilst he talks, “You’re so good.”

“We could surprise him for his birthday. I don’t like those puppies spending time in those cages during August. It’s too hot. They should be running in the grass,” you scratch his cheeks with your nails, pouting slightly.

He kisses the pout off your face and puts a hand on your protruding belly, “You’ll look so beautiful during August.”

“This isn’t about me,” you note with a grin and pat his hand, “Focus on your son for a second.”

“We’ll never be able to top that birthday present,” he says with his eyes glazed over by love, “Just saying.”

“But he’ll remember it for the rest of his life,” you argue.

“Guess we’ll have to browse the local places then,” he gives in, sliding his hand around your waist.

“You’re a great dad,” you return the caress by laying your palm on his bare chest. His pulse is high when you look at him like that, saying those things.

“Don’t or I’ll have you right here again,” he threatens playfully.

Despite your previous state, you respond cockily by turning around so your ass is level with his dick. You lean forward slightly but only to grab your toothbrush for the second time tonight and disappoint him.

“Anything else happen today?” You ask as if nothing has happened whilst putting toothpaste on your brush. It matches his. You look at him through the mirror and he takes a moment to think, collecting his thoughts instead of getting hard again.

“Oh, right, uh,” he gives up and takes a step to the side, reaching for his own toothbrush. You hand over the tube of toothpaste to him. He puts it back in its holder when he is done using it, “Well, there’s a new kid in Inés’ class. I ran into her mom or rather… Inés ran into her.”

You raise a brow in the mirror.

“Anyway, she was real friendly,” he recalls the moment earlier and speaks around his toothbrush, “They’re new in town and she wanted someone to show her around. She actually invited us for coffee.”

You turn to him now, having stopped brushing your teeth. It looks like you are trying not to laugh at him, “Javi…”

“Yeah?” He turns to meet your gaze and furrows his brow. Oblivious.

“I’m sure she was super excited to invite you and your wife for coffee,” you chuckle, and a bit of toothpaste dribbles down your chin. You reach to wipe it off, “You’re so stupid.”

“Hey,” he clicks his tongue at you.

“Did you give her your number?” You ask casually.

“No… I told her that I would find her contact info on the class sheet,” he tells you and you laugh for real this time.

“Ever the romantic,” you snicker, “Oh, you broke her heart with that.”

“Fuck, do you think she was trying to come onto me?” Javier realizes the true meaning behind the interaction.

“Well, duh,” you start to brush your teeth again but cannot help giggling throughout the rest of cleaning them, “I bet she was batting her lashes at you.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. I thought she was just being friendly,” he continues his own brushing.

This happens more and more often. You are so deeply ingrained in his mind that his time as a casanova is so far behind him that he sometimes cannot pick up on these things anymore. He wants to say that it’s a conscious choice to be oblivious but it honestly is not. There’s just no one else but you.

“So are you gonna call her? Is it serious?” You taunt him after rinsing your toothbrushes together.

“You’re in for a smack to your ass if you continue,” Javier rolls his eyes in an attempt to hide the color of embarrassment in his cheeks. He hurries to go change the sheets before you start doing it.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you blink at him as you pass him to get your clothes from the bed before he has crumpled them up into the dirty sheets.

He smiles and gets dressed with you afterward, standing on each of your respective sides of the bed without saying much.

In bed, you kiss and say your ‘I love yous’. He falls asleep after a few minutes of listening to your slowed breathing. Just like he has done thousands of times before. It never gets old.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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satinroses · 3 months ago

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Night Time Routines

How the harbingers and their darlings ready for bed

Yan! Harbingers x reader (separate)

Feat: Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone and Scaramouche

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: “honk shoooo honk shoooo” - capitano, “zzzzz zzzz” - Pantalone, “honk mi mi mi” - Scaramouche, dottore’s doesn’t snore but he does speak in fluent sentences in his sleep and it’s terrifying. thank you for coming to my ted talk. also yes i made scaras pretty purple eyes light up like ei’s when she’s using her skill, the more raiden parallels the better in my opinion

Warnings: 5.3 archon quest spoilers, Yandere behaviours, i have likely not proof read this as well as i should have so i apologise for any mistakes, dark themes, some mentions of NSFW themes but no actual smut, being robbed of making choices, they all have serious control issues

Capitano:

Capitano has struggled with sleep for centuries now, he hopes you take no offence when he doesn’t join you at night however he would never wish to make you feel neglected. The primary reason he stole you away was to could ensure that you are treated with the dignity and adoration that befits someone of your character.

If your hair is long enough then he takes great care in braiding it every night. You’re surprised that a man of his stature is able to manoeuvre his fingers so nimbly through your hair. If braids aren’t your style or they simply wouldn’t work with your hair then he patiently awaits your instruction. Whether you want a bun, a ponytail or simply for your hair to flow freely he will diligently do as you command.

Although some aspects of your night routine may resemble that of Pantalone’s darling, Capitano doesn’t force you to abide by any particular routines. As long as you get enough rest he doesn’t mind if you spend every evening huddled in the library, just please allow him to sit with you as you read, nothing would bring him greater pleasure.

Despite the first harbinger being unable to sleep due to the constant burden of the tormented souls upon him, he does find comfort in the domesticity partaking in your nightly routines affords him. Watching your eyes flutter shut, hearing the words that slip out of your mouth leaving him to guess what you could possibly be dreaming about, watching over you when you are at your most defenceless.

He finds it utterly endearing to see you in this state. His heart feels much lighter the first night you fall asleep in his presence. He understands you may hold some resentment towards him for stealing you away from your home and the life you knew yet he is able to find hope in the vulnerability your behaviour shows. Being in your most docile and helpless form around him must surely mean you hold some form of trust for him. Trust is something he can work with, he’s certain now that he can cultivate this small piece of trust that you’ve extended to him from a sapling into a flourishing bloom and in time, perhaps you’ll forgive him for the selfish decision he made. He was utterly mindless and inconsiderate when he took you with him, against your will. Every day he lives with the shame of stealing you and yet... watching over you as you lay in his sheets, he cannot bring himself to regret it.

He shuts his eyes and listens to the rhythm of your breaths, a symphony that brings him nothing but relief. The knowledge that you were resting peacefully by his side invigorates him far more than slumber ever could.

After some time passes and he truly believes you are warming up to him in spite of everything, he might slip into your bed (with your permission of course). He’s unsure what to do at first, so overwhelmed with your closeness and warmth but as you begin to drift into a dreamscape, he allows his hands to wander slightly (but never anywhere inappropriate, despite how desperately he might crave your body he would never force you to do anything that might dishonour you). The body heat that emanates from you brings him immeasurable comfort as he forgets about the pain of the abyssal rot ravaging his body, instead focusing on the softness of your skin on his.

To feel you against him, your body tucked against his, it brings comfort that settles deep in his bones, not even the heavenly principles nor the curse that eats away at his flesh could strip it from him. For the first time in 500 years he remembers what its like to have a home.

Dottore:

You have the misfortune of having spent more time alone with Dottore than anyone else in Teyvat. In spite of his near constant presence, you had never once see him or any of his clones go to sleep. Once every few months you’ll catch him with his eyes shut and hunched over his desk, you assume he has finally drifted off but then mere seconds later his eyes will shoot open and his hands resume tinkering with whatever (or whoever) has had the misfortune of piquing his interest.

Prior to eliminating his clones he often used them as lab assistants, citing that the only person who he could trust to fulfil his work to the measure of perfection he demanded was himself. As the sun began to set whichever of his clones had the least to do would be charged with escorting you from his laboratory in the cellars of Zapolyarny palace to your shared estate. Much to Dottore’s annoyance, he swears that as the moon begins to rise, the segments begins to rush to finish their tasks in hopes of being the one to escort you home.

From early morning to night time you are forced to remain wherever Dottore is however he understands you are only human (for the time being, however he has plans to change that) and you require rest so he allows you to go home and sleep with the caveat that a segment remains by your side as he repeats a similar sentiment as he did earlier, that being the only man he would ever trust with your safety is himself.

Upon prime having to destroy the clones he is visibly on edge despite his dismissals when you try to enquire about it. It’s evident to you that without having the security of his segments watching over you he is tense. He now forbids you from going home, even with a platoon of Fatui guarding you, he has made far too many enemies to count over the years, he isn’t foolish enough to entrust your safety to some lackeys that even the eleventh could carve through with ease.

Much to your dismay he also states that he cannot take so much time away from his experiments to tend to your slumber and that from now on you will be sleeping in the laboratory.

It doesn’t take much exertion for his brilliant mind for him to deduce that you are not thrilled at this development.

After a few days of complaining he finally cracks. You seem to find a fault with every aspect of his laboratory.

”I’m uncomfortable”

”My back hurts”

”It’s too loud”

”It’s too bright”

”It’s too hot”

“It’s too cold”

”This pillow is lumpy”

”I can feel you staring at me”

It drives him mad. His next experiment will be on your voice, he has to test his hypothesis that there is something particular about your voice, perhaps it’s the tone or the pitch but whenever you speak he can’t help but grant you his full attention.

He prides himself on his resilience but for you he has always been quick to crack. Seeing you in such a bad mood puts him in a bad mood. Suddenly his patience has been shortened exponentially, the screams of his patients grind on his nerves far too quickly, leading to many experiments being cut short.

The following morning you will see two anemo skirmishers setting down a large object covered in a dust sheet in the far corner of the laboratory. You raise your question to Dottore, asking what it is. Only then does he set down his tools, a tiny smirk blooms across his face as he takes your hand in his and leads you across the room before lifting the sheet off the object and looking at you expectantly.

It was a single bed with plain white sheets and a single pillow. It was hardly exuberant but for Dottore to even show any form of regard for the discomfort of any living being was nothing short of a miracle.

If you ask him what prompted this his voice will grow venomous as he bites out that your endless complaints were a hindrance to his experiments but you see the self-satisfied sneer on his face as he soaks in your gratitude.

Admittedly you do still have to endure the screams of those unfortunate enough to end up strapped to the operating table as he refuses to allow you any form of noise cancellation lest he needs you for something (he never has but you’re sure he just doesn’t want to give you any avenues for ignoring him), at least you can keep your head staunchly under your pillow for whatever small form of muting the cries that it's able to provide.

Pantalone:

In spite of your resentment for Pantalone you could not deny the morbid interest you had in watching him go about his day. As an outsider you couldn’t shrug the pervasive feeling that had settled in your mind that his whole day seemed to be more of an elaborate routine rather than a man naturally progressing through the day.

Every paper, painting and plate had a specific place in his life and that was how Pantalone preferred it. One night at dinner you had made note of it and he had let out a rare chuckle as he gazed at you from across the grand mahogany dinner table. He put down his utensils before taking a moment to stare down at his hands, twisting the rings back into place so that the gemstones on them rested perfectly on his fingers, glimmering just right in the light before he acknowledged that perhaps some people might agree that he can be a little particular.

From the moment he had taken you into his home, he made sure that you too fit into his routine as flawlessly as everything else. He had expectations that you would meet if you knew what was good for you. Throughout the day his routine never once relaxed and as such, neither did yours. From the moment dinner ends he has you on a schedule that he had devoted hours to ensure it would allow you to fit into his schedule as perfectly as he wants you to. Like a ballerina wound up in a jewellery box, you would pirouette seamlessly to whichever melody he desired and you only move when he winds your cogs, never before.

Once you rise from the dinner table and he returns to his study, you are taken directly to your shared chambers with Pantalone by your ladies maids. In the porcelain tub within the en-suite sits a pool of hot water, still steaming with heat. Standing there awkwardly with only a silk robe wrapped around you as maids flutter in and out of the room. You stay rocking on the balls of your feet until at last the head maid returns, with her she carries a silver tray upon which rests several different bottles of fragrant oils and soaps to add to your bath.

Perhaps if you had been a little less perceptive you would believe this to be one of the areas in your life in which he allows some leniency but that is not the case. You are certain beyond all measure that each and every scent has gotten his approval before being presented to you. Maybe you should be thankful for this small illusion of choice but it only makes the reality of you situation sting in your tear ducts.

As you smell each one the head maid takes great enthusiasm in telling you the elaborate backstory for each and every bottle. Although its her voice speaking, you can hear his words.

The violet grass scent that had been acquired from the very highest point of Liyue’s immense mountain scape lending to it’s powdery floral notes being far more potent that before.

The sakura bloom oil had been extracted from a handful of petals that had been struck by the Shogun’s own divine lightning lending to it’s typical sweet smell having a bright undertone. You couldn’t stand that oil, you swore every time you applied it, it tingled.

The glaze Lilly that this oil had been diffused from had allegedly only bloomed when an adeptus descended from her abode in Jueyun Karst to serenade the flower and coaxing it into opening its petals. Supposedly its scent was so delicate and intoxicating that everyone who smelt it wept tears of joy. You didn’t think it smelt much different than any other glaze Lilly.

After a dozen more being presented to you, each with its own elaborate origins you simply grabbed the bottle closest to you on the tray, not caring which. They all smelt far too similar to care.

Since the day you were taken he had insisted that there was no price too high for his beloved. Perhaps he thinks you find his gifts romantic, instead you can’t help but laugh bitterly at the irony of your bathing products being better travelled than you are.

After nearly an hour of several maids scrubbing you from head to toe (when you had originally arrived you had refused their help however once Pantalone caught wind of this he had punished the maids for it. You had pleaded with him that it was your own fault for refusing their help and to please not punish them for your actions. He smiled gently, thanking you for your honesty before pressing a gently kiss to your forehead yet he said nothing about pardoning the maids, dismissing you at every mention of it. You had an entirely different group of maids tending to you the following morning and every subsequent morning after that).

After leaving the bath and drying off, you were dressed in a night gown. They were undoubtedly the worst part of the night, although they were beautiful they were also covered in itchy lace with necklines too deep and hems too short for the Snezhnayan winter.

After being dressed you would sit down at your vanity and methodically brush your hair with the gifts he had gotten you from Mondstadt: a boar bristle brush with a silver handle (he claimed the bristles were from a mighty bore sovereign native to Dragonspine) and a Dragon bone comb (he also had this made in Dragonspine, the bone acquired from the skeleton of Durin, the comb was a sturdy bone that no matter what always stayed warm).

Finally you would lie in bed and wait for your husband. If he decides to join you then you can slip gently into your dreams, the one place where you can forget about the heavy arm latched around your waist and the fingers tangled in your hair. On more unfortunate nights, he would not join you in your shared chambers, instead he would expect you to come to him. Shuffling sleepily through dark corridors until you finally reached the tall doors of his study. Your knuckle barely grazes the wood before the door swings open and he offers you a gentle smile before wrapping his arm around your waist and coaxing you in.

If you were lucky a few well-placed tender kisses to his neck would persuade him to abandon his work and join you in bed however some nights he would have you sat on his lap until the sun rose. Those nights you rarely slept well as you had to deal with his mutterings, the candle light illuminating the room and the way he adjusted you on his lap. If you were lucky you could shut your eyes and feign sleep when you felt something hard growing beneath you, other nights he was insistent on your participation.

Scaramouche:

Throughout the countless waking hours you’ve spent in unwilling solitude with the sixth harbinger you were hardly surprised at the revelation that his sour attitude persists far past the sunset and well into the moonlit hours. If anything his annoyance only grew the closer you crept to retiring for the night.

Having no knowledge of his marionette body’s ability to endure without sleep, you couldn’t disguise your discomfort the first night you shared his bed and his lilac eyes stayed glued to you all night, their vibrant hue glowing in the dark of your chambers. You could see the dim purple light in the room, even through your eyelids. His illuminated eyes wouldn’t move from your face as you rested. It doesn’t matter how often you late in the night you might wake up or how often you squint through your half-closed eyes at him, Scaramouche’s gaze stays fixed intently on you from the moment you pull the blankets over your shoulders.

Should you somehow develop a fondness for your captor you will quickly learn that in spite of his feelings for you, he is not an attentive or affectionate man. Scaramouche scoffs at the proposal of ‘cuddling’. He spits out that he will not entertain such pathetic displays of fondness, not even for you. The firm tenor in his voice makes you believe that there is no room for negotiation on the matter, however from that night onwards, his hand remains fixed tightly around your wrist the moment you retire under the covers with him.

One particularly irritating trait about Scaramouche is his insistence that you never turn away from him, many times your awoken by a set of firm hands clamped down on your shoulders as they turn you around in the bed, back to facing him. While you are both waking and sleeping he refuses to allow you to turn your back to him, you’re unsure as to why and frankly you’re not certain you wish to know. There are aspects of your captor's past that you're undoubtedly influence his current actions yet you do not wish to learn such things, not yet.

On exceptionally rare occasions, oftentimes after an intimate night of gently unwinding with him, removing his clothing with all the attentiveness he has expected to be synonymous with being the wife of the sixth harbinger. Brush your lips gently over his skin with a tenderness in your touch he hasn’t felt since… he can’t recall. After several hours in each others passionate embrace, Scaramouche may fall into a restless slumber. You may initially find this rare period of sleep from him to be enjoyable however it opens the gateway to a version of Scaramouche you may find yourself unfamiliar with.

The first night Scaramouche falls asleep in your presence, you soon understand his disdain for sleep. The whimpers and cries that escape the balladeer are completely uncharacteristic for him. You had never heard his voice assume any tone beyond a haughty drawl or an intimidating bark, you almost didn’t recognise it was Scaramouche speaking until a familiar word escaped his throat.

”Y/N...”

It was undoubtedly the balladeer speaking however his voice had been fragile and light as he spoke your name, as though saying it too harshly would cause it to shatter.

”Y/N… come back, please…”

“please...” he had whispered out and the word sounded almost foreign on his tongue. Until now you had assumed the word didn’t even exist in the harbingers vocabulary. His sleep only seemed to worsen. You sat up, unsure whether you should wake him or not. His gentle murmurs were slowly growing louder and more desperate. You watched as his sleeping form writhed across the bed, his arms fully extended as his fingers clenched and unclenched, grasping and pawing at the bedsheets.

You slowly nudged yourself closer to him, preparing to wake him from whatever nightmares was plaguing him until his hand brushed against your night clothes. Suddenly his fist clenched tightly around your waist as he yanked your body impossibly closer, curling around you.

The following morning he untangled his limbs from yours before quickly scurrying out of the room. His gaze never met yours but from the chaste kiss and the way his eyes refused to look up from the ground… you swore he almost seemed embarrassed, his demeanour suiting that of a pouting child rather than an agent of destruction.

As you opened the bedroom doors not long after his departure, the stench of sizzled flesh wafted through the corridors. Some poor Fatuus were now paying the price in blood for Scaramouche’s humiliation as they were demoted from subordinates to the punching bags for him to unleash his rage on. The part of himself that he had buried so deeply, shrouded in layer and layer of bitterness and rage, had exposed itself to your discerning gaze and his mortification was suffocating him.

If he were a weaker man perhaps the humiliation would have brought tears to his eyes but he was stronger than the mewling little wretch he used to be. Like forging a sword, he had beaten the impurities out one by one in the heat of his own hatred and the boiling of his blood until only the perfect blade remained. cold. lethal. merciless. He is no quivering weakling that can simply be thrown away. Not anymore. Never again. In spite of his pathetic display last night he would make certain you and everyone else remembers it.

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mapis-putellas · 4 months ago

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𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖/𝑨.𝑷𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

You were nestled deep into the covers, your face half-buried in the pillow, still very much lost in sleep. The soft shuffle of feet approached, and Alexia’s weight dipped the edge of the bed. She leaned over, her blonde hair brushing your cheek as she gently kissed your temple.

“Buenos días, mi amor,” she murmured, her voice still husky from sleep.

You groaned, burrowing further into the cocoon of blankets. “No morning,” you mumbled, barely coherent.

Alexia chuckled quietly, amused by your usual reluctance to wake up. “Come on, cariño. It’s already late. I let you sleep extra today.”

You hummed noncommittally, tugging the blanket higher over your head. “Five more minutes.”

She smirked, knowing this routine all too well. “Five minutes turns into ten, then twenty. No, no. Up. Now.”

Her hands slipped beneath the blanket, warm against your back as she started tracing gentle patterns there. It wasn’t forceful, but it was firm enough to pull you out of your half-conscious state. She knew this was one of the few ways to coax you into waking without a fuss.

“Okay, okay,” you grumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow. Slowly, you cracked an eye open, greeted by Alexia’s soft smile.

“Hola,” she said, her accent making the word sound so endearing it was almost unfair.

“Hola,” you echoed groggily, your lips twitching into a small smile.

She leaned in, kissing the tip of your nose. “Time to shower, sí?”

You groaned again but allowed her to help you sit up.

The bathroom was already warm with the rising steam from the shower, condensation beginning to collect on the mirror. You stood in the middle of the tiled floor, your posture slouched and your eyelids still heavy with sleep. Alexia moved with practiced ease, adjusting the temperature of the water to just the right level of warmth before turning back to you.

“Come here, cariño,” she said softly, beckoning you forward.

You shuffled toward her, rubbing at your eyes. “Still tired,” you muttered.

“I know,” she murmured, her voice gentle as she helped you undress. “But you will feel better after.” She assured, ridding herself of her own clothes too.

She guided you under the stream of water, her hands on your shoulders to keep you steady as she followed. The warmth hit your skin, and you let out a contented hum, standing still as the water cascaded down your back and head. Alexia grabbed the shampoo bottle from the shelf and squeezed some into her hand, working it into a lather between her palms.

“Head up,” she instructed, her tone patient.

You tilted your head back, and she began working her fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp with a practiced rhythm that sent shivers down your spine. Her touch was firm but gentle, and you leaned into it instinctively.

As the suds built up, you blinked a few times, the warmth of the water slowly waking you. That’s when the first thought hit you.

“Did you know,” you began, your voice groggy but gaining enthusiasm, “that dragonflies can see nearly all the way around them because of their compound eyes?”

Alexia hummed in response, her fingers not pausing in their movements. “Is it true?”

“Yeah,” you continued, starting to perk up as you found your groove. “They have something like thirty thousand lenses in each eye. It’s wild.”

Her lips quirked upward, though she didn’t look at you directly. “Fascinating,” she said, her accent wrapping around the word. “But stand still, cariño.”

You nodded absently, your focus already drifting to your next thought. “Oh! And ants. Did you know they can carry up to fifty times their body weight? It’s like if I carried you and all your training gear, and probably your car, all at once.”

Alexia chuckled softly at the thought, her thumbs gently rubbing behind your ears as she worked the shampoo into every strand. “I think you would break.”

“I’d try for you,” you replied earnestly, making her pause for a moment before shaking her head fondly.

“Always so dramatic,” she teased, though her voice was laced with affection.

As the shampoo foamed up even more, she guided you slightly backward, positioning you directly under the stream of water.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

You obeyed, and she tipped your head back gently with one hand, using the other to rinse the soap from your hair. The water flowed down your face, and you spluttered slightly.

“Hold still,” Alexia said with a laugh, using her free hand to shield your eyes.

“Okay, but hear me out,” you said suddenly, your voice picking up with excitement, “what if humans could see like dragonflies? We could—”

“Cariño,” she interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. “Finish shower first. Then you tell me about the dragonflies.”

You pouted slightly but nodded, biting your lip to hold back the ramble threatening to spill out.

Once she was satisfied that your hair was thoroughly rinsed, Alexia reached for the conditioner. As she worked it into your hair, her fingers moved slower this time, her touch more soothing. “Better?” she asked softly.

You nodded, your eyes fluttering closed again. “You’re the best.”

She smiled to herself, leaning down to kiss your damp shoulder briefly. “I know.”

By the time the conditioner was rinsed out and the shower was finished, you felt much more awake, though you couldn’t resist slipping in one last insect fact as Alexia wrapped you in a towel.

“Okay, but wait—mosquitoes have 47 teeth!”

She laughed, shaking her head as she dried your hair with a smaller towel. “You’re impossible,” she said fondly, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her tone.

Once you were both dried off and dressed, the two of you moved to the kitchen. You started pulling out ingredients for breakfast while Alexia hopped up onto the counter, swinging her legs as she watched you.

“Do you want eggs or toast?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at her.

“Both,” she said, grinning cheekily.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. As you cracked the eggs into a pan, you started talking again, this time about a book you’d been reading. Alexia listened, nodding occasionally, though her focus was more on you than the words you were saying.

When she couldn’t resist anymore, she reached out and gently tugged you toward her. You stumbled slightly, only to find yourself standing between her legs as she looped her arms around your waist. “Keep talking,” she murmured, leaning in to pepper soft kisses across your face.

“Alexia,” you complained lightly, though the way your voice softened betrayed how much you enjoyed the attention.

“Shh, keep going,” she said, her lips brushing your cheek before finding their way to the corner of your mouth.

You faltered, your train of thought completely derailed. “Um… what was I saying?”

“Something about a book,” she teased, her eyes warm and teasing as she leaned back slightly to look at you.

You huffed but didn’t pull away, allowing her to continue kissing you as you tried to remember. It wasn’t long before her lips finally met yours, the kiss lingering and slow. By the time she pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, and you had completely forgotten what you’d been talking about.

“See?” she said smugly. “Now you are quiet.”

“Cheeky,” you muttered, but there was no hiding the fond smile on your face.

Breakfast was eventually finished and eaten, and you both lingered in the kitchen until it was time for her to leave for training. You leaned against the doorway, watching as she grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“Do you have to go?” you asked, your voice edging on a playful pout.

Alexia turned to you, her lips quirking into a small smile. “Sí, mi amor. I have to.”

You crossed your arms, pretending to be upset. “But what if I miss you too much?”

She tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. That would be a problem.”

“Exactly,” you said, stepping closer to her. “So maybe you should just stay here.”

She laughed softly, her hands coming up to rest on your hips. “And what would my coach say?”

You shrugged, wrapping your arms around her neck. “You could tell them you had a very good reason.”

She leaned in, her forehead resting against yours. “You are impossible, you know that?”

“I try,” you said, grinning.

Alexia sighed dramatically, then kissed you again, her lips lingering on yours. “I will be back before you know it,” she promised.

“You better be,” you mumbled against her lips.

She kissed you once more, slow and sweet, before finally pulling away. “Te amo,” she said softly.

“I love you too,” you replied, your hands dropping reluctantly from her shoulders as she stepped back.

As the door closed behind her, the apartment felt quieter, but the warmth she left behind lingered.

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

#soft alexia putellas #alexia putellas x you #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas x y/n #woso community #woso x reader #woso appreciation #woso imagine #woso one shot

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dissociacrip · 11 months ago

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i saw that one disability-related post a while ago about dental care but i can't find it again so i'm gonna mention a few things as a (mild to moderately) mentally & physically disabled person, whose teeth hurt when i eat sweet stuff now + i've had a root canal due to a fall + i'm learning to take care of myself, that may or may not help other folks with their dental routine

note: i am not a dentist & this info is mostly what i've gleaned secondhand from dentists, so yeah, i am not an expert in any capacity

water flossers aren't as effective as regular flossing (doing both is actually what's most effective) but they're better than nothing & helpful in cases where coordination problems or other issues might prevent regular flossing technique (i imagine this also depends on the quality of the water flosser)

if you use one of the plastic pre-made floss picks things, rinse the string off in-between each time you use it to floss one side of a tooth, it's tedious but it mimics moving to a new (clean) part of the thread like you do with regular floss

if you get an automatic toothbrush, get one that does circular rotation rather than just vibrating or whatever, as this mimics the tools they use in a dentist's office + imitates the circular motion you're expected to make with a standard toothbrush (which is also hard with coordination issues), i got one that does this pretty cheap from walmart (it's an oral-b but i forgot the specific type) + it automatically times it for you

if you have white spots on your teeth that are uneven with the shade of the rest of the tooth those are potentially white spot lesions due to demineralization; whitening products can make this worse rather than help it, but some products can help with remineralization such as mi paste topical tooth creme, which contains calcium and phosphate (i have yet to try this myself but it seems to get suggested by a lot of dentists, orthodontists, etc. for white spots on teeth & it's also supposed to help with sensitivity and tooth health in general because the white spots are lesions so it's not purely cosmetic!)

it's advised to not rinse your mouth immediately after brushing as this potentially dilutes & reduces the effects of the flouride (if you use fluoride toothpaste), stuff says to wait at least 15 minutes or so

just giving your teeth a quick scrub (even if it's without toothpaste and just water) is better than not brushing your teeth at all

if you have trouble seeing a dentist for financial reasons, try to see if there are income-based or charity dental services in your area, sometimes dental schools also provide low-cost/free dental care

that's all i can think of for now, i wish i had more advice for people who struggle to be able to brush their teeth at all in general but this is all i got unfortunately :(

additionally - you're not bad, useless, gross, or a failure if you struggle to (or can't) maintain oral hygiene; this stuff is much easier for some people than it is to others & those who take it for granted like to forget that, no one deserves to be mocked or looked down on for being disabled & struggling to/not being able to do """basic""" stuff like this!

#actually disabled #neurodivergent #actuallyautistic #actuallyadhd #cpunk #j

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its-avalon-08 · 4 months ago

Note

Franco Colapinto, where his girlfriend gets jealous of his interviews, so she does everything to make him jealous in return

uno reverse amor (fc43)

✦ pairing - franco colapinto x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, jealousy, flirting, insecurity, fluff

It had started out innocently enough. Franco had always been friendly and warm, and Y/N knew that his charm was just part of who he was. But ever since he joined the F1 paddock, the charm had evolved into something more… public. Every race weekend, clips of Franco effortlessly flirting with reporters and crew members spread like wildfire, and fans ate it up, dubbing him the new “king of charm.”

Y/N, however, was less amused.

The first incident that had really gotten under her skin happened at the British Grand Prix. Franco was leaning against the car, chatting with a well-known reporter who was giggling at everything he said, twirling her hair as she asked him a question about the upcoming race.

“Oh, it’ll be intense,” he said with a grin, his gaze steady on her. “But, you know, I think it’s all about staying calm, keeping your focus. And enjoying the beautiful company, of course.”

The reporter laughed, blushing as Franco flashed her one of his trademark smiles. Y/N, watching from a few feet away, clenched her fists, biting back a glare. Did he really have to add that last part?

As if that wasn’t enough, the week after, during an interview at the Italian Grand Prix, he was asked a simple question about pre-race routines.

“Oh, I’ve got my little routines,” he said, winking at the interviewer, who had already melted halfway into her chair. “I like to get in the right headspace, maybe listen to some music… unless there’s someone interesting around to keep me company.”

The interviewer let out a flustered laugh, and Y/N’s jaw clenched. Really, Franco? “Someone interesting”? Her fingers itched to reach out and pull him away, but she forced herself to stay calm, her heart pounding with frustration.

Then, a few days later, she caught him doing it again—this time with a team member. He’d stopped mid-stride, turned to face her with that irresistible grin, and said, “You’re really making it hard for me to concentrate on the race with those eyes of yours.”

The team member had laughed, shaking her head, but Y/N was seething. How many times does he have to do this? She could feel herself growing annoyed every time she saw him so much as smirk at anyone else.

One evening after another long day at the track, she finally decided to confront him. They were back in his hotel room, and she paced around while Franco lay sprawled on the bed, oblivious.

"Franco," she began, crossing her arms. "You know… you’ve been getting a lot of attention lately.”

He raised an eyebrow, his face innocent. “Oh? From who?”

“From every journalist, reporter, and team member you’ve been flirting with,” she shot back, her voice laced with exasperation.

He laughed, rolling his eyes. “Amor, you know that’s just how I am. I’m just being friendly.”

“Friendly?” she repeated, scoffing. “You called a reporter ‘beautiful company’ and told a mechanic she had distracting eyes.”

He sat up, holding back a smile. “Are you jealous, mi amor?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “No, I’m annoyed that you’re flirting with every woman in sight, making me look like some jealous girlfriend who has to just… stand back and watch.”

Franco chuckled, getting up and pulling her close. “It’s all harmless, cariño. I only have eyes for you.” He leaned in, trying to soften her with a kiss, but Y/N just rolled her eyes, pushing him away.

“Harmless,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “We’ll see about that.”

time skip

The next day, Y/N was ready. She’d slipped into her best outfit, something just a bit more eye-catching than usual. Every detail was intentional: a hint of perfume he loved, her hair styled to perfection, and a glint in her eye that promised trouble.

Franco, as usual, seemed completely oblivious to the storm brewing beside him as they arrived at the paddock together. He greeted her with a casual arm around her waist, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before turning his attention to his mechanics, his team, and soon enough, the journalists. Y/N watched as he naturally fell into his routine, flashing that same boyish grin, laughing a little too freely, and leaning in just a little too close for her comfort.

This time, though, she didn’t sulk on the sidelines. She had her own plans.

“Hey, Ben!” she greeted one of the mechanics, letting her voice take on an extra warmth as she walked up to him with a bright smile. She didn’t have to try too hard—Ben was easy to talk to and always ready with a laugh. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, crossing her arms in a way that drew his attention.

“I was thinking,” she said, biting her lip thoughtfully, “you need to show me how you work your magic with these cars sometime. I bet it’s way more fun than it looks.”

Ben chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy grin. “Oh, you think so? Maybe I could give you a little behind-the-scenes tour sometime,” he offered, looking flattered.

“Only if you promise I’ll get the full VIP experience,” she replied, letting her fingers brush his arm as she laughed. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Franco’s head snap in their direction, his smile faltering as he caught sight of the interaction. Good. She was only just getting started.

The entire day passed in a blur of subtle flirtations—though maybe ‘subtle’ wasn’t the right word. She’d find reasons to linger a bit too long with various members of the team, sharing inside jokes and laughing louder than necessary. She even struck up a conversation with one of the other drivers, who was only too happy to entertain her with stories from his racing days. Every time, she made sure Franco was close enough to witness.

By the time evening rolled around, they’d all decided to celebrate at a nearby club. The music was loud, the lights dim, and the energy high, and Y/N knew it was the perfect place to turn things up a notch. She danced, her laughter bright and easy as she moved through the crowd, letting her hand graze against an arm here, a shoulder there, leaning in close to speak to anyone she deemed worth her attention.

Across the room, Franco was watching her like a hawk. His jaw was tight, and his eyes narrowed every time he saw her hand linger on someone else’s arm or caught her laughing too closely with another driver. She knew he was trying to keep his composure, but it was clear his patience was wearing thin.

Finally, she was in the middle of a conversation with one of Franco’s competitors, a tall, charming driver with an easy smile and a hand that rested just a little too comfortably on her lower back. The driver leaned in, whispering something that made her laugh, and she let herself rest a hand on his shoulder, her eyes flashing with mischief as she spoke.

Y/N was on a roll, and Franco was coming undone. Every time he thought she’d finally had her fun, she’d find someone else to charm with that same sweet laugh and teasing smile she usually reserved for him. And it was driving him crazy.

They’d only just walked back from the bar when she caught sight of one of the mechanics, a friendly guy named Luca. With a mischievous smile, Y/N waltzed over and struck up a conversation, playfully touching his shoulder as she leaned in to hear him over the music.

Really? Luca? Franco’s fists clenched, his jaw tight. He tried to focus on the drink in his hand, tried to keep his eyes anywhere but on her hand lingering on Luca’s arm. Does she really have to be that close to him? Does she have to laugh like that at whatever he's saying?

Luca was saying something that made her laugh again, and she leaned in, looking up at him with wide eyes and a soft smile that Franco knew all too well. Unbelievable, he thought, resisting the urge to march over and tell Luca that his services were absolutely not needed right now.

But it didn’t end there.

Later on, she’d wandered over to a group of drivers who were deep in conversation about the latest upgrades to their cars. Y/N approached them with that breezy confidence that only she could pull off, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she smiled at one of the drivers, giving him her full attention. He was explaining something technical, and Y/N was nodding intently, her hand resting on her hip as she tilted her head just slightly, the way she did when she was really focused on something.

Franco’s grip on his glass tightened, his knuckles white. That’s not how she usually listens to people, he fumed, watching as she laughed again, this time with a soft touch to the driver’s arm. Oh, come on. She doesn’t even care about car upgrades!

It felt like every glance, every laugh, every gentle touch of her hand was a little dagger aimed straight at his ego. He knew what she was doing, knew she was just trying to rile him up. And damn, it was working.

Then came the final straw. She’d been chatting with a young mechanic, one who’d recently joined the team and was clearly a little awestruck by her. Y/N was leaning close, whispering something that made the mechanic’s face go beet red, and she playfully nudged his shoulder, laughing as if they were sharing some secret joke.

Franco could feel his pulse hammering as he watched. Does she even realize what she’s doing? Or is this her plan all along? He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his cool. She’s supposed to be here with me, not… not making every other guy in the room feel like they’re the most important person here.

When she threw her head back in laughter, touching the mechanic’s forearm with just a little too much familiarity, Franco had had enough. Every inch of him was tense as he fought to keep himself from storming over there, from pulling her aside and making it very clear that she was his. She’s mine, he thought fiercely, barely restraining the urge to intervene. And she’s going to know it by the end of tonight.

The music pulsed through the club, and Y/N was in the middle of another conversation, this time with a driver she barely knew, when she felt a familiar hand wrap around her wrist. Franco’s grip was gentle but firm, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration and something else she hadn’t seen in a long time: pure, unfiltered jealousy.

“Amor,” he said through a tight smile, pulling her closer, his voice thick with intensity. “We’re leaving. Now.”

She blinked, biting back a grin as he guided her through the crowded room, his hand still wrapped around hers as he weaved them toward the exit. Once they were outside, in the cool night air, Franco turned to face her, his jaw set, eyes narrowed. His fingers brushed down her arm before he let go, clearly trying to gather his thoughts.

“Mind telling me what that was all about, mi amorcito?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, though the tension was undeniable. “I spent the entire night watching you laugh with everyone but me. Dios mío, you were flirting with every man in sight.”

She lifted an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, really? And what about you, Franco?” she shot back, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’ve been winking and laughing and charming everyone in the paddock for weeks. I just thought I’d give you a taste of your own medicine.”

His eyes widened in realization, a flush creeping up his neck as he took a step closer, brushing his fingers along her arm again, gentler this time. “Ay, mi vida,” he said softly, his gaze softening, though he still looked frustrated. “It’s just part of the job. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. You should have told me.”

She laughed, but there was an edge to it. “I tried, Franco. But you didn’t even notice. So, I figured maybe you’d pay attention if I reminded you what it feels like.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “You’re right, I wasn’t paying attention. But seeing you like that tonight? Talking to other men like I don’t even exist? It drove me loco, princesa. You know that, right?” His voice softened, filled with a hint of pleading. “No me hagas esto otra vez. I can’t handle it.”

Y/N grinned, but there was warmth in her eyes as she took his hand, squeezing it gently. “Now you know what I feel like, Franco. But… maybe you’re a little cuter when you’re jealous.” She leaned in, brushing a playful kiss on his cheek.

He let out a frustrated groan, pulling her close so their foreheads touched, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her waist. “Mentirosa,” he whispered, half-laughing as his frustration melted into affection. “You know you’re the only one I want, mi corazón.”

The tension between them softened into something familiar, something that was just theirs.

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #logan sargeant #williams #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto x yn #williams f1 #williams racing #williams formula 1

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leahwllmsn · 5 months ago

Text

here, always

alexia putellas x reader

word count: 4.9k

a/n: a bit late but happy halloween :0

Your routine was the same. You would wake up, get ready, and get to work. This time, you woke up with a headache and the claims from your friends that you had been missing for a month.

You woke up with a headache. That was the first thing you noticed. That, and the blaring ray of sunlight from the window. You must've forgotten to close the blinds last night.

When you sat up, the headache became even worse and you squeezed your eyes shut in pain. You placed your feet on the floor and slowly got up. You tried your best to ignore the pounding in your head as you made your way into the kitchen.

Passing by the clock in the living room, you saw that it was half past eight, which is great, because your work starts at eight. On the dot.

You stepped in the kitchen and began to open each drawer, hoping you'd spot the painkillers–you forgot which drawer they were in. You let out a sigh when you finally spot them, taking one and drinking it without the help of water. You knew the relief wouldn’t be instant, but still, you were annoyed when the headache didn't seem to lessen.

You took a deep breath and got ready for work. It was going to be a long day ahead.

—

You got off the train at your stop, walking the route that you knew by heart.

Up the stairs. Turn left. Right. Pass a coffee shop.

Left. Go straight. Pass by a florist—

A florist.

The smell of the fresh flowers made your heart skip a beat, because it reminded you of Alexia. The colourful array of flowers made you think of her and her gorgeous smile. You decided to get her flowers. You knew how happy it made her every time.

You bought a bouquet of roses. Simple, but it was perfect for Alexia. She had always talked about how if she were to be a flower, she'd be roses, and you wholeheartedly agree. Alexia had grace and joy like pink roses. Her passion in everything she did: orange roses. And despite being so passionate, she had an innocence to her that made her seem oh so sweet–white roses. Lastly, red roses, to represent your love for her.

You smiled to yourself, one hand holding Alexia's flowers, and the other in your pocket. You had a feeling it was going to be a good day.

—

You opened the door to an empty office. There were four desks and two doors, one that led to the head physio’s office and the other that went to the pantry.

As you put your bag on your desk, you heard laughter from behind the door. Your colleagues must be having breakfast.

You walked to the pantry and you were met with some of your friends. However, their reaction wasn't the usual. They stopped whatever they were doing, hands midair, mouth agape. They looked ...confused? Shocked, even. It was like they were seeing a ghost. Even Alexia wasn’t giving you her usual ear-splitting grin at the sight of you. You weren't sure why.

"Hi, Ale, these are for you." You gave her the bouquet of roses you bought earlier.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she got up, slowly outstretching her hands and taking the flowers. "Y/N..." she whispered. "These are lovely. Thank you."

You smiled, satisfied. Anything for Alexia. You could sense that she was about to say something else, so you stayed silent, waiting for her to go on.

"Mi amor…" she started. It seemed like she had trouble expressing what she wanted to say.

Ingrid seemed to sense the same thing, as she went up and stood next to Alexia. She then said something unfathomable, you thought you heard wrong. "You've been gone for a month."

"What?"

"We didn't know where you were." Alexia spoke up, softly as if she was scared that if she spoke too loud, it might make you disappear again. Which was insane, because you hadn’t gone anywhere.

You had been right here all along. Right?

"No... that doesn't make sense. I was with you just last night, Ale."

Alexia opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. She was at a loss for words. So were you.

Ingrid cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brows. "What date was it yesterday? Do you remember?"

"October 31."

"Well," Mapi joined in on the conversation, scratching her head. "You're right, but you weren't here, Y/N."

You gaped at her, "What do you mean I wasn't here? I was. Right, Alexia? Tell her."

But Alexia just stood there, not saying anything.

"Baby, please." you pleaded.

You looked at them and they were looking wistfully at you, as if you really had gone missing and this was the first time they were seeing you in a month. But that didn’t make sense.

"Amor," Alexia walked closer to you, touching your forearms. Her touch was so light and soft, always the same as you remembered. "I wasn't with you last night."

"When was the last time you saw me?" You directed your question at your friends.

"One month ago," Ingrid answered.

"That's not possible." It really wasn't. "I... I have no memory of going anywhere for a month."

"We were really worried," Alexia sighed, walking closer to you. You knew for a fact that you hadn't disappeared, but why do you have this feeling of… of longing and yearning for her deep in your heart?

"We searched everywhere," Mapi continued. "We couldn't find you."

"I've been right here all along! I don't know what else to tell you guys." You couldn't believe them. It was hard to accept the fact that you disappeared, because you didn't.

"What was the last thing you remembered?"

You looked at her, your sweet Alexia. Alexia whose existence brought so much warmth to your life. You wouldn't know what to do if the roles were reversed and she was the one who ‘disappeared’. You didn't think you could take it.

"I had dinner with you, at that Italian place you liked," you answered, taking her hand in yours and holding it tightly. "You dropped me off at home because you were going to stay with Alba for the night... I received a text goodnight from you, then I replied and went to bed."

Alexia gave a grim smile, "That was a month ago, amor. And you didn't text me back."

"No... no that was last night." You were getting incredibly frustrated.

Mapi seemed to notice your frustration as she cleared her throat, "I think we should leave Y/N so she can process all this."

What? I didn't think I wanted to be alone at a time like this.

They all nodded and were about to leave the room when I grabbed Alexia's arm, "Can you stay with me?"

Alexia smiled, "Of course."

Ingrid and Mapi gave you a reassuring smile and went to leave the room. Then, it was just you and Alexia. She grabbed your hand and you sat down, your hands interlocking perfectly on the table.

"My love," she started. "I know this is hard, but you have to learn to accept things."

You raised your eyebrow at her, "What do you mean? I don’t get it, Ale. My head’s been killing me all morning."

She shrugged. "Just... trust us."

"I don't understand. Is this about my disappearance?"

She smiled… almost sadly? "In a way."

"So I really did disappear?"

She nodded. "You did."

"Where did I go?"

She looked at me and chuckled, "I think you should be asking yourself this question, not me."

You were still confused about this whole thing. It was like your world had turned upside down. "But... how? Why?"

She shrugged again, "I wish I knew. We spent a long time searching for you. You were gone."

Were you experiencing a severe memory loss? Was that it? Was that the reason you couldn't remember anything?

You doubted it, though. You remember what date it was yesterday, and you weren’t in the hospital. Everything was normal.

Everything seemed normal... Until this talk with Alexia. Something was up. Her words were vague... as if it had a hidden meaning. You didn't like it.

As you were about to tell Alexia that none of this felt real, you saw something outside the window. It was... a bird? A black bird. You didn't think it meant anything, even though it felt odd to you.

You let out a big sigh. This wasn't how you imagined your day to go at all. You didn't have the energy to do anything else, but you needed to look for clues as to why this whole thing was happening.

So you got up and left for your desk. Everything seemed normal.

Just like how it was yesterday. Not one month ago.

You sighed, it still didn't make sense. You looked around the room, your co-workers were on their respective desks, typing away on their computers.

Weird.

They hadn’t mentioned anything to you. It was as if your disappearance wasn't a big deal. Shouldn't it be a big deal if your colleague went missing?

"Hey," you whispered to the girl sitting next to you. Surprisingly, it was Ingrid. Why was she even on the computer? "What are you doing?"

Ingrid turned her head towards you, "I'm doing the weekly report."

You scratched your head. “Why aren’t you on the field? You’re not a physio, you shouldn’t be here.”

Ingrid simply shrugged and the confusion must be written across your face because she scooted her chair to be closer to you. "Is everything ok?"

"I don't know, I feel weird,” you decided to be honest. "Like something is off."

And even though Ingrid was smiling, her face looked sad. Why was the atmosphere so sorrowful somehow?

"Well... Maybe you should figure it out."

"Figure what?"

"Figure it out," Ingrid replied like it was obvious. "I know you remember."

"I don't."

"You do. Think, Y/N."

You were about to question her further when your hand brushed the mouse of your computer, causing your computer to light up. The background was a picture of you and Alexia. You realised it was taken at that Italian restaurant that night. Yesterday. Or, one month ago?

As you squinted at the picture, you saw that you had a ring on your left hand—

Wait.

A ring. Alexia gave you that ring.

You looked at your hand now and the ring wasn't there.

A ring... You had that because…

Oh my God.

You stood up suddenly, because you realised that Alexia proposed to you that night. And you said yes. You did. Then you took this picture.

But where was your ring now?

"I'm gonna head home for a bit."

Everyone lifted their heads up and looked at you questioningly. Alexia spoke up, you didn’t even realise she was still in the room. "Are you okay, amor?"

You smiled, walked over to her side and kissed her cheek. "Yeah, I just need to look for something."

"Okay, we'll see you later then."

"See you."

And with that you left.

–

Once you opened the door to your apartment, you stood for a good minute, trying to take it all in. You looked around, attempting to see if something was different. You didn't notice it at first, but the couch in your living room was blue. Blue. You would never choose that colour for a couch. That was weird.

You sat down and faced the TV. The couch was the same as it had always been, just a different colour. You didn't know what was going on but you swore the couch wasn’t blue yesterday.

You turned to the left, where a small table resided beside the couch. It had a framed picture of Alexia that you took one summer. That was the same.

You got up, going forward to the TV and looked around the shelves. Everything was the same. It was all the same—

Until you saw it.

You caught a glimpse of something colourful on the kitchen island. It was a vase full of flowers. They were definitely not there this morning. Did someone break into your home? That seemed to be a plausible explanation. But with the way your day was going, anything seemed possible.

You looked at the flowers and there was a note attached to it.

Y/N,

We're always here for you. Please don't forget.

- Ingrid & Mapi

That was... odd.

There was no way they sent that this morning? They did have the keys to your apartment... but they were at the training grounds this morning with you. There was no way they gave the keys to the delivery guy.

You thought about calling Ingrid or Mapi to ask about the flowers, but you decided against it. You should focus on your task in finding your engagement ring.

You left the kitchen and went to your bedroom.

Everything was still the same there. Your bed was in the middle of the room, with a nightstand next to it that had a lamp and framed picture of you and Alexia.

You opened the drawer of your nightstand but there was nothing except for a pink post-it.

hi :-)

I love you

meet me at our usual Italian place at 6?

It was scribbled in Alexia’s neat handwriting. Your heart swelled remembering she left you this note along with fresh lilies–your favourite flowers.

Yesterday.

Or was it a month ago? You didn’t know if you should trust your memory or your friends’.

You decided to go look in the walk-in closet. You walked inside and looked around, deciding to go to the left side, searching through your jewellery drawer. If anything, a ring should be there right?

But all you found were a bunch of rings you collected over time, not the ring Alexia proposed to you with.

You turned to the opposite side and you saw the section that was usually filled with Alexia’s hoodies was empty. This wasn’t possible, because it wasn’t like this yesterday.

Before Alexia moved in, she would usually spend a night or two and she would leave behind a hoodie. She did that often enough that you could fill up a space in the closet just for her hoodies. When she moved in, she didn’t have any hoodies left from her place because it was already all at your apartment.

But none of them were here anymore.

Suddenly, a shiver went up your spine and an odd feeling settled at the pit of your stomach. It was as if… you could remember why that rack was empty now… but it was like your brain didn’t want you to remember and you ended up with a blank memory.

You tried to shrug it off, but it was futile. The feeling stayed there, making you uncomfortable even in your own home. You decided to call Alexia. Talking to her always made you feel better.

As always, she picked up on the first ring. “Hola, amor.”

“Hi, Ale.”

“Are you okay?”

“Well, considering all the things that have happened so far and it’s not even noon, not really.”

“I’m sorry, I know this must be confusing for you.”

“But I feel better now that I get to hear your voice.”

“Always the charming one, aren’t you?”

“It’s a fact. Even with all this nonsense that’s happening, I still have you, so I’m all good.”

“About that…”

“What?”

“I love you, amor. I always will. I want you to know that.”

“I do. Of course I do know that, Ale.”

“Even if I’m not here, I still want you to be okay.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hypothetically speaking.”

“Was it really?”

“Why did you call me again?”

“Are you changing the subject?”

“No...”

“Don’t change the subject. What did you mean by that?”

“Y/N…”

“Everyone has been speaking as if their words contain a double meaning and it’s frustrating. Just tell me the truth.”

“About what?”

“About this whole thing! I don’t know what else to do, Alexia. I tried looking for my engagement ring but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Just tell me what you know about why this is happening to me… Why is there a one month gap in my memory?”

“I’m not here.”

“What?”

“I’m not here, Y/N.”

“Alexia, what the hell are you talking about?”

“That night, the 31st of October. It really was one month ago. It wasn’t yesterday.”

“Are you saying I have amnesia?”

“No. I’m saying that you have to remember.”

“I can’t! God, if I could, I wouldn’t be stressed out like this!”

“I’ll help you. What time did we meet?”

“Six.”

“See, you remember.”

“Ale, I don’t see your point here. Of course I remember that night. It was yesterday.”

“Bear with me. What did we eat that night?”

“Italian.”

“Yup. We shared a pan of pizza—the one with pepperoni, my favourite.”

“I know.”

“What did I do that night?”

“Seriously? I don’t know why you’re asking all this.”

“I told you, to help you remember. This is the last one, I promise. What did I do that night?”

“You proposed.”

“I did. …It was the happiest moment of my life, you know? You, saying yes. I was nervous the whole night and I had this whole speech planned. Then you came and you looked so, so beautiful. Mi vida. You’d think that with all the years we spent together, I’d get used to how stunning you are.”

“Alexia…”

“I think I’ve always known that you would say yes if I proposed. You were never really subtle with your hints. But still, I was nervous. God, I felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. When it was time to do it, the speech that I had been rehearsing in my head? It just flew out of the window. I was a stuttering mess and my words were all over the place. Yet, you still said yes.”

“Of course I did. I love you, Ale.”

“And I love you too. Always. You chose to be with me for the rest of my life, but things never turn out the way we want them to be, huh?”

“Alexia… You’re scaring me.”

“You’re going to remember now, and when you do, make the choice that you think is right, okay? I can’t make that choice for you, you have to decide on your own. Whatever it is that you’re going to choose, just know that I’ll always be there for you.”

—

31 October 2023

19:58

“Y/N L/N,” Alexia held your hand on the table, staring into your eyes. “I want to spend forever with you.”

Wait. Was she…?

“I can’t remember my speech,” she gave a nervous laugh. “It was a good one, I swear. But I guess I have to improvise now.”

You looked at her expectantly, your heart racing at the possibility of what she was about to do.

“You’re my soulmate, Y/N. I don’t… I don’t want anyone else but you. You’re it for me. You make me laugh, you make me cry sometimes,” she gave a lighthearted laugh and you rolled your eyes at her, a tear escaping to your cheek. “You make me so happy. I’m so crazy for you.”

She squeezed your hand and reached into the pocket of her blazer. She pulled out a black box and you gasped.

Oh my god.

She opened up the box and it revealed a ring inside. The ring was simple, just how you liked it. It was a silver band and a round diamond was placed on the centre.

You looked at her, back at the ring, and back at her—not quite believing it yet.

“Y/N,” Alexia continued. “I-I promise to love you with everything in me until my dying breath. I will love you the way you deserve to be loved—fearlessly, passionately and gently all at once.”

“Alexia…” you looked at her, tears freely falling down your face now. “If this is you improvising, I don’t know if I can handle your actual speech.”

She laughed and gave you a bashful smile. “Will you marry me? I’m proposing, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

You smiled at her, a huge ear-splitting grin. “Of course I will, Alexia. You’re the love of my life.”

Alexia looked at you with wide eyes, as if she was still trying to process your words.

“Aren’t you supposed to put the finger on my ring now?”

Alexia wiped a tear that escaped her eye and laughed. “Yeah. Yeah. I just—you really… You said ‘yes’ right?”

You leaned forward and captured her lips in yours. “I did, you dummy. It will always be ‘yes’.”

—

ale: I love you

y/n: I love you too, so much

y/n: drive safe, okay? text me when you get there

ale: will do

—

“It never came.”

“You remember now?”

“Your text… it never came. I spent hours waiting for your text, and I was dumb enough to just sit there and do nothing, when I knew it would only take you ten minutes to get to Alba’s.”

“It’s not your fault. It never was.”

“But… but you’re here. On the phone with me. I can hear your voice, Alexia.”

“I’m here, but I’m not really here.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You can either stay here with me or leave. That’s the choice you have to make.”

“I don’t understand… What do you mean?”

“Just two simple choices, baby. Stay here with me or leave.”

“If I leave here, where would I go?”

“You know the answer to that. You’re smart.”

…

“So what’s your choice?”

“…I’m staying.”

“You’re staying?”

“I am. I’ll go wherever you are, Alexia, you know that.”

“I know… but I thought that…”

“I know you said that you’ll always be there for me for whichever choice I make, but why do I have a feeling that won’t be the case if I choose to leave?”

“Well, I could mean it in a metaphorical sense.”

“I don’t want metaphors, I want you. Always. I thought you knew that when you proposed to me.”

“Mi amor… I love you.”

“And I love you. Why does it seem like you don’t want me to stay?”

“Because… I know that it’s not the best choice for you.”

“I know what’s best for me. And that’s to stay. It’s final, I’m staying.”

“Okay. Meet me at our usual spot in the park in 20 minutes?”

“I’ll be there.”

—

1 November 2024

21:47

“Babe? Visiting hour is almost over.”

Ingrid turns to the source of the voice and sees her fiancé standing at the doorway. She nods and gives a melancholic smile. “We do this all the time, but it never gets easier. Why is that? Leaving her here, I mean.”

Mapi gulps and takes a step forward to Ingrid and to… you.

“I don’t want to leave her here, María.” Ingrid sighs.

Once Mapi is at the foot of the bed, she braces herself and looks up—towards the girl occupying the bed.

Mapi has always stared at anything but you. It’s been a year since that night, since everything fell apart, and Mapi misses you a lot.

You’re staring back at her, but she knows that you’re not seeing her.

That’s mostly why she hates looking at you. You, sick, pale-faced, and all alone in this hospital bed. Just a reminder that you’re not here with her anymore.

Because although you’re still here physically, every time Mapi stares into your eyes, it just shows that your mind is not—your blank stare confirming that you’re no longer emotionally present.

Mapi tears her eyes away from you and blinks back her tears. Ingrid’s right, it never gets easier.

Mapi clears her throat. “We should go.”

Ingrid looks at Mapi sympathetically. She knows how tough it is to lose not one, but two of their closest friends all in a snap.

Ingrid turns to you and stands up. She leans forward and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’re going to go now, okay love?”

As always, there’s no answer.

“We’ll be back next month, don’t worry.”

Ingrid gulps and tries her hardest to not let out a cry right then and there, but the shakiness in her voice betrayed her. “We hope you’re better the next time we see you… Mapi and I are getting married soon, I just want you there next to us.”

“Ingrid…” Mapi walks over and stands next to Ingrid, squeezing her hand.

Ingrid wipes a tear that manages to escape. “I’m fine. And Y/N will be fine too.”

“She will.” Mapi whispers, looking at you, her voice wavering slightly. Mapi doesn’t know whether to believe her own words or not.

Mapi takes your hand with her free one and squeezes it, silently hoping that you can feel her touch, wherever you are, and that you can hear Mapi's silent plea for you to come back to reality.

Ingrid leans down and kisses your forehead. “Sleep tight, Y/N. We miss you so much.”

Ingrid steps back to give Mapi a chance to say her goodbyes.

Mapi holds the railing on the side of the bed and squats down so she is speaking directly to your ears. “Y/N… I know how much you love her, and I can’t imagine how painful it is that she’s not here anymore, but you have to come back to us. You have to…” Mapi trails off, her chest heaving with unshed sobs.

Ingrid places her hands on Mapi’s shoulder, slowly bringing her up. “Hey, come here,” Ingrid whispers, wrapping her fiancé in her embrace. “We’ll try again next month.”

Mapi sighs against Ingrid’s shoulder. “I know it must be tough, losing the love of your life—I don’t even want to imagine losing you,” Mapi leans back and takes another deep breath. “But it’s been too long. Where is she? I just want our friend back.”

Ingrid smiles regretfully. “We can’t force her to snap out of it if she doesn’t want to, my love.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We’ll be patient and wait for her here.”

“What if she won’t…” Mapi whispers, as if she’s afraid to speak those words. “What if she won't come back?”

“Then we let her go,” Ingrid places both her hands on Mapi’s cheeks, caressing them softly. “If that’s her choice, then we have to respect it.”

Mapi nods slowly. “I know. I just don’t know why that’s the choice she’s making.”

Ingrid shrugs. “Maybe she sees Alexia, wherever she is.”

“You think so?”

“Who knows?” Ingrid questions back.

Mapi lifts her hands up and places them over Ingrid’s. “I hope she’s happy then.”

“If Alexia is there, she’ll be happy.” Ingrid smiles wistfully. She turns her hands around, intertwining them with Mapi’s. “C’mon, let’s go. Don’t want to miss our flight.”

Mapi lets Ingrid drag her out of the room. She pauses just at the doorway and turns around to look at you one more time. You have your eyes closed now and Mapi can swear that she sees a faint smile gracing your lips.

Mapi can’t help but smile back. Maybe you’re with Alexia after all.

—

You arrived at the park exactly 20 minutes after your phone call with Alexia. She was there, at your bench, looking out at the lake.

You walked towards her and sat down, your shoulders brushing.

“You stayed.” Alexia stated.

You looked at her. Your beautiful Alexia. Her eyebrows were furrowed slightly, her lips pursed. “I did.”

She sighed and turned to look at you, staring at you with those eyes. “You have to be the one who decides, not me.”

You looked at her questioningly.

She turned back towards the lake. “There’s nothing I can do.”

You were confused. “Are you not happy with my decision?”

“I’m always happy to be with you, amor. You’re the love of my life.”

“Then?”

“You can’t blame me for being sad too, because of what the implications of you being here means.”

What was she even talking about?

Before you got the chance to ask, Alexia continued, “Let’s enjoy this moment,” she grabbed your hand in hers, stroking it softly. “It may be selfish of me, but I’m glad I get to spend another day with you.”

“What?” you still couldn't understand her. Alexia was being so vague. “I’m here, of course you get to spend the day with me. We have tomorrow, too. And the day after that. And so on. Until forever.”

“Sure, baby.” She smiled, although still not looking at me. “Until forever.”

You smiled back at her and placed a soft peck on her cheek, laying your head on her shoulder as you stared into the lake with her. It was a nice day, the sun was shining, although not too brightly—just perfect. The wind was a light breeze and you scooted closer to Alexia every time it blew.

“I love you, Ale.” you whispered. You really did and you wanted her to know it. If you could let her know every second of every day, you would.

The reply didn’t come in an instant, but it eventually did. “I love you, too.” You could feel her placing a kiss on the top of your head. “And it’s only because I love you that I hope you choose differently next time.”

—

a/n: let me know your thoughts!👻

#woso community #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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