erinfern0

[erinfern0]

Pt.2 of touch repulsed!simon riley x touch!starved reader 18+ Very angsty, emotionally unavailable and kinda toxic Simon, reader gets a bit jealous of the easy comfort Simon has with the 141. this is the part where reader realises she deserves better thank god.

Pt. 1

Simon does not like to be touched, so you try not to. You really try not to, you swear but there's hardly enough room in this cramped booth to even breathe let alone put more than an inch of space between his thigh and yours.

You don’t like this place, it’s noisy with raucous laughter and the dim lighting is making your head spin more than the alcohol is— but Simon wanted you to meet his mates from the army, finally, so here you are, squeezed between the sticky table and Simon’s hulking body in a dingy pub. He’s got his arm curled almost casually around your shoulders, as if it’s a tender touch he hands out often enough that it’s carved into his second nature, like it’s something he does regularly.

And it makes that starving cavernous hole tucked away in the beating folds of your heart sing with delight as you soak up the warmth of his body seeping into yours and the casual intimacy of it. It makes your mind trip up on your threads of thought, pulled in opposite directions between preening under the precious touch Simon gives you while you still have it in your grasp and wondering when he’ll inevitably pull away.

When will he retreat, taking his steady warmth away, leaving you shivering until the next time (if there ever will be one)? 

It’s jarring, and you’re dizzy with the whiplash between hot and cold. You chance a glance up at your lover’s face just as Simon’s Scottish friend cracks a joke; you’re searching for an anchor to steady you, but what you see only serves to knock you even further off kilter.

A smile, a god honest fucking smile graces Simon Riley’s handsome, scarred face.

It’s not a big smile, it’s just barely more than an amused smirk but it makes you freeze up all the same because only god knows how hard you try to bring that smile out yourself to no avail. 

The last time Simon smiled at you, it was in the reflection of the mirror as his hips snapped against yours over and over wetly, enjoying the sight of tears streaking down your face and dipping between your parted lips as he punched the breath out of you in sharp pants. He had almost looked proud as your combined slick slipped down your thigh.

You want to vomit.

There’s something bitter brewing in the pit of your stomach as you squint at Simon’s friend, the one who just made Simon smile, and you can’t help but let your stare fall to your lap, gaze burning as your boyfriend claps the Scotsman on the shoulder fondly. That fondness, that camaraderie that you know can only be forged on the battlefield, that easy banter back and forth—

It burns and it hurts— and if you don’t get out of here this fucking second— it’s going to be the death of you. 

What am I doing wrong? You want to scream, tell me how to fix this, please. 

You want to beg, but all you do is stand abruptly, Simon’s arm slips from your shoulders and the conversation around the table falls away in an instant at your unexpected movement. 

“I’m going home,” you say, voice wobbling only slightly. 

“So soon, lass? Somethin’ wrong?” asks the Scottish guy with the stupid fucking haircut. He sounds horribly sincere, you feel like throttling him for some reason. That ugly, acrid part of your flares hotly and you just about manage to keep your inside thoughts on the fucking inside. 

Simon only raises an eyebrow inquiringly at you, his long fingers tapping almost impatiently against his glass, and time seems to stretch infinitely until he settles with, “Alrigh’, ‘ll see you at yours tomorrow, love.”

It starts as a furious scream in your mind. Don’t call me that. Fuck you— don’t fucking call me love and then leave me by myself. It morphs into desperate begging. Please don't do this, don't let me walk out that door by myself, Simon, because if I do I'm never coming back.

He doesn't move. Blinking rapidly, you slip your scarf on and slip your bag onto your shoulder, sparing just a glance back as the door of the pub swings shut behind you to see if maybe, just maybe Simon will follow you.

He doesn’t, and that hurts more than you can admit. You begin the trek to the bus stop. Almost a year of knowing Simon Riley, almost all of that time spent sharing his bed but not his heart, almost giving all of yourself to a man who was never all there in the first place. 

All that time and vulnerability, gone within the 30 seconds it takes to type out one text:

Simon, I can’t do this anymore. I’m putting your things in boxes, you can come get them tomorrow morning, they'll be in the hall outside my front door. Don’t call. Don’t text.

A/N: this is the climax of the angst, just grovelling for the foreseeable future now. I will be having some of Simon's POV next part.

Please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed from the taglist.

Taglist: @succulambb , @simonghostrileysbalaclava, @lahniii

[erinfern0]

He loves your pudgy stomach | insecure!reader, smut, manhandling,

Loves how it pokes out when your full, or when you wear a tight top, loves holding it in hands, brushing his fingers against the curves when your sat in his lap or when he rubs your thighs, how it squishes when he folds you in half in bed, loves how if he presses your tummy he’ll feel his cock— he fucking adores it.

You on the other hand— not so much.

Maybe it was strange, but you’ve always had a stomach, a little extra weight. And you tried to work it off but it just stuck with you. And then he kept touching at, poking and probing it— that aching feeling that maybe you weren’t enough— or that you were too much— grew and grew.

So you’d decided to take some time apart. Try to work “your problem” out on your own. Eat smaller portions, workout more, and when He did see you, you were in baggier clothes, distancing yourself away from his touch. You were still cute with your sweater paws but he’s not new to your hesitation. How you look when your delicate brain overworks itself. If he doesn’t say anything, you’ll hole yourself up and the problem tighter than a pickle jar.

And then he sees it, that frustrated and pouty look on your face just as you pass by the mirror while you’re at your dresser— And that’s all it takes.

Your boyfriend, who witnessed the scene from the living room of your apartment, came to your room, leaning on the door frame. “You keep makin that face mama, what’s wrong?”

You shrug, hiding yourself into the comforters, “Nothin, just tired is all.”

He nods, internally rolling his eyes, but he comes next to you, laying down on the bed and cocks his head. “Too tired for me to hold you?”

You shake your head sheepishly, you can’t help but let him take you in your arms, because that’s where you feel the most comfortable. Well you did, but now? You weren’t too sure.

His squeezed you tightly, just to make you squeal a little bit, then his head went to the crook of your neck, pecking right here before nuzzling in. His sweet baby. He loved you to pieces, couldnt understand the random need to hide yourself. And his hands unconsciously went to your fupa making you jerk away.

“Sorry,” you gave him a weak smile, before you can pull away, he is pulled you closer by the waist.

“What’s up with that, what’s wrong? Been makin that face every time I see you. And now you don’t even let me touch you.” He pauses for a moment, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. And sighs, if he has to act to get the truth out of you, so be it— he fains frown, “You hate me?”

You almost leap out of your skin, eyes widening, “I-I don’t hate you! I could never hate you! Just-just—“

You want to hide your face, but your boyfriend keeping you still in his arms, his eyes looking at you dead on.

“Doesn’t- doesn’t it make you uncomfortable?” You mumbled.

“It?” His eyebrow raises.

You take a deep breath, “My stomach. It’s weird isn’t it? I’ve been trying to get rid of it, you- you keep touching it and I’m sure it’s not the best thing to look at—“

“—Christ baby slow down.” He cuts off the near incoherent rambling, lifting your chin with his fingers.

“Who said I hated it? I love your cute stomach baby. Love all the curves on you. Know I need someone with some weight on ‘em don’t you sweetheart?”

“But-“

“—No buts gorgeous.” He pecks your lips once, again for good measure. “Gotta love you and your pretty tummy huh?”

Well he wasn’t sure he could get you to love it in one go, but he’d show you just how much he loved that pretty stomach of yours— by putting you into the mattress.

His Your sweatshirt was snatched off your body, his lips immediately trailing down your body, a kiss directly to your stomach. Licking and kissing at it a few time before pulling your shorts down.

He fucks your sloppy heat sideways, ramming in every inch into while admiring your pretty face get all screwed up in pleasure. Your leg hiked up over his forearm. You can’t help the moans and mewls that escape you, he dragging his large veiny cock out and slamming it back in your gummy walls.

“You have to look gorgeous, shit- look how pretty you are- hah- takin me in your pretty cunt,” he huffs, slightly groaning at the warm feel of you.

“Mmmmphf, fuc- noo” you keen, the moon of your nails digging into at his toned arms making him hiss.

“No?” And he pouts. Fucking pouts. “No you’re not pretty or no your cunts no pretty? Both- shi- would be a fuckin lie. And you know I hate lies baby.”

The man lifts you like it’s nothing, folds you like a lawn chair with both your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Shit- anngh- baby m’ not- hicc- I’m not heavy?” You pout between a moan. And he only takes the beautiful fat of your ass in both his hands, raising you up and jackhammering up into you like he despises you. The loud ‘plap, plap, plap’ of your slippery juices, wetting his pubic hairs down to his balls.

He sucks and nibbles your neck that makes you shake and cry out, “Never- fuckin- heavy doll, so damn perfect, jesus-“ he groans with every thrust.

“Where’s your boyfriend sweet girl, hm?”

You hiccup, eyes rolling to the back of your head, drool slowly coming out of your mouth from how good you feel, but he grips your hair, making you looking down at your stomach. “Come on baby, gotta show me where your man is.”

It ripples with every movement, squishing every time he slams you down on his length but you can’t help but gasp, feeling at the fat of your stomach to you press riiiight at his twitching tip that’s bruising your womb. “Aww- hnngh- R-right there! shit- Right there!” You whimper.

“Thaaat’s right gorgeous, not gonna be aaanywhere else.” He purrs. And it’s euphoria while he gets you there, how you whine that he’s too big and how good you feel with him hitting your spongy g-spot. You suddenly clamp down around his cock, clenching around his pulsing cock as you shatter around him.

He brushes your curls out of your face as you try to catch your breath, condescendingly cooing, “Don’t pass out on me now, sweetheart. I haven’t cum yet.”

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ Toji, Simon, Gojo, Smoke, Stack, Joel, Gaz, Nanami, Sukuna, Soap, John.

a/n: someone requested plus size reader getting fucked a slut, this has been sitting since may so I just finished it. Me tagging my usual crew😭😭

most recent

[erinfern0]

The Weight of saying it

Probably will hate Mr. Riley himself after this but HEY.. me personally I would've fucked him up

You can feel it before he even opens his mouth. That something-isn’t-right feeling. That cold, heavy pressure in your chest. Like the air’s gone stale. Like the earth’s tilting and no one told you to brace yourself.

He’s standing in the doorway, hands clenched at his sides. Boots still on. Jacket unzipped. Like he couldn’t decide if he was coming or going, just ended up here out of instinct.

Your place. Yours. The only place he’s ever been able to breathe.

“Hey,” you say, voice tentative, because he hasn’t looked at you yet. “Everything alright?”

His jaw ticks. Just once. He finally lifts his head. Looks at you. And that’s when it sinks in. No, it’s not alright. Matter of fact, everything is far from alright.

You sit up straighter on the couch. The TV still flickers behind you, some movie you stopped paying attention to ages ago. The whiskey glass in your hand suddenly feels too warm. Too small. Placed aside subconsciously. 

And then he says your name. Soft. Brittle. Like it’s the first time it’s hurt him to say it.

“I need you to let me say this before you say anything back.”

You freeze, just accepting this would be the kind of confession that might shatter whatever world still exists between you.

“I’ve fucked up before,” he starts, voice low, cracking just slightly. “I’ve made bad calls. Hurt people. Lost people. But this—”

He drags a hand down his face. Rubs at his eyes like he’s trying to scrub them clean of the last twenty-four hours. Of the weight he’s carried into your home.

“This is different.”

“There’s someone else,” he says.

You stare at him. You stand up, your body moving faster than your mind ever did. You just step back, and stare at the man in front of you, hoping he doesn't say the words you thought you’d never hear.

The syllables echo. Empty. Hollow. Until they start to land—sharp, jagged pieces breaking open inside your chest.

He sees it. Hears the sharp breath you take, the soundless recoil. But he powers through it, like a man walking into the fire he lit himself.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me. I need you to know that first.”

“It was one time. One night. After a deployment. We weren’t... We weren’t good then. I thought—” He cuts himself off. “No excuses. Just the truth.”

You blink, slow. Your body’s trying to catch up with your mind. But your mind is... blank. Like your brain short-circuited and your heart got left to bleed out on the carpet. You breathe in and press your hands to your thighs like grounding will stop the shaking.

It doesn’t.

He finally meets your eyes. And his voice gets even quieter. “She’s pregnant.”

Silence. That’s all there is. Thick and awful and final.

You feel heat rise to your face. Not anger. Not yet. It’s just humiliation.

Because you didn’t see this coming. Because you let yourself believe he was yours. Because somewhere deep down, you believed that what you had was... solid. Sacred.

“She told me last week,” he says. “I needed to be sure before I came to you. Got the test. It’s real. I’m gonna be a father.”

You tilt your head down and laugh. Disbelief. A sharp, empty exhale that surprises even you. But nothing’s funny. It’s shock.

The tears don’t come right away. They just build like pressure, like static. Like grief. Grief for something that hasn’t even ended yet, but already feels dead.

“I didn’t love her. I don’t love her. I’ve only ever—” He steps forward. “It’s always been you.”

And when you finally speak, your voice isn’t cruel. It isn’t screaming. It’s quiet. Hollow. You look at him, theres nothing behind your eyes, he’s not used to it. Never seen it before. Like he just blew the fuse holding you together.

“Why are you here?”

His eyes widen. “Because I—”

“No,” you cut in. “Why are you here, Simon?”

He finally kneels in front of you. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that you can see the rawness in his eyes. The pain. The regret. The shame.

You look at him now—really look. His face, the lines in it, the panic behind his eyes. You’ve never seen him like this. And somehow, it makes it worse.

“Are you here because you love me?” you ask, voice tight. “Or because you’re scared of what loving her would mean?”

He shakes his head, fast, like denial alone could fix this.

“There is no her,” he says. “There never was.”

“Except now there is,” you snap, and your voice finally breaks. “Because you made sure of that.”

He goes silent.

And you hate how much he still looks at you like you’re something he wants to protect.

“This isn’t about my career. Or my past. It’s about us,” he says.

“Do you know what it’s like,” you say, the tears finally slipping free, “to stand here and feel second to something that should’ve never happened?”

“I’m man enough to own this, but I’m beggin’ you—don’t walk away without hearin’ me say it one more time. I love you.”

“I waited for you,” you whisper. “I chose you. Again and again, even when you were hard to love, even when you disappeared into yourself and left me wondering if I was enough.”

“You are enough,” he says, voice breaking.

You shake your head. “Not if I have to compete with a fucking baby, Simon. Are you even hearing yourself?”

He swallows hard. Looks down at his hands—those same hands that held you, protected you, pulled you out of every fight like you were something sacred.

Now they just tremble.

The silence that falls is different now. It’s loud. Thundering. Your voice drops to a near-whisper.

“I would’ve taken anything from you, Simon. Anything. Pain. Distance. Even heartbreak. But not this.”

You don’t realize you’re moving until your legs carry you. He doesn’t follow.

Good. Because if he touches you now, you don’t know what you’ll do.

“You broke something,” you say, arms wrapped tight around yourself like you’re holding your ribs together. “And I don’t think you even understand how deep that goes.” You feel physically sick.

He opens his mouth.

“No,” you say quickly, backing up a step. “Don’t. Not right now.”

He’s still kneeling, still watching you like he’s waiting to be punished.

And that makes you ache in some twisted, wrong way, because you can see how sorry he is.

But sorry doesn’t put your heart back together.

Sorry doesn’t unmake a child.

Sorry doesn’t mean he’s not hers now too.

You walk past him. Not fast. Not loud. Just... done.

You pause near the hallway, hand resting on the wall to steady yourself. Your chest rises and falls with the effort of holding it together.

“You need to go,” you say softly.

He still doesn’t move.

“Please, Simon.”

It’s the “please” that does it. The crack in your voice. The finality.

He rises slowly, like gravity’s doubled in strength. You don’t turn around, but you hear the door open. Hear him hesitate. And then you hear it close.

You sink to the floor. With a fucking knife to your chest.

[erinfern0]

Thinking about doing an Interview with the Vampire style fic with the 141...

[erinfern0]

i heard people are leaving gaz out again? IVE PLAYED THESE GAMES BEFOREEEEEEE.

i dont give a fuck, if you leave him out of a 141 post, i WILL think you're racist. i literally wrote an entire character analysis on this man. he is NOT the boring guy you think he is.

half of the reasons i see for leaving him out make absolutely zero sense. ive been in the call of duty fandom so so so so long. I've been in the fandom since i was a little child. this is a long running issue with leaving characters of color out. if you need help writing him, literally hit me up. i am willing to help people develop a style for him.

this is my link to my character analysis. USE IT.

[erinfern0]

Part 2 of our boy Simon yearning for you.

The ache never eased. It just deepened, settled somewhere behind his ribs and made a home there, like a wound he couldn’t stop picking at. Days turned into nights, and nights into days, and every moment he wasn’t hearing your voice or reading your texts was a slow torture.

It wasn’t just the casual meetups, the flirty messages, or the teasing that made his pulse race. It was the way you’d brush his arm when you were laughing, the way you’d lean into him like it was the most natural thing in the world, the way you’d say his name—not “Riley” like before, but “Simon.”

It killed him. It absolutely destroyed him.

He wanted to be better than this, to be cooler, to be calm, but he wasn’t. He was coming undone at the seams, unraveling every time you were near and aching when you were gone.

He’d find himself waking in the middle of the night, breathing hard, reaching for his phone to check if you’d messaged, to see if you’d thought of him in the quiet hours when the world was asleep. And when you hadn’t, he’d drop the phone on the pillow next to him and close his eyes, trying to swallow the bitterness that rose in his throat.

Sometimes he’d dream of you, and wake up with your name on his lips, the sheets tangled around his legs, his skin burning. He’d lie there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, wondering how much longer he could take this. How much longer could he pretend he was fine, pretend he was just your friend, when every cell in his body screamed for more?

He started pulling away, just a little. Shorter replies. Fewer emojis. He’d leave your messages on read for a little too long, trying to convince himself that if he created a little space, the longing might ease. But it didn’t.

You noticed, of course. You weren’t oblivious. One night, after another one of those meetups where he’d smiled too tightly and laughed a little too late, you caught him outside the pub. The cold bit at his skin, but the look in your eyes made him feel like he was on fire.

“Simon,” you said. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he said, as he looked away.

“Don’t give me that. You’ve been... distant. Did I do something?”

God, you sounded worried, and that just made it worse. Because the last thing he wanted was for you to think you’d done anything wrong. It was all him. All his fault.

“No,” he said roughly, running a hand over his face. “You didn’t do anything. I just... I’m trying to get my head straight.”

Your brows drew together, and you stepped closer, close enough that he could feel the warmth of you through the cold air. “Simon, you can talk to me.”

And for a moment, he almost did. The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, thick and heavy—I miss you so much it hurts. I think about you all the damn time. I can’t stand being near you because I’m falling apart inside.

But he couldn’t. Because if he said it, if he let it all spill out, he didn’t know what you’d do. Didn’t know if you’d pull away, if you’d laugh it off, or if you’d tell him you didn’t feel the same.

So he just gave you a smile and said, “I’m fine. Really. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

And he left you there on the sidewalk, staring after him, while his heart cracked open in his chest...

It was unbearable.

Days passed. He told himself he was getting better at pretending, that if he ignored the ache long enough, it would go away, and that if he kept his distance from you, he’d get over this.

But of course, it didn’t work.

Every time he saw your name flash on his screen, his chest would tighten. Every time you laughed, it was like a fist closing around his throat. Every time you touched him, even casually, even just a brush of fingers as you passed him a drink or steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, he felt like his skin was going to tear open.

And then, one night, it was just too much.

You’d sent him a message—something stupid, really. A picture of your dinner with a comment like “Guess who forgot to buy pasta sauce? 😂” And he’d stared at it, thumb hovering over his screen, the ache in his chest unbearable.

He couldn’t do this anymore. So he called you.

You picked up on the second ring, your voice warm and a little breathless. “Hey, Simon. Everything okay?”

“No.” His voice was rough. “No, it’s not.”

There was a pause, a soft intake of breath on your end. “What’s wrong?”

He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing his living room, his heart pounding so hard it echoed in his skull. “I can’t do this anymore,” he said, his voice cracking. “I can’t pretend everything’s fine. I can’t keep acting like I’m just your friend. I can’t... I can’t stand being near you and not—”

“Not what?” you whispered.

“Not have you,” he said hoarsely. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long it’s driving me insane. And I can’t keep pretending I’m okay when I’m not.”

“Simon,” you said softly, “why didn’t you say anything before?”

He let out a sharp, broken laugh, a sound like something cracking apart. “Because I was scared. Because I didn’t know if you felt the same. Because I thought maybe you’d laugh it off, or tell me I was reading too much into things. Because... because it’s you.”

You were quiet for a beat, then said, “Come over.”

“What?”

“Come over,” you repeated. “Right now.”

He didn’t even think, didn’t hesitate. He was out the door before he realized he hadn’t grabbed his keys.

The drive to your place was a blur, the streets smearing past in streaks of light and shadow. He didn’t remember turning off the engine or locking the door. He only remembered the way his hands trembled as he knocked, the way his breath caught when you opened the door, standing there barefoot in leggings and an old sweatshirt, your hair a little messy like you’d been running your hands through it.

“Hi,” you said softly, stepping aside to let him in.

He stepped past you, and the second the door clicked shut behind him, it was like a dam breaking.

“I tried,” he said, his voice rough, breathless. “I tried so fucking hard to stay away. To act like I didn’t care. To tell myself this was enough. But it’s not. It’s not enough. I need you. I need to know you’re mine, that I can touch you, kiss you, be with you—”

You didn’t let him finish. You surged forward, grabbed the front of his jacket, and pulled him down into a kiss so hard and desperate it made his head spin. He stumbled back a step, hands coming up to cradle your face, your jaw, your hair. You were warm and soft and real, and he felt himself falling, falling so fast it was like the world was tilting beneath him.

“Simon,” you gasped against his mouth, fingers threading through his hair. “I’ve wanted this too. I was just... waiting for you to say something.”

A broken, breathless laugh escaped him, his forehead pressed to yours. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling, your lips brushing his.

He kissed you again, slower this time, pouring everything he’d been holding back into it—all the longing, all the frustration, all the desperation that had been eating him alive for months. His hands roamed, memorizing the curve of your hips, the softness of your waist, and the line of your spine. You were here, you were his, and for the first time in so long, he felt whole.

“Stay,” you whispered, lips against his throat. “Don’t go home tonight.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he murmured, and when he kissed you again, it wasn’t desperate—it was everything he’d been aching for.

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

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid @syofrelief @avgdestitute @sheepdogchick3 @echo9821 @imalapdog

[erinfern0]

For those who were asking for a yearning Simon fic… enjoy, my loves.

You always said it with a laugh or a shrug—“He’ll be fine,” or “He doesn’t get attached.” God, if only you knew. If only you knew the mess you’d made of his head, the way you’d slipped into his bones and made a home there, the way he sat alone in his flat, in the dark, tracing the outline of your name in his mind like a fucking brand.

He’d replay every conversation you two ever had like some lovesick teenager, except he wasn’t a teenager; he was a fully grown man, a soldier no less, and here he was—yearning.

Pathetic. He was pathetic.

He’d think of calling, thumb hovering over your name on his phone, but he’d talk himself out of it every time. You were probably busy. You always were.

And he couldn’t risk hearing you sound distracted or annoyed, couldn’t bear the weight of you asking, “What’s wrong, Simon?” when the only thing wrong was that he missed you like air, and he was too much of a coward to say it.

You’d always been easy with him, bright and teasing, calling him “Riley” in that tone that made his skin tighten, poking at him when he got too serious. And God, he missed that. He missed your voice. He missed the way you’d glance up at him through your lashes when you were pretending not to be flirting. He missed everything.

And it wasn’t like he was subtle about it. Everyone in his unit probably noticed the way he’d check his phone during downtime, the way he’d get quiet after you called, and the way his face would go soft and stupid when he thought no one was watching.

He wasn’t stupid; he knew how he looked. He knew that Price would probably knock his head off if he found out he was falling for someone so hard it made his chest ache.

But it didn’t matter. Because you weren’t his.

And that was the worst part.

He was used to wanting things he couldn’t have—he’d grown up that way, used to pressing himself into the background and pretending he didn’t need or want.

But you? You made it impossible. You made him think, just for a moment, that maybe he could have something soft. Something real. And now he was stuck in this loop of almosts and maybes and if onlys, stuck in the quiet that filled his flat when you weren’t there.

He’d pace sometimes, hand running over the back of his neck, thinking, Just call her. Just tell her. But the words always caught in his throat.

Until tonight.

He was standing in his kitchen, staring at his phone, and he just couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t stand the silence, couldn’t stand the weight of his own wanting. So he called.

It rang once. Twice.

Then your voice came through, a little breathless and surprised. “Simon?”

His mouth was dry. “Yeah. Uh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to call so late.”

“No, it’s fine. Are you okay?”

He let out a shaky breath, leaning against the counter. His chest hurt. His whole body felt tight, like he was holding something too big inside him.

“I just—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “I just missed you.”

The silence stretched out between you two until you said softly, “I missed you too, Simon.”

And it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough, of course.

But for the first time in months, he let himself breathe.

He could’ve said more that night; he could’ve let the words fall out, but he’d bitten his tongue so hard he tasted blood. Couldn’t risk scaring you off. Couldn’t risk the silence that might follow if you didn’t feel the same. So he just stood there with the phone pressed to his ear, listening to you breathe, telling himself it was enough.

It wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

Days bled into weeks, and he was no better off. Every time you messaged him—just something stupid, a meme or a “Hey, did you see this?”—he’d feel that sharp sting behind his ribs, that warm pull like gravity.

He’d reread your texts over and over, memorizing them like a man starving for scraps. He’d type a reply, delete it, type it again, hover over send, and then finally hit it with a deep breath. You probably thought he was calm and collected, sitting there on the other side of the screen, when really he was a mess of nerves, thumb trembling, heart hammering so loud it echoed in his ears.

The worst part was seeing you.

When you two met up, it was just casual for you—two friends having a drink, just a quick catch-up. You’d sit across from him in the booth, your legs brushing his under the table like it was nothing, your laugh cutting through the air sharp and clear.

He’d nod along, trying to keep his hands steady, trying to act like his pulse wasn’t racing every time you looked at him. You’d lean in to show him something on your phone, and he’d catch a whiff of your perfume, something soft and warm that made his throat tighten.

And then, just when he thought he might get his shit together, you’d glance up at him with that look, that easy smile, and he’d feel himself unraveling all over again.

He’d catch himself staring at your lips, at the way you tucked your hair behind your ear, at the way you’d brush your fingertips over the rim of your glass like you didn’t even know what you were doing to him. And he’d hate himself for it—hate the way he wanted you, the way he craved something he couldn’t have.

You were so close. So damn close. And yet, you weren’t his.

He’d lie in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling, the dark pressing in around him. He’d picture you, picture the curve of your smile, the warmth of your laugh, and the softness of your skin. He’d imagine what it would feel like to just reach out and pull you into his arms, to bury his face against your neck and breathe you in, to finally, finally let himself have what he wanted.

But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

So he’d turn over, press his face into the pillow, and will himself to sleep.

The next day, he’d put on his mask again, and he’d text you back like everything was normal, like he wasn’t dying inside. And he’d tell himself that it was enough. That this yearning was all he was ever going to get.

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

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid @syofrelief @avgdestitute @sheepdogchick3 @echo9821 @imalapdog

[erinfern0]

master list

SIMON RILEY ₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི

nsfw - slow intimate things with simon riley

nsfw - simon riley being intimate with his shy girlfriend

nsfw - loser! simon riley who is largely endowed using a flesh light

nsfw - breeding kink

nsfw - older bf! simon riley

nsfw - simon with his pretty nurse

nsfw - dbf! with breeding kink

nsfw - how simon riley fucks after not seeing you for months

nsfw - loser! simon riley getting pussy for the first time

nsfw - simon riley with his favourite cam girl part 1

nsfw - simon riley who is too big for your cunt

nsfw - simon riley who thought he was unlovable

nsfw - snowed in with dilf! simon riley

nsfw - lover boy simon riley x bimbo reader

nsfw - ex fiancés dad simon riley

nsfw - sucking simon off in the alley way

suggestive - simon riley’s favourite dancer

[erinfern0]

return to sender simon making reader sit on his face despite her lack of experience and fear she'll suffocate him

this one got a little lengthy I fear...

cw: oral (f), face sitting, mdni below the cut

“you sure?”

you’re perched on top of him, straddling his chest as his hands wander along the expansive of your thighs

“i mean—are you seriously sure?”

the overhead light is off, the bedroom dim, lit only by the amber glow of the bedside lamp . simon blinks up at you like you’ve asked him something utterly ridiculous.

“am i sure?” he repeats. sis voice is low and amused, rough at the edges like gravel and thunder. “sweetheart, m’fuckin’ starvin’.”

you let out a nervous little laugh, trying to brush off the fluttering panic in your belly. “i just… i don’t know what im doing, babe.”

his brow furrows—not in frustration, but something gentler. he sits up just enough to brace one arm behind him, the other reaching for you, hand warm on your hip. “y’don’t have to do a thing,” he murmurs. “let me take care of it.”

“i’m not trying to chicken out, i swear—”

“i know, love,” he cuts in. not unkindly. his voice softens, lips brushing your knee as you softly shift. “you’re overthinkin’ again.”

you drop your gaze, fingers fidgeting in the hem of your sleep shirt. “i just… what if i hurt you? i mean—you’re big, si, but i don’t wanna suffocate you or something.”

he blinks, and then—laughs. a deep, hearty sound from his chest that makes your whole face heat up.

“if i die,” he says between chuckles, gripping your waist to draw you closer, “that’s the way i wanna go.”

“simon.”

“‘s true, girl. buried ‘tween these thighs?” he sighs, mock-dreamy, and presses a kiss to the inside of your leg. “hell of a way to go out.”

he’s being sweet, trying to lighten you up—but you’re still hovering there on your knees, skin hot, breath shaky. you know what he’s offering, and you want it, want him, but the vulnerability of it all feels damning.

he sees it. reads you like a map he’s memorized front to back (he has).

“hey.” his voice dips, quieter now, lower. “y’trust me baby?”

you look into those eyes—dark, steady, safe. and you nod.

“then come here, love.” he lies back again, mouth tilted in the smallest, cockiest smile. “sit that pretty cunt on my face like a good girl, yeah?”

your breath catches.

he doesn’t grab. doesn’t yank you down. he waits—patient, confident. like he knows you’ll do it. because he knows you want to. that all your hesitation is just nerves, not refusal.

you ease up toward his shoulders on shaky legs, and his big, calloused hands scrape up your thighs, then under your shirt—palms searing and slow as they spread over your hips and waist.

“c’mon, sweets,” he murmurs, voice like a dark promise. “right here. let me have you.”

you settle just above his mouth, barely letting your weight rest on him, and he growls.

“uh-uh. full weight, y’hear me?” one hand leaves your hip to land a sharp smack to your ass. “sit.”

—as if you’re a dog.

you gasp, lowering until you feel the heat of his mouth on you. his tongue—god. long, wide, confident—sweeps up your folds with a guttural sound like he’s been waiting for this since he first ate you out on your dresser months ago.

it’s overwhelming. wet and messy and so fucking good you forget your own name.

you try to lift off, try to relieve some pressure, but his grip tightens.

“nah” he grunts against you, the vibration making you tremble. “stay down. y’not goin’ anywhere.”

he eats you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. like you’re dinner, dessert, salvation. tongue fucking into your weeping hole, nose brushing your clit, hands bruising on your hips. you’re moaning, writhing like a pornstar as your thighs tremble, but he just keeps going, like a man possessed. like he needs it more than air.

“si—,” you gasp, overwhelmed. “si, baby, i—i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he growls, finally pulling back just enough to speak clearly, chin glistening, eyes wild. “y’ gonna sit pretty and come for me , pup. c’mon, love. come in m’mouth.”

he doesn’t give you time to argue. mouth back on you, rougher now, greedy, tongue circling your clit until your hips stutter and grind and shake—until you're crying out and your whole body goes tight and hot and shattering.

and even then—even then—he doesn’t stop. licks you through it, holds you steady as you fall apart above him, as you drip and leak into his mouth, savoring the sweet, tangy taste of you.

when you finally slump forward, completely spent, he coaxes you off with care—arms wrapping around you as you collapse alongside him. he shifts, flips you onto your back so he’s the one holding you, protective and proud, one hand stroking your hair.

you’re panting. blinking up at the ceiling, dazed and fucked-out and utterly wrecked.

he kisses your temple. his voice is quiet. smug.

“still worried about killing me, sweets?”

[erinfern0]

you and sevika share a double-sided dildo.

18+ only (pwp, sex toys, ass play, whiny!sev)

Sevika is an amazing lover. Attentive, accommodating, adaptable. She gives you what you want, and more importantly, she gives you what you need. But your favorite thing about having sex with her?

She's adventurous. Every week, introducing something new to the bedroom just for the hell of it. Bindings, impact play, anal, toys upon toys of all shapes and sizes and uses. Vibrators and dildos and butt plugs, and it's a good thing that you each have your own preferences for bottoming or else you might fight over who gets to do it.

Which gave her the idea that led the two of you here: flat on her back, knees tucked toward her chest as you bounce on one end of the double-sided dildo stuffed inside her pussy. She has the perfect view of your ass, of the way you swallow down the toy, silicone slick after your first orgasm.

At first, you didn't understand the appeal of using this thing. It seemed more inconvenient than sexy to find a good position that accommodated both of you. But now? Oh, you get it. Like you're both fucking each other, the toy rocking inside you with each desperate tilt of her hips (as best she can folded up). You bottom out and her puffy pussy grinds against yours, the pad of her thumb circling wet over your other hole.

You shudder out a moan, arching back against her touch, begging for it. "Fuck, please, Sev, just—"

Her thumb slides into your ass up to the first knuckle, and you collapse forward on your elbows. She plants her feet on the bed and rocks up into you with a breathy whine, spreading her other fingers over your asscheek to guide your movements, meeting her thrust-for-thrust.

Beneath the skin, you simmer to a boil, nerves alight with sensation. Too much and not enough and just right all at the same time. You press your calves against each side of her body to add strength behind each bounce of your hips. The mattress squeaks out a familiar rhythm, just barely drowning out the squelch of your wet cunts and the slap of your ass against her pelvis.

She's loud tonight, sensitive. Mocks you for being so wet, babbles about how pretty you look stretched around her cock, whines when your thumb catches on her fat clit. It's cute, really. How hard she tries to remain in control even after you reduce her to putty beneath you. A sweaty mess of pleasure.

Heat builds in the pit of your belly as she rocks even harder against you, until each slam of her hips jolts your body. Behind you, her breathing heavies and stutters, pussy fluttering around the toy.

She grits out a, "Fuck, I'm—"

And you're gone. The orgasm that travels up your spine rends you bone-deep, freezes the breath in your lungs. Full-body and languid, muscles giving out beneath the onslaught of purring pleasure.

You come down from your high panting, face-first in the sheets. Sevika doesn't sound much better than you, her hand soothing over the swell of your ass as she huffs and sighs.

Usually, you engage in some teasing banter after a good round of sex, but your thighs are killing you and Sevika's made a gushing mess of your ass and thighs and the sheets beneath her. So you'll save it for later.

For now, you discard the toy at the end of the bed and shove her out of the wet spot for a lazy cuddle.

"I need a nap," you grumble, cheek squished against the curve of her shoulder.

She grumbles in agreement, then immediately relaxes beneath you. Already asleep.

[erinfern0]

teach me

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you want frank to teach you self defense, but it doesn't quite go the way you expected.

warnings: swearing, some angst, mentions of guns, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 8.3k

a/n: what better way to end this year and start the new one than with our favorite hot bodyguard. don't ask me how many times I watched that scene with him and amy. it was for science. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

“You’re being a dick.”

“Hey, you said you wanted to learn.”

“You’re still being a dick.”

“Yeah yeah, you ain’t gettin’ no sympathy from me, sweetheart. Now c’mon, try again.”

It was a good thing the cabin was isolated in the middle of the woods, because if anyone had been looking in the living room window at that very moment, they would’ve definitely called the police in horror. Frank had a gun in his right hand that was trained on you, and while he wore a neutral expression on his face, your brows were furrowed in pure annoyance and there was a faint scowl on your lips.

Letting out a huff of irritation, you kept your eyes focused on the gun in Frank’s hand, getting back into somewhat of a fighting stance again. Clenching your hands open and closed a few times, your teeth sank down into your bottom lip before you suddenly rushed forward in an endeavor to take the gun out of his hand. 

But just like he had done the past seven times you tried this, Frank easily managed to block your attempt. He grabbed your wrist in his free hand and spun you around swiftly, pulling you back firmly against his chest while a deep chuckle sounded right next to your ear.

“That was real cute.”

Letting go of you, Frank took a step back and lightly pressed at the back of your knee with the heel of his boot, sending you down to your knees below him. He decided to take it a step further and used the toe of his boot to gently shove at your ass, causing your hands to fly out to catch yourself, rendering you on all fours in front of him. Turning to narrow your eyes at him over your shoulder, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth let you know that was very intentional.

“You know, if you wanted me on my knees, all you had to do was ask.”

“That right?”

Grumbling a string of curses under your breath, you pushed yourself back up onto your feet and turned around to shoot a death glare in Frank’s direction. His plush lips instantly parted into a crooked grin while he looked at you, cocking his head to the side slightly while his eyes twinkled in amusement.

“Aw, what’s wrong baby, hm?”

“I already told you, you’re being a dick. You’re supposed to be teaching me-”

“Then why don’t you quit actin’ like you know everythin’ and start askin’ questions, yeah?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know what questions to ask? I asked you to teach me. Teach me means tell me what to do.”

“And when have you ever done what I told ya to?”

As you opened your mouth to protest, Frank arched one of his thick brows and shot you a pointed look, and your rebuttal quickly died on your tongue. You did have a history of ignoring his instructions completely and doing whatever you wanted anyway. With that in mind, you let out a deep exhale through your nose and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Okay, that’s…fair. But this is completely out of my area of expertise. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never even held a gun until four days ago. And for the record, when it comes to something serious, I do listen to you. This is serious, and I’m listening.”

Originally when you asked Frank to teach you self defense with a gun, he was completely against it. He made the argument that with him around, you wouldn’t have to worry about that, to which you reminded him of the incident where two people tried to kill you in your own home where you had nothing to protect yourself with and no knowledge of how to in the first place. 

The two of you went back and forth about it for at least an hour. He made the case that it was a one time incident that would never happen again, and argued that nothing was ever going to happen to you in the first place anyway because he showed up to take care of it. You argued back that Frank wouldn’t be by your side twenty-four seven anymore and would eventually be assigned to someone else, possibly taking him far away for extended periods of time.

In the end, you wore him down like you usually did until he gave in and you got your way.

Frank took in the impatient and stubborn expression covering your features, the one he had become all too familiar with and grown to adore. You were a force to be reckoned with when you wanted something, just as much as he was. Even though he didn’t want you to ever have a reason to use a gun, he would rather know you were safe and could handle yourself in his absence if it came down to it. 

“Alright, alright. Wipe that pout off your face and c’mere.”

Doing your best to conceal your tiny smile of victory, you went to stand in front of Frank, but he held his large hand out to stop you and motioned for you to move back a little.

“Keep your distance, okay? You don’t wanna be too close. Now, step one.”

Frank reached out to grab your wrist and brought your hand up towards the barrel of the gun, placing his large hand on top of your own and squeezing gently to signal for you to grab onto it. Once he felt your tight grip on the barrel, he slid his hand over to grab onto your forearm and pushed against it, which caused the gun in his right hand to shift directions. It was no longer aimed at you, but pointed at the wall to your left.

“You wanna take the gun offline, yeah? Look.”

Glancing up at him briefly, you nodded to show him that you were paying attention. When he pulled your arm back in the position it was before, aiming the gun at you once again, you quickly redirected your focus back to his large hands. To reiterate what he was trying to explain to you, Frank repeated his demonstration two more times to make sure you understood.

“Offline, right? Offline, right? And push hard, as hard as you can.”

While Frank’s eyes were locked on you as he demonstrated the first step, you were studying his movements, committing every detail to memory. It seemed simple enough in theory so far. Keep your distance, grab the barrel of the gun, and push it away from yourself hard. When he let go of your arm, you let go of the gun, and you looked up to see that Frank was already watching you.

“Show me.”

Without hesitating, you swiftly reached out to grab the barrel of the gun and forcefully pushed it to the left. Frank let you redirect it to a certain point, and then pushed back to hold the gun in place. His strength was something you couldn’t combat, and as you kept pushing at the barrel, his resistance  made the gun almost wobble in your hands. 

“Attagirl. Easy, easy. Relax.”

Frank reached out with his left hand and grabbed onto your wrist, gently squeezing it to steady your hand.

“Alright, now step two, you go for that wrist, yeah? You get control. Go.”

Immediately you reached out with your right hand to wrap your fingers around Frank’s wrist to grab onto it tightly. Giving a slight shake of his head, Frank pulled your hand off of his wrist and guided it underneath his wrist instead.

“Look, underneath, yeah? Underneath. Go for the joint. Joints are weakest.”

Everything Frank was showing you seemed so simple that it filled you with a false sense of confidence. With your right hand under his right wrist, you gripped onto the barrel tightly with your left hand and took a step back as you tried to tug it away, thinking it would spring loose. Frank let out a grunt of disapproval and pulled his right arm back, easily slipping the gun out of your grasp completely and causing you to stumble forward a bit. He had a somewhat stern look on his face as he wagged the gun in your direction twice.

“Easy, bang bang. Don’t ever pull a gun towards you. You push it away.”

Letting out a huff of annoyance as your previous overzealous confidence fizzled out, you looked up at Frank as he held his left hand out towards you to signal for you to stay in place. He wasn’t teasing you anymore like he had been earlier. This wasn't Frank that had made you strawberry pancakes and caressed your legs while they sat in his lap as the two of you shared breakfast this morning. This was Frank that nearly sent your ex to the morgue instead of prison. He was back in full protective bodyguard mode.

“Listen to me. Use your legs, get underneath, and twist. Don’t pull, twist. Yeah? C’mon, show me.”

Taking a deep breath, you gave a slight nod and went over the steps in your head. Grab the barrel of the gun, shove it away from yourself, slip your other hand under the wrist joint, and twist the gun away. Your lips faintly twitched as you silently recited the steps to yourself three times for good measure. Frank didn’t make a move to rush you. He kept his eyes on you and waited patiently until you were ready to give it a try. 

Sucking in one more deep breath, your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and you sprung into action. Taking a quick step forward, you reached out to tightly grab the barrel of the gun with your left hand, and while you pushed it away to the left, you simultaneously slipped your right hand under Frank’s wrist. Twisting the barrel of the gun forcefully to the right caused Frank’s wrist to twist with it until he was forced to let go, and in that short window of weakness you were able to pull the gun out of his hand with a hard step backwards.

Glancing down at the gun in your hands, your eyes went wide with surprise and your mouth hung open as you let out an incredulous laugh. 

“Holy shit, that actually worked!”

Frank held his hands up like you had just made a touchdown, and he started to clap as a proud tooth bearing grin stretched over his lips.

“Look at that, huh? Who got a gun, huh?”

Looking up at Frank, your lips parted into a huge grin of your own while you held it up like a trophy and spoke in a proud voice.

“I have a gun.”

“Attagirl. You’re goddamn right you do. You did good, sweetheart. Real good. Feels good, yeah?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you let out a soft laugh while admiring the gun in your hands. Well, more so admiring the fact that you were able to actually take it from Frank. The only reason you felt comfortable holding the gun right now was because Frank had shown you the clip was empty before he started demonstrating the basics earlier. 

Pointing a loaded gun at Steven had been different. You were blinded in a fit of rage, not thinking clearly, but deep down you knew there was no way you would have actually pulled the trigger. However if you had been level headed, you probably wouldn’t have taken it from Billy, even if he offered. 

“Yeah…yeah it does.”

And it did feel good. It made you feel strong…less helpless. Frank was giving you back a sense of safety and security that had been stolen from you when you were first threatened by the Defenders of Freedom. Even if you never used this lesson, and you genuinely hoped you wouldn’t have to, you felt a surge of confidence knowing that you were at least capable of protecting yourself in some capacity. 

“Okay, step three.”

A pinch of confusion settled between your brows as you looked up at Frank when he mentioned a third step, and you noticed that he wasn’t smiling anymore. A grim look had settled over his features that sent a chill of unease down your spine.

“You just took a gun off someone that wanted to use it on you. What d’you do.”

The delight of pride had disappeared from his face and was swiftly replaced by a shadow of severity that was now coveting his sharp features, and the elated grin that was on your own lips had slowly fallen from grace. It was a rhetorical question you both knew the answer to, but you hadn’t factored in a third step. It hadn’t even crossed your mind, and Frank could see that in your eyes.

“You use it on them. Don’t matter who they are, you do not hesitate. You got that?”

Looking down at the gun in your hands, the weight of it was suddenly too heavy in your palms. Step three was a reminder that step one and two weren’t just to boost your confidence in protecting yourself; they were steps to defend yourself. Swallowing thickly, you nodded your head in silent understanding.

“Good. Show me.”

Frank’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a command, but it wasn’t a suggestion either. Placing both of your hands on the gun the way he had shown you to properly hold it, you took a deep breath, slowly raising it to aim in Frank’s direction. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that he knew the clip was empty, or that this most likely wasn’t the first time he had stared down the barrel of a gun, but he looked completely unphased. The canvas of his face was expressionless, but his eyes were what you had learned to read. Only right now, you couldn’t understand what they were trying to tell you. 

The gun trembled slightly in your grasp, as if every cell in your body knew exactly how wrong it felt to point a gun at Frank, loaded or not. The self defense lesson you wanted for a possible yet highly improbable scenario had quickly become too heavy and realistic, and you were quickly regretting even asking for it.

“Show me.”

“I’m not doing that-”

“It ain’t loaded-”

“Frank, I don’t want to-”

“What’d I say, huh? I don’t care who it is, you do not hesitate. Ever. Now, show me you understand.”

Frank’s tone was a little more forceful, but the volume of it was still even and somewhat soft. You knew there were no repercussions if you didn’t pull the trigger. He had learned early on that he couldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to, and you trusted him enough to know that he would never try to force you. Frank never demanded anything of you, he always asked.

But you had asked for this, and he wanted you to follow through with it.

Clenching your jaw, you let out a shaky exhale through your nose, and you slowly squeezed the trigger like he had taught you to yesterday when you were out in the woods using cans as target practice. The click that sounded caused you to flinch, and it seemed to echo loudly in the living room. Frank on the other hand didn’t visibly react to it at all.

Without another word, you placed the gun down onto the coffee table a little too forcefully and headed towards the back door, wanting to put as much distance between it and yourself as possible. Frank caught your wrist before you could get too far and gently tugged you back towards himself.

“Hey-”

“I’m going for a walk.”

“No, you ain’t. You ain’t runnin’ away, you’re gonna stay here and talk to me. We ain’t doin’ that not communicatin’ shit. Why are you upset?”

“I told you I didn’t want to do that-”

“You asked me to teach you. I said no, but you kept on beggin’. What did you think this was gonna be, huh? You think you get a gun off someone, and it ends there? No. As soon as you get control and take it, you use it. No negotiatin’, no questionin’ it, you do it-”

“And what if I can’t, Frank?”

The distress in your voice made him pause and clench his jaw. He could see that you were visibly upset, and for a moment he wondered if he was being too hard on you. You said it yourself, this was not your area of expertise. It was his. Frank had years of professional training under his belt. Pulling a trigger was something he didn’t even have to think twice about. It was an automatic response. The aftermath of what followed didn’t even make him bat an eye. There were always casualties in war. 

But you weren’t a soldier, and having to actually pull the trigger on someone would be something that haunted you for the rest of your life if it came down to it.

Letting out a deep exhale through his large nose, Frank stepped forward and wrapped one of his arms around your waist to pull you into his embrace while using his other hand to slip his fingers gently into your hair to brush it back before cradling your face in his right hand.

“Listen to me. If it comes down to you, or someone else, you do whatever you gotta do to save yourself, you got that?”

The rational part of your brain knew that Frank was right. If you had taken a gun from Cavella or Walker, you would’ve had to shoot them. There’s no way they wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to kill you if they had it. But the emotional part of your brain was struggling to figure out if you could handle the consequences of taking someone’s life, justified or not. Frank could see the internal conflict in your eyes, and he lightly brushed the calloused pad of his thumb along your cheekbone as the rough timbre of his voice broke the tense silence.

“Hey, no one’s sayin’ you gotta shoot ‘em point blank, alright? I’ve seen your aim, and it ain’t all that great anyway. You’d be lucky to scare ‘em off with firin’ a terrible shot just so you could get away.”

Rolling your eyes at his comment, you let out a dry laugh. As much as you wanted to be annoyed, he was right. You were terrible. You didn’t hit a single can yesterday, even at close range. You did manage to scare the shit out of some crows in a tree though.

“You are such an ass.”

The edge of Frank’s mouth twitched up into a light smirk while giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

“And you’re cute thinkin’ you could actually do some damage. I know a blind guy that can hit targets better than you. Look, you gotta stop gettin’ upset ���bout things that might not even happen, alright? If it ever comes down to it, remember that you’re the one controllin’ the gun, yeah? It ain’t controllin’ you. Wherever you aim, the bullet’s gonna go. You can shoot ‘em in the leg, foot, shoulder, hell shoot ‘em in the dick for all I care. That’ll keep ‘em down for a while. You just promise me you’ll pull that trigger. You get ‘em down however you want, and then you get the hell outta there. That’s all you gotta do, yeah?”

Frank dipped his head to catch your eyes, staring intently into them. Letting out a deep breath, you bit down on your bottom lip and nodded while placing your hands on Frank’s biceps. You could do that. Injuring someone just to get away was a lot more manageable for your conscience. Frank lightly grasped your jaw in his large hand, his bottom three fingers wrapping around your throat while his index finger and thumb held your jaw. He tipped your head back so that you had no choice but to look up at him.

“Lemme hear you say it.”

Staring up into his warm brown eyes, you gazed up at him silently for a moment before speaking.

“No hesitating. I promise.”

“Attagirl. C’mere.”

Frank leaned in to capture your lips in a soft and sweet kiss. Sometimes it amazed you how easily he was able to talk you down from the ledge. Frank was a man of few words, but he somehow always knew exactly which ones to say to ease whatever anxieties were weighing on your mind. And the distraction of his plush lips against yours also certainly helped.

Ever since the other night by the fireplace, every kiss between the two of you that started out soft and sweet had a way of evolving into something more passionate and insatiable. Maybe it was the months of denying your feelings for one another, or maybe there was just some magnetic pull between your souls, but whatever it was, neither of you could get enough.

Before you could even register that you were moving, Frank was lifting you up by your hips and setting you down on the dining table, his hungry kisses leaving a searing path along your jawline and down the column of your neck.

“Did good today, sweetheart. Did real goddamn good, made me so proud.”

Frank’s gravely songs of praise in your ear only further ignited the flame of desire that was burning in your lower belly. Despite the warmth of his large palm touching your bare skin as he slipped it underneath your shirt to caress your lower back, a shiver teasingly tumbled down your spine from the contact.

“I had a good teacher.”

“Nah, I think you’re just a natural, baby.”

“I thought I had terrible aim?”

“Didn’t say you were perfect. Everybody’s got their strengths and weaknesses.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you could feel the rumble of Frank’s deep chuckle vibrating in his chest that was pressed against yours.

“Wow, you really know how to sweep a girl off her feet, Castle.”

Frank pulled back slightly to look down at you, his eyes traveling over your figure to drink in the sight of you sitting on the edge of the dining table before they slowly wandered back up to meet your gaze. He arched one of his thick brows as a smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Yours are currently danglin’, sweetheart.”

Before you could retort with a smartass comment of your own, Frank’s mouth was back on your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin. Feeling his tongue gliding along your collarbone and giving it a delectable love bite, you closed your eyes and let your head fall back, granting Frank all the access he wanted to your skin.

The feeling of his lips on your neck was so heavenly you almost didn’t notice that he had popped the button on your jeans and tugged down your zipper until he was lifting you up slightly with one arm around your waist and pulling the denim down your hips with his free hand. As soon as your jeans were completely off, your own hands were reaching for Frank’s belt buckle, but he grasped your wrists and halted your attempt. A soft noise of protest quickly slipped past your lips.

“Frank-”

“Shh shh shh. Spread your legs for me, baby.”

A rush of heat pooled in your cheeks at his request, but you obliged immediately. Frank leaned in to kiss you deeply, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip and nipping at it softly while his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your panties and slipped them off too slowly for your liking. The sudden contact of the crisp autumn air coming in through the open windows hitting your slicked folds had you gasping, and Frank used that to his advantage by slipping his tongue into your mouth to caress your own sensually. 

“Spread ‘em wider for me, sweetheart. C’mon.”

Frank’s deep voice was quiet, but it nestled in your ears as comfortably as it did between your thighs. He pulled you a little more towards the edge of the dining table, and when you spread your legs further for him, he sank down to his knees in front of you and let out a low groan of appreciation at the sight waiting for him. 

“Attagirl, that’s it. God, look at you. You should see how fuckin’ pretty you look right now, baby.”

His large hands gripped onto your soft thighs, kneading and squeezing your flesh with his thick fingers. Frank didn’t waste a second before diving into your cunt face first. As soon as his warm and wet tongue began to strum your clit like chords to his favorite song, your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head. He brought your legs over his broad shoulders, burying his face so deep into your core, you weren’t sure how he was breathing.

Your hand quickly found a fistful of his slightly grown out hair that you gripped onto to steady yourself, and when you gave it an experimental tug, the vibration of his groan against your clit had your thighs trembling more than any toy you had ever gotten for yourself before.

“Fuck…Frank…”

Frank let out a loud grunt as he pulled back for just a moment to stare at your glistening pussy almost in awe, his hooded eyes briefly meeting your own for a second before focusing back on the display of your desire for him.

“Taste so good sweetheart, so fuckin’ good. You got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

He dove right back in, this time slipping his tongue inside of you to explore while using his large nose to bump against your clit repeatedly. The stimulation had your back arching off the dining table and a loud moan echoed throughout the cabin. Tugging harder at his dark roots, you pushed your hips up against his face, desperately and greedily searching for more. None of your exes had ever eaten you out like this before. Most of them didn’t even know what the fuck they were doing, and the rest gave up after a few minutes because it “took too long”, but still expected you to suck them off until your jaw ached.

But Frank…God, Frank knew what he was doing. His thick fingers were digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, following your hips wherever they went. The groans that continued to vibrate against your clit not only turned you on because of their stimulation, but because you could tell that Frank was genuinely enjoying eating your pussy. The fact that he was getting just as much pleasure out of it as you were had you on the brink of an orgasm alone. Frank had a way of making every experience feel brand new, and it made you realize just how much you had been missing out on in your previous relationships.

That familiar bubbly feeling was building up inside of you, cresting slowly like a tidal wave ready to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting beach. Your breaths were coming out in short staccato variations, and at this point you were roughy tugging at Frank’s hair with both hands while essentially fucking his face. Not that he seemed to mind at all. If anything, it just seemed to make him more feral.

“Yesyesyesyes…please-fuck, Frank…I…I…”

Frank pulled you even closer towards the edge of the dining table to where your ass was basically hanging off of it, and the jolt of his large palm smacking against your ass was the only indication you got that he understood what you were trying to tell him.

You thought you had more time, but your climax suddenly crashed into you without further warning, and your hips were stuttering as Frank continued his incessant assault on your pussy with his tongue. It seemed like he didn’t want to let a drop of your essence go to waste, and while you appreciated his enthusiasm, the way he was flicking his tongue rapidly against your overstimulated clit was riding that very thin line between pain and pleasure, and you were weakly shoving at his broad shoulders.

“Okay okay okay…Frank…fuck, please! Just…give me a second, God-”

Frank dragged his tongue up your entire pussy from your entrance to your clit one last time before granting you mercy with a low growl. While you panted heavily laying back against the dining room table, he was pressing featherlight kisses to each of your inner thighs, but due to your body feeling like a live wire, they felt like faint shocks that had your body jolting every time his wet lips met your heated skin. He chuckled deeply watching you respond to his touch.

“You alright there, sweetheart?”

Lifting your hand, you gave him a weak thumbs up, and Frank just laughed even louder in amusement at that. The sound of his laughter combined with your own blissed out post orgasm state had a lazy grin stretching over your lips. You felt his large and rough hands slipping underneath your shirt, gently caressing your bare skin and grabbing your waist while he leaned over you, kissing your lips deeply. The taste of your own sweet tang on Frank’s tongue had your head spinning, and a soft hum sounded in the back of your throat.  Even though you were still recovering from your first ever oral orgasm, the feeling of Frank’s hard cock straining against his jeans and rubbing against your inner thigh reignited your greed.

Brushing your hand slowly down his chest, you palmed him firmly through his jeans, and Frank let out a grunt while pushing himself further against your hand. He broke the kiss momentarily to nuzzle his large nose against your throat.

“If ya need a minute-”

“No. Now.”

While you unfastened his belt in record time, Frank placed his hands on the table on either side of your head and pulled back to look down at you with a soft chuckle at your impatience. He lightly cocked his head to the side, his brown eyes darkened with lust as they roamed over you shamelessly. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and a crooked smirk caressed his mouth.

“Anybody ever tell you what an impatient lil thing you are?”

A smirk of your own tugged across your lips while you slipped your hand into his jeans, stroking his thick cock through his briefs, earning a quiet grunt from Frank.

“Apart from you every day since we met? Maybe a few other people. Is my lack of patience really what you wanna talk about right now, big guy?”

The sultry tone of your voice did not go unnoticed by Frank, and in fact, it only made his cock swell even more in your welcoming hand. He slowly moved his hips back and forth as you teasingly stroked him and leaned down closer towards you, nuzzling his nose along your throat before whispering huskily into your ear.

“Got somethin’ better in mind.”

By the time Frank had carried you down the hall to the master bedroom, the two of you had left a trail of forgotten items of clothing strewn like breadcrumbs along the path from the kitchen. He let you push him back against the mattress and grabbed your hips to pull you on top of him, his lips moving in sync with your own, but when you felt the swollen head of his cock bump against your clit, you suddenly pressed your palms firmly against his chest and pulled back while breaking the kiss.

“Wait.”

Frank immediately paused, loosening his grip on your hips, his lust clouded eyes clearing a bit while searching your own and wandering over your figure for the source of the problem.

“What? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The concern in his rough timbre combined with the worry in his soft brown eyes made your heart melt. A gentle smile covered your lips while you reached out to delicately hold his strong jaw in your hands, and you leaned in to kiss his lips softly.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t think it’s fair you get to have all the fun.”

Frank’s apprehension morphed into confusion, and a few creases nestled between his thick brows. 

“Huh?”

Letting out a soft laugh at how adorable he looked when he was confused, you decided to explain with actions instead of words. When you moved backwards off his lap to settle between his legs, Frank raised himself up on his elbows, following you with his eyes as he watched you intently. 

“What are you-holy shit.”

Frank’s jaw went slack the second you leaned in and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around it once before beginning to take a few inches into your mouth. Placing one of your hands on his left hip, you teasingly moved your lips up his length until he was out of your mouth with a satisfying pop. Pursing your lips, you let a string of glistening saliva slowly drop onto his tip and used your free hand to spread it down the rest of his thick cock for lubrication, and after wrapping your fingers around his girth, you began to twist your wrist up and down slowly. 

You could feel how tense he was through your hold on his hip. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you noticed that he was staring directly at you, completely mesmerized, and was gripping onto the sheets so tightly you thought he might rip them. Moving your hand from his hip, you reached out to caress his hand, and he slowly loosened his grip, his knuckles no longer stark white. His plush lips were parted, and he was breathing hard, his thick brows knit in complete focus. You allowed him to slip out of your mouth for just a moment to smile softly up at Frank.

“Just relax.”

The sweet sound of your voice seemed to reach his ears, and after a few more moments of hesitation, Frank finally laid back against the mattress and let his head rest on the pillows. He moved the hand that was underneath yours to grab your wrist, turning your hand over so he could slot his fingers between yours to hold it. His other hand slowly came over to card his fingers through your hair before cradling the back of your head. Giving his hand that you were holding a light squeeze, you continued to hold eye contact with Frank while slowly sucking him off, using your hand that was around his base to work over what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

The sound of his quiet grunts and low moans sent a thrill through you, and you wanted to know just how vocal he could get. Letting go of his hand, you placed both of your palms firmly on his hips and relaxed your jaw completely, taking his entire cock into your mouth until his tip hit the back of your throat. A guttural groan ripped from the depth of his chest and his lower abdomen instantly tensed up as he gripped onto your hair.

“Goddamn-fuck…fuck, sweetheart. Do…do that again. Please…please baby, do it again.”

Taking in a deep inhale through your nose, you prepared yourself to deepthroat Frank’s thick cock again, and this time you held him there until your eyes started to water. He let out a louder moan of your name, and that caused the throbbing between your thighs to evolve from dull to downright unbearable. You thought about sneaking your hand downwards to get a little relief, but Frank had been so unselfish when he ate you out, only focused on your pleasure, and he deserved that same treatment. 

All of a sudden, Frank roughly tugged at your hair, and that made you moan around his cock. You heard him let out a quiet fuck under his breath in response. He gave your hair another tug to get your attention, and his cock slipped from your lips as you licked them and tried to catch your breath while staring at him, noticing that he had sat up.

“C’mere.”

He didn’t give you a chance to protest before he grabbed your throat and pulled you in close to kiss you fervently. Frank’s large and rough hands grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap again, and you let out a soft whine against his lips when the head of his cock rubbed against your sensitive clit. 

“Frank, I didn’t get to finish-”

“As much as I’d love to come down that pretty throat, I need ya baby. Need ya now.”

Grabbing the base of his cock, Frank positioned himself perfectly with your entrance and pulled you down slowly, letting you feel every single inch of him. Your mouth hung open at the sensation, and your body instantly tensed up. You thought Frank had been deep the other night, but he was reaching an even greater depth inside of you right now if that was possible. There was a slight burn as your walls stretched to accommodate his size, but your brain barely even registered it, because Frank was slipping his tongue into your mouth and kissing you sensually as if he wanted to steal the very essence of life from your lungs. 

Once he was fully nestled deep inside of you, a high pitched cry left your mouth, and he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly.

“Shh…s’alright. Just relax for me, sweetheart.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you clung to Frank as he wrapped both of his strong arms around your waist and held you tightly against his chest. Both of you sat there for a moment, your foreheads pressed together as you panted. He rubbed his large calloused hand up and down your spine soothingly, his teeth grazing along your ear lobe and biting down gently to distract you from any discomfort. Slowly, the tension in your body melted, and you gave an experimental roll of your hips that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“That’s it…attagirl. Take your time, sweetheart. M’right here. I got you.”

This felt right. It felt…perfect. Those three little words almost slipped out right there. Grabbing onto the back of his neck, you pulled Frank in for a passionate kiss, trying to pour every ounce of emotion you felt into it. He groaned quietly against your lips when your nails lightly scratched at the back of his head where his hair was shaved closely to his scalp. Moving your hips in slow circles, you grinded down onto Frank’s cock, and he flexed his hips upwards to match your rhythm. The other night by the fireplace had been the best experience of your life, but this…this was something you couldn’t put into words.

Placing your palms against Frank’s firm chest, you pressed lightly and he followed your silent instructions, allowing you to push him onto his back. His large hands gripped firmly onto your hips as he gazed up at you, and you kept your palms flat on his chest while slowly riding his cock. Neither of you could tear your eyes away from each other. The feeling of his warm hands leisurely moving up your bare skin made you shiver, and a soft gasp left your lips when he groped your breasts and squeezed gently. The calloused pad of his thumb gingerly brushing over your peaked nipple had you arching your back, pressing your chest further into his eager hands.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

The sincerity in Frank’s vulnerable whisper nearly brought tears to your eyes. He wasn’t saying it because he thought it was what you wanted to hear, he was saying it because he felt it, and he was making you feel it too. The way he was staring up at you like you were the only thing that mattered had your heart swelling inside your ribcage like a balloon about to burst. It had been a long time since you mattered to someone, and you felt lucky it was Frank. The look in his eyes was almost too much to handle.

Letting your head fall back, you closed your eyes for a moment as you writhed on top of Frank, getting completely lost in how good it felt to be connected to him in such a raw and intimate way. One of his hands traveled up from your breast towards your throat, and he wrapped his fingers tightly around it almost entirely, forcing you to face him again. He pulled you down over him so that your forehead was pressed to his, and the two of you stared deeply into each other's eyes. 

“Frank-”

“I wanna see you. Wanna see those pretty eyes when you come for me. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Being this close to him, you noticed for the first time that there were scattered flecks of honey in his deep brown eyes. They looked so warm and inviting, like two melted pools of chocolate you wanted to drown in. The eyes that could say so much with a single look. You thought you could see it…that flicker that he felt it too. You wanted to tell him so fucking badly, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment, and the way he was hitting that spongy spot inside of you that could cause supernovas to appear behind your eyelids was making it hard for you to speak at all.

Holding his face in your hand, your eyes drifted back and forth between his own as you stared down at him in complete devotion, your lips parted as you nodded your head frantically while short and breathy moans escaped you. Frank’s eyes were focused solely on you, one of his hands holding the back of your head while his other remained around your throat. It was getting harder and harder for you to keep your eyes open, but you didn’t want to miss a single second of this moment.

It was also getting harder and harder to not voice the sentiment that was overflowing from your ribcage.

“Frank…I…I-”

Frank cut off your words by capturing your lips in a heated kiss. The softness of his lips against yours, the heat of his bare skin pressed to your own, his thick fingers wrapped around your neck and tangled in your hair, his pubic bone rubbing just right against your clit…it was all too much. Breaking the kiss, you buried your face into the crook of his neck and let out a sharp cry of his name. Your nails raked harshly down his chest when your climax finally peaked, and a white hot cloud of hedonistic desire blinded your vision. 

Your entire body seized up, and you could faintly hear Frank whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he gripped your hips and repeatedly thrust up into you, fucking you through your orgasm while barreling towards his own. The sensation of that alone was enough to nearly send you free falling into another. The intensity of your orgasm had rendered you an incoherent and moaning mess. Frank dug his fingers roughly into the flesh of your hips and came with a deep grunt that nearly sounded like a growl, letting out a loud groan of your name.

The room felt like a sauna. Your face felt overheated, and your hair was stuck to your cheeks and the back of your neck with sweat. Frank had his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, hugging you against his chest. The feeling of his strong heartbeat thundering against your own chest kept you anchored to the moment while your body trembled with aftershocks. You couldn’t move, and you didn’t want to.

As soon as Frank made a move to sit up and pull out of you, a desperate and high pitched whine of protest fell from your lips while you gripped onto his shoulder and dug your nails into the muscle.

“No no no no no, please…don’t move.”

Frank instantly stilled, bringing one of his hands up to brush the sweaty hair stuck to your forehead and neck away. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead and gave your body a gentle squeeze in his strong arms.

“Okay, we don’t gotta move yet.”

Letting out a soft sigh of relief, you buried your face further into Frank’s neck, letting the comforting scent of his cologne calm you. He gently carded his thick fingers through your hair and kept holding you tightly to his chest while resting his head against your own.

“I just wanna stay like this for a while.”

“We can stay like this as long as you want, sweetheart.”

When you started to regain your senses, you started to wonder just how true that statement was. 

How long could you and Frank stay like this before reality came knocking?

Your home wouldn’t always be a crime scene. Eventually the two of you would have to go back to work. Now that everything had changed between the two of you, what would a new normal look like? Frank’s job required him to be with someone constantly. What happens when he gets assigned to someone else? What if it’s another woman? Even though Frank was broody and unapproachable initially, you had still found him attractive, and all the time you spent together over the past few months led you right here to this moment.

What if that happened with someone else? What if the next woman he was assigned to found him just as attractive? What if she wanted him? You and Frank hadn’t really established what this was between the two of you. Were you together? Did he want to be together? Would he still want to be together if the next woman was prettier and less stubborn and actually-

“Quit it.”

The sound of his deep voice breaking through the silence interrupted your spiraling. 

“What?”

“Whatever you’re overthinkin’ right now, let it go.”

Removing your face from the crook of Frank’s neck, you pulled back slightly to peer down at him in pure curiosity.

“How do you even-”

“I can practically hear the gears turnin’ in your head, sweetheart. You keep thinkin’ so hard, smoke’s gonna start comin’ out of your ears.”

Giving him a pointed look expressing you weren’t amused, he let out a quiet chuckle and gently brushed the calloused pad of his thumb along your cheekbone.

“C’mon, you ain’t got nothin’ to worry ‘bout right now. Just relax, yeah?”

Letting out a soft sigh, you nodded and laid your head back against Frank’s shoulder, nuzzling your nose against his neck as he hugged onto you tightly. For a while, you two laid there wrapped up in one another, and you were able to let some of your anxieties go. The afterglow of your shared euphoria was peaceful, and you could’ve even fallen asleep at that moment, but something Frank said earlier suddenly popped back into your head. 

“Hey Frank?”

“Hm?”

“Do you really know a blind guy that has a good aim with guns?”

Frank let out a quiet snicker at your question.

“He don’t use guns. He’s too…Catholic.”

That did nothing to answer your question and only fueled you with more inquiries.

“But…you said he could hit targets better than I could.”

Frank simply grunted in response. You stayed silent waiting for further explanation, but when one didn’t come, you continued your questions.

“How?”

“Hell if I know.”

Sitting up a little bit again, you stared down at Frank in complete puzzlement.

“But…he’s blind. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No it don’t.”

“So…he’s-”

“An asshole. Go to sleep.”

Letting out a soft laugh, your eyes widened slightly as you gently smacked his chest.

“Frank!”

“What? Cause he’s blind he can’t be an asshole?”

“Well…no. But…how does he do it?”

“You’ll have to ask ‘em yourself.”

“I thought Billy was your only friend.”

Frank pulled a look of faux offense at that, his thick brows knit as he let out a puff of air through his lips.

“Ouch. I got other friends, smartass. And I never said he was one. He’s more of a pain in my ass.”

Frank gently pinched your ass which made you squeal before erupting into a fit of laughter.

“Hey!”

A huge grin split across your lips as he suddenly flipped you both over, managing to keep himself nestled inside of you while he pinned you beneath his large body. As he leaned in to kiss your lips, you brought your index finger up and pressed it against his mouth.

“I’m not done. I have more questions.”

“Course you do.”

“I wanna know who this mystery blind man is with good aim, and your other friends that you suddenly have that you’ve kept from me. While you’re at it, is there anything else you’re hiding, Castle?”

While your question was intended to be teasing, a dark look flashed across Frank’s eyes, and it made your breath hitch in your throat. He stared down at you silently for a moment, and it made you wonder just how much more there was to Frank that you hadn’t uncovered yet. As soon as you removed your finger from his lips, Frank leaned in closer, caging you in with his large hands on either side of your head. As he loomed over you, he slowly thrust his hips against your own, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. His breath was warm against your lips while he nuzzled his large nose along your own, his rough voice coming out in a husky whisper.

“Think I liked you better when the only thing you could say was my name, sweetheart.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[erinfern0]

hi i just wanted to ask if there is a chance you’d write a part 2 for cutting the cord? it was so good and i just hope they make it out and live long happy lives together

Ohh thank you for being so sweet and asking! There actually is pt2 of this fic, I just forgot to pin it to my masterlist, so very much thank you for reminding me!!

The link is here if you want it!

[erinfern0]

Unfortunately, having a platform means running the said platform under the social media rules

People do it not to make it less gruesome, but to be able to speak about the topic with less risk of their content being banned on the site

Newspapers don't go through social media censorship because they don't reach as many people and are taken way more seriously, they are expected to be as professional as possible which is restricted from YouTubers, bloggers or tiktokers

Be mad at the rules and people who silence others, not the people who try their best to reach the public without being shut down

”pdf file” “unalived” “grape” “corn” what if i killed myself right here right now

[erinfern0]

happy together in an alternate universe

[erinfern0]

Never back down never what? Cause if you thought I was joking when I said I was going to draw everything in this style…

[erinfern0]

[erinfern0]

Reblog daily for health and prosperity