# who gives generously to all without finding fault

[livechristcentered]

A Radical Persecuted Church

Learning from the Persecuted Church Christian persecution is one of the biggest human rights conflicts of our time. Not only our time, but the first century church as well. Millions of Christians living all over the world are experiencing high levels of persecution. There is a lot to learn from those who boldly witness and testify for Christ no matter the cost to themselves. Radical Faith Many…

[mrfoox]

Me: I want to spend more time with people, I miss close contact with others :(

Also me: -only wants to spend time with 4 ppl irl, none of which live close by or have the ability to come by-

[prettyboykatsuki]

give yourself up, my treat | h. sakura

✮ tags ; afab + fem!reader (referred to as girlfriend, descriptions of makeup and nails), implied to be shorter than sakura, omorashi, piss!!!! / wetting, humiliation, lots of crying / embarrassment, praise kink, somewhat public, femdom, depictions of subspace, d/s dynamics, like... soft loving sex as aftercare but this is honestly pure kink lol sorry, 18+

✮ wc ; 4.6k (i dont want to talk about it man)

✮ a/n ; this is piss kink. like. full stop. full stop omorashi. im warning you now that this is piss kink to the highest extent. srry sakura . finally let him top and it was after making him piss himself. rip

also!! while sakura is describing how shameful he feels he is doing this all very willingly. they have a safeword but sakura does not feel any need to use it.

✮ synopsis ; sakura lets you push his limits any way you please.

Sakura listens to everything you say. Like some kind of moron.  

Can’t help himself really, as much as it irritates him to admit. 

That’s always just been his instinct. Any time he finds himself in unfamiliar waters, he leans into that as much as possible. He’s survived a long time by trusting his intuition and a longstanding distrust of other people. It speaks a lot to someone's character usually if Sakura is even mildly inclined to trust them.  

He isn’t sure if it’s his intuition that drives him to follow your order without question, but it’s a strong enough pull he finds he can’t help himself even when he so, so badly wants to resist it.  

It’s not Sakura’s fault. It’s not really yours either.  That’s just how you’ve always been. How its always been. 

(Once, well before you and Sakura were a thing - Nirei had made an observation about you. Called you disarming. Suo laughed and agreed before adding that it felt a little misleading to describe you that way even if it was true. 

 You had just moved into the area after a disciplinary case in your hometown. You’d beat up another student who was bullying your friend, got expelled and moved out on your own after the fact. Cut ties with your family and everything.  

Despite the general air of mystery around you, there was  something about you that Sakura felt pulled him in. For some reason, you never triggered his fight or flight even when it was way easier to do it. For some reason you made him comfortable, always knowing his limits and rarely teasing him even for laughs.  

An undeniable magnetism to you appealed to him a lot more than it repulsed him. ) 

Over the years, Sakura has mulled a lot over your relationship. How you approached him at fifteen with a cool, carefree attitude that left him uselessly infatuated against his will. How you took your time in getting to know him for years. Later, how you confessed. Roped him into the relationship so seamlessly that by the time things happened for real, Sakura felt totally unnerved by how inevitable—how deliberate you were about it right from the start. Something that occurred to him too late.  

You’ve always been good at placating his many troubles too, even when you’re the cause of them. His lingering paranoia, his serious attitude, his inability to deal with compliments. You handle all of it with such grace it’s like those parts of him don’t even exist. Maybe it’s because you went through something similar to him, but you understand all of it well - though you dealt with it in the opposite way he does.  

Your carefree acceptance has proved to have a good influence on him. He’s less anxious and more relaxed around you. He always feels like listening to you, and always does - and after dating for four years, he’s rarely mad about it.  

Sakura always listens to everything you say because some part of him is conditioned too. His body does it instinctively, placing more trust in your words than he does in even himself. You’ve built that in him. 

As troublesome as you can be, you’ve yet to lead him astray.

Embarrassing as it is, a long relationship has instilled a sense of obedience  to you and his… love for you that runs deeper even than his intuition.  

That’s why, when you tell Sakura to— 

“Drink,”  

—he does it without hesitation.  

He drinks another cup of tea in one gulp before wiping the corner of his lip as you smile at him very briefly.  

He no longer feels a clear sense of how much time has passed, despite the fact he’s currently very sober.  

Cramped against the wall, Sakura’s head spins as you lean your weight against his other side and chat with Umemiya over drinks. An airy smile on your lips and gentle look in your eye. Damn you.  

His chest heaves as the thick, warm air enters his lungs and stifles his already difficult breathing further. Dim lights overhead cast shadow underneath the table and only barely illuminate the topside well enough to see the remnants of a long night. Empty glasses, canisters of beer and shochu as well as a variety of small plates cleared of everything apart from stray crumbs littering its surface.  

Around him, his loved ones part into small groups and chat amongst each other. Sakura has no idea what the topic of conversation is anymore. He hasn’t heard anything other than the sound of your voice in his head for an hour and hasn’t spoken up for the last thirty minutes. When someone tries to call him into conversation, he mumbles something before you speak for him and no one bats an eye at this for which Sakura’s fucking grateful.  

It’s so hard to think of anything when his bladder feels this painfully full.  

His head is filled with white noise, red flush crawling even further along his neck until it dusts along his nose - up to the ends of his ears. Under the table, your fingers drift subtly to his inner thigh and push inward. Sakura winces, biting back a pathetic little whimper and glaring at you weakly from the corner of his eyes.  

This is torture.  

You aimlessly draw something in his thigh with your fingers before smiling gently as you nudge another cup of lukewarm tea his way. Leaning in while your conversation partners are all distracted by ordering something else, you whisper into his ear. The light warmth of your breath makes him shake, painful pressure in his abdomen steadily increases as the liquid starts to travel down his throat. Your hand is careful as it slides underneath his black t-shirt and lightly grazes his skin. It’s dark enough to not be obvious. The dull ends of your manicured nails scratch lightly at the soft, lower swell of his belly before the pads of your fingers push hard into his core.  

His body gives into the pressure, eyes widening with fear at the sudden sensation. He barely stifles a gasp before shooting you another mean look you easily ignore.  

“Haruka,” You hand him his cup again, filled to the very brim with liquid. “Drink some more tea,”  

He grits his teeth. 

“Fucksake. I can’t—I can’t.”  

You raise an eyebrow as your hand smooth down his thighs. Your lips quirk up into a smile so smug it nearly rocks him out of his anger.  

“Is that right?”  

A test. He’s always welcome to give up. He knows that. He knows that if he does you won’t hold it against him either. You want him to do it because he wanted too, always. He hates that about you.  

Sakura grinds his teeth and takes a hold of the ceramic tea cup, knocking the lukewarm tea back in one go. Your expression morphs into something pleased and endeared from the corner of his eyes and his heart starts to flutter. He isn’t sure if he’s thankful or not for all the people around, for the environment.  

It gives you free reign to lean even further into him and whisper the words he’s been desperately aching to hear all evening.  

“Good boy,” You hum, careful and deliberate. A innocent kiss gets placed on his cheek, the lipgloss dampening his skin. “You’re being so, so strong.”  

The words him melt him unwittingly. From the top of his head to the tips of his toes, the rush of affection threads through his nerves and unwinds his sense of danger further. Enough that he might slip completely. He has to hold it until the clock hits midnight. Just until then. You’ll take a cab home and Sakura will relieve himself finally, finally. It’s seventeen more minutes until he can go home and empty his bladder. He can’t screw up now.  

This is the first time you’ve made Sakura hold in public. You’ve always been considerate enough to do it at home where the safety net of your mutual understanding and familiar bathroom are there even if he fails to keep it in. Even if he pissed himself in your living room or in your bedroom - it can be dry cleaned or tossed. Most of all there’s no one to explain it too.  

In public it’s different. He could pretend that he’s  drunk and while it wouldn’t be less fucking embarrassing  - at least it’s understandable. Sakura is sure that’s part of the reason you chose a place like this do to attempt such a public play. To give him the out, just in case.  

But regardless, the shame and humiliation of not being able to hold it in front of everyone he knows is a threat. It’s just so goddamn embarrassing. So horrible and awful. The anxiety makes his stomach churn but he can’t focus on a damn thing else.  

He has to go. He has too.  

He always whines about how much he hates this but you both know he doesn’t entirely mean it. It’s not that he likes this miserable sensation, as much as he likes how you get off on it. How sadistic it turns his unusually kind and light-hearted girlfriend.  

 You’ve always relished in Sakura’s shame like the freak you are. Pure pleasure on your face and absolute adoration as you watched Sakura break apart slowly and guide him through it with hushed whispers. Watching  the light color of his jeans or joggers stain dark from wetness or watch him be jostle around enough to almost piss but not enough to give him actual relief.  Teasing him until he trickles and makes his own boxers damp enough to be uncomfortable—to be cognizant  of the fact he’s pissed himself helplessly while not being able to take care of it on his own. Not without your explicit permission. 

You’ve done all sorts of play together. Usually, you have and indoor date and movie night where Sakura knocks back a few liters over of water over long few hours and gets increasingly desperate. And you get him hard during that, always sure to tease him until he’s just on the edge of wetting himself.  

You always shower together afterwards. Yet, you don’t hesitate to touch Sakura’s soft, piss soaked cock with reverence either way. Quick to praise him, whether or not he’s failed or succeeded in holding it. Despite how shameful the whole thing is and how much he protested it at the start  - some part of him deep, deep down can admit he sort of likes it. Or at least, he likes the pleasure he gets from you when you take the reigns.  

It feels good, though he really resents even kind of admitting that. The relief from holding and holding and holding and then finally getting to let go is just as good every time. Pissing himself always feels good in the moment.  

And you’re always so aroused by him after. He likes that way more than everything else being frank. Likes the way you get wet over his humiliation. Likes how softly you stroke and lick his cock when he’s all cleaned up, eyes lidded and full of pure love as he gets to cum too  - another reward for holding in so well. He loves the warm whispers of good boy against his neck and shoulders when you finally sink down on his length and the way you feel when he holds you in his lap and buries his face into your shoulder.  

All of that feels so much better when he does what he’s told and he likes listening to you. So even though it’s usually against his best interest in conditions like these - he bites his tongue and continues to drink until he feels like he’s sating your appetite, silently ignoring the ballooning in his bladder only getting worse with each pass of breath.  

And he drinks, and drinks, and drinks until the clock hits midnight.  

You’re deliberately brutal in the last seventeen minutes. In that time, you make Sakura down at least another half liter of liquid and continue to tease him all the way until the izakaya closes. He’s antsy by the time the night ends. His friends slowly disperse outside and go home in different directions until it’s just the two of you waiting for a taxi to come pick you up.  

Sakura is counting the fucking seconds.  

He needs to go,  but he doesn’t want to piss himself in the taxi. His legs are crossed, shifting his weight anxiously as you hold his hand and smile plainly like nothing in the world is going on. 

Another two minutes until the cab arrives, another twelve to go home. You hum to yourself as you reach your hand up and caress the back of his neck,  palm brushing the trimmed hair and sliding slowly over his rapid pulse and flush skin. With no one around, you don’t bother hiding your intentions. You slide your hand just into the waistband of his black jeans, just above his soft cock.  

His brows raise high as your eyes lock.  

And then you push at that angle - push hard enough he feels a slight trickle. Not enough to stain his light-wash jeans, but enough that the fabric of his underwear is noticeably damp. Sweat forms at his temple from a mix of stress and shame - eyes screwed closed as he curses. He’s afraid to look at you but does anyway.  

You’re smiling just as warmly as he thought you’d be. His voice cracks under the weight.  

He thinks this is the hardest it’s ever been. The pressure is so much stronger when there’s stakes and Sakura is mildly horrified. And he has to go so bad, so bad he can’t think of anything else.  

“Fucking—,” He crumbles, feeling shameful and red faced and lightheaded as he admits this to you with trembling lips and terrified eyes. “Dunno if I can make it home, I need to - “  

You stand in front of him and push up slightly to kiss him. It’s a nice distraction. Your soft, sweet lips salve his nerves just a touch. You gaze up at him lovingly.  

“It’s okay baby, promise. Home soon.”  

The words of protest die on his lips. Despite being taller than you, Sakura finds himself feeling so incredibly small. So incredibly helpless and so, so dependent on you in that moment he hardly knows what to do with himself. It usually takes him longer to get like this. You’re the only that can bat for him if he really does wet himself. He’s doing everything you say, being obedient, chasing after the familiar high of the aftermath and it’s sinking him so deep into that headspace. He feels suspended in air.  

He grips your hands a little tighter and you smile at him. His brows furrow.  

“Wanna hold me a little baby? On the way home.”  

He nods feeling as tender as ever and you nod back, kissing his temple.  

“Mm. Good boy. It’s okay.”  

He hides a whimper into your hair as he hugs you from behind, a light laugh leaving your lips when he does. Two minutes feels like two hours.  

The taxi pulls up not long after. You open the doors for him and talk to the driver, giving him your address. Something plays on the radio that gets turned up to give you and Sakura some room as the driver makes way. It’s a short, short drive over to your apartment. Just seven minutes.  

As soon as the driver steps on the gas, Sakura turns his gaze on you pleadingly. And you smile at him, shifting to lay a little against his chest. He buries his face against your shoulder in measured breaths as your other hand comes up to play with his hair.  

“You’re extra whiny today,” You whisper without any malice. A doting edge to your words. “Can’t help it can you? We’re almost home, baby.”  

Sakura bites back another whimper, mustering as much sense into his speech as he can though he hardly wants to talk. Hardly wants to think, either.  

“So close, Haruka. Just a little more and then you can go.” You nudge him with your nose “Such a good boy.”  

“So full,” The words come out hot, on a heavy breath as his hand grips your waist tighter. “Can’t—no more,”  

“Shh,” You soothe. The shared affection between you looks like normal PDA through the reflection in the drivers mirror and it makes him feel even more self-conscious. “Three more minutes, Haru. A minute or two to walk in. Two minutes in the elevator, and another two to get the door unlocked. Nine minutes. You’ve held it for so long. I know you can hold it in a little longer.”  

He grits his teeth and closes his eyes. “Tell me I’m good.”  

“So good baby.” You nuzzle against the crown of his head. “So, so good.”  

The next few minutes feel like a complete blur.  

One more light until the driver pulls into the parking lot of your complex, politely wishing you goodnight before pulling away. Sakura nearly has to lean on you as you walk into the empty elevator and take the trip upstairs. His grip on your hand is tight as you lead him through the corridor, grips even tighter as you fish your keys out from your purse and unlock the door.  

The sound of the lock undoing makes Sakura feel so relieved. You usher him in carefully, his thighs tight and knees nearly buckling from the pressure of his bladder. He’s so full it’s painful, so full it aches and it’s so much he can’t think about anything except that and how much he wants to be free from it. He's delirious and sweaty. He just needs to go so badly.

He tries to rush to the bathroom but jostling around while he walks doesn't work out well.

A looming sense of panic sets in immediately.. He knows what's coming instinctively - the uncontrollable relaxation on his muscles when his body has reached his limit. He looks up at you pleadingly, though he’s not sure what he’s even asking you for.

He can’t think.  Barely moving as something starts to unfold inside of him, crashing into him all at once.

It’s obvious that he’d start to feel the urge to piss when he's comfortable at hom, finally in his own space but— 

He shakes his head, looking at you with blown out eyes.

“I can’t,” He hiccups as he shuffles closer and closer to the living room, teary at his lashline Trying his best to get to the bathroom and failing. “Can’t make it to the—fuck, please, I can’t. It’s.—It’s gonna, I’m gonna  -“  

Your eyes widen in understanding as you crouch just at the entrance alongside him, petting his back.  

“Oh sweetheart,” Your voice is the softest, sweetest sound he’s heard all night. “Poor thing. Shh, it’s okay baby. Let go. It’s alright, I promise. You did so good.”  

Something in him...breaks. Shatters.

His eyes go wide before they blur with tears and piss leaks from between his legs unwittingly. 

Sakura is reduced down to sobbing. His whole body shudders so hard, he’s knees buckling under the weight as the pressure finally stops. He can’t help but listen, even though he’s so, so ashamed of himself.  

Fuck. Fuck, it feels so good.  

Sakura finally, finally lets go. He crumbles under his own weight, shrinking down to his knees as he feels it soak through the layers in a hot rush between his legs. His clothes dampen and drench as he lets out long breaths. You card your fingers through his hair as he sobs through the endless stream. It feels like it’s never going to stop. He can’t open his eyes to look but he can feel the puddle forming underneath him, how it soaks into his jeans and shoes and makes them wet. How ashamed and humiliated he feels being completely unable to stop himself from wetting himself. It flows and flows and flows, testament to just how much he had to drink.  

The entirety of his pant leg is soaked with his own piss and mess. Embarrassment makes him curl up as he’s unable to stop once he starts. It goes on for so long. But it feels so good to let it out. The sheer sense of relief is more of what’s making him sob than anything else.  

Piss trickles down his legs as he heaves through deep breaths and short sobs. He feels your hands cup his face as you bend in a squat, unconcerned with the way it splashes against your shoes or tights. When he finally gets his vision back as you swipe his tears away, you’re looking at him with such reverence he wants to cry all over again.  

“You did so good baby,” You praise, warming him. You kiss him on the lips first before brushing against the crown of his head. “So good. You’re so perfect. Let’s get you cleaned up, hm? Give you you your reward.” 

He sniffles as he stares at you. “You’re such a damn pervert.”  

You laugh a little. “Mm, that’s true. Sorry, baby.”  

__  

Clean-up is always less of a hassle then he expects it to be.  

Maybe because you have a routine for it now, but it doesn’t take very long at all. You do most of the heavy lifting during it which only worsens the feeling helplessness Sakura has been experiencing for the last few hours. He doesn’t make any effort to get away or out from that headspace, though it dies down with time. The promise of a reward has been the only thing keeping him level for hours now and he’d be damned to let it all go to waste after he worked so hard.  

After a long, warm shower and change of clothes  - Sakura finally gets what he wants more than anything.  

Affection and attention.  

In the safety of your bedroom, Sakura feels particularly floaty as he holds you in your lap. Lazy and worn out, he nuzzles himself against your neck as he feels your naked torso squish against his. He’s too embarrassed to tell you verbally like this that he loves you and hopes the nuzzling does the job for him. 

Your nails feel good on his scalp as you card them again through his wet hair. Your skin smells nice too, and you’re soft and warm. The mellow thump of your heartbeat soothes him as you shower him in endless praise. It’s usually impossible for you to do this. Only when he’s bone tired like this do you get the chance.  

Too embarrassing to let you do it unless he’s worked hard for it like he did today.  

Sakura feels his length slide against your pussy and lets out a soft noise. You’re always so wet during this kind of play. It makes him feel wanted in a way he finds cringeworthy and doesn’t dare voice. Still, he doesn’t mind the feeling - aimlessly sliding his hips up and against your slick folds with a huff.  

You do him the favor of moving. Copying the gesture by sliding yourself up and against his cock without penetration. His fingers tighten on your hips, cock painfully sensitive as he whimpers. Pre-cum leaks from his tip, weepy and spent and red as he humps against you even harder - lost in the sensation.  

“Wanna cum like this Haruka? Don’t need to ask permission.”  

“Nghh.”  

He nods wordlessly as you grind yourself down harder onto him. His tip passes over your clit enough times to make you sigh pleasantly, and that sound drives him over the edge. Thick ropes of white cum spills against your soft pussy as Sakura moans and shudders  violently. Despite how close you are, he can’t help but feel like it’s not close enough.  

Maybe you sense it, because you do him the favor of sliding yourself onto his half hard cock without so much as another word. It’s still not enough for him, but it sates him better than before at least. He wraps his arms around you hard and squeezes tight. Just for a little while.  

He scowls a little as he looks up at you, sobering up enough to form a sentence after spending some time hugging you. “Have you cum yet?”  

“Don’t worry about it, baby.”  

“Shut up,” He replies with no bite and a scowl. Another flush crawls across his face. “I can make you feel good too.”  

You raise your eyebrow. 

“Sounds like you’re declaring war not trying to give me an orgasm. I’m glad I made you feel good though,” You add cheekily. He flusters immediately, instinctively getting aggressive but not wanting to shove you off of him even as you break out into a fit of laughter.  

“Fuck off. I d-don’t feel good doing that weird shit with you. I only do it because - “ 

You interject. “Because you love me? That’s a better reason to you? How sweet Haru.”  

He frowns deeply.  

“Be quiet, you—don’t put words in my mouth, damn it.”  

“Pfft, okay. I’m sorry. I hope I’m not pushing you too much.”  

He huffs a little, pouting as he goes back to pressing his cheek to your skin. His voice is a touch softer than it was before.  

“I don’t do things for bullshit reasons. Stupid.”  

“I’m glad, then. Even so, you had a tough time today hm? So I’ll let you fuck me as much as you like. Just do whatever you feel like.”  

“I wanna…return to the favor or whatever.” He says after thinking on it. “Just… wanna make you feel good too. Like….” His voice goes small “…You make me feel. Or whatever.”  

You smile at him. He can feel it, not see it. He’s avoiding looking at your face since he’s sure you’re all goofy and loveydovey.  

“The floor is all yours. No rush though okay? I like spoiling you and we’ve got all night.”  

Sakura scowls, casting his gaze down at the bedroom floor. “….I love you.”  

You smile and press another kiss to his head. He feels so content he wants to die. Your reply comes easily anyway.  

“I love you too, Haruka.”  

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 3 - Snake

Step 2: Get free of your cell.

WC: 5.5k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

Heat did in fact bring you a warm blanket and clothes, in fact he brought you several of his own blankets, which smelt of weed and musk, as well as a pillow, a long sleeved shirt that was practically a dress on you, and sweatpants you had to tie as tight as they would go to get them to stay up. He even brought you a set of fuzzy socks and a stuffed animal that looked something like a snake but with horns. You were far more comfortable in the brig now, even if there were very questionable stains on your mattress, you were at least able to stack the two mattresses in your cell and use one of the blankets as somewhat of a sheet. Heat didn't make any further sexual advances on you, you got the sense he was nervous about getting caught, though he did give you soft kisses through the bars whenever he came to visit, which you happily accepted.

You didn't see much of other top dogs, usually your food was brought down once a day by a random crewmate, seemingly whoever drew the short straw that day. It wasn't a lot of food, but Heat would sneak you more when he could. It was clear that you had him on your side, always checking if you were okay, even if he seemed highly anxious about being caught talking to you. Unbeknownst to you, someone had in fact noticed his visits, and you now found yourself face to face with Wire, who sat against the edge of the desk across from your cell, spinning his trident on its base idly.

“You need to stop taking advantage of Heat,” he told you plainly.

“I'm not taking advantage of him,” you huffed, hugging the stuffed animal he'd given you to your chest. Wire raised an eyebrow at the toy, it was obvious to him where you got it. The room stunk of Heat, his scent was on your clothes, your blankets, your skin. “I genuinely like Heat, sue me. It's not my fault he's the only one who sees I'm no danger to anyone.”

Wire made a tsk sound and stood, only needing a few strides of his long legs to come to a stop in front of your cell. “Show me your wrists,” he ordered with a bored expression.

You raised a brow at the sudden request but obediently put down your stuffed animal, walking in front of Wire and holding up your arms through the bars for him. He took your wrist in his large hand and turned it too and fro, like he was looking for something, furrowing his brows as he apparently didn't find it. He let your arms drop again and you stood patiently, waiting for him to say something.

“What are you, and how did you get here?” he asked, “You're not getting out of here until Kid gets answers, and he's getting impatient”

“I already told you, I don't know how I got here,” you huffed, “I was in my own world, where all this shit was fiction, I got hit by a bus, I hit your mast. That's the entire truth of it. What do you want from me, a three thousand word essay about the world I'm from?”

“Hmm,” Wire squinted at you discerningly, taking a few steps back and returning to spinning his trident idly.

“I'm telling you the truth, I swear,” you pleaded, “I can prove it when we get to Sabaody, I can tell you what'll happen there, without any devil fruit helping me know. I don't have any sort of foresight, I just read it in the work of fiction in my own world. I have other proof too, I know about Victoria, and the four gangs on your home island in the South Blue, why Kid and Killer don't like curry udon. I swear on my life, I'm telling the truth. There's no reason for me to lie, I have nowhere else to go and no reason to harm anyone on this ship.”

“Kil? What do you think?” Wire said without turning away from you. You let out a surprised squeak as Killer emerged from the door, seemingly having been standing there quietly for who knows how long.

“She stinks of fear, but I don't think she's lying,” he replied, standing next to Wire with crossed arms.

“Kil, I'm sorry about the lipstick thing, I-” you started, before he raised a hand and cut you off.

“Save it, it's whatever,” he tutted, “but tell anyone else and you'll be begging for death.”

“I'd never tell anyone, I swear,” you replied, holding the bars as best you could with your bound hands. “I swear I'd never betray anyone on this crew. I want to be here, I do, I promise. Just let me out of here, I'll prove you can trust me.”

“Mm,” Killer hummed, before turning and leaving without another word, an equally silent Wire in tow, leaving you confused and fearful of your future on this ship. You curled back up in bed, hugging your stuffie close to your chest, trying your best not to cry.

“Wanna explain why you've been scenting her, Heat?” Killer accused, sitting at the round table in the navigation room with the other three commanders.

“You did what?” Kid growled, “what, she suck your dick or something? Why are you making a claim on her?”

“No… yes…” Heat admitted, “she's nice okay? She seemed so genuine, and she asked for a blanket that smelt like me, ask her yourself. She wanted me to scent her”

“So she did suck your dick?” Kid laughed, “you're as weak to a woman as ever, Heat. Don't think she's gonna let you claim her just because she smells like you.”

“It's not like that,” Heat huffed, “besides, she practically extended an invitation for any of us to fuck her. God forbid I do something as innocent as scent her.”

“You know full well it's not innocent,” Wire jeered, “but I do agree that she seems to be genuine.”

“So what, we're believing this other world bullshit?” Kid asked.

“The iron isn't burning her wrists, and she had no problem sticking her arm outside of the cage barrier,” Wire noted, “I don't think she's a witch or a demon. We know she doesn't have a devil fruit. I don't think there's any other good explanations for how she got here or how she knows so much about us”

“At the very least, she seems to believe it's the truth,” Killer added, “and she hasn't shown any aggression towards the crew. I don't know if we have any reason to keep her locked up. If what she's saying is true, then she has insider information on our future that could prove useful. At the very least she's more useful to us alive.”

“I don't trust her,” Kid grumbled, “I'll probably still fuck her, but I don't trust her.”

“So let me take on the responsibility,” Heat suggested, “I'll keep an eye on her”

“You just wanna get her in your bed so you can get more scent on her,” Wire rolled his eyes, “I saw the stuffed animal, already bringing her courting gifts, I know you're just itching to get her in your hoard”

“Shut up!” Heat huffed, a vibrant red flushing on his face, “you're just jealous she didn't say she dreams about you a lot! It's not my fault she likes me better!”

“Snake,” Wire spat.

“Bull-headed cunt!” Heat shouted back.

“Will you knuckleheads shut the fuck up and let me think?” Kid growled. Wire and Heat quickly quietened down, a slight blush still evident on Heat's cheeks as he considered adding you to his treasure collection. “Heat, you can have your whore, but if she puts one foot out of place I'll crush her fucking skull. And if I catch you acting all possessive I'm taking your toy away, she ain't yours, don't let her get in your head. She has till Sabody to prove herself, if she turns out to be full of shit we'll sell her to an auction house while we're there. At least then we'll get back what we spent feeding the bitch”

“Aye aye captain,” Heat stood excitedly, eager to get you out of the cell.

“Oi, Heat,” Killer barked before Heat had a chance to leave, “I know you know what I'm about to say; don't fucking try it, understand? Like Kid said, she's not yours to claim, so don't fucking try it.”

Heat knew exactly what Killer was referring to and grumbled in annoyance. “I wasn't gonna…” he mumbled like a scolded child.

“Oh come off it, like you haven't had a clutch ready to go since she came on board,” Killer huffed, “I can smell it from here, don't fucking try it.”

“Fine! Whatever!” Heat yelled.

“And take her to House tomorrow,” he continued, “if you're gonna make her your fucktoy you better not get her knocked up the old fashioned way either. And have her tested, if she's so desperate to be the ship whore she better be fuckin’ clean.”

“Roger that,” Heat grumbled, almost slamming the door behind him as he hurried out of the navigation room.

“He's gonna try it,” Wire noted.

“Hundred berri he tries it in less than two weeks,” Kid added.

“One week,” Wire replied.

“One month,” Killer bet, having at least a tiny bit more confidence in Heat's ability to hold off.

You heard Heat's hurried footsteps before you saw him, the creaking of the ladder-stairs as he descended them and practically skipped into the room. “Someone's got a pep in their step today,” you noted, “come for another taste or what?”

“Even better!” Heat smiled as he fumbled with the keys on his belt, “Kid said you can come out, just gotta stay by my side so I can keep an eye on ya”

“Oh, okay!” You stood up quickly, gathering up your blankets and stuffie, but not yet picking them up since you still had cuffs on, “oh, does that mean I'll be staying with you?”

“Yup!” Heat replied a little too eagerly, opening the cell door and fiddling with the keys again to find the one for your restraints. You held up your wrists for him and he removed the cuffs, letting you properly stretch your arms for the first time in several days. Heat grabbed the blankets and bundled them up in his arms, leaving you to grab the pillow and stuffed snake thing. “Come on, I'll show you my room!” He said excitedly.

You followed him obediently as he led you back up to the main deck, unsurprisingly followed by multiple sets of curious eyes, though this time a few of them were noticeably scrunching their noses, like they'd caught a bad smell. You chalked it up to having had no shower in what must have been a week, and made a mental note to ask Heat for a chance to bathe. He led you up two flights of external stairs, one that led to the covered area that held the cannons, the second up to the stern castle, which looked a lot like an actual castle. Strangely, despite being on a mostly wooden ship, the stern castle was made of light grey brickwork, with green, torn fabric draped over the slightly sloped roof section, and arched, ornate windows scattered around the main floor. The entire stern castle was surrounded in a thin deck, with a single arched door at the front leading inside. You followed Heat in, finding yourself in a small hall with a single door and staircase to your left, and more doors to the right as the hall bent around a central section in a U shape, presumably circling the base of the mizzenmast that protruded from the stern castle. There was also an exceptionally tall ladder directly in line with the entry door that disappeared into the ceiling, which Heat explained cut through the next floor and went all the way to the deck on top of the stern castle.

Heat opened the first door on the right, that same familiar scent of weed and musk you'd grown accustomed to hitting you like a truck. The room was a little dark, with fabric pinned over the windows like permanently shut curtains, blocking out any daylight from entering. He made no move to turn on an overhead light, but there was a string of fairy lights hung around the entire circumference of the room, towards the top of the walls, that gave the room a soft, romantic lighting. The room was messy, with a large bed that seemed like a king size but longer, presumably to account for his height, pushed against the wall the door was on. Opposite it was a small indoor greenhouse setup, with several shelves holding what you assumed to be weed plants behind frosted plastic, condensation making the plastic wet on the inside. There was a short set of drawers to your left, and a side table with a bong on it next to the bed, but other than that, what surprised you the most about the room was the sheer amount of stuffed animals.

They were everywhere, littering every corner and every surface in tall stacks, stuffies of every size and shape, lining the long side of his bed along the wall and stacked in a tall pile in the corner of it. It was frankly fucking adorable, and you couldn't help but let a little giggle out. You threw yourself on the bed, letting the mountain of stuffies all fall on you and cover you in a great avalanche, a riot of giggles coming from under the pile as you kicked your feet gleefully. If you'd been able to see Heat's face, you would have known you'd made a mistake in being so enthusiastic. You'd unknowingly just made something possessive click in his brain, compounding yourself into his prized hoard, making yourself one of his treasures.

His form shifted before he could stop himself, legs changing to a long tail, covered in dark dusty pink scales, wrapped with deep red-brown thorn line markings, much like his tattoos. His canines grew to fangs, his nails to sharp black claws, and from his hair emerged two large horns that curled slightly inwards at the ends, black at the base then transitioning to dusty pink and bright fushia at the tips. The end of this tail flicked and shut the door, the sound prompting you to finally emerge from the mountain of stuffed animals with a final laugh that was cut short as you took sight of him.

Raised up on his tail, he very nearly hit the tall ceiling, looming over you as he slithered closer. Your first instinct was to scream, but for some reason you couldn't bring yourself to do it, too enamoured with the way his scales were almost iridescent where the light caught them. Your back was forced flat to the bed as he moved to tower over you, the base of his tail pressed between your legs as his arms supported himself on either side of your torso, your chest heaving with half fearful, half aroused breaths.

“You okay?” He asked curiously, raising a brow as he smelt your fear scenting the air, his senses elevated in this form. “You're acting like you've never seen a Wyrm. Do you not have my kind where you come from?”

“No, we most certainly do not,” you breathed heavily, “a …wyrm, you said? Like a dragon?”

“I'm surprised, most people would say ‘like a snake?’, which is frankly highly offensive,” he joked, “did the manga in your world not say I was a wyrm?”

“No but… it also never explained how you breathed fire,” you admitted, your eyes travelling down now to the base of his tail, noticing the slit between the scales where his dick would usually be. It made sense, Heat was not a character a lot was known about, and the world of One Piece held all sorts of strange species. It explained why he could breathe fire, though there was the chance still that this was a zoan type devil fruit. The way he talked about it made it sound like a somewhat common thing here, so perhaps it was just a species not really shown in the manga. Your eyes travelled again and noticed his fangs and his pretty horns, and you couldn't help but reach up and touch the pink tips, wondering if they were as sharp as they looked. Not sharp enough to draw blood, you discovered, but they would certainly hurt if he headbutted someone. “So pretty,” you mused. You understood now what the stuffie he'd lent you was, and it was all the more adorable that he'd given you one that looked like him.

“You're not afraid of me like this?” He asked hesitantly. Even those familiar with his kind tended to be anxious around him like this, he was large and dangerous looking, it was a natural response.

“Should I be?” You replied plainly, fiddling with the strings on his corset style top. He lifted himself to remove it, and you could see now that his nipples were pierced, which didn't surprise you in the least. You openly ogled his bare torso, so very well sculpted, running your hand down the center of his chest.

“You're part of my hoard now, I'm only ever gonna protect you,” he said softly, leaning down and brushing his nose against the crook of your neck. You didn't mean to but a quiet whimper escaped you as his fangs brushed against your pulse point, the threat of his bite making you a little horny. He could smell it, your growing arousal, and made a deep rumbling sound that vibrated in his chest, entirely pleased at the sweet smell that now overwhelmed the previous scent of fear. He looked and sounded dangerous, but it only added to his allure, and you couldn't help but roll your hips towards him, dragging your core against his tail with a needy whine. You knew what you were, you knew you had secret desires to fuck monsters, you'd seen parts of the internet your parents would disown you for. This strange new form catered so well to those primal desires, arousal building quickly as you watched the light catch against his fangs. The growling sounded again, this time accompanied by movement between your legs. You pushed him off you slightly to look, eyes widening as you watched two vibrantly pink appendages, tapered to dull points and lined along the undersides with bumps, emerge from the slit on his tail. You realised with a gasp what you were looking at. Two of them, oh fuck there were two of them. This world was the fucking best, you should have gotten hit by a bus years ago.

“Is this okay?” He asked, watching you stare at his two cocks, suddenly feeling a little self conscious. He didn't often show this form, let alone to women he hoped to bed.

“Heat, I mean this in the most genuine way possible,” you replied, fire pooling at your core, “fuck me, please”

“Are.. are you sure?” He asked, sitting back on his tail, feeling a little unsure of himself. Once again his low self-esteem told him this was a trick, he'd always had trouble accepting compliments at face value, especially since receiving his Glasgow smile.

“Why would I not be?” You asked him, cupping his face and running a thumb over his scarred cheek, he looked as though he might cry any moment. Sweet soft boy, this was why you loved Heat so much. You couldn't understand his unease though; he was massive, ripped with muscles, incredibly cool and scary in a way that made you hot with those fangs and horns. His tail was beautiful, you wanted to touch it, not to mention his two cocks that looked even thicker and longer than his human dick. Why would you not want him? “Heat, are you okay? You seem nervous. Am I being too forward?”

“It's just… I don't usually… show this side of myself to women,” he admitted, “unless I'm paying them… I'm scary enough as it is in my human form”

“Oh Heat,” you cooed, understanding now his anxiety, “you're beautiful, and incredibly sexy. Can I touch you?”

“Y-yes,” he stuttered, laying back against the mattress next to you as you guided him to relax with gentle motions. You sat up to reach more of him, running your finger down his well sculpted abdomen, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind on his skin until your hand met the spot where his scales began. The scales were smoother than you expected, even if you moved against the grain you didn't catch the edges of the tightly knit scales, though there was a pleasant bumpiness to them. You wondered how it would feel to slide against them, feeling yourself grow wetter at the thought.

He whimpered a little as your hand ran down his tail, feeling the smooth scales under your palm, considerably hotter to the touch than you expected. You wondered if he'd ever been touched like this; if he'd only ever been with women in this form when they were paid, perhaps nobody had ever taken the time to truly explore this form. You moved slowly, running your hands over his entire tail, hearing his small whines as you played with the tapered tip that flicked a little as you touched it. Curiously you brought it to your mouth, and he groaned as you ran your tongue over it, draping an arm over his face as he flushed bright pink.

“Ah- ah- sensitive-” he whined, the tip of his tail almost vibrating in your hand. You took it in your mouth and he gasped, his chest heaving as you sucked on the tip of his tail. He was breathing heavily as you let him go, and you stripped off your clothes before straddling his tail, pressing your wet core against his scales. “You can- you can ride me if you want,” he said shyly through heavy breaths.

“Do you want me to ride you, Heat?” You asked mischievously, “Do you want me to use your tail however I like?”

“Yes, yes,” he whined, “use me however you want princess, please”

You shuffled to get a little more comfortable before you pressed down hard and began to grind against him, the strange new texture feeling surprisingly good against your cunt, slick transfering to his tail and lubricating your movements and you rolled your hips against him. You immediately struggled to hold back your moans, having been throbbing with need at the mere sight of those two proud cocks that sat in front of you and the way he whimpered at every delicate touch you gave him, immensely relieved at finally getting some much needed friction. He sat up a little, supporting himself with one hand while the other held your hip, helping you find more pressure as you grinded on him. Heat's eyes were wide as he watched you enjoy his tail, never in his life had anyone used him in this way, your juices glistening against his iridescent scales as the wet patch grew larger with every roll. His cocks were twitching as he watched you, his eyes almost black from how blown out his pupils were. Precum leaked from his cocks just watching you pleasure yourself with his body. Heat thought you looked unbearably beautiful like that, lost in your pleasure on top of his tail, a shining jewel worthy of his collection. Never had he thought a woman would accept him like this, and yet somehow you seemed turned on by it, a fact he couldn't wrap his head around but certainly wasn't complaining about.

“Hnng, feels good~” you mewled, grinding faster as you felt that coil in your abdomen begin to tighten. Just having the opportunity to play with a beast like Heat was making you hotter, his tail slapping excitedly against the mattress behind you as your orgasm drew close. You looked down at his two cocks, twitching with need in front of you, noticing now the way the piercings on his human form seemed split between them, with two ladders in the higher shaft, and the remaining ladder and tip on the lower, though being that he no longer had defined heads to his cocks, the tip piercing was considerably lower down his shaft. There were swollen bumps along the underside of each that you had no doubt would feel incredible inside you, the bases of each shaft incredibly thick and tapering to the pointed tips, comparable to tentacles. Precum beaded at the tips and rolled down the undersides, your eyes following the beads as they travelled, making you unconsciously lick your lips. They were not unlike the dildo you had back home, and your moans grew harsh just looking at them and considering what one would feel like inside you, knowing you surely couldn't take both, and suddenly your coil was snapping violently, gushing your release over his tail and shaking on top of him as you struggled to stay upright.

You gave him a crooked, fucked out smile as his tail supported your back, still twitching a little in the afterglow of your orgasm. You slid yourself backwards, leaving a wet trail along his tail as you shuffled down it, until you were far back enough to lean down and run a tongue against his lower cock, taking the other in your hand. They were almost scaldingly hot to the touch, but it didn't deter you from running your tongue up one then the other, playing with them with your tongue, like a greedy child with two icecreams.

“They're so big,” you purred, “how am I gonna fit them inside me?”

“I can warm you up,” he offered, “with.. um.. with my tail. If you want.” He'd always wanted to penetrate someone with his tail, but given how scared people usually were he hadn't ever dared to suggest it. He had a feeling though, given your enthusiasm for this form, that perhaps you would be willing.

You looked up at him wide eyed, was he really offering to fuck you with his tail? “Oh fuck yes,” you replied eagerly, arching your back so your pussy was more exposed behind you. You felt the movement underneath you as his tail curled and shifted, until the tip was brushing against your bare cunt. “Hnng, yes, fuck. Fuck me with your tail Heat~”

You both whined as his tail rubbed against your pussy, searching for the entrance, successfully finding it and sliding in. Heat was slow and careful, he'd never tried this before but he knew his tail was sensitive, so he'd wanted to try this for a while. It didn't feel as good as getting his dick wet, but it was pleasant and sent shivers through him as he felt your gummy walls squeezing around him. You licked at the tips of his cocks, holding them together to take both ends into your mouth at once, moaning around them as his tail pressed in further and began to stretch your cunt, thrusting in and out slowly. You switched your focus to one cock, still servicing the other with your hand, bobbing your head at the same pace as his tail was pumping into you. You couldn't hope to take all of him in this form, his girth far too much at the base for your lips, but you could get a good two thirds in before the corners of your mouth stung too much from the stretch.

He pushed his tail into you further, getting it close to the girth of his cock, getting you used to the stretch. He didn't want to get you entirely stretched out, he wanted to feel your tight cunt struggling to take him when you finally sunk down on him. His tail curled inside you, focusing on your sweet spots, making you vibrate his dick with your sweet moans until you let his cock go with a pop. “Ahh, gonna cum, fuck,” you whined, your hands pumping his two cocks in a messy unfocused pattern as he fucked you faster and a second orgasm ripped through you, juices dripping down Heat's tail.

“Want- want your cock,” you whimpered, practically collapsing on him. You had hoped to ride him while you held those pretty horns but you simply didn't have it in you anymore, your legs turned to jelly and shaking.

Heat rolled you gently until your back was against the mattress, your thighs wrapping around him as he laid on top of you, hooking your ankles together behind where his ass would be. You felt his cocks heavy against your abdomen as he looked at you like you were the most precious thing he'd ever seen, his delicate human treasure. “Please,” you whined, feeling unbearably empty without his tail in you.

“Shh, I'm gonna give you what you want, my jewel,” he cooed, reaching between your bodies to position his lower cock, the thin tip easily sliding inside as the higher one laid against your clit. You took most of him with ease, his tail having prepared you well, until he began to reach the thickest part of his cock and your cunt began to strain against the stretch. Heat groaned as he bullied himself into you, whispering praises as he bottomed out, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix and making you wince. He withdrew a little, not wanting to hurt you, until the pain melted from your face.

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he groaned, sliding back out slowly and pushing back in fast, making you practically scream. He made harsh thrusts, unable to restrain himself now that he was buried in your heat, grunting with each deep slide of his cock, the additional stimulation of his higher cock grinding against your clit with every thrust making you moan loud enough for the whole ship to hear. “Good girl, fuck, good girl,” Heat grunted, the wet squelch of his cock in your soaked cunt filling the small room. “Sweet little treasure, all mine, all fucking mine,” he growled, his speed picking up as his fingers left bruises on your hips, claws sinking in and pricking your skin. “So pretty, my jewel.”

“Ah, Heat, so good, so good,” you whined, making your own marks on him as your fingernails dug into his back. The way the base of his cock pressed hard against your g-spot with every deep thrust was making your coil pull tight again, a fucked out smile spread on your face and your mind entirely lost to the pleasure Heat was giving you. He felt your pussy flutter around him, incredibly aroused as he saw that grin on your face and the way your eyes were rolling, your tits bouncing with each thrust.

“Ahh fuck, gonna cum,” Heat whined, his pace turning desperate and erratic as he got lost watching your breasts bouncing, “so pretty, so fucking pretty, gonna cum”

“I wanna- I wanna be covered in it,” you moaned, reaching down to jerk off the cock that wasn't inside you. He made a sharp whine as you pumped him fast, your walls clamping down around him giving him the final push he needed to finish, doing his best to work you through your orgasm before he pulled out and held his cocks together, jerking himself off till impossibly hot cum shot out in ropes across your abdomen and breasts, your thighs squeezing tight around him as your body shook.

Heat collapsed next to you, his cocks slowly retreating back into his slit as you both panted hard. Your stomach was coated in his seed and you couldn't help but run your fingers through it, playing with it while your clit throbbed from overstimulation. “So hot,” you sighed between heavy breaths, “that felt so fucking good.”

“I'm glad you enjoyed it, my treasure,” Heat purred, rolling to his side and intertwining his tail with your legs. Heat felt unbelievably accepted and vulnerable in this moment, having never experienced such pleasures with a woman in his true form. He felt wholly accepted, the anxiety and fear of rejection he felt at the start entirely wiped away. “We should get you cleaned up though”

“Mmm, I could do with a shower,” you mused, making circles in the hot cum on your stomach with your index finger. Heat near purred at the way you willingly rubbed his scent into you by playing with his cum, only further adding to his possessiveness.

[Next Chapter]

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[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: I think the cover art is pretty self explanatory😚

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, mentions of weed, hints at dealer!Colby, slight arguing, kissing, hair pulling, choking, biting, scratching, unprotected sex, oral (f rec), general filth

Word Count: 1.7k | unedited

You ignored your phone vibrating on the bed, rolling over to try and fall back asleep.

But that was no use.

You extended your arm out behind you, grabbing your phone to silence the buzzing, but as soon as you go to lay it down, it lights up in your hand, and it’s exactly who you thought it was.

“It’s three in the fucking morning.” You mumble as you lay the phone on your ear.

“And I’m trying to change your mind.” Colby starts. You can hear him take a drag of what you can only assume is something that has weed in it, “I’ve left you multiple missed called, you haven’t replied to a-“

“Why do you only call me when you’re high?”

He laughs slightly, “High?”

“Yes.” You breathe out, “Why do you only call me when you’re high?”

He stays quiet, so you sigh, “Are you at a party?”

“I thought I saw you leaving, your heels tucked under your arm..” Colby takes another drag and you roll your eyes as you sit up, “I’m home. Sleeping. Or was.” You scoff, shaking your head, “Co-“

He cuts you off, “Decided that, once again, I was just dreamin’ of bumping into you.”

“What are you getting at Colby? We broke up, weeks ago. I-“

“That’s why I’m calling at three in the mornin’. I’m trying to change your mind. I miss you a-“

You cut him off, “If you miss me, then why did you break up with me?”

“Why does it feel like it’s getting harder to get you to listen?” Colby sighs and you tilt your head, “Are you trying to flirt or start a fight because I can tell you that it feels like you’re leaning more towards the second option.”

“Y/n. Please, just-“

Chatter in the background cuts Colby off. You can hear him bitching at whoever it is to let him alone, but they don’t give up.

“Colby.” You wait but no reply, “Colby. Colby Brock.”

It suddenly gets quiet, “I’m here.”

“What do you want?” You ask quietly, slightly hoping that he actually puts up a fight.

“You. I was… stupid. Really fucking stupid a-“

You cut him off, “Come over. If you’re begging for me back, I want to hear it in person.” You hang up and sit there for a second, collecting your thoughts on what just happened.

“Fuck.” You sigh, laying a hand over your face, “Goddamn it, Colby.”

You sit there until you get the, I’m here, text from Colby. You get up, wrapping your arms around yourself as you walk to your door.

You take a deep breath before unlocking and opening it, “You shouldn’t drive while under the influence.”

(A/N: You really shouldn’t. Alcohol or any drugs. It’s not worth the risk. Stay safe my loves)

“Still worried, I see.” Colby chuckles as he pushes the door closed. You turn around, shrugging, “Does it matter?”

“Yes it matters.” Colby runs a hand through his hair, “I’ve been going to a place, somewhere darker each time and it’s always the same shit.”

You furrow your brows, “What?”

“All I can think about is you.” Colby shrugs, “Feels like I’m, I don’t know, running out of time with you. I haven’t found all I was hoping to find and that’s mainly because you aren’t by my side.”

“Whose fault is that?” You stare at Colby, “it was supposed to be an early night. I have to be up early.”

“You’re starting to bore me with this needing to be up early shit, baby.” Colby jokes, laughing as he walks over to you, cupping your cheeks, “Why haven’t you replied to any of my message?”

“Why do you only call me when you’re high?” You raise your brows and Colby tilts his head back, “Jesus Christ, why-“ he sighs, licking his lips as he looks down at you, “Because that’s when I can have all of my thoughts in order and tell you shit without being scared.”

You jerk your head back, “Wh-what? Why are you scared? Of all people, me?”

“Because you have this fire that draws me in like a moth to a flame. You have my heart, even when you say you don’t want it, you still do, and that just.. scares the ever living shit out of me.”

His words silence you.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, and it’s okay if-“

“Did you sleep with anyone else?” Your own words even shock you, you had no idea they were going to spill out.

He shakes his head, “No. I’ve spent all my time with Sam, and I’m positive he’s about to kick my ass to the curb because all I do is talk about you.” Colby slides his hands down to yours and gives them a squeeze, “I’m sorry that putting you through hell made me realize how much of an asshole I really am.” He brings your hands up, kissing your knuckles, “You didn’t deserve that.”

You watch as his lips connect to each knuckle, over and over again.

You can tell he’s genuine with his words, and his actions.

“Colby.” You whisper, wiggling your one hand free to reach up and tilt his chin up, “Prove it.”

With that he lifts you up, arms wrapping tight around your waist as your hands find his neck. Your ankles lock at the small of his back and he leads you into your room.

He lays you down on the bed, his body still over yours as his lips find yours again, “You’re so beautiful.”

His hand slides down to pull your shirt up, moving down your body as he leaves little kisses along the way.

“I’ve missed you.” He whispers as he kisses over the band of your panties, “The way you taste.” He kisses down over your hip and to the inside of your thigh, “The sounds you make when I touch you just right.”

His hand slides down so his thumb can press small circles onto your clothed clit, earning whimpers from you as you roll your hips.

“Just like that, baby.” He groans lowly as he presses a kiss just below his thumb, “Fuck.”

“Please..” you whimper out, reaching down to lay a hand on his head. He chuckles lowly, “Thought you wanted to hear me beg? Thats why I’m here right?”

You roll your eyes, train of thought derailed when he pulls your panties down your legs and spreads your thighs, not even giving you a second to prepare before diving in.

You gasp, fingers tugging at his hair as your back lifts up off the bed, “Fuck. Colby.”

His tongue darts in and out of you, earning moans and whimpers to fill the room. His hands grip your hips, groaning against you as he pushes his tongue into you.

You needed more, and you needed more now.

You lean forward, pulling him up and wrapping your legs around his waist as his lips fall to yours.

His tongue moves against yours as your hands slip in between your bodies to undo his pants.

He leans up, discarding his shirt and pushing down his jeans and boxers before falling back over top of you. He cups your cheek with one hand as he slowly starts to slip inside of you.

Moans from both of you mix together, swallowing one another’s as his thrusts pick up, “Fuck. You feel so good.” He mumbles against your lips, “I’m sorry. You deserve the world.”

He brushes his thumb over your cheek, “And if you changed your mind, I’m going to give it to you.”

You nod, “Yes, yes.” You pull him in to kiss him, “Please.”

He kisses back your jaw, groaning out lowly as he his hand slides to your neck. Your nails dig into his shoulders, dragging down his back as his thrusts pick up speed.

You tighten your legs around him as your walls squeeze his cock, “C-Colby…I’m so close.”

“Cum for me, baby. You got it.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, “M’not going anywhere.”

You moan out, burying your face into his neck as your arms tighten around him, “Fuck, fuck.” You gasp, throwing your head back as you reach your point, “Shit, shit. Yesyesyes.”

“That’s my girl.” Colby whispers, “That feel good?”

You nod, eyes closed as you moan out, “Yes, yes, so fucking good.”

He kisses down your neck, sucking a mark into your skin, groaning as he pushes his own urge to cum away, “You’re gonna make me cum already.” He chuckles slightly and you lay your hand on his cheek, looking up at him, “I can cancel my meeting in the morning.”

Colby smirks, “You do-“

“It’s nothing important anyway.” You pull him in for a kiss, “Just dont stop.”

You moan into his mouth as his thrusts pick up, nails go back to digging into his shoulders and your chest presses against his, “S-shit.” You moan louder, “I’m gonna cum.”

“One more time, baby.” Colby whispers, “Just one more.”

Your walls spasm around him as you let go, falling into the euphoric state once again. Colby manages to guide you through your high before pulling out, spilling onto your waist with a groan.

He lays next to you and you lay there, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling, “No more three am calls, alright? Not unless it’s an emergency.”

You laugh slightly as you go to sit up, but Colby stops you, “Hold on.” He gets up, going to grab a towel for you, “This was an emergency, though.”

“How?” You roll over into your side, watching as he tosses the towel down before climbing back into bed with you, “I was going to lose you for good if I didn’t step it up.”

“I would have came back.” You mumble before turning over to face him.

“Even after I hurt you?” He questions as he brushes hair from your face, and you nod, “If I didn’t think I loved you, I wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

Colby smiles slightly and nods, “I think I love you, too.”

——

This felt I don’t know rushed?? But, thank you so much for reading! I love you all soooo much! See you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[berryless]

Tav's touch is light and measured. Her short nimble fingers rake up his hair into an absolute mess of a birdnest in which he would never appear in public willingly, but the process of getting it is so infuriatingly pleasant, Astarion is stuck between tolerating the possibility of looking like Scratch struck by a lightning spell, and prying himself off Tav's lap.

Begrudgingly, he sacrifices the temporary perfection of his looks.

Tav hums above his head, face stuck in a spellbook, but her fingers never stop.

It's still bizarre to him how such act of intimacy can exist in and by itself, without being either prelude to nor an afterthought of sex. Unnerving even.

A part of him waits for the other shoe to drop, for Tav's touch to become more sensual, for her to beckon him to return the favor in only way he knows.

The shoe stays put, and that's the part Astarion finds most uncomfortable.

Thankfully, it's not like Tav never asks for anything in return. She frequently complains about how her legs weren't made for walking such great distances with rather unfriendly terrain, or whines about her headaches from overusing magic and losing too much blood (which is entirely his fault, Astarion has to admit). This 'give and take' approach to closeness puts him at ease, because he's used to treat intimacy as currency. It is an entirely safe act to exchange one form of closeness to another.

The problem with it is that the exchange is never even. The minutes spent, the effort wasted, they never seem to line up perfectly, leaving Astarion with a surplus and a debt to repay. Because he should repay it. Right? That's how it worked in all the time he remembers.

Every time he doesn't return exactly the amount he's taken, Astarion feels imaginary interest ticking up. It grows at a slow and steady pace, threatening one day to become bigger than he's ever able to return. Than he's ever willing? Will he be willing..?

Unable to do anything about it, Astarion tries to ignore it, as if when he doesn't think about it, the interest stops rising.

He never asked for this surplus, did he? And if Tav's so foolishly generous, who is he to decline? It certainly wouldn't be the first time for him to use someone's magnanimity and trust against them. He's long been numb to guilt himself about it.

And yet he keeps the tally and counts his debts, and waits, and waits, and waits until Tav will ask to round it up in a single payment. A final one, because it will be final when she'll ask for it. He'll cut his losses afterwards and will be careful to not end up indebted to her again.

Meanwhile, Tav's fingers scratch him just right, and Astarion practically melts from pleasure, his shamefully content face hidden in Tav's lap as shiver runs down his spine. Tav laughs when she notices it and playfully tugs on his ear.

The shoe stays put.

The debt grows.

Astarion ignores its existence.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

When I first saw a Miraculous Ladybug salt post it was the usual Lila takes away all of Marinette's friends Adrien does nothing Marinette becomes super successful Lila gets exposed blah blah blah

When I see posts like the ones you post where people give actual constructive criticism about the characters and not favor one character over the other has made me realize that these are fictional characters and its not their fault they are the way they are. Also they're 14 what kind of 14 year old makes good choice's? Especially when they have the fate of the world/universe on their shoulders

If anything the character I really blame is Master Fu. He was obviously meant to be some sort of mentor figure for them or at least Marinette's mentor. He was the one to tell and encourage Marinette to keep everything a secret from Adrien. Comparing him to other mentor like figures in the world of superheros he isn't really all that helpful.

Compared to DC Ladybug and Chat Noir do not have any adult superheros to help them. In DC younger superheros have entire superhero families to help them out and if not that than they have other adult superheros to help them or they have an actual team. We know that other miraculous holders exist and the order is back I have a vague idea as to why they can't help but I still find it weird as to why they are around if not to help. Like phones and the internet exist do they not?

Sorry for they rant, I want to know what your thoughts are on this?

Your rant was fine! I don't think that I've talked in depth about mentors as a concept and I should both because I love mentors and because Miraculous has completely failed to give us any good ones. This is a writing failure not because good mentors are required, but because the show chose to have mentors characters and then not use them.

Before I get into the topic at large, I want to start with a brief discussion of mentors in shows aimed at young children as Miraculous' intended audience is young children and that fact is worth keeping in mind when discussing what Miraculous did wrong and some of the ways that you can fix it.

Shows aimed at kids generally avoid adult characters in major roles for the very obvious reason that the intended audience is kids, so you want the kid and teen characters to be the stars. This doesn't mean that adults aren't allowed to save the day or have important roles. It just means that they should be used sparingly. This is why mentors are a great addition to kids shows. They allow adult characters to be deeply involved with the plot without anyone expecting them to intervene because that's not their role in the story. They're not here to be the hero. They're here to guide the hero.

One of the powerful things about this setup is that it allows the writers to give the real kids watching at home real advice about real life problems. For example, if Marinette comes to Fu to talk about feeling alone and overwhelmed, then he can give her real, practical advice that would apply to anyone who is feeling alone and overwhelmed, but no one expects him to directly intervene because he's supposed to say hidden.

A lot of these elements apply to mentors in media aimed at older audiences, the rules just apply for different reasons, so I'm going to stop reminding you that Miraculous is for elementary school kids and focus on the failed mentor issue as it would be an issue no matter what Miraculous' intended audience was.

When it comes to bad mentoring, a lot of people focus on Fu and I get why. At first glance, he's the classic wise old Asian man who is supposed to be there to guide the protagonist on her mystical journey (not getting into the racism issue here, just know that I'm aware of it and that Miraculous dropped the ball on this in a lot of ways even though they absolutely could have made it work.) But Fu isn't the main focus of my ire because, while the writers seemed to have designed him around the mystic Asian trope, they never actually wrote him like a mentor.

He doesn't train Marinette and Adrien in the ways of the miraculous. He just sneakily gives them their miraculous and then disappears from their lives for quite some time. So he's not around to get them properly started on their hero journey. That's strike one for the mentor role.

Strike two is the fact that we never actually see him mentoring Marinette. I don't think that she ever went to him for advice? If she did, then it wasn't a big element of their relationship. When I think of Marinette and Fu, I picture her going to him to grab a miraculous or two before booking it back to the ongoing fight and that's about it. The guardian training she supposedly had was all off screen, so we have no idea how close they were or what he even taught her outside of potion making. Even that wasn't really him teaching her something. It was them working together to figure out a puzzle because Fu never completed his own training, making it impossible for him to properly train a successor.

Strike three is the fact that - outside of the King Monkey incident - Fu never gets directly involved in helping team miraculous. He's never gives them feedback on fights or works with Ladybug and Chat Noir to strengthen their bond. He doesn't even help them track down the two missing miraculous or hand out the temporary miraculous on Marinette's behalf, a choice I still find super weird. "This fight is super hard and we need help, so I'm going to leave Chat Noir to fight alone while I go get said help!" is absolutely nonsense logic and one of the many examples of the writers desperately needing to let Marinette hand her responsibilities off. Why wasn't this Fu's job?

This brings us to fix one: if you want the guardian to be a mentor - which is a role they arguably should have - then the guardian needs to be actively involved in Marinette and Adrien's lives in an on screen way. For this to work in the context of Miraculous - a show that really wants to focus on the teen characters - then the guardian probably needs a teenage apprentice who isn't Marinette and that apprentice will be the one doing the mentoring.

My pick for this is Luka for two big reasons. The first one is that his calm personality is perfectly suited to a mentor. The second one is that it seems insane to me to have the snake be a temp holder. The snake should be watching every fight, but staying out of the actual fight so that they can use their power whenever it's needed. That's the perfect role for a mentor character to fill. Someone who is active in the plot, but only ever as a support because their power stops them from getting more involved.

Moving on to the bigger issue.

As I said up above, Fu doesn't actually get my ire. While I wanted him to be a mentor, he never once filled that role and he didn't really need to because the show already had mentor figures that it was actively using and using poorly. Those figures are the ancient magical creatures that follow our heroes around, dispensing terrible advice whenever they feel like it. That's right, as much as it pains me, Miraculous' biggest mentor failures are Tikki and Plagg.

The miraculous did not need to have magical creatures associated with them. They could have just been magical jewelry that Fu handed out and explained. Instead, the writers chose to give us the Kwamis and I don't disagree with that choice. I like the Kwmais! The problem is that they're used in the most lackluster, asinine ways you possibly could.

The Kwamis are not presented as oblivious to the world and unable to give advice. They give lots of advice! The problem is that advice tends to suck! I can think of many examples of times where the Kwamis made everything worse, but let's look at the one that grinds my gears the most: Plagg's actions in season four.

In Rocketear - the episode where Nino gives Adrien an incredibly inaccurate picture of why he knows Alya's secret identity - we get this:

Adrien: I still can't believe Ladybug entrusted Alya and Nino with those Miraculous. Plagg: Of course she did. She's the Guardian. Adrien: But they're a couple and they know each other's secret identities. Plagg: So...? Adrien: So, why does she make it a rule that we can't know each other's identities but it's okay for them? Plagg: She's the Guardian, the Grandmaster Cheese Ripener, and you and I are just cheese on the platter. She decides what's on the menu.

Hey, Plagg, maybe don't tell your clearly upset and vulnerable teenage holder to just suck it up and deal with it when he's feeling alone and betrayed? Maybe encourage him to talk to Ladybug about his feelings so that he can get the full story? Knowing that they learned their identities during the Scarlet Moth incident would probably do a lot to smooth over Adrien's hurt feelings.

What's even more rich is that the episode Kuro Neko lets Plagg go off on Marinette for not appreciating Chat Noir:

Ladybug: What's gotten into him? I didn't do anything. Plagg: Didn't do anything? Well yeah, you did! You've been neglecting a very classy piece of camemebert on your plate for too long! And as a result it got runny, and moldy! Ladybug: What? Cat Noir never gave me any camembert. Plagg: Of course not, Cat Noir is the camembert! For a while now, you've been neglecting this camembert— I mean Cat Noir, and going on adventures with the all other cheeses! Ladybug: But he should be happy about it, it gives him more time off. Plagg: Cat Noir doesn't wanna have time off, Ladybug! He is in love with you! And your persistent calling on all the other heroes has broken his heart.

Dude, if you saw all of this going on, then why didn't you say something??? You and Tikki are in the same location for multiple hours five days a week. Go tell her how your holder is feeling and figure out how to fix the situation! Or be an actual mentor and encourage Adrien to talk to someone about his feelings! At the very least, cut up a wheel of cheese, sit down, and listen to your kid so that he feels less alone!

Also what exactly do you want Ladybug to do to fix the problem you presented? Let Paris burn until Chat Noir decides to show up to today's fight? Refuse to use the temp heroes even if it means losing a fight? None of those are valid solutions when the problem presented in the episode is Chat Noir missing fights. Especially when we know that he's doing it on purpose. Why are you yelling at her instead of working with her to come up with an actual solution? You are such a terrible mentor...

To be clear, I don't think any of this is intentional. I don't think the writers want Plagg and Tikki to come across as actively hurting their teenage charges via bad advice. I think Plagg and Tikki are supposed to be seen as good and helpful, but they can't fill that role because they're tools of the narrative and the narrative has really wacky views on what good advice is. Thus nonsense like the example I discussed above or Plagg and Tikki picking new holders instead of guiding their holders through an identity reveal.

I personally adore letting Plagg and Tikki be good mentors in my own stuff. It falls under the same category as Alya and Nino being terrible friends on screen. I acknowledge the problem and then delight in fixing it by writing the exact opposite setup because what is fanfiction for if not heavy self indulgence?

[valar-did-me-wrong]

The Orc family hate has finally broke me guys, so here's me ranting..

Someone I read on reddit today said correctly that (paraphrased here with tons of my own opinion added) these ROP Haters™ were initially all happy & excited with the show announcement pre character introductions. It was all well & good for them till the day ROP announced Ismael as an elf & Galadriel, a woman as the lead. Then these people got furious!

But most didn't want to bring forth or face their internalised misogyny & racism fueling this sentiment, so it became their life goal to dig into the legendarium to find points & tiny side notes to use to drag the show & justify the hate they were feeling.

From actively overlooking the meaning of 'Adaptation', to painting Newline Cinema & Warner Brothers as charity organizations unlike Amazon, to making PJ's story canon OVER Tolkien's, to digging up dirt on the producers being religious hence implying (pre premiere btw) that the show is pure christian propaganda... no stones were left unturned by varying varieties of ROP Haters™ who were all united at the pale white European elves & delicate feminine background character Galadriel front. All of which the rage bait youtubers utilise against ROP to this date!

Well this succeeded in affecting public sentiment during season 1 because the show was a little Tolkienian in pacing with characters & world building, along with the humongous Rights Problem & people being generally wary of prequels.

But by mid-end of Season 1 to now; despite the review bombing & all efforts for the past 2 years, neutral people started to watch the show themselves & realised one by one that it wasn't actually a disappointment as they were promised. It grew on some people without Hate in their heart & biases filling their minds! Hence the views & the positive comments grew, infuriating the Haters™ & fueling their mindless bullying.

Yet still these people were pretty sucessfully hiding behind their canon excuse untill The Orc Baby.

The Orc Family Hate & it's unhinged justification via convoluting the basic essence of LOTR; it shattered the illusion hiding what these ROP Haters™ are at their core.. just people desperate to destroy a thing that isn't in line with Their worldview. Because in their head the story is Theirs, the only valid interpretation is what They grew up watching & hence it owes Them to be made exactly how They deem correct!

Willing to distort a dead guy's life work to absolve themselves of their unjust hate & get a free pass to feel morally superior doing so!

Unhinged comments claiming the essence of Tolkien's writings is the existence of purely black & white differentiation of good & evil in his world!! Each one of them sounding like regurgitations from some youtuber's video who watched PJ's trilogy at 1.5× solely to farm hate veiws.

Frothing at the mouth over a 5 sec clip! Demanding a world where a whole race can be hated without using critical thinking; these are the same people who used to scream before last week that the reason they can't give ROP a chance is because ` They cannot watch a show without critical thinking `

Embarrassing hills these Haters™ keep dying on tbh

Haters™ does not equate honest critiques btw.. Haters™ are the delulu, moral superiority complex driven, hate stalkers of ROP. The show has faults & you can obviously point then out without being these people :)

[alexandralyman]

Frankie Morales x Reader fic

A little "friends with benefits" Frankie fic for my partner in crime @meanderingcaptainswanmusings - who loves Frankie Morales like I love Dave York!

Summary: You and Frankie are friends. Just friends and nothing more. But after a bad breakup with your dickhead ex and a failed attempt at a Tinder hookup, you find yourself on Frankie's doorstep one Saturday night in a bodycon dress and fuck-me heels. Turns out, Frankie is more than willing to oblige. After all, what are friends for?

8,221 words, rated E for general sexytimes and Frankie's skill with his mouth. AO3 link here

Hope you Frankie fans enjoy!

Frankie With Benefits

You step out of the Uber, muttering your thanks to the driver while closing the door with your phone already in hand to give him five stars and a good tip despite your foul mood. It wasn’t his fault that your date was such a disaster after all, plus he didn’t try to make small talk and played good music instead of some douchey podcast. You can still hear the faint Cuban rhythms as he drives off into the sultry Florida night, it’s both hot and humid as per usual and the contrast between the ice-cold AC in the car to the nearly triple-digit temps outside is a shock to your system that distracts you from noticing something is off until it’s too late.

”Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

While the building in front of you is very familiar, it’s decidedly not your apartment complex. Your plans of changing out of your tight dress and fuck-me heels into some ratty old pjs and killing the bottle of wine chilling away in your fridge while you delete Tinder for good because men fucking suck has just been thrown a major curveball. You open Uber back up to check your ride history and squint at the screen through the false eyelashes that took forever to put on, realizing with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that you must have tapped on the wrong destination when you left the bar in such a rush while telling your date where to shove it. That’s the only explanation as to why you’re not currently looking at your front entrance.

You’re looking directly at Frankie’s house instead.

Fuck.

Standing at the end of his driveway feeling very self-conscious in your bodycon dress with your driver already long gone, you go to book a new ride so you can slip away before any of Frankie’s nosy neighbors start to wonder about the woman loitering on their quiet little street in an outfit that’s decidedly not “family friendly.” Or worse, before Frankie sees you. A minute ticks by, then two, and no drivers pop up, not even with ridiculous surge pricing that you’ll gladly pay just to get home.

“C’mon, c’mon. Ugh!”

You finally give up as the streets nearby stay frustratingly empty on the little map, stuffing your phone into your purse with a sigh and turning to face Frankie’s house. His living room light is on so he’s obviously home and not out with the guys tonight, you can see the soft yellow glow through the curtains like a beacon offering safe harbor after a shitty evening.

It’s Frankie. If you can’t be alone in your apartment drowning your sorrows in grocery store wine, there’s really nowhere else you’d rather be.

“He needs to resurface his driveway,” you mutter under your breath as you carefully pick your way up the asphalt towards his front door. You’re certainly not wobbling with every step because you wore stilettos that make your butt look great but you can’t actually walk properly in. That’s your story and you’re sticking to it. You manage to make it all the way without breaking an ankle, knocking and wondering if it would be less embarrassing to head barefoot to the bus stop at the corner instead of admitting why you’re here. But before you can kick them off and make a break for it Frankie answers, blinking in confusion when he sees you standing on his doorstep in a dress with a neckline that plunges more than an Olympic diver and shoes that cost half a month’s rent, feeling like a complete idiot.

“Hey,” he says, reaching up to scratch behind his neck as he takes you in with those dark, expressive eyes of his. “Um…did we have plans tonight, or something?

He stares openly at your cleavage for a moment before his gaze snaps back up to your face with a sheepish look. If it was any other man you’d be annoyed, but Frankie has never ogled or leered at you in all the time you’ve been friends, and you did just show up unannounced at his door with your tits on full display, after all. You don’t mind if he takes a peek, someone might as well get to appreciate them tonight.

“No,” you reassure him. “Can I come in? I just bailed on a shitty date and must have accidentally picked your address when I ordered an Uber instead of mine. I tried to book another one to take me home but there’s no drivers around right now.”

Frankie nods. “Sure, sure, of course,” he says, shuffling aside to let you in and closing the door behind you with a soft click. You kick off your heels with a sigh because it would be rude to wear them in his house and not because they’re absolutely killing your feet, letting them tangle with his sneakers and already feeling a little better.

“Mi casa et su casa,” he adds with a gallant sweep of his arm once you’re safely inside.

You’ve spent a decent amount of time at Casa Morales since you first met Frankie a few years ago and quickly became friends with him, coming over for everything from backyard BBQs with his Delta Force buddies and their families, to movie nights on his couch just the two of you, to hauling your laundry over in his truck when the machines in your building went out of order again and he insisted that you use his instead of spending money at a laundromat. You know your way around his place. His house is small, but it’s bright and airy just like the ones you sigh over while browsing Zillow in your apartment, and while Frankie’s life can be messy at times (mainly thanks to said Delta Force buddies, Santiago Garcia in particular) he keeps his home neat and tidy and welcoming. When you go into the living room there’s nothing out of place, just a half-eaten bowl of chips and a bottle of beer on the coffee table. On a coaster, no less. The TV is still on, he was obviously enjoying a quiet night in for one when you crashed his evening in a dress that revealed more than it covered and shoes your credit card and arches were both still recovering from.

He follows you in, his presence at your back familiar and comforting despite your current “men fucking suck” state of mind. Frankie’s the lone exception at the moment.

“I’d drive you home but I’ve already had a few beers tonight. Wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

You wave off the apology in his voice. “It’s fine, I’ll just give it a few minutes and book another ride.”

“Uh, about that….”

You turn and look at him, confused. He gives you a “don’t shoot the messenger” look with both hands raised and nods towards the TV.

“The game just finished. All the Uber drivers are going to be down at the stadium by now.”

“Son of a bitch,” you swear, closing your eyes in frustration. You couldn’t have picked a worse night to get stranded without a ride, everyone within a twenty mile radius of the stadium knows it’s impossible to get an Uber after any big event. Frankie knows it, you know it, you just didn’t plan on your date being a lying asshole and having to compete with twenty thousand sportsball fans for a lift home. That’s it, you were done with dating apps for good, if you hadn’t downloaded Tinder again you could be at home in bed right now having a threesome with your wine and your vibrator and as a bonus your feet wouldn’t hurt.

Yeah, you’re pretty sure you have a few blisters. The damn shoes were just like men, looked so great at first and then rubbed you in all the wrong places.

“Sooooo,” Frankie drawls when you flop down ungracefully on his couch, eyeing you carefully from his tactical position behind the coffee table. “You were on a date tonight? I thought you said you’d given up on dating after Dickface McDickhead….oh fuck, please tell me you’re not back together with that asshole again?”

His nickname for your ex always makes you snort. Frankie was never his biggest fan. He wasn’t Frankie’s either, hating the fact that you two were such good friends. When you finally broke up with him for good, Frankie threw a BBQ the following weekend and grilled you the best steak you’d ever eaten with a huge smile on his face.

”What are we celebrating?” Santi asked when he arrived, putting down the beer he’d brought and eyeing the streamers and balloons decorating Frankie’s backyard in confusion.

“The fact that I won’t go to jail for throwing trash out of my helicopter,” Frankie said.

Santi stared blankly at him. “The fuck are you on about, Fish?”

Frankie just grinned at you over Santi’s shoulder while you rolled your eyes and grabbed one of the drinks. He even had a party hat perched jauntily on top of his ballcap, and a piñata hanging up in the yard, “for the kids”.

You took a few good swings at it with the bat he handed you while picturing your ex’s face on the paper-mache.

The mere thought of getting back with Drew, aka Dickface, makes you shudder. “No, I’m not back with him, and I’m still done with dating.”

You swipe some chips out of the bowl and tuck your legs under you, ignoring how high it makes your dress ride up your thighs with only a token effort to tug it back down.

“You’re done with dating, but you were out on a date? Little confused here.”

Frankie sits down on the other end of the couch, muting the post-game recap on the TV and turning so that he’s facing you. He’s all casual in jeans and a faded T-shirt that stretches over his broad shoulders when he twists, hair falling on his forehead in a mop of messy curls without his usual hat to cover them. You should feel out of place in your sexy little dress, full-glam makeup and the “effortless beachy waves” that took you an hour, three different tutorials and a whole fucking lot of effort to achieve, but you’re far more comfortable here with him than you were with the man you ditched back at the trendy bar full of wannabe influencers with insanely overpriced cocktails. Comfortable enough to tell him the truth, with a little help from the tequila in the deconstructed margaritas that you drank.

“It was supposed to be a hookup,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks go warm in a combination of embarrassment and alcohol.

His eyes go wide at that and he lets out a little cough of surprise. “That explains the dress,” he says, glancing down at it again before quickly looking back up at your face.

You wave a hand up and down yourself. “Dress, shoes, lip gloss,” you list off, not mentioning the rather skimpy new underwear that you’re one wrong move away from flashing him with. “I was tired of sitting home alone on Saturday nights, you know?”

”Hey!” he protests, and you duck your head with a wince. It’s Saturday night and he was sitting home alone until you showed up.

“Sorry. No offense, Frankie.”

“None taken, cariño. But only because it’s you.”

The casual endearment makes you feel even warmer, or maybe it’s just the Patrón you downed before leaving Mr. Talk, Dark, and Liar Liar Pants on Fire back at the bar hitting your system.

“Deconstructed margarita” your ass, it was a shot of triple sec and a shot of tequila with a hideous up charge, and they didn’t even include the lime.

You could leave it at that, suggest watching a shitty Netflix movie to pass the time until you can finally book an Uber and go home to change into something that isn’t squeezing your ribs into new and interesting positions and drink the finest chardonnay Publix had for under ten dollars. Frankie won’t push, won’t judge, you’ve been friends long enough to know that. You’ve seen each other through various highs and lows over the years, he was the first person you called when you got a promotion that you’d worked your ass off for, and when he found out his ex-fiancée was getting married you were the one who picked him up at the bar where he was drowning his sorrows and brought him home to drunkenly cry on your shoulder until he passed out.

If there’s anyone in the world who you can trust with this, it’s him.

“Those last few months with You Know Who,” you start, meaning your ex and not Voldemort despite their many similarities, “we were fighting like all the time. I knew deep down our relationship had become this flaming dumpster fire, but for some stupid reason I kept splashing water on it trying to put it out instead of walking away. And then we had the worst fight ever, and he said…he said-”

You could really do with another shot of tequila for some liquid courage right now. You settle for drinking the last of Frankie’s beer instead while he watches you carefully, tipping the bottle back to get every drop and then setting it down on the coaster with an audible thump.

“-he said I was a frigid bitch in bed and he would have better sex fucking a blow up doll instead of me. That’s what finally did it, I told him we were over. He tried to apologize and begged for another chance, but I just kept hearing it over and over again in my head and I was done. Finally done.”

A muscle ticks in Frankie’s jaw like the countdown clock on a bomb, you can see it even through the scruff of his patchy beard. He glances away for a second and you see his eyes close while he mutters under his breath in Spanish too soft and too fast for you to understand before his gaze snaps back to yours.

“I take it back, he’s not a dickhead,” he says, sounding completely calm. “That’s an insult to actual dickheads. And he’s going to be lucky if he can still run his mouth like that once I’ve knocked out all his teeth.”

Even though he’s ex-military Frankie has never been one for that bullshit macho posturing, which is one of the things you like so much about him. He breaks up bar fights, he doesn’t start them. To see him now, so calm and collected but with such an intense expression and not a hint on his face that he’s kidding or exaggerating, it sends a jolt right through you. His threat to your dickhead of an ex-boyfriend shouldn’t be so sexy, but….

Damn.

You reach out and flick him lightly on the shoulder. “He’s not worth it, and I really don’t want to have to bail your ass out of jail at three in the morning again, Morales.”

“Hey, that was one time!” he protests, adding in a mumble. “And it was Santi’s dumb idea.”

His annoyed pout just makes you laugh, shaking your head at how closely he resembles his namesake when he juts his lower lip out like that. Cutest catfish ever.

“So,” he drawls, after you stop chuckling, “since you didn’t go back to that asshole, thank fuck, then who was the lucky guy tonight? Or unlucky guy, since you ditched him for far better company.”

You shrug, plucking idly at the fabric of your dress. “Just someone I matched with on Tinder. I really wanted to prove Dickface wrong, you know? That I wasn’t uptight and sucked in bed. Swiped right on someone who didn’t have a douchey shirtless mirror selfie in his profile, we met for drinks and everything was going great until a text popped up on his phone while he was showing me a picture of his dog. From his wife.”

Frankie winces. “Seriously?”

The notification lingered on the screen while he frantically tried to swipe it away, not that it would do any good. You were a fast reader, you’d already read the whole thing.

“Yeah. Letting him know there were leftovers waiting for him in the fridge when he got home from work, with a bunch of kiss emojis and a ‘love you babe’. He tried to do the whole, ‘it’s not what you think, we have an open marriage’ bullshit, which sure, I bet he does, so I told him to call his wife and put her on speaker so we could clear that right up.”

“That’s my girl,” Frankie grins.

The praise flows through you like the tequila, remembering how your date went pale as a ghost while you stared him down and his immediate attempts to backpedal.

“Obviously he suddenly had a million reasons why he couldn’t, so I stuck him with the bill and left. Hope he had the decency to tip, at least.”

You let your head fall back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The adrenaline rush you’ve been riding since you told off Dickhead McDickface the Second and stormed out of the bar on your fuck-me heels is wearing off. You got fucked all right, fucked over.

“I really can pick em, can’t I?” you ask, a rhetorical question if ever there was one. “Went from one asshole to another. A married asshole, no less.”

There’s a rustle of movement to your left and a touch to your shoulder that makes you turn your head to see Frankie has shifted closer to you on the couch and tilted his head to match the angle of yours while he brushes his knuckles lightly down your arm.

“Hey, do you remember that woman I went on a first date with last year who brought her fifteen year old brother along? And we were supposed to see Poor Things? Who brings their brother on a date, let alone to a movie with that many sex scenes? Really, really, explicit sex scenes?”

You do remember, thanks to the texts he sent you with increasing speed until he was blowing up your phone and you’d barely finished one before the next popped up.

She brought her kid with her?

Wait, not her kid, it’s her brother.

Dude’s like 13, what the hell?????

Okay, apparently he’s 15 he’s just “short”. THAT’S NOT THE POINT!!!!!!!

WE’RE SEEING POOR THINGS??!!!!!

WHAT?

WTF?????????

PLEASE TELL ME THERE’S ANOTHER MOVIE WITH THE SAME TITLE THAT DOESN’T HAVE NAKED EMMA STONE IN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fuck, what do I do?

This is so fucking weird!!!!!!!! SHE BROUGHT HER BROTHER TO THE WEIRD NAKED EMMA STONE SEX MOVIE!!!!!!!!! HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

His bewilderment came right through the screen with the increasing number of exclamation points and the memory makes you giggle. You still can’t think of Poor Things as anything except The Weird Naked Emma Stone Sex Movie thanks to Frankie.

“See?” he says with a smile, “I can’t pick ‘em either. First date was over before the movie even started and I’d already spent like fifty bucks on popcorn and drinks. Still follow her brother on Instagram though, he’s cool.”

You laugh even harder at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “Dating suuuucks,” you whine in your best angsty teenager impression.

“It sucks so much,” Frankie agrees. “Fuck that married guy. Wait, no, don’t fuck that married guy.”

Now you’re both laughing, so close to each other on the couch that you’re practically touching at the knees. You think to yourself that Frankie has such a nice smile, none of that closed-mouth, thin-lipped thing some guys do as if smiling is an affront to their manhood. Frankie’s smile takes over his whole face, his eyes going squinty and crinkling adorably at the corners.

“I promise I won’t fuck that married guy,” you swear with mock solemnity, crossing your fingers over your heart like a Boy Scout when you finally stop laughing. You let your hand drop to the cushion in between the two of you and close your eyes with a sigh. “Even though I really, really, really need to get laid.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth you freeze, scarcely daring to breathe even as you’re sure you hear a sharp inhale from Frankie at the unguarded confession. He’s so close to you on the couch. So close.

When you gather the courage to open your eyes and meet his dark gaze the air around you has changed, heavy with the weight of what you just said. Neither one of you moves to put a platonic distance back between you like so many other evenings on this couch when you get too close, sharing pizza and drinks and conversation for hours.

Maybe it wasn’t such an accident that you ended up here, with him, tonight.

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” he asks in a voice so low and thick with promise that it makes your stomach flip and a sharp throb hits you even lower down.

“Anything?” you repeat, your own voice higher than normal. Is he really offering that?

Frankie picks up your hand from where it lays on the couch, lifting it and keeping your eyes locked while he raises it to his mouth and brushes a slow, deliberate kiss along the back that makes you shiver as every last nerve ending rises to attention and begs for more.

“Anything,” he murmurs against your skin. “Say the word.”

His large thumb strokes over the fluttering pulse in your wrist, back and forth, back and forth, while his heavy-lidded eyes stare into yours.

You can’t say you’ve never thought about it, because you definitely have. Frankie’s stupidly attractive, with those thick curls that always escape out from under his baseball caps and his Roman coin profile. But when you first met he was still with his ex, and then he was single but you weren’t, the timing never quite working out for anything between you except friendship and nothing else. Hell, by now he’s pretty much your best friend, the one you would call if you needed to bury a body knowing he’d bring the shovel. There’s no one else you trust as much as Frankie Morales, and there’s no one else you want as much as you want him, right here, right now.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, saying the words you always wanted to say to him.

He shuffles closer, his other hand sliding behind your neck as he brings your lips together. It’s a little clumsy at first, your nose bumping his before he fits his mouth to yours. You feel his fingers press to the nape of your neck and the brush of his knee against your while he kisses you carefully, so soft and sweet and gentle.

At first.

Heat washes over you and it’s all because of Frankie, his kiss turning hot and hungry and demanding. You gasp into his mouth and kiss him back just as eagerly, hands fisting in his T-shirt to pull him closer. He makes a low noise in the back of his throat that you can practically feel, a sexy cross between a groan and a grunt, and pulls away from your mouth far too soon. But before you can protest the loss with more than a pout and pull him back, he’s dusting more kisses under the hinge of your jaw and along your neck, mapping a hot trail down the wide swath of bare skin your dress reveals between your breasts and nuzzling his face right into your cleavage. His hands go to your hips, bunching the fabric and pulling it up impatiently to your waist as he moves even lower. Everything happens so fast that it makes your head spin far more than the tequila and you lean back on the couch for support with your chest heaving and groping for any part of him you can reach. Frankie kneels on the floor, pulling your new underwear off as he goes and you lift your hips to help with anticipation pooling low in your stomach at the realization of what he’s planning to do.

He spreads your thighs apart and looks down between them at where you’re now completely bare and practically dripping with a rush of arousal. His gaze is dark, hungry, a look like nothing you’ve ever seen before on his face replacing his usual easygoing expression.

“She’s fucking gorgeous,” he says in that low voice, staring straight at your pussy. “All pink and perfect and needy for some attention, isn’t she? Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna take very good care of her.”

The breath catches in your throat at that, more than a little shocked by the filthy promise in his words. No man you’ve ever been with has ever said anything remotely like that. Your nipples are firm points against your dress and you must be glistening with how wet you already are. Frankie kisses your inner thigh and mumbles, “lie back a little more for me,” while pulling gently on your hips to position you the way he wants. You’re not about to refuse him anything at this point and you slide lower, feeling your dress ride up even more as you do. While you’re not fully naked yet you feel so exposed, lying with your legs wide open on the same couch where you’ve watched so many bad movies and argued over words while playing Scrabble, because military acronyms don’t fucking count, Catfish! Now he’s nestled between your bare thighs with his wide shoulders wedging them apart and you wonder dimly why you spent all that time not doing this, his insanely kissable mouth so close to your pussy that you can feel his warm breath when he exhales. It makes you tremble with anticipation and Frankie looks up, his eyes meeting yours with an unspoken question behind them. You nod, answering without words. You want this.

He licks you, a slow, broad swipe with the flat of his tongue that has your head falling back and your legs spreading shamelessly wider. Then he does it again, and again, and again, burying his face so deep that you wonder vaguely how he’s even managing to breathe. He doesn’t come up for air anytime soon, holding you firm against his mouth with his hands wrapped around your thighs and seeking out every last spot that makes you writhe and grind against him with moans and cries that you can’t hold back spilling from your lips. It’s loud, both the noises you make and the wet sound of him eating you out like you’re a feast and he’s been starved for days. Frankie makes his tongue a firm point and thrusts it inside you while keeping you spread, the feeling so intimate and erotic that your clit throbs and you absently cup a breast to ease the ache in your stiff nipple. He fucks you with his tongue a few times before he gives you another one of those long, slow licks that go the full length from bottom to top and he zeroes in on your needy clit as if he had a map leading him right to it. You feel his lips close around the swollen bud with a hard suck that has you squeezing your breast with one hand and sinking the other into his messy curls.

“Oh fuck,” you manage to gasp, “Frankie, it’s so good. So good.”

He finally pulls back long enough to rasp, “I want you to come all over my face, baby,” before diving back in. You feel the prod of a thick finger against your dripping entrance, slipping in easily and soon it’s moving in tandem with the flick of his tongue over your clit. The dual sensation makes you whimper, tugging on his hair to urge him closer and rocking your hips. Another finger joins the first, stretching you even more and pressing along your velvety inner walls until he suddenly curls them and hits that spot, the one you almost forgot was there. He strokes it and it’s nothing but bone-melting, toe-curling pleasure that builds and builds relentlessly under your skin until there’s nowhere else for it to go.

You cry out, your climax hitting with the force of a tidal wave and crashing over you. Frankie groans, a low rumble coming from his position between your legs as he clearly feels it in the squeeze around his fingers and the rush of more hot arousal that makes you even wetter and slicker. He rubs it all over his face just like he wanted, his fingers pumping in a lazy rhythm in and out of you until it’s finally over and you’re left limp and boneless on his couch with your dress bunched to your waist and one strap hanging off your shoulder. You’re not sure exactly how you ended up like this, from knocking on his door ready to swear off men forever less than an hour ago to half-naked and panting from the best orgasm you’ve had since….ever. When you manage to lift your head from the cushion to look at him his expression is just as dazed as yours must be even as his lips gleam and his cheeks and chin are damp with you.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his chest heaving under his T-shirt like he just ran a marathon. “Fuck, are you okay? Was that okay?”

Even with the AC blasting there’s still not enough air in the room, it takes you a moment to find some so you can answer him. “Yeah….yeah, I’m okay. It’s okay.”

Okay is an understatement, you don’t even smoke and yet you’re ready for a cigarette now. You don’t even make any move to tug your dress down and cover yourself, one leg still loosely propped on Frankie’s shoulder. He rubs a soothing hand on your thigh and carefully dislodges it so he can stand up, revealing the prominent bulge in his jeans that’s now perfectly at your eye level. Your pussy clenches and throbs at the sight, he got that hard just from going down on you? He follows your gaze and smirks a little when he sees where you’re looking, brushing his hand against his fly.

“All for you, baby,” he says, and reaches to pull you to your feet. “Not on the couch though. Bedroom. I want you in my bed.”

Bed, couch, floor, you really don’t care and you’re already fumbling with his belt buckle and tugging his T-shirt out of his jeans. You drag your nails along the sensitive skin of his stomach right above his waistband and relish the way it makes him shudder, the muscles contracting under your touch. When you look up again he immediately swoops down and kisses you, this time with the taste of you still clinging to his lips and your scent all over his face. It’s raw and messy, tongues and teeth and the little sound of triumph you make when you finally get his belt open. You feel him smile against your mouth while he starts to walk backwards and you have to follow him to work on your next goal, getting his T-shirt off. He’s leading you towards his bedroom, and thank God his house is a bungalow so you don’t have to waste time going up stairs. All that’s between the two of you and his bed is a hallway, and it might as well be one of those funhouse corridors at the county fair with the way you’re both bumping against the walls and tripping over your own feet trying to navigate it. Frankie unabashedly gropes your ass with those large hands of his while he kisses you, not paying attention to where he’s going and knocking pictures on the wall askew with his shoulders. You keep tugging and pulling at his T-shirt, trying to get it off and thwarted by the fact that he won’t let go of your butt long enough to lift his arms.

“Frankie,” you whine against his mouth, shoving fistfuls of cotton up his back, “off!”

He finally pulls back and yanks the shirt over his head with enough force that you’re sure he just completely stretched out the neck, tossing it aside without bothering to see where it lands. The warm expanse of his broad chest presses against you almost immediately, with what feels like miles and miles of bare skin under your exploring hands. His lips fasten to your neck and you tilt your head back, holding onto his shoulders for dear life while he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. You’ll have to cover it before work on Monday, but, fuck it. That’s what concealer is for. If he wants to cover you in hickies like you’re teenagers having their first makeout session, you’ll let him. You’ll let him do whatever he wants at this point.

“Hang on.”

“It’s the only warning you get before he hauls you up with his hands under your thighs, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He carries you the last few steps into the bedroom and closes the door with a kick of his foot that makes it slam shut. The sound makes you start before you grin down at him.

“Impatient, much?”

“To have you in my bed at last?” he says, matching your grin with his own goofy smile. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

You can take the man out of the military but you can’t take the military out of the man, Frankie’s bed is made with such sharp precision that it seems a shame to mess it up.

Almost.

The mattress dips when he sets you down, knocking a pillow aside and the duvet no longer perfectly crisp at the edges. You go up on your knees while he stands next to the bed, reaching for where his belt hangs open and using it to tug him closer. It doesn’t take much work to pop open the button on his jeans and pull the zipper down, the sound of the metal teeth parting shockingly loud against the quiet of the room. You reach a hand in and feel the heat of his skin even through the soft material of his underwear, while he stands as still as a statue except for the rise and fall of his chest. He lets you touch and explore and you trace the very long and thick outline of his erection as it twitches and presses eagerly against your hand. Fuck, Frankie is big. The kind of big that’s going to stretch you so deliciously. The kind of big that you’re going to feel the day after. Maybe even longer.

And it’s all yours tonight.

His jeans are quickly joined on the floor by your dress, as you go from bodycon to full frontal. You might have been nervous about finally getting completely naked, if it wasn’t for the unexpected sight of the pattern on his boxer-briefs.

“Frankie,” you laugh, “you actually have fish themed underwear?”

Sure enough, there’s several different types of fish swimming around on the fabric, including his whiskered namesake. When you look back up from the cartoon catfish smiling jauntily across his groin you can see that his ears have gone bright red in embarrassment.

“It was a gag gift from the guys,” he mumbles, not meeting your eyes, “they’re really comfortable, and well, I wasn’t exactly expecting to take my pants off in front of anyone tonight, you know.”

You rest your hands on the waistband and trace a nail along the bare skin just above, trying and failing to stifle the urge to giggle.

“Wanna put your pants back on then?” you ask, teasing the sensitive spot below his navel.

“Fuck no.”

His lips crash back down on yours again, his arms circling your waist. The Finding Nemo joke you were about to make is immediately forgotten as you blindly peel the boxers off, letting the school of fish puddle at his feet and immediately get kicked away. You wrap a hand around his cock, so long and thick that it makes you ache with the thought of having it inside you. God, you need this. You need him.

Frankie lets out a deep groan against your mouth when you start to stroke, dragging your hand up and down the length of him from root to tip and back again. You rub your thumb over the sensitive head and twist your fingers under the crown, teasing out all the sensitive spots and figuring out what he likes. A hard grip, bordering on rough, has his chest heaving and his hips jerking while his cock throbs in your hand.

“Jesus Christ,” he bites out. “Like that, baby, just like that.”

The sheer unguarded pleasure on his face gives you everything you wanted tonight with your dress and the heels and the lacy underwear. You feel sexy. Desired. Powerful. Able to bring a man to his knees with your touch. Literally, Frankie’s legs start to buckle and he has to brace himself against the bed to stay upright. You keep stroking him until he finally pulls your hand away gently and kisses your open palm before joining you on the bed. He practically jumps onto it in his eagerness, making you bounce with the movement.

“Condom?” he asks, twisting towards his nightstand, “I have some-“

“I’m good,” you interrupt. You want to feel him inside you without that barrier. “I’m on the pill.”

His arm drops from where he was reaching for the drawer. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all month.”

You never would have fucked your Tinder date without a condom, but this is Frankie. Your Frankie. You trust him. He rolls on top of you and your trust only grows when he hesitates, looking down into your eyes.

“Are you absolutely sure about this? We can always stop.”

He pushes a lock of hair out of your face with a gentle touch and you know without a doubt that if you wanted to stop he would without complaint even though he hasn’t come yet. You run your hands up his arms and feel the tension in his biceps, the strain of holding himself back. He’s braced above you, his hair a complete mess, gorgeously naked and hard as a rock, and you are one hundred percent sure about this.

“I don’t wanna stop.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, a perfect fit between your thighs. Frankie angles his hips while he leans down for another kiss and you feel the hot slide of his cock as he finds your entrance with that pilot’s accuracy of his, then the press of the blunt head as he starts to push inside. He moves slowly, carefully, giving you time to adjust to the stretch and burn. And it does burn, in the very best way. It’s been months since you’ve had sex, and far longer since you’ve had good sex, your frustration had built to a fever pitch under your skin and Frankie just lit a match. You both feel it when you open for him fully, that final slide is smooth and easy and he buries himself right to the hilt.

“Fuuuck,” he bites out. “Took me so fucking good, perfect fucking pussy.”

His dick is pretty damn perfect too, in your opinion, filling you up and creating the most delicious friction when he starts to move. You pull his head down for another kiss before he buries his face in your neck and rocks his hips into yours, gradually building the rhythm while you run your hands along his back and feel the muscles ripple and flex with each thrust. It’s everything you needed and more, the thick drag of him inside you has you arching your back and crying out and it only seems to spur him on even more. He plants a knee on the bed and lifts your leg, shifting his hips so that he can go even deeper. You clutch helplessly at his sheets when the tip of his cock finds your sweet spot and make a noise you don’t even recognize, a throaty moan pulls from your throat while your toes curl and your pussy throbs.

“Frankie,” you manage to gasp, clutching both his shoulders and gripping him even tighter from the inside, “oh god, there! Right there!”

“That’s it baby,” he murmurs into your skin. “Come all over my cock.”

He leans over you, thrusting hard and balancing on one hand to reach down with the other so he can work your swollen clit. The first swipe of his fingers on the sensitive bud sends a jolt through your entire body that melts into sheer unadulterated pleasure. With a few more you’re teetering right on the edge, and then Frankie grinds especially deep on his next thrust and presses down hard with his thumb. It grips you and doesn’t let go, your second climax of the night is even stronger than the first and has you squeezing him as if you’re trying to drag him even further inside, contracting along the length of his cock while he grits his teeth and fucks you through it. When the aftershocks finally stop and you relax back into the mattress with a sigh Frankie pulls out, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips and laying down next to you.

It takes you a few moments in your post-orgasmic haze to notice that he’s still hard, his cock is practically flush to his stomach and glistening with your arousal.

“You didn’t?” you ask, confused as you glance down.

He follows your gaze with a strangely bashful look. “Not yet. I want…I want you to ride me.”

That sends another hot rush right between your legs, suddenly wanting it desperately too. You’re not sure if you’re going to be able to walk afterwards, especially not in those stupid heels, but it’s going to be so fucking worth it.

Frankie stretches out fully on the bed, those long legs and broad shoulders taking up so much space on it. Luckily there’s more than enough room for you right there on his lap. You swing a leg over, hands pressing down on his chest for balance while he looks up at you with that crooked grin he always gets when he’s especially pleased about something. A sinful roll of your hips along his thick erection only makes his smile wider when he feels how wet you still are.

“Take me in,” he begs shamelessly, hips moving under you and hands roaming over your skin. “Please, baby.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

It’s another delicious stretch, sliding down his thick erection and feeling him rub you in all sorts of interesting new ways from this angle. Once you’re seated fully you give yourself a moment before you start to move, his heart racing under your palm and his cock held snug and warm deep inside you.

Frankie’s done so much already for you tonight, this is for him. You want to give him just as much pleasure as he gave you, make it just as good for him when you start to roll your hips again to take him in again and again and again. His hands find your thighs and flex against them while he watches with a rapt expression, eyes glued to where you’re joined before looking up to take in the full sight of you riding him just as he wanted.

“Good?” you ask, gasping the word out.

“So fucking good,” he groans. His hips lift under you right as you go down on the next stroke and it’s even better, the way you just fit. You use muscles you didn’t even know you had, increasing your pace and riding him hard. The cords on his neck pop when he throws his head back against the pillow, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring with each exhale of breath. He has to be close, you can sense it in the increasingly desperate noises he makes and the way his fingers dig into your skin as he holds you steady on top of him. Your breasts bounce and your thighs are burning with the effort of maintaining the rhythm but you don’t stop, can’t stop, you need Frankie to fall apart just like he’s done for you twice already. You want to see the look on his face and hear the noises he makes when he comes, adding a circle of your hips that makes his eyes close and his body jerk under you. He feels even harder now, and your legs aren’t the only thing that’s burning. Frankie is hitting every sweet spot inside of you, filling you so deep and full that the familiar prickle and spark is starting again. You weren’t expecting to come for a third time, but then again you weren’t expecting anything else that happened tonight and it’s definitely happening. Frankie thrusts up with a growl, yanking you down on him with the same motion and holding you there while you feel him pulse hot and he lets out a long, loud moan like no other noise he’s made all night. The sound and the sensation make you molten, almost there and even deep in the throes of his own pleasure he reaches for your clit and gives it a pinch that’s all you need to fall over the edge with him. With your hands braced on his chest you throw your head back and let it wash over you while you keep rolling your hips to draw out more and more of those gorgeous sounds out of him until he finally starts to soften. You collapse in a heap on his chest and his arms immediately wrap around you, lips brushing against the top of your head while you bury your face against his sweaty chest and your heartbeats slowly go back to normal.

It’s nice.

It’s more than nice.

You could get used to it.

You can’t. You shouldn’t. You’re just friends.

Friends who just fucked rather spectacularly.

Fuck.

After a few moments you slide off of him to lie on your back, looking up at the ceiling instead of at him. Now things are going to be all weird and awkward and as amazing as the sex was, it wasn’t worth the inevitable end of your friendship. Silence stretches between you and creates more and more space in its wake.

“There’s probably Ubers available now,” you say at last, keeping your gaze away from his face so you don’t see his expression shift from lover to stranger. By the time the driver gets here you’ll have your dress back on and your feet shoved into your shoes and you and Frankie can start pretending this never happened. Maybe that will work.

There’s a snort from next to you. “Yeah. That’s not happening, I’m driving you home tomorrow. After we sleep. And shower. And stop at that diner on 53rd cause I’m gonna need one of those giant lumberjack breakfasts to recover from this.”

You feel yourself flush a bit, as ridiculous as it is considering you’re naked in his bed with “this” still sticky on your inner thighs.

“I’m not going to a diner in that dress,” you say, still looking at the ceiling and adding silently, “or those shoes that could double as torture devices.”

“So you wear one of my T-shirts or something,” Frankie’s voice trails away into a jaw-cracking yawn before he continues, “we’ll figure it out in the morning. Fuck, you really did a number on me.”

Yawning is contagious, you can feel one building and you’re suddenly on the verge of falling asleep thanks to the number he did on you and the incredibly comfortable bed that you never want to leave. Best sex you’ve had in….ever, all thanks to Frankie. But you don’t give in to the urge to just close your eyes and go to sleep, as tempting as it is, turning your head to look at your best friend instead and finding him looking back at you in the dark.

He’s still Frankie. You’re still you.

You’re still friends.

“Frankie? Will we figure…this out in the morning?”

His fingers lace with yours under the blankets and he gives you a soft smile.

“Yeah. We will, baby, I promise.”

When you fall asleep you’re on your side with Frankie plastered to your bare back, his arm firm around your waist like he’s afraid you might try to sneak away in the middle of the night. The thought had occurred to you, to escape all the morning after awkwardness. Frankie isn’t just a hookup or a one-night stand though, he means so much more to you than that. So you lay your hand over his and relax into his embrace with a sigh, wondering as you drift off if he’ll let you borrow his prized vintage AC/DC T-shirt to wear home…..

….and if he’d be up for another round in the shower in the morning.

The answer to both turns out to be a resounding yes.

[love-toxin]

Finale -> Lyney

plot: you and lyney can't really "agree" on the terms of your sudden breakup.

(cws: yandere!lyney, gn!darling, good ol' male manipulating, jealousy & cheating accusations, threats, crying, breakup angst w/ fluffy ending)

wc: 2k

It generally took very little for Lyney to find issue with something you'd done. Your partner was not callous or cruel by any means–in fact, he was often quite kind and caring, moreso than most others you'd met in your day-to-day life.

But if he was anything, Lyney was, well…devoted. Dedicated might be a more professional word, but the devotion of Fontaine's most prominent magician could not be understated nor ignored. Lyney was a performer, an artist, a man of great talent and greater loyalty, and nothing on the soil of Teyvat–not an ocean nor a rippling puddle–could tear him away from someone he proclaimed to love and adore. Nor would he ever allow someone he had devoted himself to be ripped from his embrace.

That was exactly where you found yourself now. The breakup had not gone well…Lyney had taken it quite badly. If the tears and desperate pleas for you not to leave weren't enough, the begging and tugging on your sleeves as he tried not to let you step away from him was simply too much to bear. He switched from devastation to fury in moments, flipping between one and another like an absolute crazed madman. He swapped between sobbing, begging to know what he'd done to ordering you through spiteful tears to tell him who the “other man” was, as if he were flipping one of his coveted playing cards. He grew so unhinged so quickly even Lynette had to get between the two of you to calm him down, and it just made it so much more of an ugly mess.

“Please, just think about it. My brother really loves you. Can't you two work it out?” Her words had come from a loving place, you knew, but it was simply not in the cards for you any longer.

You'd long grown sick of Lyney's jealousies, his possessiveness, his hunger for you that overwhelmed all common sense at all the wrong times and places. He wouldn't give you space and he wouldn't take no for an answer whenever you swore you would never leave him. It was his own fault that you had to go back on all those promises he never believed.

Now, all you had to do was pack your things. Lynette had graciously let you know when he was supposed to be out so you could come and collect them in peace, without starting another argument. But so very like her; she neglected to tell you that she'd also informed Lyney of when you were coming, and by the time you stepped into his room your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. It was instantly too late to leave. You sighed, and your former lover's ears perked up as he sat back on his chair by the desk. Clearly, he had stayed to wait up for you.

“...And where is this attitude coming from?” He bit at you with a snark that had never before been directed at you in particular. You elected simply to say nothing; it would be best for both of you not to say a word. So while he stewed in his own feelings across the room, you shuffled over to the wardrobe right by the door and started stuffing things into the bag you'd brought, whatever you could reach. His violet eyes glowed with frustration, burning holes right through your back like lasers.

“Don't, Lyney. Please.” Your timid voice interrupted the tense silence that followed. At once you felt the air shift, and heard the sigh of Lyney behind you that warned you of an impending change of heart. Him being angry at you was all a farce. In truth he hated to show any irritation towards you at all, and even in relatively harmless fights he would always end up folding much sooner than you ever thought to as he despised not having your favour. The creak of the chair echoed in the small chamber, as did his footsteps as he methodically made his way towards you. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Your fingers twitched as he took in a breath just a hair's length from your neck.

“I miss the scent you always leave on my pillow…” He muttered quietly. You said nothing. He took a strand of your hair between his gloved fingers, and it took everything within you not to cringe in anticipation of him ripping it out of your head. “I tried to use the soap you wash it with, but it just smells like nothing without you. It's not even worth the money.” He leaned forward, eyes closed, and delicately pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck.

Oh. Why had you let him do that? Why were you letting him still get closer, his chest and his hips meeting yours from behind? You didn't even make a move to flinch at the contact, and that was all that would have stopped Lyney if you had the guts to do it.

Perhaps the answer was obvious. You didn't want him to pull away.

“...You know, if you come back to me, I'll buy it for you from now on.” Now came the bargaining again. Lyney's hands moved upwards to brace your hips, and although you moved your own palm over one of them, your muscles still refused to contract and tug his off of you. Lyney slowly started to sway with you, taking hold of you like a little porcelain doll to posture as he pleased. This dance was so familiar–he would do this every time you stood at any counter, and distract you from whatever you were doing–and it was the nostalgia, you realized, that was stopping you.

“Lyney, we're broken up.” Your lip wobbled while you swung that truth at him like a weapon. But he seemed…unaffected. His words had no tinge of hurt nor malice like they had before.

“We can get back together.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. “All this will go away. I can make all the bad things go away. I can get rid of whoever's pulling you from me-”

“Lyney, I told you there was nobody else.” You broke away from his touch, away from those fingers that crept down your sides and the hug he'd been holding you in from behind. You stepped away and turned to face him, your conviction still not as unwavering now that you'd allowed yourself a moment to bask in Lyney's attention.

“And I told you that you're a damned liar, sweetheart.” Lyney suddenly spoke through gritted teeth, though his smile remained albeit much more tense and nowhere near the vicinity of reaching his eyes. “I'm sure it was that ginger rat that was sniffing around you, but I told you, I've already forgiven you. Plus, he's out of the picture–there's nothing keeping us apart anymore.”

“Lyney, stop! Can you just stop? Why can't you ever just believe me when I tell you anything?” The huff in your tone barely moved the needle for Lyney this time. He was clearly too wrapped up in the gleam of your eyes and the soft press of your lips together as you spoke to take in anything you were saying.

“You're so beautiful when you're angry.”

“You're not listening to me.”

“Kiss me.”

How many times had your arguments culminated into this? Into Lyney grabbing your waist against your will, all smiles and teasing giggles, as he blew puffs of air against your skin until your composure broke? He darted forward with eager lips to try and catch you, just barely backing you into the wardrobe, and on the third try he actually cracked your facade–his desperate kissy sounds and gentle tickling actually made you laugh. Really laugh, for the first time in what felt like ages. And for perhaps the first time, he didn't claim his prize once he figured he'd won. He stood back, hands still gripping you gently, and just watched as you laughed and snorted at how bad his aim was. “Just like always,” You said, and that part hit a nerve within him.

“Come back to me.” He faced you with a serious disposition yet again, and although you balked and rolled your eyes at the moment growing tense yet again, he persisted. “Let's forget this. I'll do better.”

“No you won't, Lyney.” You sighed. “You never change.”

“I will for you.” He swore, moving closer to keep your gaze as if losing it would mean losing this battle he was fighting so hard. “I'll change. I'll be better. I'll do anything for you. Anything.”

“Will you? Change, I mean?” You hesitated even to ask, but Lyney did more than answer. He dropped to his knees right there, his hat tumbled away and off to the side. He wouldn't look up at you with anything but doe eyes, his chin resting snugly against your soft stomach as he held your waist in his arms from below.

“I love you more than life itself. I'll be a better man, I swear. I'll change. I'll change right now! I won't…I won't ever doubt you again.” He nuzzled his face deeper into your belly. He clearly must have missed you at least twice as much as you expected, since he seemed to shudder in pure bliss at just the warmth of your skin through your clothes–a reprieve you had no idea he wanted to claw his eyes out over the fear of losing. He spoke again from the muffled depths of your shirt. “Just come back to me. I'm sorry I never believed you when you said you wouldn't leave. I won't hold it against you–I drove you away, didn't I? It's my fault. I-I deserve it, but I…” He sniffled, and turned his cheek to your stomach instead to keep from soiling your clothes with his tears. “...I just want you back. I feel like I can't breathe without you, my darling. Please come back, and I'll fix everything.”

And in the midst of so many conflicting feelings, you stood there and let him cry. Although this time was brief and much less charged than when you'd first broken up with him, in this moment you let your body move on its own to soothe his pained woes. Your fingers slid through his blond locks and stroked him, trailing over his scalp in waves that instantly calmed Lyney down. You fidgeted with the ends of his hair with your other hand as well, mindlessly combing through those messy stray hairs that you always watched him tuck back into place before a performance. You did love Lyney. As much as you wanted to hate his attitude towards your separation, you could only feel sympathy now–it was a dangerous game you were playing with someone as manipulative as he could be, but you didn't know that, at least not well. You had no idea that even now, those gentle sobs were nothing but crocodile tears.

Lyney did well to shield you from all that. And when your knees started to buckle, and your strong will began showing cracks, your ex-lover went in for the kill with one last, yearning look up at you, eyes glistening with fresh tears.

“Please, baby?”

You were finished. The words didn't even register as they tumbled out of your mouth–all you knew was that in a moment, Lyney was up on his feet and he was hugging you tight, nearly crushing your bones as he promised ad nauseum that he wouldn't waste this precious chance. He would be better, he would do better, he would listen and be more attentive and not be so pushy–and though you only believed half of those promises in the moment, the desperation with which he kissed you and the squeeze of his arms trapping you in a tearful hug inflated some sense of belonging within you.

At least with Lyney you felt wanted. You felt desired, needed, not like a piece of furniture or a token but as someone who literally laid the ground for him to walk on. He wouldn't dare breathe an ounce of air if you weren't around to give him a reason to. And as bad as it might turn out to be when the people closest to you start going missing….at the very least, the man who refuses to live without you will only get closer and closer to your side, desperate to earn that approval of yours that he coveted more than all the Mora in the gods' universe.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Tw: SA

Do you have any prompts of someone who experienced SA coming to?

I’ve done some research of what it may be like and I’m trying to handle it as respectfully as possible without it being too detailed (in a way that may exaggerate, downplay, or horribly triggering) but I haven’t really found many resources. I wouldn’t want to seem disrespectful by just bluntly asking survivors about it but from what I *have* found isn’t enough to have a general writing idea for it.

Any help is greatly appreciated, and any thoughts is also understandable! Make sure to take breaks and take care of yourself!!

trigger warning: mentions of sexual assault

flinching. lots of flinching. whumpee flinched away when caretaker gently tapped them on the shoulder from behind. caretaker didn’t mean to startle them, they (caretaker) were still learning to adapt to whumpee’s PTSD, but sometimes they felt like they kept messing up and harming whumpee more as a result.

miscommunication and misunderstanding; whumpee believing caretaker was angry at them for being “weak and jumpy”.

if whumpee and caretaker were lovers, the assault could affect them in terms of their being intimate with each other. the thought process whumpee went through may be these;

whumpee being scared of having sex, even if it was with their lover, after what happened.

whumpee feeling ‘guilty’ (though it wasn’t their fault at all) when their partner told them it was okay if they weren’t ready, because they felt like they were keeping their partner waiting, and eventually their partner would expect them to be ready. but what if they could never be ready again? would their lover force them or would they leave them for someone else then? or would they be disappointed in them? — and whumpee didn’t even know if they wanted their partner to find someone else who’d be ready, because while they felt guilty for not being able to give their partner what they wanted (sex), they didn’t want to lose their partner either. *this didn’t mean their partner wanted only sex, but whumpee’s own mind was their biggest enemy right now and therefore they believed their partner prioritized sex over their recovery and mental health, which didn’t always have to be true.

self hate. whumpee could be disgusted with themself, especially their own body, for what happened. maybe they believed they were dirty and unworthy of being loved now. (again, this couldn’t be further from the truth, but whumpee’s mind kept telling them all these thoughts, and for someone who went through that, it was hard not to be convinced by these thoughts).

when whumpee looked at caretaker or anyone else, all they saw was pity. and that only made things worse.

whumpee believing all they were now was a piece of rotting meat, and that was all they’d ever be. this was their own mind poisoning them with untrue thinking, but the struggle was very much real nonetheless.

maybe caretaker was as struggling as whumpee was, trying to help whumpee recover and help whumpee learn to love themself again.

maybe caretaker blamed themself for not being able to protect whumpee when the assault happened. caretaker kept replaying in their head all the things they could have done differently that would have prevented the assault from happening; maybe if they had been there with whumpee, if they had picked up the phone, etc.

to sum up, everything would be a struggle. not just for whumpee but also for whumpee’s friends and family and everyone who loved and cared about them.

[lazycats-stuff]

Ok this one is mainly for Alfred but u could add batbros and batdad if u want, anyways i was wondering what would alfred (or any of the fam) do to stop BatToddler reader tantrum? Like i imagine the setting would be grocery shopping and Alfred's only getting healthy food including boring plain cereal and BatToddler is not having it and only wants sugar loaded cereal and starts whining and tearing up right there in the middle of the store, would alfred give in to those tears or find an alternative? I imagine batdad would give in and the brothers might even encourage it giving that they probably eat the same junk food

Oh my God yes! Anon, thank you for sending me this, this sounds so fun. Alfred needs love so this is Alfred centered, but I will put this in batfam since I'm to lazy to create a new page for the masterlist. It's a bit short, but my arm hurts.

Summary: Alfred has to make a deal with his grandson

Warnings: nothing really, (Y/N) crying, but it's short...

Alfred Pennyworth is a man of many talents. He may look like an ordinary butler to the public, but without him, the Wayne family wouldn't even function. He is the person who makes sure everyone eats, sleeps and somehow functions like a human being. Somewhat.

Some may find it tiring, but Alfred wouldn't have it any other way. He really wouldn't have it any other way at all. Of course, his grandkids so to speak were independent and didn't need anyone looking over them 24/7. That was until (Y/N) came as a baby.

Alfred nearly passed out when they got the call. (Y/N)'s mom abandoned him and just signed off her parental rights and Bruce had realized he had a kid. A baby, defenseless little creature who is untouched by the world. Untouched.

That's something that scared him.

But he knew that Bruce and him had to step up when it came to this little child. They really had to step up as caregivers. Of course, another problem was the press, pushing and prodding. Bruce hated it and told them that there were going to be consequences if they think about photographing his son.

If they did go out, (Y/N)'s face was covered by Bruce and or one of the boys who went with Bruce that day. Gotham citizens, the ones not included in the press, loved the little baby and were happy to him in public. Of course, that may sound weird, but the Wayne family is loved in Gotham and everyone just loves every single member.

In fact, the news of a new member, a baby member, broke the internet and Gotham in general.

Even Metropolis wrote about it.

And there was one thing that Bruce promised to himself. He would be present and he would try to balance everything. Batman, Bruce and the CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Alfred and the rest of the boys were more than happy to babysit and (Y/N) was never going to be at fault for love or affection. Never.

And Alfred made sure he is well fed. And also, Alfred made sure it was healthy. His grandson needed to be healthy. Of course, there could some sugar here and there, but not all the time. Sugar from fruits is more than welcome, but sugar like in cereal? Alfred had put a restriction on it.

At least for now. (Y/N) didn't need a sugar boost just yet. Only natural sugars while he is so young. Bruce agreed. They would introduce him to the sugars gradually. Bruce relayed that to his sons and every son agreed.

No processed sugar while he is so young.

3 years have passed since (Y/N) came to live them and life was going great. (Y/N) has started kindergarten and was happy. He loved his brothers a lot and his father, but he loved his grandpa the most. Bruce's working theory was the fact that Alfred cooked the most and often made tasty foods for (Y/N).

None the less, (Y/N) loved the others very much and that was undeniable.

One thing that Alfred loved doing was taking (Y/N) to the store whenever he could. (Y/N) was just in love with the activity. It was fun seeing new things and bright colors. Alfred enjoyed since (Y/N) held the list while shopping and he didn't have to worry about it.

Although there is one single issue. (Y/N) has a sweet tooth. A really big one, especially for a child his age. So Alfred often had to bypass the cereal aisle and aisles that contained candy.

It would not be a pleasant sight. But Jason and the others want cereal and they will lose their minds if they don't get it. So what does Alfred do?

He goes to the aisle, preparing himself mentally.

This could turn into a battle.

Alfred took a right and started looking through the cereal. He looked at some healthy cereal and (Y/N) was reaching for Coco Puffs. Alfred saw it and moved (Y/N) away.

(Y/N) didn't like that.

" Alfred. " (Y/N) whined and Alfred raised his brow.

" Yes, master (Y/N)? " Alfred asked as he put the healthy version inside the cart.

" Coco Puffs. " (Y/N) said pointing at the cereal. Alfred smiled and shook his head.

" I'm afraid that I can't get you that master (Y/N). " Alfred said and he sighed when he saw tears in (Y/N)'s eyes.

He picked his grandson up into his arms from the cart. " Master (Y/N), don't cry. " Alfred said as he rocked him.

" But I want Coco Puffs. " (Y/N) whined and some tears fell down his cheeks.

" Oh darling... " Alfred whispered and kissed his cheek, trying to comfort him.

" How about we make a deal? " Alfred suggested and (Y/N) calmed down a little bit and looked at him in curiosity.

" You will have to eat the vegetables I give you. "

(Y/N) opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself. Did he like vegetables? No. But he did like his Coco Puffs.

" All of them? " (Y/N) asked quietly.

" Yes. I know you are not a fan of vegetables, but I need you to be healthy. " Alfred said as he kissed his cheek once again.

" And then I'll get my cereal? " (Y/N) asked and Alfred nodded.

" We got a deal. " (Y/N) said and Alfred smile, kissing his cheek again.

" Good. " Alfred says and puts the box into the cart. " You can have one bowl a day. " Alfred said as he put (Y/N) down in the cart's seat for children.

" Cross off cereal master (Y/N) please. " Alfred said and pointed at the word. (Y/N) crossed it off and smiled happily.

" Now, let me see what else I have. " Alfred said and saw what else is on the list.

" We have one more thing left and then we can go home. " Alfred said and patted (Y/N)'s head.

(Y/N) just nodded and kicked his little legs happily. Alfred saw that (Y/N) often glanced at the Coco Puffs and made sure that they were in the cart.

" They won't be going anywhere master (Y/N). "

(Y/N) let out a little humph and smiled none the less.

" I have to make sure. "

Alfred laughed at the response he got as he moved the cart through the aisles. " The box won't walk away anywhere. " Alfred explained as he put the last thing in the cart.

" Cross off this word please. " Alfred said as he pointed at the last word on the list.

(Y/N) nodded and crossed it out. " Good job. " Alfred praised his grandson and made his way to the cash register. This was not so bad like Alfred thought it would be.

And the deal was nice.

[wenigstenshabeichesversucht]

All is fair in love and war

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Ares kid!Reader

Summary: Where Luke is your biggest rival, and what better way is there to settle your rivalry once and for all than with a bet on who wins a game of Capture the Flag? The stakes are higher than ever before.

Warnings: none besides kissing, english is not my native language

Word Count: 1.8k

It was Friday morning; the Ares cabin was already filled with excitement when you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. Most of your siblings were sharpening their weapons or polishing their armor. Fridays were Capture-the-Flag-days, the only day of the week, where you siblings forget about arguments with each other all in favor to fight the other campers. It was the only day of the week, at which your cabin went as one unit to breakfast without bickering.

At breakfast, you would find out the team division for the game and after that the counselor and who they seemed worthy would round up for a strategy meeting.

Although you couldn't see the future, you were pretty sure that Clarisse would choose you, she always did. Not because you were her favorite sibling, you were far from it. But you were the strategist of the cabin.

More time than once, some other campers had suggested that you were behaving more like a child of Athena than Ares. But they didn’t know the fury and hunger for blood you felt when you came face to face with Luke Castellan. In these moments you didn’t doubt, that you were your father’s daughter. Every time you saw him you had the urge to slap this stupid smile of his off his face. The others called him the greatest swordsmen the camp had seen in 300 years, and you hated him for that. This title should belong to you or one of your siblings. He had no right to claim the one thing the Ares cabin was expected to be good at.

Therefore, you were all the happier when you learned at breakfast that you would be competing against the Hermes cabin in this game of capture the flag. A cruel smile danced around the corners of your mouth just when you thought about how you would defeat Castellan.

“Do you already have a plan for us to win?”, Clarisse, who was sitting next to you, asked between two bites of bacon. Eagerly you nodded.

“With the Apollo and the Hephaestus cabin we almost have the victory safe.”

The Apollo kids were in general great archers, combined with your siblings you had good long-rang and close-rang fighters in your team. The Hephaestus kids were a great bonus, certainly they had one or two traps up their sleeves that you could use. The Dionysus cabin was also in your team, not exactly known to be good fighters, they could be useful as cannon fodder.

“I hope so, we can’t lose a third time in a row against the Athena cabin.”

“The last time we lost was totally Castellan’s fault”, you reminded her.

“So should I be glad, that this time he isn’t in our team?”

“At least this time he and Y/N can’t cost us the victory with their fighting”, a half-brother of yours chimed in, and your other siblings snickered spiteful. If looks could kill, he would be six feet under.

“Just finally kill him or snog him, we don’t care”, he added, without being intimidated by your gaze.

“I would rather die than kiss him” you protest, to which he shrugged his shoulders.

“Then that’s settled.”

On your way to the strategy meeting, you and Clarisse ran into Castellan and one of his half-brothers, Chris Rodriguiz.

The words of your brother still echoed in your head. Maybe killing him was worth giving up dessert for a week?

“Ready to lose, Castellan?”, you teased and like a bull being held up with a red rag, he couldn't ignore you.

“The only person here who is used to losing is you, Violence.”

You hated the nickname he had found for you, hearing it now, made our blood boil. Looking up to him, you snarled. Yes, today was the day, you would kill Luke Castellan.

“We will stamp you into the ground that you will cry for your daddy.”

“That will not happen, sorry to disappoint, Violence.”

“Should we bet, Castellan?”, with a dangerous gleam in your eyes, you took a step in his direction, till you were standing face to face. “If I win you will announce to the whole camp, that I’m a better sword fighter than you are. And if you win, what not gonna happen, you can get anything you want.”

“Anything?” Luke’s lips curled to a sly smile.

“Anything”, you confirmed.

“If I win, what I will, you will openly admit, that you need tutoring in sword fighting by the best swordsman, and we will do five lessons for everyone to watch.”

Oh, that was good, you had to give him that. That would be so humiliating.

“Do we have a deal?”, like he already had won, he smirked down at you. But you wouldn’t back down, not now, not ever.

“Deal!”

“You know that there are easier ways to resolve the tension between Castellan and you?”, Clarisse provoked you after the strategy meeting as you put on your armor.

“Easier than a bloodbath?”, you questioned doubtful.

“I mean Carter wasn’t wrong. You could make out.”

As response, you just made gagging noises. Like you said earlier, you would rather die than kiss him.

“Think about it, it would distract him. Without their best fighter, we will totally win.”

“Are you suggesting that I hook up with Castellan so we can win Capture the Flag?”, flabbergast, you looked at your half-sister. That wasn't typical of her at all. Since when did she think about a winning strategy other than just charging in?

“We aren’t children of Aphrodite, we don’t do stuff like that”, you objected, while tightening your breastplate. “Besides, it wouldn’t work”, you added after a thoughtful moment.

“And why not? He literally undressed you with his eyes earlier.”

Aghast your mouth felt open. He totally didn’t and if Clarisse though so, she needed to get her eyes checked out. You still had half an hour till Capture the Flag started, enough time to find an Apollo kid for an eye test.

“He did not, we hate each other!”

“Hate and love are closer to each other than you may think.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. That was bullshit. But you were tired of debating whether Luke was interested in you. To be honest, you couldn’t imagine it. He was the kind of guy who would fall for a pretty Aphrodite kid, not for someone like who, forged out of anger and bloodlust. The only thing Luke was interested in, was to humiliate you, that you were sure of.

“Even if you were right, what I strongly doubt, it wouldn’t be fair to use his feelings against him just to win the game.”

Surprised Clarisse stopped fixing her armor, that didn’t sound like you. You siblings knew you as somebody, who would do everything to win. But even you had a moral line, you wouldn’t cross. And it seems you had found it.

“All is fair in love and war”, Clarisse protested, and you grimaced.

 “And which of the two are we dealing with? Love or war?”

“That’s for you to decide.”

You should be concentrating right now, and you were trying, really. But you couldn’t help but think about Clarisse words. So, if you lost because of your inattention, it would be her fault.

Leaning against a tree, you took a deep breath. You had to get your head in the game. You were part of the defense. While two of the Apollo kids were guarding the flag, it was your job to stop anyone who was trying to get to them. You would rather be on the attack, but you were one of the few Ares children who were patient. But not patient enough.

Bored you twirled your sword in your hands, hoping that something exciting would happen soon. Some god must have heard your prayers, because you heard rustling in the bush and shortly after none other than Luke Castellan step into the small clearing. Seeing him you couldn’t suppress a wicked smile.

„You took your time.”

“If I had known that you were eagerly awaiting me, I would have rushed here.” Lazy stepping in the middle of the clearing, Luke drew his sword.

“So eager to get another scar, Castellan?”, you mocked as you pushed yourself off the tree. You met in the middle. Your swords clashed together, and you could feel the impact right up into your shoulder. It had been two weeks since you last had the pleasure of fighting him, and you missed it. A genuine smile appeared on your lips, while you both moved around the clearing like you were dancing to music only you could hear.

But sooner than you wanted, your little dance had to come to an end. Even if you would never admit it, Luke was simply the better swordsman of the two of you. In one moment, you wanted to block his swing, the next your sword was flying out of your hands, and you were cornered against a tree. Gasping for air, you gazed at Luke, who bridged the last few meters panting and pressed you against the tree. Through your shirt you could feel the hotness radiating from him. Confused you could just stare.

“This is a position I've wanted you in for a long time”, he muttered, and his eyes were looking teasingly down at you.

Was he flirting with you? You weren’t sure. But there was one thing you were sure about; you wouldn't lose to him again.

“Same for you”, giving him a cocky smile you pressed your dagger against his throat. You couldn't describe the feeling of satisfaction that filled you when he opened his eyes in surprise. But faster than you would have liked, he slipped back into his far to arrogant self.

“Violence you live up to your name, good thing I like it.”

Before you could react, he pressed his lips on yours. Losing no time, you kissed him back. Wasn’t this how every girl imagines their first kiss? After a sword battle with their biggest rival? His big hands roamed your body, and yours clawed themselves in his hair. It seemed that you had exchanged your swords for other, no less sharp, weapons.

Only when cheers filled the forest did you separate from each other, gasping for air. Luke’s lips were swollen as he looked at you like he saw you for the first time. You were only able to tear your eyes away from him when a group of Athena kids broke through the trees with the red flag. It looked like your team lost, but for the first time you weren’t angry about it.

“Looks like I won our little bet”, Luke whispered way too close, and you could have cursed. You totally forgot about the bet. To safe a little bit of face, you pressed against the tree behind you to create some space between you.

“I totally won our fight!”

If you had wanted to, you could have slit his throat with your dagger.

“Maybe you won the fight, but I won the war.”

Sending you one last cheeky grin, he joined his team to celebrate their victory. And surprisingly, it didn't feel like a total loss.

[randomshyperson]

Like Real People Do - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Wanda Maximoff is known to be a strict mother - the opposite of you. When a school incident involves your children, you two will need to learn to get along with each other. [Requested]

Warnings: General Fluff, attempted romantic comedy with opposites attract, mild making out at the end, milf wanda being adorable, brief angst for past relationships, found family. | Words: 5.733k

A/N-> My first fic of the year will be Milf!Wanda without smut? What happened to this blog, huh? I was so busy in December that I couldn't post anything, I hope you guys didn't forget about me. This is a very old request that I finished some time ago and never posted, here it is then. Good reading you all!

General Masterlist || AO3 || Wattpad

--//--

It started with a bloody nose.

It was Wednesday, which meant that you had painting class from ten to eleven in the morning, so when your cell phone rang and Principal Fury's angry voice demanded you not to be late, you could barely think of a decent excuse for your students.

The way to the municipal school was quick and even perilous - you never learned how to drive Natasha's truck properly no matter how hard you tried - but you arrived quickly at least.

America was standing with her arms crossed at the door to the principal's office - the jeans jacket with buttons you took her to buy last year had a bloodstain on the front that made your heart miss a beat. 

"Mom!" Her sulky expression lit up the second she saw you - the girl uncrossed her arms and ran to catch up with you, talking too fast about the mess while you searched her face for bruises. You sighed in relief at not finding any.

"Honey, slow down, I'm not catching any words." You warn her gently, and America giggles awkwardly, taking a deep breath to speak again.

"It wasn't my fault, Mom! It was those idiots who came at us, Billy wasn't doing anything, and when they called him bad names and I just lost my temper and-"

You frown in confusion, but America shuts up because the boardroom door opens and other people come out.

The blood is not America's you realize. It's the boy with ice on his face, accompanied by an equally grumpy adult. The boy also has blood all over the front of his shirt, and from the way, America tenses up and he flinches, you understand that he has been beaten.

"Come on, don't give me any more trouble." Warned the man to the boy who practically ran out. The man waved goodbye politely, and you turned to America, ready to ask, but you heard Mr.Fury call your name.

The room was not empty. There were two boys and a woman in a suit so impeccable that you became very aware of the ink stains on your work overalls. Or maybe it was the way she looked you up and down, with an indecipherable expression.

"Mrs.Romanoff, how nice that you could join us at last." Fury pinned on your lateness, and you smiled awkwardly.

"Sorry, I was in class and my cell phone was off." You mumbled, but he didn't seem to care much, signaling for you to sit down.

America stood beside you but smiled at the boys, who smiled back immediately.

"As I explained to Mrs.Maximoff, something rather unpleasant happened this morning. Your children got into a fight with another group of classmates..."

"And where is the rest of the gang?" You asked curiously, looking around. Fury frowned.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you said they got into a fight. Nobody fights alone. Where are the other children? I saw the other little boy who went outside looking like he got punched right in the nose, and if you told me it was three against one, then yes, we have a problem."

Fury exchanges a look with Mrs.Maximoff, but the redhead is straightening up in her chair, looking at you curiously.

The principal lets out a short laugh. "Miss Romanoff, the confusion started at recess, where America assaulted five classmates. The other four are in the infirmary and-"

You cut Fury off with excitement, turning to your daughter beside you. "Five? Kid, you've been practicing, haven't you? Damn, your mother would be impressed. "

America laughs shyly, but Fury exclaims indignantly. "Excuse me, Mrs.Romanoff, are you really encouraging violent behavior in your 13-year-old daughter?"

 "It depends on what the fight is about." You mutter, but Fury sighs indignantly.

"Violence is never the answer!" Retorts the principal seriously, but his line makes the boys exclaim indignantly.

"They were the ones who attacked us first! America was only defending my brother!" Reported one of them, and you and Mrs.Maximoff exchanged quick glances at the confusion.

"That's right, we were just standing there, and those idiots came at us with curses! If it wasn't for America-"

"Quiet, all of you!" Fury cut in angrily, and the children grumbled but obeyed. He massaged his forehead. "It's clear that the fight started with America, so please could you tell me exactly why you assaulted your colleagues, Miss?"

But America hesitates and looks at the boys, who bow their heads. She sighs.

"It was something silly about grades." She lies - You can see it’s not true because whenever she tells a lie, her forehead frowns slightly and Natasha taught you to recognize everything about little Miss Chavez. You don’t understand why she’s lying though. 

Fury sighs wearily. "Are you sure that's all it was, miss?"

She looks down at the floor and nods. You lick your lips.

"Fury, I wonder if we could talk alone. Just me, Miss Maximoff, and you? They shouldn't be missing class."

Fury hesitates but eventually agrees. Once the children leave, you clear your throat.

"I want to know what will be done with the group that attacked them, Fury."  You state without waiting any longer, surprising a little. Nick clears his throat.

"Your daughter just clarified that it was a silly argument over notes, Miss Romanoff, you don't expect me to-"

"You know it wasn't just that." To his surprise, Wanda intervenes, sounding irritated and tired. She takes a deep breath. "It wouldn't be the first time Billy experienced bullying in his school environment, but you promised me that this school was a safe space when I came to enroll them, Mr.Fury."

Nick clears his throat clumsily, adjusting his tie. "Mrs.Maximoff, at no time-"

"America told me they insulted him." You cut in, exchanging a look with the redhead. "The kids who attacked them came in cursing Billy. That's unacceptable, Fury. You say I encourage violent behavior? No. Natasha and I taught America to stand up for herself and for the people important to her. Nat was in the military and taught her how to fight. You can't expect her to listen to someone use low insults with her friends and do nothing."

"You cannot teach your daughter to punch anyone who irritates her, Miss Romanoff." Fury retorts seriously, before turning his face to the other, "And this is a safe environment, Wanda. We have anti-bullying programs, and when the other boys leave the infirmary, they will answer for this event as well. But for now, it's your kids who need to understand that fighting doesn't go unpunished."

"That doesn't seem very fair." You mutter but Fury casts you a serious look. 

"Because they insulted them? Tell me what happens when they're adults, then." You open your mouth but Fury holds up his hand, rhetorical question. "I tell you, at the very least a lawsuit for assault. I understand it's important to tell them to defend themselves, but they also need to understand how the world works. They are children, by god. You can't tell them to go out punching their way whenever someone wrongs them."

"I guess that's easy to say when we're not the ones experiencing the aggression." Wanda mutters, and Fury gives a short laugh.

"Wanda, I assure you I know the feeling of hearing horrible offenses and having to put my head down and keep walking because the punishments would be worse for me than for those who offended me." Says Nick. "Billy is only twelve, he should learn to respond to things like that in a healthy and safe way. Teaching any of these kids to respond violence with violence puts them at risk, and I'm sure you understand that." Wanda sighs but nods in defeat. Nick clears his throat. "I believe detention for a month is a good punishment."

You sigh, but Wanda hesitates. "They'd be out by three, wouldn't they? Couldn't you do it earlier or between classes? I work office hours on Tuesdays and Wednesdays..."

Nick opens his mouth but you speak first. "I can pick them up." You say casually. "They're friends with America, right? They can stay over if you need."

The redhead blinks in surprise. "Wouldn't that be inconvenient?"

You laugh shrugging your shoulders. "Not at all. America is usually alone in the afternoon while I'm in the studio. It would be nice if she had some company."

Wanda smiles at you and your stomach does a complete turn. Nick claps his hands together.

"I guess we have a deal then. Thank you both for attending, even though it was not the most pleasant of reasons... I'll keep in touch, Miss Maximoff, Miss Romanoff."

You got up first but opened the door for Wanda to pass. Outside, she seemed in a hurry, checking her cell phone, and you didn't want to hold her any longer. Surprisingly, she called you before you left for your car.

"I want your number." She declares, and you can't help the teasing expression that appears on your face. Wanda corrects herself immediately, "B-because of the ride, so I can confirm that everything is okay..."

"I know, I get it." You assure her with a laugh, accepting the cell phone she holds out to put your number in. As you type, you take the opportunity to introduce yourself properly since you haven't had the chance to do so before. Wanda smiles before doing the same. "Here you go, Miss Maximoff."

"Just Wanda is fine." She says gently, accepting the cell phone back. "Thank you again, for the favor."

"You can return it by joining me for coffee." You have no idea where that came from. And it seems to surprise Wanda as much as you surprised yourself. But there's no going back because she smiles and you know you meant it. "Or a tea, or juice. Maybe vitamin?"

Wanda giggles, and it's a charm. You glare at her but she looks at her cell phone again.

"Sorry, I have to go." She looks really disappointed, and you notice that her phone has started vibrating on a call. She looks at you again. "I'll text you about that coffee."

"I'll wait." You mumble, knowing she heard just by the soft smile she still holds as she answers the phone before waving goodbye and turning in the opposite direction of the parking lot.

You sigh loudly as you are left alone, trying to figure out where to see the strange feeling in your stomach that you think you haven't felt in years.

–//–

Wanda probably forgot about the coffee. You don't blame her, because America has every social network possible, and through her friendship with Billy Maximoff on Facebook, you are able to find Wanda Maximoff's only two social networks. 

Her professional profile is impeccable. She is an important figure in a major New York company, but you are not too sure whether she is a writer or a manager, or both. Either way, with so many meetings and lectures in her feed, she is probably the busiest person you have ever met. 

The only personal profile she has is a Facebook profile that hasn't been updated in almost three years. It is public, and has family photos - the vast majority with the twins - but what attracts attention is the tall man next to her. If the photos were tagged, it was removed today. There was no link to his profile. You also noticed that the relationship status was still Married, and tried to ignore the burning in your strangers with this information. 

There should be no problem with Wanda being a married woman. You should have expected this, actually. In fact, you shouldn't expect anything at all. Losing Natasha wasn't exactly recent, but you weren't looking for someone to take her place. Ever.

Calling Wanda for coffee was a kind act in the interest of friendship, you convinced yourself. After all, with your antisocial nature, you didn't have many friends in New York. 

America found you stalking Wanda's Facebook, however, and had a very different idea.

"She's a total milf, huh?"

You closed the laptop hard, looking at your daughter with indignation. "Excuse me, young lady?"

America shrugged. "Miss Maximoff, mom. She's so gorgeous, like a movie star. Everyone keeps staring when she comes to pick up the twins."

You grimace, hugging the laptop against your chest. "America, I don't think it's very appropriate for you to say such things to me, don't you agree?"

Your daughter laughs confusedly. "But you thought so too. You're just there stalking her on the Internet..."

"That's it, out." You stand up embarrassed, ignoring America's mischievous laughter in the hallway as you close the door. You grunt red-faced, putting your hands over your face and trying to get the image of Wanda out of your head. America shouts from the hallway:

"I'll order Enchiladas for dinner!" - You open the door just to say thanks.

To your surprise, Wanda texts you the next day. 

It shouldn't really be a surprise, since the children's detention would start now, but still, you were so busy delivering some paintings that you almost completely forgot about it.

Hey Miss Romanoff, it's Wanda. Is everything okay for the kids to stay at your place this afternoon as we agreed? After detention? 

You are listening to music, so you ask the virtual assistant to read the message while you continue painting one of the higher boards. When you realize who it is from, you almost fall down the stairs you are on.

Your cell phone screen smears blue paint when you pick it up in one go, having forgotten your dirty hands, and you curse softly. 

Trying to sound casual, you decide on a voice message.

"Hey, Miss Max-Wanda, hey." Great start. "Sure, don't worry, I'll send you my address to come to pick them up later. And just Y/N is fine."

Wanda replies with an emoji heart, and you try to understand why yours is racing so fast.

–//–

Thomas and William Maximoff are two little devils. And America loves them, so you do too.

They play in the backyard and in the living room, surprisingly in harmony over sharing the video game after detention. You go back to work in the studio and keep the music down so you can hear them, and before you know it, the hours have passed and a red pickup truck is pulling up outside your house.

Wanda, on the other hand, doesn't seem too pleased to see that none of the children have had a decent meal after school, or done their homework. And you showing up with a dirty paint apron doesn't seem to help her judgment much.

"I don't usually cook, for the safety of the kitchen."  You try to joke to ease the tension and get giggles from the smaller ones, but only a forced smile from the other, who continues with her arms crossed. "They're not hungry, you know. There were snacks and cookies..."

"Very healthy." Wanda interrupts wryly. "Get your backpacks boys, and thank them for having you. Let's go home before it gets later."

You and America watch Maximoff's hurried exit until Wanda's car disappears at the end of the street, and it is your daughter who speaks first.

"I think she likes you."

You chuckle incredulously, turning your face to America. "What gives you that idea? The deadly stare?"

The smaller girl rolls her eyes amused. "No, Mom! She didn't say she wasn't coming here anymore. And besides, Tommy told me she's kind of too straitlaced... he may have used the word crazy, but I don't think that's very appropriate for me to say."

You chuckle through your nose, ruffling America's hair as you pull her into the house with you. 

"Well, the boys are your friends, so Wanda is going to have to get used to me because if there's one thing we take seriously in this family it's loyalty to our friends, isn't it, little Chavez?" 

America smiles warmly, stealing a glance at Nat's painting on the wall before nodding in agreement. You check your watch.

"Maybe Wanda is right, though. What do you want for dinner? Real food. I can prepare something-"

America grimaces. "I want pizza!"

"But kiddo-"

"With plenty of pepperonis!"

You roll your eyes, unable to say no to that lovely girl.

–//–

The next day, when Billy and Tommy take out lunch boxes from their backpacks, you want to chuckle. It's so... you don't even know what to call that.

"What is that supposed to be?" America asks in a mixture of indignation and disgust, standing behind the boys sitting at the table. Tommy and Billy exchange sighs.

"It's called Zucchini Boats." Says William, poking at the snack with his fork - which Wanda also sent in her purse - "Mom is a vegetarian and so are we."

"That's what she thinks," Tommy mutters mischievously, receiving an elbow from his brother. "It's good, America. Want some?"

"No, I'm fine." Your daughter says quickly, exchanging a look with you before leaving the twins to grab some of the juice you are bringing them on a tray. 

"Wow, that looks ... grown up." You comment with an impressed laugh as soon as you see the food the twins are pinching half-heartedly. "Do you guys always eat so fancy?"

"Yeah, all the time." Tommy replies grumpily. "Mom pays for vegetarian snacks at school, and it's always this kind of expensive food at the work parties she brings us to."

"Tommy, I don't think you should talk like that..." Billy whispers uncertainly but is cut off by the other.

"I can't stand eating asparagus or cabbage anymore! And I hate Lentils!" Challenges the twin, pushing the lunchbox onto the table.

America sips her juice in silence, and you sigh.

"Well, here's what we'll do then, little Maximoff." You say, picking up the bowl and some of the food that has fallen on the table. "I'll order hamburger and fries, and leave it on the counter. And you guys choose what you want to eat if you feel hungry."

Tommy loved the idea. Billy thanked him, but said he would stick with what his mother prepared. In any case, you ordered enough for everyone.

When the food arrived, you, America, and Tommy ate first. The Maximoff was very excited about eating meat - He eventually told you between bites that vegetarianism, as well as a dozen other habits, came to his family after his father passed away, and you were so surprised by the information that you could hardly nod in agreement. So Wanda was a widow like you? What a heartbreaking coincidence.

After you finished eating, you needed to continue working, and you left the children to do it. When you came back for some keys about ten minutes later, Tommy and America were playing video games in the living room and little Billy was eating French fries on the counter and having the time of his life. You didn't dare bother him.

The whole plot of Wanda and her vegetarian lunch boxes for 12-year-olds that were half going to waste - you insisted that they at least take a few bites out of respect for their mother's work - went on for three whole weeks.

It was on the penultimate day of detention when Wanda was already smiling as she came to pick up the kids, that she found out and showed up at your door during school hours.

"Sorry for the wait, I'm teaching a class." You tell her clumsily as you welcome her into the small makeshift office, while your students take a break in the studio in the other room. 

Wanda hasn't even taken off her coat and is still holding her keys in her hands. "Don't worry, I'll be quick." She says. "I appreciate the favor of picking up the boys and letting them stay here, but it has come to my attention your inappropriate behavior, and I-"

"Wow, what are you talking about?" You interrupt in confusion. 

Wanda doesn't hesitate, adjusting her posture. "The food I prepare for my children is properly planned with a nutritionist, and William has told me about your interference in their diet." You stare at her without reaction, and she takes advantage of your shock to continue speaking. "I respect that you are raising your daughter without any attention to a healthy diet, but I cannot allow you to do the same-"

"No, wait a second there." You cut her off with a short laugh, gesturing a little and without realizing it, moving closer, which makes Wanda take a step backward in that small office. "I never told them to stop eating your fancy food."

She grimaces. "But you bought junk food!" She rations angrily. "What do you expect children to choose?"

You chuckle. "Exactly, Wanda! They are children! You're the one who's feeding them like they're 60-year-old culinary critics!"

"A healthy diet is essential for their development-"

"Billy has never eaten pizza before! Do you understand how insane that sounds?"

Wanda feels her blood boil, much like you. And she doesn't realize she's screaming, much the same as you. 

"Oh, what a crime not to want to give my two children a fat bomb! Arrest me for preventing cardiovascular disease when they are adults!

"What the hell are you talking about?" You retort with an indignant chuckle, but Wanda steps forward, her gaze deadly.

"I don't tell you how to raise your daughter, so don't you dare do it to me." She says seriously, and you swallow dryly. 

"I never said anything like that." You retort. "It's not a crime to offer actual good food to a child."

Wanda frowns. "My food is good!" She defends herself almost offended, but you sigh wearily.

"For the adult palate? Yes, it is. I've tasted it, you have talent I admit." You say, surprising her a little by the compliment. Her posture almost breaks. "But for the boys? I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry, but they don't like it, okay? Especially Thomas. I didn't want you to find out like this, but he hasn't followed your all-important eating schedule in months, Miss Maximoff. He keeps buying candy and junk food around-"

"What?" she exclaims indignantly, turning away to walk around the room. You sigh. "Where does he get the money for that?"

You shrug casually. "I don't know, isn't he kind of pretty popular? Maybe he sells some toys or homework. I used to do that when I was young. And well, I give America an allowance and they hang out together a lot and-

"So you're the problem! Again!" Wanda suddenly accuses you, leaving you in shock. "You and your daughter, stay away from my boys!"

"Wanda, what...?"

But she turned her back on you and slammed the door hard on her way out. You huffed loudly, pressing your face between your hands for a long moment. Complete confusion in your mind. 

–//–

You're not sure what you expected for the last day of detention, but it sure wasn't the call from the secretary about America skipping class. 

You called her immediately, and to add to your despair, she didn't answer until an hour later, when you had already taken the car and were driving around town after her.

The arcade parking lot was empty because all the kids were in school. Except for a few.

You got down from the truck, and this time, you knew the blood was Billy's.

"Have you gone crazy? I drove all over town after you, America! Where-"

But she ran up to you, hugging you tightly, and you fell silent, worried. "I'm sorry, Mom!"

After massaging her back gently, you turned away to the boys sitting on the sidewalk. Bending down to Billy's height, you grabbed from the other twin the ice pack he held over his brother's bruised forehead.

"What happened, guys?" You asked, and all three of them started talking together. With a sigh, you shushed them. "Just one at a time, please."

America stepped forward. "We weren't going to skip the whole day, Mom, I promise! It's just that Tommy forgot to do his chemistry homework, so we were going to skip it so he wouldn't get in trouble!"

Tommy nods immediately. "We came here because we weren't going to hang around the school at the risk of getting caught." Continues the boy. "We were going to play and come back as soon as the next class time started."

Billy complains softly about the pain and you try to press more gently. "So?" You ask them to continue, but they don't, exchanging hesitant glances. 

It is William who continues the story, his gaze in his lap. "It was the idiot brother of a classmate of ours. He was at the arcade, and he recognized me. He said he was furious that I got his brother in trouble. And he said... He said there's no place in this town for a faggy like me."

You sigh immediately, putting down the ice to hold his shoulder with your other hand. "Oh, Billy, I'm sorry."

He sniffles lightly, shrugging. "It's okay, I'm used to it. America and Tommy were buying soda, so the jerk threw me out here. As soon as they came, the guy ran off."

"It was the arcade owner who gave us the ice." America clarifies, coming over to sit down on the sidewalk across from Billy, and slipping an arm over his. "Sorry for taking so long, buddy. Next time I'm going to break his leg-"

"Hey, listen up here you three." You interrupt, looking at them seriously. "Violence is never the solution."

"But, Mom, they-"

"I know." You cut her off with a nod. "And it's unfair that it happened. And all we want to do is return that anger, but we can't be like that. Billy, I'm really sorry that you've heard cruel things. There's a place for you wherever you choose, that boy is just being an ignorant fool. Don't listen to him." You assure holding the hand of the boy in front of you. "You three are going back to school, and I'll take care of it the right way, okay?"

At first, they don't seem very willing, but eventually, they agree. You direct them back to school, and are not surprised at the increased detention Fury gives them for skipping class. Nick, however, is the one who provides the numbers of the parents of the kids who attacked them, and of a lawyer. 

He comments something about having called Miss Maximoff but to no avail before thanking you for bringing the children back safely and saying goodbye.

You are walking back to your car when Wanda parks as if in a race movie.

"I'm glad you're here, Wanda, we need to talk." You announce loudly, walking to her car. She turns it off, takes out the key, and gets down, slamming the door. 

"I don't have time, the director called me during a meeting, and I-"

"I know." You cut her off, and make no mention of moving out of her way, trapping her between cars. "Our kids were skipping class."

She chuckles dryly. "That's what I'm talking about, your daughter is a terrible influence. I wasn't wrong when-"

"She was helping Tommy." You cut in again, crossing your arms. "Yeah. He didn't do his chemistry homework or something, and they decided to skip the first period so he wouldn't get a scolding. Because, yes, he'd rather take his chances on the street than smear the perfect record mommy wants for him."

Wanda tilts her head. "Watch your mouth." She warns between teeth, and you roll your eyes.

"Billy got punched." You declare, and Wanda's posture breaks completely. Desperation fills her expression.

"W-what... Excuse me, I have-" 

"It's taken care of, it was just a scratch I looked at it myself." You interrupt, steadying your feet in her path, and ignoring the way she looks you up and down. "But these assaults, Wanda, we need to get a handle on this."

She is surprised, in a good way. And she swallows dryly, trying to adjust her posture. "That's not your problem."

You don't care, pulling out of your pocket the lawyer's paper Fury gave you to hand to her 

as you quickly explain the whole story. Wanda is unresponsive until she sniffles slightly, and this breaks your posture.

Your natural instinct is to touch her, but you hold back, clenching your hands, and Wanda turns her face away, hugging her own body as she controls her crying.

"Forgive me, I just..." She takes a deep breath. "They're all I have. And they're perfect, just the way they are. I just wanted to...do the best for them. Keep them safe, and happy. But apparently, New York is even worse than Westview."

"Hey, I understand that." You can't resist, raising a hand to her back, and thanking the gods that Wanda leans into the touch instead of backing away. "Some things are beyond our control. But I think you're doing a damn fine job, Wanda."

She raises her eyes at you. "Really?"

"Yeah." You assure her with a smile. "Your kids are great. Smart, so independent, and good-natured. Very united and loyal. You've done a really good job with them-"

Wanda hugs you tightly around the neck, cutting off your sentence. You smile, putting your arms around her just as the surprise fades. She sighs. "Thank you." She whispers, and you squeeze tighter before letting go.

"Call Jen Walters about this. Nick said she's a good lawyer." You remind her, and Wanda nods. You put your hands in your pockets and stare at her for a moment. "Were you at some fancy event? You look good."

She blushes, smiling shyly and adjusting her suit. "Something like that. Just a new book launch, so phone off. As soon as I saw the missed calls, I ran here..."

You chuckle lightly. "Yeah, I noticed the Fast and Furious you pulled out." You joke getting a laugh and a slap on the arm.

As the laughter dies down, you face each other. And Wanda is the first to swallow dryly and shift her gaze away.

"I should go there... just to make sure everything is okay." She says pointing to the school. You clear your throat and finally give her space to walk through.

"Sure, sure. I see you...?"

Wanda looks at you over her shoulder, a soft smile on her lips. "Over coffee." She invites, her smile widening with your surprise. "It's about time, don't you think?"

You nod, swallowing your anxiety. "I can’t wait." You guarantee, and when she leaves, your cheeks are flushed like hers.

–//–

Wanda doesn't call. But she doesn't have to.

The detentions are over; you're pretty sure she threatened Nick Fury on her way back to the office, but whatever she said, she made sure that the victims of the story stopped being punished. Tommy received a short warning for his duty, but the matter was soon forgotten.

You were surprised that even with the end of the detention, the Maximoff twins were on your doorstep on Tuesday. And next to them, Wanda.

"If you're not busy, I was thinking we could all have lunch together. I got some free time at the office." Clarified the matriarch, and well, you had a dozen or so orders to make and they would all have to wait because no chance at all of you dismissing going out with Wanda.

She is infinitely more pleasant company than the impression you got during your fights. She is a fierce mother, but she is so much more than that. She's brilliant, passionate, and generous. You find yourself captured by her like a work of art, which you can stare at for hours and hours, trying to absorb every detail and discover others.

Lunch turns into afternoon snacks, and into dinners. The Maximoffs show up at your house on a weekly basis, Wanda cooks for you sometimes, and at other times allows herself to eat junk food with everyone else.

And family dates become the two of you dates when she kisses you.

It takes you completely by surprise, honestly. 

You have been dancing into a family routine for amazing weeks, and after one of the dinners, it gets late enough to insist that they sleep over at your place. 

The boys stay in America's room, and you take over the living room so that Wanda is comfortable in her room.

When she shows up at dawn in the kitchen while you're making tea, the first thing she says is "I feel terrible about making you sleep on the couch. I can't sleep because of it."

You smile and separate a mug of tea for her too.

"I think we finally had that drink." You comment a long moment later, as you pour the tea for yourselves.

Wanda smiles mischievously. "I don't think it counts." She murmurs mysteriously, and you raise an eyebrow.

"No?"

Wanda hums in the negative. "We've drunk together a dozen times now, Y/N." She retorts, holding the cup close to her mouth. "If you want to take me out, you need to genuinely ask."

She sips her tea, and you swallow dryly as you stare into her lips. Blinking away when you notice her naughty smile, you ignore your nervousness, and retort, "I asked, you're the one who didn't call me." 

Wanda raises her eyebrow, taken aback that you brought back this information from so many weeks later. She doesn't lose her composure, however. "I thought it wouldn't be appropriate when given a second thought about it."

You sip some tea. "And what do you think of us now?"

Instead of answering, she leans over the countertop. She grabs the collar of your shirt and kisses you hard. Your whole body vibrates, and you gasp. But she lets you go before you have the chance to respond properly.

"I think if you don't ask me out soon, I'll have to do it myself." She teases affectedly, breathing out of breath as you do. You laugh, nodding.

"Go out with me." 

She raises an eyebrow. "Is that an order?" She teases, and you grunt.

"God, Wanda, come here." That's what you say before pulling her back to you, mouth to mouth.

[piracytheorist]

The kindness surviving

As I can't stop saying, one of my favourite things about Spy x Family is how focused it is on humanity's innate kindness. Its premise is three lonely people finding a family (and themselves) with each other, the story's endgame is to secure peace, it's hopeful in the midst of its realism, and it allows characters to be vulnerable when it comes to family and connections.

And one more thing that is added to that, is how Yor and Twilight (to a less obvious degree) have retained their kindness and compassion through their violent lives and professions.

Yor started the assassin gig when she was just a teenager.

Adding to that how it was a choice she made out of despair and lack of any other choice, and how the Shopkeeper seems like a despicable person to work under (there's no moral merit to recruiting children for assassinations, let alone orphans with no other choices left), this could have easily made into a story of how Yor became cold and emotionless and cruel.

Instead, particularly thanks to having Yuri in her life, she's remained as kind as ever, even when she kills people. She doesn't torture her targets, would rather refrain spilling unnecessary blood, and she's careful and quick in her job.

And through all that, her priority has never been herself.

She's kind, almost to a fault. She's polite and when it comes to everyone else but her targets, she thinks they have the best interests at heart and can even be confused sometimes as to why some people behave in a rude or cruel way.

She's human. Her reason to start and continue being an assassin was to ensure her brother's carefree life, and now that she's bonded with the Forgers, they've joined Yuri in the way she wishes to protect their peaceful life.

It's showing that despite her violent work, her humanity has prevailed, making her selfless and nurturing. It's in our nature.

Twilight's case is handled differently, as he has denied himself any identity and attachments to ideals, aside from protecting the peace.

He's not supposed to "have" traits or a personality. He was trained to be able to adapt to any situation and become the role he's acting as. When he acts as a father, he can be kind and caring. When he acts as a terrorist, he can be cruel and violent. And when his job gives him no option but to kill people who stand in his way, he'll do it without remorse.

But again, like Yor, his reason to do everything he does is to ensure peace remains, so that no-one will have to suffer like he did. That's a very empathetic and compassionate motivation, and though the circumstances of his life made him bury it deep, the moment Anya cries and clutches onto him for comfort he's reminded securely of that.

As he is when he sees Anya smile.

He cares for the next generation and wants to provide it with a better future than he had. And while the previous season showed many moments of instinctual kindness (saving the kid from the charging cow, sparing the German shepherd, thanking Bond for saving Anya, encouraging Carroll Campbell to play fairly) and understanding of how humans can work together (his discussion with Desmond, talking about how despite different stances, people can still meet in the middle if they try), the cruise arc showed how he prioritized on making Anya happy. While at first he was confused by the concept of "having fun", he eventually ended up observing Anya and encouraging activities that would make her happy.

Again, after a certain point the "mission" is nowhere in his mind and he only worries how Anya's mood will affect her and the family. As he focuses on that, he turns compassionate, empathetic, and dare I say, sweet.

And I can't help thinking those are traits he doesn't have to pretend that much to show, if at all.

He's a master of manipulation and deception. He could act tooth-rottingly sweet to deceive his targets, but seeing how open and unprecedentedly honest he becomes with Yor, and how (even if he doesn't realize it) he actually learns to be a good father to help Anya with her mood, I don't think that's the case with those two (three, if you count Bond too!).

If nothing else, we (and Anya) have the advantage of hearing his thoughts, and while we joke about how "For The Mission" is his flimsy excuse to himself for the feelings he's developing for his family, it's truly important how he's started to not need the reminder; how he can instinctively care for them, because it's what his compassionate nature tells him to do.

And I think, just like Yor, it's very important and telling that through his life of violence and deception, his humanity has survived just under the surface and is starting to show more the longer he stays with the Forgers. He's not "learning" to be compassionate and caring; those are traits that already existed, but he had to cover with all his fake identities. However, since they were what led him to become a spy in the first place, the way didn't replace the motivation.

He's human, even though he willingly trained to suppress any such vulnerable spots, they could never be extinguished entirely.

This story is full of hope for humanity and how kindness can survive and prevail among anything else. Its characters would logically follow the example.

And I love them for it.

(Anime only here, don't spoil me for the manga)

[heartfullofleeches]

Oblivious healer entity reader that finds joy and endless happiness every day living in a town that's basically hell on earth for its human residents

-

To live in this place is to know true suffering. Life is meaningless, flesh is expendable. Few bother to make friends with their neighbors or check in relatives as tomorrow is never a guarantee. Creatures from the unknown, unexplainable disappearances, those who lost themselves and craved the same violence thrust unto them, false prophets. Those who attempted to flee often faced the worse kinds of punishment. There was truly no end to their torment.

Dazed and on the verge of collapsing, a new arrival in town found itself roaming the near empty shelves of a convenience store in ruin. Glass stabbed at its outer layer flesh, reflecting the strange clawing sensation in the lower regions of its stomach. It would later learn these feelings to be the pains of hunger, one it was not as fond of as others. The newcomer had learned so much in such a short time residing in this new town and body. It wanted to learn more - like what would happen if it stuffed those odd, brightly colored shapes into the singular hole it called a mouth. They were sweet, they were sour, they were savory- flavors and descriptions foreign til taught by those who cared for it later on.

The newcomer comes across the owner of the store laying motionless behind the counter. The syrup surrounding them is not as sweet as what it sampled from bottles in the cold storage spaces. Poking at the owner garners no response. It's then that the newcomer realizes their faults. It hadn't offered currency before eating like it'd seen others do. It didn't have those papers or coins or even those rectangular bits of plastic. It deciding the next best thing to give as payment was to fix that large hole in their face. None of the humans it came across before had one of those, so it must need fixing.

The store owner finally responded to its questions once it had repaired the hole. If the newcomer had anyway to describe the process it was like playing with clay. The store owner only answered in screams of terror until the newcomer was able to calm them enough to tell them how they had fixed them - and eaten the rest of their stock. They weren't upset by that second thought as the newcomer had thought, and even gave them a supply of their favorite treat before calling the police.

The newcomer wondered if it helped more people it would get more treats or be invited to come back anytime as the store owner had generously offered. It was having so much fun in this new form. Its powered had been limited, but the feel of warm sunlight on their skin was worth the loss. It couldn't understand why everyone around it was so unhappy when they get to wake up everyday and welcome the morning sun. It wants to fix people, it wants them to be happy. Many reject them for fear of the unknown, but those who accept cling onto them like a lifeline. Without the newcomer around they are plunged in darkness as it has become the source of light for them it speaks so highly of. The newcomer is oblivious to their devotion as it reads books about the new world and takes light of its tragedies as it takes glee I'm all its pleasures.

-

Yan: Let me get this straight - you just repaired my kidneys and all you want is a hamburger?

Entity Reader: .... Two?

-

Yan: There is no point in waking anymore. When I'm asleep i hear the crying of my dead mother. When I'm waking she's standing over my bed. I can't think, I can't breathe. Make it stop, make it stop- There is no reason to keep existing- I should just let my cannibal neighbor eat me

Entity Reader: ...They gave me eleven nuggets instead of ten. I am very happy right now. Want the extra? :D

Yan: ..I have never been more mentally stable than I am in this current moment, if you leave me I will die.

-

[Entity Reader walks in on a friend about to be sawed in half by a masked maniac. The two share a glance before Reader throws their arms up]

Entity Reader: Frankie!! :D

[The machine rips the saw out of their victim's abdomen and rushes reader - hugging them and spinning them around as the victim fights to keep their intensities in their body]