#PAPI GULP GULP GULP

[jdms-flat-ass]

[jdms-flat-ass]

Jeffrey Dean Morgan as Negan 15/??

[umekawa-eve]

This man is in DENIAL.

I mean, look at him, panting so hard.

I’m so sad that this game isn’t 18+…

[popeetheperformersblog]

Slay😝🤪💅

[f3l1xstudioz]

licorice cookie will always be my baba grill

that adorable little goth twink <3

[911lonestar911imagines]

Clever boy - Eddie Diaz smut

Summary: after weeks of tricking you into thinking he’s a bottom, Eddie pulls the ultimate switch engaging in a very sexy game of sex.

Warnings: mommy kink, daddy kink, bottom! Eddie, top! Eddie

Eddie was a smart man, clever in fact, He had been seeing y/n for weeks, and it's been the most fun he's had. After having a long talk with his best friend about his quickly drying up sex life, he went out and found someone to spice it up, and that's exactly what you did.

For weeks, he had put up with being submissive with you, letting you think you had full control of his body, but that was the fun part, he was gonna flip your entire world around tonight. You had both talked about it previously, what would happen if he ever decided he was taking control, you had no issue, telling him it was at his own pace, but you'll miss his submissive side.

As you walked into your boyfriend's apartment, you couldn't help but to feel like you were being watched. Shuttering as you walked down the hall you sighed "Eddie! This isn't funny! Your text said it was an emergency!" You shouted "I swear you're gonna regret this, Edmundo" You sneered, looking into his bedroom, and yet, nobody. As you went to turn around to search the living room again, you were met with a torso dressed in a nice blue suit, you could tell just by the fabric it was expensive. You gasped taking a step back to run, but a hand grabbed you tightly, pulling you flush against his chest, looking up you were met with Eddie's coy smirk. "Relax. I've got you, princesa" He whispered "I think we need to have a little chat" He whispered, almost like you were in trouble. "Edmundo, I left work for this, you're so gonna re-" He cut you off with a harsh glare "Hush" He demanded walking you backwards to a chair in the corner of his bedroom. You let out a breath of air as you felt yourself fall into the seat, looking up at Eddie, fully taking in how hot he was.

"I've let you prance around, letting you think your in charge..but papi's getting a little bored of it" Eddie whispered, leaning down grabbing the armrests, meeting you at eye level. "Eddie" You warned, resting your hands on his about to stand up, but he quickly rotated his wrists, trapping your hands "Not uh, stay." He demanded, his tone deep, almost unrecognizable. "What're you doing?" You asked, slowly growing more irritated as he spoke "I like to play with my food, y/n" He whispered in your ear before biting your neck gently "But this is my game, and it's time, we're both on the same page" He continued, kneeling on the ground slowly, not breaking eye contact with you "Don't get me wrong princesa, I love watching you tell me what to do, its adorable, but now I need you" He grunted pulling off your leggings with ease, running his hands up and down your thighs slowly.

"Yes sir" You said jokingly, rolling your eyes, Eddie was quick to grab your jaw roughly "Keep up the attitude, brat. Now. Again without the bitchiness" He spat, you shifted in your seat, now feeling extremely nervous under his gaze. "Yes sir" Your voice was barely above a whisper, you could feel his deep breaths against your inner thigh, looking down you moaned under your breath, Eddie's head was placed perfectly between your thighs, his eyes never taking their gaze off of your face. "buena nina" Eddie praised, you gulped, watching his hand creep up your thigh towards your underwear. "E-Eddie" You whined, he grunted, swatting your ass swiftly "Sir?.." You questioned, he responded by raising his gaze back to you, you were trying desperately to find the words "Speak, mami" He whispered, kissing your inner thigh softly, god damnit this man is gonna kill you. You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly dry, your heart was racing with excitement. Eddie gently took your wrist into his palm, pressing his fingertips against your artery to find your pulse "Hey, you're okay, princesa, relax" He whispered kissing your palm gently "I've got you" Eddie added on before pulling you up and towards the bed "I want you, sir" You finally mustered out, the smirk on his face returned, and so did the dark look in his eyes.

"All you had to do was ask, mami" Eddie whispered before pulling off his shirt, you grunted grabbing his belt undoing it yourself, you could see how hard Eddie was breathing once his shirt was off. Before Eddie could do anything else he rolled onto his side "W-Wha..-" You whimpered, Eddie chuckled "I wanna see you be mami again" He smirked, he knew exactly what he was doing, and my lord was Buck right, this is totally spicing things up. "Very funny" You said, trying to keep your voice level, but failing miserably. It was almost crazy how Eddie managed to switch, his gaze changing to look at you with full submission and admiration. "Please, mami, please" He begged, letting his head fall into the pillows, you took in a shaky breath, the knot in your stomach was so tight you felt like you could puke. "More" You demanded quietly, ghosting your hand over his cock that was pressed against his slacks so much you could start to see outlines. "I can't hear you, mami! please touch me anywhere" He begged, his back arching as he tried to grind against your hand, you felt a wave of confidence rush over you, pressing your hand down, watching as he bit his lip fighting back a moan "Yes! fuck!" He grunted as you straddled him, leaning down ghosting your lips over his, right as you felt like you started to get control, Eddie quickly flipped you over "My turn, mami" He whispered in your ear, pinning your hands above your head, you leaned further back on the bed, your underwear was soaked, you could feel it between your legs as you squeezed your legs together "Naughty girl" He whispered using his other hand to open your legs, using his leg to keep them open "I'm s-sorry, you're just so fucking hot, and not doing anything" You whined, grinding against nothing trying to find any type of friction. Eddie smirked pressing his thigh against your pussy, making you gasp, digging your nails into the side of his hand.

"What, princesa? What do you want from me?" He teased, tracing his fingertips over your clit, even with a thong on, you could still feel everything. "Fuck me, Eddie, please" You begged, Eddie was about to cum right there, since you two had gotten together he had never heard you beg, especially not for him. "Fuck..." He whispered, you watched as Eddie looked down towards his slacks then slowly working his gaze up your body. "Please, sir, please fuck me, Eddie, I need you, please" You whined, arching your back desperate to feel his skin against yours. Your boyfriend dropped his hold on your hands, ripping his own slacks off as he kissed you deeply, you kissed back happily. You felt his tongue slowly find it's way into your mouth, his hands busy with other things, you gasped as you felt him push into you slowly.

"Such a slut for me" You heard him grunt, you bit your lip watching him lean up, running a hand through his hair as he bottomed out inside of you, taking your opportunity you ran your nails down his chest, leaving faint red lines. He grunted thrusting his hips taking you by surprise "Oh my god" You panted trying to lean up to kiss him, but Eddie pressed a hand onto your chest forcing you back onto the bed. He took your hips in his hands flipping you both again "We're gonna play a game, got that, princesa?" He asked, you met his gaze finally as he lifted your chin with his finger "Yes sir.." You whispered, biting your lip, desperate for him to do anything, you felt like you were going to die if you didn't cum soon.

"We're gonna switch..to see who cums faster" He whispered "Just to see who's a better dominate" He added on, you nodded faintly, Eddie looking towards you, grasping any sense of reality you had, you started grinding your hips against his. You could feel his legs tense, his fists grabbing at the sheets "What, baby? Is this too much?.." You teased, running your hands up and down his chest "N-No no please don't stop, don't stop" He whined, you grabbed the base of his neck, making eye contact with him "Don't worry, mami will make it feel better" You teased further, as you started moving your hips faster, Eddie moaned loudly, bucking his hips up meeting your grinds. You stopped immediately, squeezing his neck just enough to cause his cock to twitch inside of you “did you ask to fuck me?” You growled, Eddie smirked flipping you, reversing the roles as he know held your neck “I don’t need permission to fuck mi amor whenever my cock is buried inside of her” he growled, bucking his hips harshly, you whined covering your mouth much to Eddie’s disliking “did I say be quiet? Papi wants to hear you” he whispered biting your collarbone lightly as he slammed his cock further inside of you “Eddie!” You screamed out arching your back “buena nina” he growled not slowing his pace “fuck Eddie!-“ you moaned “say it.” Eddie demanded squeezing your neck roughly “f-fuck! Only you can fuck me like this!” You moaned, feeling yourself near that edge before Eddie flipped you again. My lord you wanted to smack him, why couldn’t he just let you cum?

“You fucking brat” you growled “I was so fucking close” you added on grinding against him, watching him lick his lips as an idea sprung into your head. Pulling yourself off of him, his face fell in pure sorrow “w-what? Baby p-please!” He begged thinking you were ending the game, maybe he went to far, he never should’ve done this, as his chest started to tighten he felt your hand cup his cheek. “You’re okay..you’re gonna help mami” you whispered grabbing his hair, repositioning his hand, almost as soon as it came out of your mouth, Eddie visibly calmed down with his anxiety, holding your thighs to hold you steady. “Ready?..” you whispered “you don’t stop till I say.” You said before grabbing his chin “only outside. I’m not losing” you challenged, Eddie whined loudly, leaning his head up before you pulled his hair pushing it back down on the bed. “Stop it” you growled smacking his cheek gently before lowering yourself onto his mouth. His tongue attacked you like he was starving, licking up any wetness that had made its way out of your pussy, you could feel his tongue going over your clit as you grinded against it.

“Just like that baby!” You moaned arching your back, you could feel his nails digging into your skin before feeling his tongue push inside of you, you immediately curled in pleasure, tightening your grip on his hair as he flicked his tongue inside of you. “Ooh” you moaned loudly as you attempted to lift your hips off of his face but he held you down, as his eyes flipped towards your gaze you could see the darkness cloud back in and immediately you knew you were fucked, literally.

His tongue moved a lot faster, at a speed that even shocked you as his head bobbed slightly as he continued to eat you out “oh fuck! Fuck papi! Fuck!” You whined your voice going higher as you grinded against his face, his grip tightened on your legs, flipping you onto your back as he threw your legs over his shoulders. You whined trying to pull yourself off of him, his speed being way too much combined with your sensitivity “I-i can’t-“ you whimpered, Eddie pulled his mouth away from you, a dangerous glare on his face “you can take it. You’re my buena nina, you can take it. I wanna taste you, I want to see my slut make a complete mess” he growled before pulling your hips back down to continue his abuse on your pussy.

“Eddie!” You cried out, feeling his tongue flatten against your clit, along with three fingers pushing their way inside of you “fuck papi!” You cried out digging your nails into his shoulders “my little fucking slut” he spat curling his fingers, you whined, Eddie grunted pulling his fingers out before replacing it with his tongue again, taking your breath away.

“Cum for me princesa” he whispered, you clenched your teeth shaking your head “no?..we’ll see about that” he whispered against your thigh. “Papi got a present” he smirked reaching up towards his night stand pulling out a small pink device. Pressing a button the small object buzzed to life making you whine loudly, your legs visibly shaking with anticipation. “You want this, slut?” He asked, leaning in front of your pussy making you whimper nodding your head rapidly “want you to make me cum, please papi” you whimpered spreading your legs wider, almost like an invitation.

You almost screamed as he pressed the vibrator on your clit full power, shoving his tongue back inside of you, returning to his job of eating your pussy out. You bucked your hips quickly against Eddie’s face, almost ripping a hole in the sheets from how tight you were squeezing them. You could see Eddie grinding his hips into the mattress, that was almost enough to make you cum. You gasped, the knot in your stomach exploding out of nowhere against Eddie’s mouth, his tongue licking everything your body offered. You slowly pushed him onto his back, leaning forward to slip him into your mouth, letting his cock slip down your throat as you swallowed around him.

Eddie smirked moving your leg to the other side of his head pushing the vibrator inside of your pussy turning it on. The sensation took you by surprise, making you choke slightly around him, he groaned bucking his hip, using his other hand to guide your head pushing your head down repeatedly, making sure you didn’t gag too much. “Fuck yea baby, just like that. Take my cock, you’re so fucking good at it” he growled moving the vibrator in and out of you, you could feel the knot quickly forming again as you pressed back against it, swallowing around him again.

Eddie growled bucking his hips up, bottoming out down your throat, you swallowed around him making him tense, trying to shove his cock deeper inside of your throat if possible, he pushed the vibrator as deep as it would go inside of you. You moaned around him feeling his cum shoot down your throat, the feeling itself made you cum again, this time squirting on the toy and a little on his hand and mouth. “Fuck yes. Every night. From now on” you panted slowly falling onto your back next to him “deal” he panted

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {5}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: The most anticipated race of the year is here, and the most controversial, Las Vegas GP. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fluff, angst, injury WC: 3.5k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six

Round Twenty Two - Las Vegas

Kristian sat on a weight bench, flipping through the pages of the motherhood magazine he was reading. Every so often he would look up and give some guidance until the tips became a nuisance.

“I should have fired you,” you muttered as you rose up from the last lunge.

“You say that a lot but you should keep your back straight,” he shot back, grating you further with the slow scrape of the page turning. “And keep your feet in line with your hips.”

“Can we play some decent music at least?” you whined between the gulps of water you swallowed down. The training was far less intensive than they used to be with everything focused on just maintaining fitness and health rather than a goal weight or strength like before.

“Nope,” he chuckled, clearly enjoying being able to boss you around the gym again. “Baroque is good for the baby.”

“Bullshit.” There was no way the classical music meant anything to her, she was only the size of an avocado - or so Lando said. He had an app that he checked daily and uploaded photos onto as a keepsake. 

Kristian turned back to the start of the magazine and turned it around, tapping the title of the article. “So you think you know more than Harvard scholars now, Spitfire?”

He took your silence for defeat and pointed to the pool door. “Twenty lap cool down and then it’s breakfast.”

Your stomach grumbled at the mention of food and you grabbed a towel as you passed the door to the changing room. Breakfast didn’t feel like the right term since it was well past lunchtime. The whole Las Vegas schedule had screwed your body clock with the late night practices and qualifying rounds but you were grateful it was the last night of it. 

Lando and Charles had been fast asleep when you slipped out of the room. Something had disturbed you from the dream you were having and despite the room being pitch black with the thick blockout curtains your body could tell it was daytime. Thankfully Kristian was already awake and happy to move your fitness session up a few hours. 

Cool water washed over you as you dove into the tepid pool and started to glide along the surface. One, two, three, breathe. One, two, three, breathe. The monotony was therapeutic and you didn’t even bother to keep count of the laps - your mind was elsewhere.

You had been dead on your feet in the wee hours of the morning after you finally left the track with Lando and Charles after qualifying finished. They still had adrenaline flooding their systems and had no hope of sleeping when they sunk into the couch cushions and pulled your exhausted body over their legs. 

You were in a drowsy state, half asleep but half aware of the other two chatting quietly together. Their hands had softly caressed your skin, brushing your shirt up so they could feel the warmth of your abdomen beneath their palms. 

“She’s so beautiful, Cha, and she’s carrying our kid. I don’t think I have ever been this happy in my life,” Lando hummed as he rested his head on Charles’ shoulder and smiled at their hands. 

“We are very lucky to have her,” he agreed as he kissed Lando softly.

“So…” You tasted the mischief in Lando’s drawn out tone and it stirred some energy back into your body. “When can I start calling you daddy?”

Charles’ legs shifted beneath you with a groan and you willed your eyes to open as his cheeks flushed pink. “Mon cher...”

“You can call me papi chulo,” Lando smirked. “It means-”

“I know what it means,” Charles choked, knowing exactly who had taught him that too. “Carlos is a menace, but if anyone is going to be papi chulo it’s me.”  

You nearly swallowed a mouthful of water as the memory of what had happened next led to a lapse in your count and you pulled yourself out of the pool with a splutter. Those two had a lot to answer for.

“Here,” Kristian said as he tossed a bottle of water to you. “Try not to drink from the pool.”

“What would I do without you?” you asked dryly. 

“I don’t dare to think about that,” he joked before he said your favourite words. “Let’s go eat.”

You stared at the egg on your plate before pushing it away with disinterest. Charles looked up from his own plate and frowned at the rare sight of the food that remained on yours. 

“Would you like something else, mamie?”

You smiled at the new endearment and watched Lando cut an avocado in half before passing one part over to you. The vibrant green flesh did look delicious but when you held it in your hand you could only think about the bump that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. You hadn’t noticed it before changing into your swimsuit but when you peeled the tight layer off in the gym's changing room you had frozen. The mirrored wall caught your side profile under glaring fluorescent lights and there, just below your belly button it swelled ever so slightly. 

A hand waved in front of your face and you broke away from the memory to see both your boyfriends watching you with worried frowns. One of them had obviously spoken to you but you couldn’t recall hearing them as you stared at the avocado. 

“You’re crying,” Lando murmured as he swiped away the tear on your cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s this big already. Our baby is the size of an avocado. She’s so tiny,” you said with a small laugh, raising the fruit higher for inspection. They looked at you like you were a little crazy and it wouldn’t have been the first time that was suspected but you pushed the chair out and placed the avocado back on the table. “Come, I want to show you something.”

You led them to the bedroom and Charles opened his mouth to break the bad news that they didn’t have time for even a quickie. The thought had crossed your mind when you found them still naked and splayed across the bed before breakfast was ready, but they needed to get to the track soon for media duties and to prepare for the race. 

“That’s a shame but also not what I came here for,” you admitted as you started to remove your shirt. 

“I’m getting mixed messages here,” Lando chuckled as he reached for his own shirt. “But I don’t mind being late.”

“Stop, before I really do make you stay,” you chuckled knowing they would do anything for you. You dropped your shirt and turned sideways while you stared at the reflection in the mirror. “Look…”

Their eyes followed the wave of your hand, the way your palm drifted over your hip to cradle the small bump, and Lando gasped along with Charles soft praise. Knees hit the soft carpet below your feet and warm lips replaced your hand, teasing your skin with kisses. Two heads of dark hair bowed against your stomach and whispered words of promise you couldn’t quite hear, but they weren’t for your ears. Finally they looked up, emerald and azure eyes filled with enough love that you were certain your chest was going to crack open.

You reached for their cheeks and felt the same dampness that coated yours. “She’s real,” you whispered. It had taken a few weeks but finally it all felt real. She wasn’t just a picture on a piece of paper or measurements of a hormone in a blood test. She was real, and she was yours.

“You look like a twat,” you greeted Max with a grin, flapping the collar of his race suit made to replicate Elvis Presley. “You’re just missing the blue suede shoes.”

Max rolled his eyes and ducked his head when you tried to mess his gelled hair up. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“Oh I am,” you laughed, slipping back into Charles’ side. “I’m actually happy to sit out this circus act.”

Max narrowed his eyes as he scanned your face for a lie or bitterness but all he saw was a bright smile and genuine amusement sparkling in your eyes. A sense of relief washed over him as for the first time since losing your seat you looked completely content and happy.

“I don’t blame you,” he finally replied and looked down at the costume he had been given. He would be glad when all this was over too. “I’ll see you at Omnia?”

The sun had already set on the strip and the temperature was quickly dropping as the hour grew late, and closer to the start of the race. “Maybe, if it’s a boring race I might not even be awake to see the end of it.”

“Fair enough.” He hoped you would be there to celebrate whatever the results were but he knew you were more exhausted in your current state and wouldn’t hold it against you. Christian waved at Max from across the street that divided the hospitality area from the garages and he gave you a quick hug, clapping Charles in the shoulder as he passed. “The Ring Master calls.”

“Drive safe!” He threw a thumbs up over his shoulder in answer and you laced your fingers with Charles’ before continuing to the McLaren garage.

It was strangely quiet for a race that had been hyped up so much over the last year, but you were kind of relieved that there were less people to weave between. It was great that the sport was growing in popularity but it was a pain in the ass trying to get anywhere when you are squashed like sardines in the paddock.

Somehow you still managed to bump into someone.

“Shit, sorry, Logan.”

“That was my bad,” he apologised as he turned to face the direction he was walking, waving back to the fan who had stopped him. His eyes widened when he saw who he had collided with and regret painted on his face. “Shit, are you alright? I didn’t hurt you, did I, or the, um…” he waved a hand to your stomach and you tilted your head wondering who had told him.

“I’m fine, but you knew?”

Logan scratched the back of his neck nervously and shrugged. “The walls were thin in the medical centre.”

You were dumbfounded and the sound that bubbled from your chest confirmed it. “Huh.”

“I haven’t told anyone, and I won’t,” he promised before his name was called and he waved to his PT. “Oh, congratulations though, I probably should have started with that.”

Charles laughed and shook the American’s hand. “Thanks, mate.”

You smiled and accepted the half hug he offered, probably thinking a handshake would be even more awkward. “Thanks, and congrats on your first point too.”

“Not as exciting as a baby.”

“Yeah it is,” you laughed, remembering your first point for Alpha Tauri. “That’s your baby right now.”

His smile grew as he set off to his PT and you carried on your way to see Lando before the race. There was still over an hour until lights out but every minute had been scheduled for media duties, meet and greets, and the driver parade. You wanted to have a few moments of their time before releasing them to the wild.

Charles’ hand slipped from yours as you reached McLaren and he cradled your cheek before kissing you. “Are you alright to get back on your own?”

You rolled your eyes before looking at the Ferrari space four garages down. “I don’t know, it’s pretty far…I might get lost and end up in the Bellagio.”

“If you do, bet it all on Red for me,” he joked. The smile on his face dimmed as he saw the magician and Carlos waiting for him. “I’ll see you after the race, mamie. Je t’aime.”

“Love you too.”

“And Lando too.” He would have preferred to tell Lando himself but he just ran out of time with all the activities his team had planned for race day.

“I’ll let him know, and I’ll even give him a kiss from you,” you teased as you stole another kiss for good measure.

“Any advice from the current world champion?” he asked as he started to back away.

You shook your head. “It’s Vegas, baby, just give them one hell of a show.”

To say the atmosphere in Ferrari was charged was an understatement. There was resentment for Carlos’ car being destroyed and his mechanics gritted their teeth as they walked to the middle of the grid thanks to the penalties for fixing the car. On the other side of the garage, the side where you sat with Joris, excitement permeated the air as you watched Charles’ walk to his car parked in pole position.

You were torn between that excitement and the sadness that had followed you since leaving McLaren. Lando was being too hard on himself again for the bad luck he had qualifying 15th, but he was determined to make his way to the front of the pack. If anyone was going to be called Spitfire in the race, it was going to be him. He was going to dogfight his way forward from the moment the lights went out.

One of the cameras panned the crowd and you spotted him walking up from his spot three quarters of the way down the grid, all the way to the front where Charles was talking to Max. For a moment you were once again hit with the sense of longing to be out there but the feeling washed away as quick as it came.

“Do you want anything to eat?” Joris asked as he looked up from his phone. You chuckled knowing Charles would have sent the reminder text but you shook your head. 

“I’m fine, thank you. And you can tell Charles I am keeping hydrated too,” you said with a smile, shaking your water bottle for him to see. 

“You can always trust him to worry more about others, even when he’s meant to be focusing on the race,” he laughed as he sent the reply. “Have you thought any more about where you want to go for the maternity shoot?”

Charles had been eager to lock his friend in as the official bump photographer but there was still another four months until it was the best time to have them taken. He was also open to taking photos while you were in labour but you weren't too sure how you felt about that yet.

“Somewhere warm.”

“So no alpine backdrops then,” he chuckled, probably remembering how much you had complained about hiking in the snow last winter.

You scoffed at the idea, an adamant refusal to it. “Not if you’re expecting me to wear something that shows the bump.”

The action around the garages stilled as the guests on the grid were guided away for the formation lap to begin and you breathed a sigh of relief when Charles made it back to the first box without drama. Even Joris released a nervous laugh beside you. 

“That’s a better start,” he murmured so the engineers around him didn’t hear. 

“Couldn’t get any worse than the last one,” you replied just as quietly. 

You held your breath and felt the same rush of adrenalin fill you as if you were right out there in front of the lights with them. Your fingers twitched at your sides, the muscle memory begging them to prepare for action as each red light appeared, then all five were gone. The keen whines of twenty engines accelerating to their limit screamed into the night and you grinned at the sound even though it was muted by the headset. 

“Oh, fuck off, Max,” you screamed as he pushed Charles wide and they both went off track before pulling back on with your brother taking the lead. Suddenly your attention was brought to the back of the pack where multiple cars had been involved in an incident, but Lando had managed to avoid it and slip ahead a few places too. “Come on, baby, you can do it.”

Although there had been a lot of complaints about the showy nature of racing in Las Vegas, there was no denying it was a track that offered a lot of entertainment with long straights to overtake and high risk high reward corners too. You could barely sit still with your eyes glued to the many screens around the garage offering almost every angle of the race. 

“Ok, I think this race has just redeemed itself,” you commented with a smile as you watched the battles taking place around the track. 

“It is pretty amazing,” Joris said with his own excited grin, but shock fell over him and you snapped your head back to screen dreading seeing Charles out of the race again. But it wasn’t Charles. 

Sparks flew as the floor hit the asphalt and your brain couldn’t seem to understand why Lando’s car was facing the wrong way. Still it kept skidding along the straight at full speed, spinning back around just before it collided with the barrier at the end of the runoff. Your breath left your lungs with the force of the collision and your entire body stiffened as your ears began to ring loudly. Your stomach lurched as you desperately hit the keys on the screen to select the driver view and you saw Lando’s shaking hands pull his steering console out.

“I, I need to go,” you whispered as you stood up on weak legs. “Can you tell Charles?”

“Xavi can do that, I’ll walk with you,” he said with a shake of his head. His arm looped with yours and stabilised you as you tried to rush out of the garage. They weren’t even stopping the race because he wasn’t on track and that made you feel even sicker. What if someone else went into the runoff? 

“Mr Norris,” Joris called out, waving the worried man down. You blinked as you realised you were already in the McLaren garage, but you couldn’t remember the walk there. 

“He’s alright,” Adam assured you as he pulled you into his side and thanked Joris for the escort. “I spoke to him after he got out of the car. They are going to the medical centre. Come on, darling, we can go together.”

“He’s alright?” you double checked, your vision blurring with tears. 

Adam gave a sure nod as he started back the way you came, except he went towards the medical centre instead of the other garages. “His ribs hurt but he’s tough.”

Max said that when he was a child he would sleep walk, Vicki too. You imagined this was how they felt. Detached. Moving through darkness. Closing your eyes and waking in a new place. You blinked and the concrete path you were on was suddenly linoleum. 

“Lando…” you sighed as you found him on a gurney, white blankets tucked in close around him. 

“Heeeey,” he slurred happily, wincing as he snaked a hand out of his swaddle to reach for you. “It’s my girls.”

“You’re on the strong stuff, aren’t you, my love?” You faked a smile for him and took his hand, tilting your head towards Adam and the doctor explaining what was happening. You carefully leaned over the bed and kissed Lando until he broke out in giggles and his head lolled lazily back against the pillow. 

“They’re taking him to the hospital for some scans just in case there’s any broken ribs,” Adam relayed when he reached your side and gave Lando a kiss on his forehead. “How are you feeling, son?”

“It hurts to breathe, but this is good,” he said, holding up his hand that was connected to the IV bag filled with strong painkillers. 

A nurse came and unlocked the wheels on the gurney before asking who was going to ride in the ambulance with Lando. Adam looked at you and nodded, and though you knew he would have wanted to go with his son himself you were selfish and couldn’t leave his side. 

“I’ll follow behind,” Adam promised before Lando was wheeled away. 

You walked at Lando’s side out of the medical centre and found tv crews waiting, their cameras zoomed in on Lando and capturing his almost drunken state. A little loopy from the drugs in his system, he waved his fingers at the camera. “This will be on Netflix next year,” he laughed before wincing at the pain that flared. “So it’s safe to tell them, ‘I’M GOING TO BE A FATHER!’ and they can’t say a thing.”

Adam froze at his son’s outburst, though it was no secret that he was eager to shout to the world his joy. “Lando…” he growled, looking at your wide eyes.

“What? They aren’t allowed to use the footage for months,” he huffed. 

“That’s not Netflix,” you whispered, swallowing the lump in your throat as you watched the tv crew almost tremble with excitement. “That’s Sky TV.”

Click here for the next part.

[miguelhugger2099]

God, I can imagine the situation with Punk! Miguel when he became a father. It’s just that he can literally get a drawing of his daughter on his body, and it will look like some kind of blot, but he will be literally proud of this tattoo, just like a tattoo that is a print his daughter's finger.

But here's the situation. Let’s imagine that some person looks at Miguel’s tattoo and says, “What kind of weakling can give you the number of the artist who will cover it up?” Miguel is literally torn to strike the person opposite but then says “This is my daughter’s drawing”

Punk Dad!Miguel with his family out on the beach.

Punk Dad!Miguel with his two favorite girls: his wife in a cute baby blue lacy bikini and his little girl in an adorable pink tankini with flowers.

Punk Dad!Miguel who looks out of place with his bright sunshine girls while he’s covered in tatts and piercings, tall and strong and very clearly watching out for the two most important people in his life.

Punk Dad!Miguel who keeps an eye on you two while you play with Gabriella in the water. His shades covering his sensitive eyes while he sips on a coca cola under the umbrella, legs spread apart comfortably.

Punk Dad!Miguel who groans internally when the father beside him tries to talk to him again. A family of four where his wife is also juggling with two toddlers. The husband? Sitting on his ass.

“Gotta say man, I wish I could do all that but my wife, y’know how it is.” He chuckles.

“No, I don’t.” Miguel says plainly. He loves his wife.

The man takes a closer look at Miguel arm and snorts. “What the hell is that?” He points to a small flower bouquet that wrapped around his bicep. The bouquet was terribly drawn, stems thick and uneven, petals that varied from round to sharp, colors blended in like it was done with crayon. It was a stark difference to the other well done pieces around his body.

“Now what asshole decided to screw you over that badly?” He cackles. “Oh, man you have got to get that shit covered up.”

Punk Dad!Miguel who chugs the last drop of his soda and smashes the can in his grip. His brows are hard and lips holding back a snarl. He turns to the man slowly.

“My daughter drew it.” He hisses, pushing his sunglasses further up his nose bridge to hide the rage burning in his eyes.

The man gulps. “Oh…I’m—I didn’t mean—“ He’s luckily saved by Miguel’s little girl calling out to him. “Papi! Papi!”

Gabriella struggles to march up the hill of sand, quickly hurrying in the shade to protect her feet from the scorching hot ground. She falls on the towel on her stomach and grin up at him, her hair more curled than usual and drenched from the sea water.

Punk Dad!Miguel who melts and instantly forgets about whatever he was angry at. “Hi Gabi.” He smiles.

Gabriella lifts herself on her knees. “Hi.” She giggles. “Mami said to call you because I wanted to go deeper in the water but Mami said that you know how to swim better.” She recounts her story to him and you slowly come up behind. You sit on the towel with a huff, your hair equally drenched from Gabriella’s play.

He knows you’re just tired and it’s time to switch shifts. He tosses the crushed can inside the cooler of the husband next to him and picks Gabriella up, placing her on his shoulders. “Okay, mija! Let’s go!” Gabriella squeals, lifting her arms high in the air.

[multifariousqueer]

hey baby, i hope you ok! if u are accepting requests i thinking reader sit on miles face, i know 1610!miles would be so sweet, now 42!miles... idk just late night intrusive thoughts 😩

OMG YESS I’VE BEEN THINKING OF THIS!!!

A/n: Hey y’all. Keep requesting smut fics and as always: IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT, SCROLL TF AWAY. Lmk if I should do more of these

Warnings: smut obvi, cunnilingus, imma try not to put so many warnings so y’all can actually see this post

Sitting on the Miles’ faces headcannons

Our Miles(1610)

Earth 1610

Definitely loves it fr

At first, you’re scared you’re gonna choke him but he’s adamant you won't

“Miles what if I crush you” “You won’t, I promise"

Those spider genes are strong fr. You feel light as a feather to him but you’re still scared

Makes sure you’re comfortable and willing to stop if needed

That being said, this man is a MUNCH

but he’s a soft munch, yk? He doesn’t do it often but when he does, he ain’t letting up

Contributed his mustache growth to you

Will tongue fuck you fr

holds your hand occasionally when he wants to be closer to you

When you lay back and rest your hands on his thighs let him do his thing as he’s full on eating you out>>>>

Will have you cumming in minutes

I feel like he’s gentle and watches your facial expressions to know if he’s doing good

Will close his eyes and just enjoy your pretty pussy and bask in how lucky he is to have you

“Mmmmm you’re this wet for me, mami?”

Is hard as a rock and he’s dripping precum but he’s so in love with you its worth it

If he feels you get up, he’ll think he did something wrong

“Did I do something wrong?” “No its just I’m close"

His ultimate goal in life is to have his head in between your Lucious thighs

cums at the thought

Thinks you taste like candy

your pussy is his paradise fr.

Will suck on your clit until you’re close and he’ll tongue fuck you

If you reach back and stroke him, he’s in love(more than usual)

When you cum, he swallows it and gulps it loud so you hear

“Mmmmm fuck mami, sabes a caramelo"

Will speak Spanish into your pussy

Goes feral if you run your fingers through his hair

Will def kiss you after and fuck you

Earth 42

“siéntate en mi cara, mami” “I’m scared that imma drown you or something” “I ain't made of glass. It’s okay"

I feel like he isn’t very good at it at first so you have to guide him

“Mmmmm right there, papi” “fuck, eres tan buena, mi corazón"

Once you tell him where to go and how to do it, you’re hooked

His face is basically made for your face atp

Will speak Spanish into your pussy, just like our miles

Teases you by licking circles around your clit and flicking over it occasionally and when you jump and whimper, he chuckles

"muy sensible, mi vida” “mmm you’re making me feel so good”

you smile and run your hand on his braids and he smirks into your pussy before returning his lips to your clit

when you cum, he will savor that shit

like he will act like he’s eating the best meal ever

“mmmm fuck, mami no puedo vivir sin este coño” “mmm fuckkk papi, you always put it down right

knows he’s the only one who can make you feel this way

will leave your legs shaking 100000%

makes your vision blur once he gets good at eating

has a long tongue and will literally lick your g spot until youre cumming

Doesn’t stop there tho, he will still suck your clit like a ring pop even after you cum

“Papi, I finished” “I didn’t"

Will get pissed if you get up and he will grab your thighs and pull you back down

“Don’t stop me when I’m eating, mami"

You’re a stuttering mess when he’s done

[luxurychristmaspudding]

On Call | On Call

part ii

summary: sometimes, frankie wonders what he'd do without you. without your help, your laughter, your friendship, the lunches you pack him. and sometimes, when he's alone, he wonders what he'd do with you.

pairing: neighbour!frankie x f!babysitter!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. idiots in love, reader is good with kids. reader and frankie are both bi and have same sex exes. if that’s a problem for you, keep scrolling. fluff, plenty smutty thoughts, f&m masturbation. mentions of grief/dead parent, heartbreak, and biphobia/homophobia. brief competency kink, makin' a man some lunch (in a neighbourly way). drinking.

reader is a teacher, has hair, and there are some descriptions of outfits, but she is otherwise a blank slate :)

wc: 13.1k (normal length fic, my ass)

an: eternal love to @schnarfer for being a constant guiding light and the most wonderful friend. and further eternal love to @din-jarring and @toomanytookas who each make every day a little sunnier.

dividers from the glorious @saradika-graphics

She said call me now baby and I'd come a running If you'd call me now baby I'd come running

- on call, kings of leon

series masterlist | main masterlist

When Frankie gets home Thursday night, weeks later, you’re working at his dining table.

He checks his watch as he closes the front door gently behind him, looking back at the glimpse of you in the kitchen, brows furrowed. It’s late. Surely you should be in front of the TV, fighting sleep.

His footsteps are quiet down the hall, and he pauses in the doorway. You glance up at his soft hey, and he can feel how tired you are.

‘Hey, buddy.’

Your smile is quiet, kind. You watch as he moves to the sink, collecting two glasses, filling them with water.

‘How’d it go?’

You say it at the same time, and it breaks some of the stillness, both pairs of lips lifting in mirrored grins. 

‘Good,’ he says, ‘Glad to be home.’

He moves closer and takes a sip from his water, placing yours next to you, gesturing for you to go next.

‘Fine. Totally fine. She was out like a light after the second read. Best kid ever.’

You take a gulp of your water as he raises his eyebrows.

‘Second?’

Mhm.

‘I usually have to do at least four.’

You giggle, fluttering your fingers at him.

‘Magic touch,’ you whisper, ‘Plenty of practice reading kids to sleep.’

He shakes his head at you.

‘That’s not true.’

‘Mm. I’m sure my ninth graders would disagree.’

Frankie rolls his eyes, sitting down heavily next to you. He rubs his face, huffs a deep yawn as he slouches further down into the seat. You try not to stare, but he just looks so soft. You want to wrap him up in a blanket and lead him up to bed. Lay him down and press kisses to his cheeks.

‘She drew this,’ you say, pulling out a sheet of paper from beneath your piles of books. ‘Personally, I think it’s a good likeness.’

He laughs, properly, as he takes in the flourish of crayon across the page. It’s obvious where you’ve helped her - sketching the outlines of people, houses - and obvious where she took over - a mess of scribbles, rainbows of colour. The two houses, the fence, him and Lucia - Papi and me - and then the colourful tangle of you next door - Bug.

He traces the lines with his finger, gaze softening, heart swelling in his chest.

‘She hold you up, doing this?’

You smile at him, shaking your head. You fumble below the books again, pulling out a second sheet.

‘No. Looked so cute I drew one myself.’

You watch Frankie’s eyes light as he takes in your drawing. His and Lucia’s curls, the books under your arm, the oversized caterpillar in the grass. A tidier version of Lucia’s, one where you’re stood closer together. Like a family. 

He bites his lip, a sparkling swell of joy flooding his chest.

‘Masterpiece.’ He says. You shake your head at him, bashful. ‘Wanna put it on my fridge.’

You scoff at him.

‘Put Luc’s on the fridge.’

He holds your drawing away from you, pushing Luc’s over your papers.

‘Put Luc’s on your fridge,’ he says, ‘And I’ll keep this one. Deal?’

You suck your teeth, grinning.

‘Deal.’

He stands from the table, moving further into the kitchen. When he reaches the fridge, he takes an alligator magnet and pins your drawing to the metal. He steps back, folding his arms. You watch him.

‘Perfect.’ He says. You giggle.

‘You’re a soft bastard, Frankie Morales.’

He laughs, turning back to face you. 

‘Don’t tell anyone.’

You hold out your pinky, and he links it with his.

‘Promise.’

The heat from his hand, so close to yours, is almost irresistible. Your chest heats, and you want to pull him closer, see if he’s that warm everywhere. 

You drop his hand, standing on heavy legs. Your I should get going is muffled through a yawn, and he nods, helping you to gather your things. When you’re ready, he follows you to the door. 

This time, he pulls you into his chest. And he is warm, warm all over, and you could sleep here, suddenly, wrapped in his arms.

‘Goodnight, baby.’ he says, as you step out of his house.

He’s warm, and he’s so sweet. Baby, baby, baby running through your head as you make your way across the grass, smiling to yourself, still smiling when you turn on your porch, facing him stood on his own. Half of his body dimly lit by the glow within his house, shadows across his face as he makes sure you unlock the door and turn the light on safely. You raise an arm to him, and he does the same. You turn it into a flash of your middle finger, and he does the same - grinning to himself at the sound of your giggle across the lawn, cut off only as you close your door behind you. Goodnight, baby.

It still echoes in your mind as you’re pulled from the silken depths of sleep on Saturday morning by the whirring of a lawn mower. You huff, grumble, roll onto your back and press your forearm against your eyes. You have no idea what time it is, but you know for sure that it is too early for whatever this shit is.

Through the dim light behind your arm, you grimace. Your toes are a little cold, body achy like it needs to be stretched out. All fixed with more time spent asleep, except the buzz from outside comes louder now, more incessant. You roll yourself sideways, squinting in the sharper light coming from the window, mumbling to yourself as you sit and push up off the mattress. When you shuffle to the window and pull the curtain aside, you’re surprised. Frankie is up and out already - his front lawn cut into neat stripes - and now he’s gliding up and down yours doing the same. T-shirt clinging to his body, arms and neck shining with sweat. Cap on to keep the sun from his eyes, the curls at the base of his neck damp and dripping. He’s a sight.

 And there’s something about the way he does it, how easy he makes it look. The stripes, the handling of the machine. How he changes the oil of your car, how he can change the tire on his. The way he drives, hand at your headrest when reversing. How he lifts Lucia, how he chops and slices while cooking. So goddamn easy, brow barely even knotted, just his thick fingers working through any problem they come across.

Heat stirs in your cunt.

It’s not that you haven’t thought about it. Him. It’s just that doing so feels… weird. You try not to have detailed fantasies about your best friend next door, feeling disingenuous when you call your good mornings, but certain flashes of thoughts just aren’t so easy to ignore. Stupid ones, like licking his skin when he’s covered in grease, him eating you out over the bed of your truck. Stupid ones like him knocking on your door when he’s done with the grass, coming in to find you reaching for something at the perfect angle in a little summer dress. Thoughts like him bending you over the counter and fucking you stupid, sweat mixing on your skin, the smell of grass flooding your head, tits bouncing in his hands.

Idle thoughts. 

Ones that have you flopped back onto your bed, legs spread, one hand between your slick folds as you work yourself. Moaning and gasping into the heat of the morning, brief flashes of Frankie bursting behind your eyelids. The glimpse of skin and coarse hair you’ve seen when he reaches up to lift something, the shy look he gives you from below his lashes. How soft his mouth looks - what it would feel like on yours, what it would feel like to have him whisper against your thighs right now, telling you how pretty you look, watching your hands before he catches them in his and replaces them with his tongue.

It doesn’t take long before you’re cresting in an easy, all-consuming orgasm. Your back arches against the mattress, eyes squeezing shut as your cunt flutters and pulses, fresh slick gushing from between your fingers. Your thighs twitch as your circles ease, heart beat slowing in its thrumming as you swallow and pant. The mower is still whirring outside. He must be nearly done.

Frankie cuts the machine as he trims the very last patch of your grass to a lighter shade of green.

He peels his shirt away from his skin, flapping it in an effort to cool down. The cap comes off next, one hand swiped across his forehead, the other running air through his damp curls.

It’s warm. Unseasonably warm, and if he had any sense he wouldn’t have cut any grass today. But this Saturday suited him, and once he’s done his lawn, he may as well do yours. You don’t accept nearly as much as you should for looking after Lucia, so he’s taken to sneaking in more favours when he can. An oil change, lightbulbs you can’t reach, an Ikea chair you couldn’t find the time to set up. He knows you’ve noticed. Scowling slightly at how you can’t say no, quick to find a way to repay him. It’s become a welcome game of tag over the last six weeks. You won’t be outdone. In fact, if Frankie was a betting man -

‘Gotcha something.’

When he turns his gaze from the street, squinting slightly, he finds you bounding towards him. Barefoot, glowing with the remnants of sleep, and fucking poured into the most sinful sundress he’s ever seen. Like a teenager, he feels his cock twitch in his jeans, and he scolds himself for it.

‘It’s hot out.’ You grin, holding out a tall glass of something clinking with ice. His own answering smile speaks something of his relief, his gratitude.

‘Sure is.’

He takes the glass from you, giving it a sniff. You roll your eyes.

‘It’s lemonade. I’m not trying to poison you.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘Yet, anyway.’

He nods, as though you’ve confirmed what he’s long suspected.

‘’S the thought that counts. I don’t get a straw?’

You smack his bicep with the back of your hand as he takes a sip.

‘Dick,’ you grin, ‘I’ll piss in it next time.’

Frankie’s eyebrows shoot up, but he manages to swallow without spluttering it all over you. He considers for a moment, clearing his throat.

‘Nice piss.’

Your mouth pops open, feigning disgust.

‘I said next time, freak.’

He laughs, flashing you a cheesy wink.

‘You love it really.’

You giggle, spinning on your toes like a schoolgirl. He laughs with you, sipping the lemonade, eyes crinkly and affectionate, tracing your lips, the hem of your skirt.

You look up and down the lawn, impressed with his craft. Quiet satisfaction blooms in Frankie’s gut.

‘Looks great,’ you say, pressing his arm. ‘Thank you. You know, you don’t have to do this.’ 

He shrugs.

‘Was out here anyway. Just helping my favourite neighbour.’

You chuckle.

‘Whatever. But you still don’t have to.’

‘Fine,’ he says, pulling a face. ‘I’ll never, ever do it again. I’ll leave you to mow your own lawn, build your own furniture, set your car on fire…’

‘I’m not that bad,’ you laugh, giddy as you step around him. 

‘Bug,’ he says, fixing you in place with a firm hand on each of your shoulders. ‘Baby. I’m not convinced you even know what a wrench is.’

You gasp, genuinely offended this time, and he laughs.

‘Of course I know what a fucking wrench is, asshole. I’ll give you a fucking wrench.’

He laughs harder, and you reach up to swipe his sweaty cap from his head. Before he can grab at it, you’re off, flying in circles across the lawn. He sets his glass down and chases after you, hands slipping through the fabric of your dress. He’s not looking at the plush flesh of your thighs revealed at each stride. Not noticing the way your chest moves, definitely doesn’t see a peek of your ass as you whirl in front of him. He doesn’t, he didn’t, he didn’t. Certainly not on purpose. 

He blames the heat, his earlier exertion for why he can’t catch you. Can’t even try to grab you when you zoom by and scoop up his empty glass, when you round the curve of his fence and wait for him to follow you. He’s barely jogging now, drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. He’s almost at you, cap almost within reach, and then you plant the hand with it in on one of the pickets of the fence, jump, and swing your legs over.

‘That is playing so fucking dirty!’ He pouts, and you cackle at him. 

If there’s one thing you’ve mastered over the last year, it’s hopping the dividing fence. If there's one thing Frankie swears he will not do, it’s swing himself over. Something about his joints, something about his back. Yada, yada as far as you’re concerned.

‘What’d they teach you in Delta Force?’ You tease, ‘Surely it can’t have been any harder than that.’

He flips you off, hands on his knees.

‘You learn to do that in college? How many fences were you jumping?’

You throw his cap to him, waggling your eyebrows.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.’

‘Weather boy?’ He wheezes, shaking his head. ‘Not even gonna ask. Christ, you make me feel old.’

You snicker at him again, hopping from foot to foot. He holds out his empty hand.

‘Good game.’

You step forwards, full of faux-graciousness. You take his hand, opening your mouth to snipe something back, but he’s pulling you in too fast for you to process.

And god, he’s wet. Slimy and gross and warm -

‘Get off me, Frankie!’ You howl, and he chuckles, nuzzling his soaked cheek against your forehead.

‘Come over for dinner tonight,’ he says as you squirm in his arms, ‘We’re making pizza.’

You jerk yourself free, and he lets you go, so fucking pleased with himself. You shake your limbs out, trying to erase the sweaty feeling of him.

‘Only if you have a shower first. You fucking stink, dude.’

He begins to back towards his house, and you do the same.

‘I’ll have a shower,’ he says, ‘If you bring a wrench.’

You snort at the bottom of your porch steps.

‘Fuck you, Fish. I ain’t bringing a wrench. And get your goddamn mower off my grass.’

He giggles, a boyish sound so unlike the burly man it comes from. It makes you giggle, too. 

‘See you later, Bug.’

‘If you’re lucky, Morales!’

You never do produce a wrench, but Frankie is always thrilled by the other magic tricks you have up your sleeve. He looks forward to the surprise when he comes home from flying - whole Lego cities in his living room, wonky origami in the kitchen, hama beads you’ve dug up from God knows where. The hama beads, he decides, he could live without. He found one in his sock the other day. 

He’s home from work earlier than he thought he'd be tonight. Lucia tucked up in bed, he’d tiptoed upstairs to crack her bedroom door open, watching the rise and fall of her back before stepping in and pressing a kiss to her plump, toasty cheek.

He’s just finishing making coffee when he glances across the kitchen to a mixing bowl that hadn’t been out this morning. Curious as the coffee brews, he moves closer to the pale blob inside, and pulls back the clingwrap. He sniffs the dough-like mass, but comes up empty for clues. 

He pokes a finger into it, grimacing at the damp sponginess before covering it again and wiping the digit on his jeans. He pours the coffee, adding creamer and sugar, before shouting over his shoulder.

‘Bug,’ he calls, ‘Were you making bread today?’

‘What?’ he hears you answer from the living room, and he smiles as he carries the coffee through to you.

‘I said, were you making bread?’

You’re still where he left you, tucked up on the sofa. You reach for the mug he offers with greedy hands, and he laughs.

‘Bread?’ you ask, taking it, brow furrowing before the confusion clears and you beam up at him. ‘Oh! No. I made playdough.’

‘Made playdough?’ He says, plopping down beside you.

‘Hell yeah, baby. Easy as fuck. Do you know it’s edible?’

‘Edible? You feeding my daughter playdough?’

You roll your eyes.

‘Obviously not. You’re a regular comedian, you know that?’

He chuckles into his coffee, blowing at the steam.

‘Did she eat it anyway?’

‘Not while I was looking.’

He hums at your answer, swinging your legs onto his lap and squeezing your calf.

‘What you watching?’ he asks. You shrug.

‘Some movie. This guy’s a detective tryna take down a drug ring. She,’ you say, flapping a pointed finger at the screen, ‘Is like, a burlesque dancer who’s actually an undercover agent, and he just found out. He’s feeling some type of way about it because he thought he was saving her from some kind of terrible fate, but it turns out she’s totally fine and is actually saving his ass.’

Frankie grins at you, and when you turn your head and catch his eye, you grin back.

‘What?’

‘Nothin’.’

You snort at him. He turns his attention back to the TV.

‘What’s the deal with the monkey?’

You jiggle your legs in his lap in excitement.

‘Oh! You’ll love this. He’s the gang leader. Everyone understands what he’s saying apart from the detective and this one guy who thinks he’s having the worst trip of his life.’

He belly laughs this time, tipping his head against the back of the couch, and you watch, eyes sparkling, as the hoots of laughter leave his mouth. You lean forward and smack his arm, giggling too.

‘Shh, you’ll wake Luc up.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he splutters, still snickering, ‘I’m sorry. Oh my god. If there was ever a movie written for you, it’d be this one.’

You gasp.

‘I know. It’s insane. And the soundtrack is amazing. So many cool songs. And -’ you pause, waiting for the actress to pop back up on screen, ‘She wrote some for it. Can’t remember what her name is right now, but she’s in a band in real life.’

Frankie watches as the woman welcomes the detective into her dark apartment - pin boards full of pictures and maps, a wall that falls away to reveal all kinds of hidden weapons. She turns to face the other actor, and Frankie cocks his head.

‘She kinda looks like you,’ he says, and you make a noncommittal noise. ‘Sure you don’t have a long-lost sister?’

You chuckle, and the camera pans back to the man.

‘I don’t think so. But he looks like you. Just - maybe… a few years older.’

He drops his jaw, staring at you.

‘Just a few?’

You snort.

‘Yeah, Fish. Don’t worry. Old age comes for us all.’

He makes a hurt noise, fingers scrabbling for the bottom of your feet, and you shriek, holding your coffee far away from you as he tickles.

‘Stop!’ you cry, ‘Stop! Okay, I’m sorry! You’re so much younger than him. You barely even look thirty.’

‘Barely - even - thirty -’ he laughs, wrestling with you as he tries to stop from spilling his own drink. ‘Not only did you call me old, you’re a liar, too.’ he stops only briefly to put his coffee down, and you manage to do the same before he launches at you with renewed vigour. His hands are all over you now, finding any sensitive spot he can. You grab and dig your nails into his arms, kicking your legs against his lap, planting a foot against his belly to hold him away.

You speak only in squeaks, hacking coughs and muffled laughter. There’s a pressure building in your bladder, and it only makes your movements more desperate, more uncoordinated. You’re begging, pleading, almost in tears through your yelping, and then your heel digs lower than it should. Frankie’s movements cease as he doubles over your legs, grunting out a pained noise as you whip your feet away from him.

‘My - fuckin’ - balls.’ He gasps.

You try to suck your laughter back through your teeth, but it’s futile. You lean forwards towards him, your palm firm on his back.

‘I’m sorry,’ you wheeze, ‘God, I really - I swear I didn’t mean to do that.’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ he groans, cradling his crotch, ‘There was feeling behind it.’

You snort, pulling his shoulder back so he relaxes into the couch.

‘Come on. It was barely a tap. Lucia could still have a brother or sister.’

He groans anew.

‘I’m in no fit shape for any of that now.’

You giggle and pout at him.

‘Aw. Want me to kiss it better?’

The flush that reddens Frankie’s face is almost immediate, the same heat flashing through your cheeks. Your mouth works to find some kind of joke, something to take it back with, but you flounder. 

‘Keep dreamin’, bug.’

A ha! escapes your lips, and Frankie manages a bashful smile, a shake of his head. But your heart is lumbering in your chest, stomach gooey, and the tips of his ears are glowing. 

He’s not thinking about it. He’s not.

And neither are you.

So he says something stupid about the monkey, and you say something stupid back. Layers on layers of silliness until the giggles return and the nerves are tucked away.

You love this kid. You really do. But it’s been a shitty fucking day.

You’ve not cried in the staff toilets since your training, but today every vibe was off, as the kids say. You’d been about ready to head home, forget about any work you needed to do, pull on your pyjamas and crawl into bed. Instead, you’re trying to blink back stupid tears on your way to the elementary school across town.

You’re not mad at Frankie, not even upset. When he’d called to say there’d been a fire at work and he needed to stay to provide first aid, your stomach had dropped through the floor. Your are you okay? felt clumsy, rushed, pushed against his panicked panting through the line. But he was just as quick to reassure you - he wasn’t even close, but one guy had burns and they might need him to cover the last flight out.

And it wasn’t a problem - isn’t a problem. You love spending time with Lucia, want to be as much help as possible, but man. You just wish it wasn’t today.

When you pull up to the school gates, Lucia is waiting for you. Her tiny backpack clutched in her fists, bright smile as she chatters away to her teacher stood beside her. Miss Lopez, Frankie had texted you, just in case.

The car door is barely open before the curly-haired whirlwind is launching herself in your direction with an excited squeal, crashing into your legs. You laugh, squeezing her shoulders before dropping down to her level. 

‘Hey, baby bean!’

‘Papi said you’d come!’ She beams as you stroke her hair back from her face.

‘He sure did. You gonna come and hang out with me ‘til he gets home?’

She nods like her head’s on springs, and over her shoulder you look to Miss Lopez. She has the sweetest face, a lovely smile. You straighten out and offer her your hand. She takes it, palm soft and dry.

‘Sorry I’m late.’ You offer, and she shakes her head.

‘Not at all. You must be Mrs Morales.’ She says.

You choke on a laugh.

‘Oh - I - I’m not, actually. Family friend.’

Miss Lopez claps a hand to her forehead, grimacing.

‘Of course,’ she says, ‘The office did tell me. I’m so sorry. It’s just been one of those days.’

You chuckle, feeling Luc link her fingers with yours.

‘I know the feeling.’ You smile, and she smiles back. Miss Lopez crouches to Luc's level and gives her a gentle boop on the nose.

‘Be good, be safe.’ She says, and Lucia giggles, starting to pull you back to your car. Her teacher waves to you. ‘See you soon!’

You make sure to return it, ushering Luc to the car.

When she’s buckled in, she gently tugs the chain of your necklace.

‘I missed you.’ She says, eyes wide and earnest. Heat pricks behind your eyes again.

‘Missed you too, bean.’

It’s been a shitty fucking day, so you make cookies. 

It’s easy to do, and mostly for you, but Luc is fucking delighted. You make sure to dig out her little chef’s hat, and she whizzes around the lower cupboards grabbing a mixing bowl for you. She loves it, more than anything. She’s a star with shaping, mixing, tasting. On the same page as you about eating the dough, and very content to sit by the oven door to watch them melt and bake in front of her. Easy entertainment, and she’s in your sights as you grade your essays at Frankie's kitchen table. 

You know you’re not being fun. Not mustering the same kind of sunshine you usually do so effortlessly for her, not that she seems to notice. You try to keep a smile going when the cookies are done, packing a small box of them into your bag and eating two each before dinner. She might not finish the whole meal, but she looks at you like you hung the moon.

When you settle down to watch Frozen again later, her head starts to bob half an hour in. You let her fall asleep cuddled up next to you, and when another half hour passes, you extract yourself, gather her tiny body in your arms, and carry her to bed. 

You set her down gently, pull the covers up to her chin, and watch her snuggle down in the blankets, nuzzling into their softness. You feel so weak, so goddamn tired, so disappointed in yourself for not playing like you usually do, for not encouraging her to sing and dance with you, for not reading her her usual bedtime story. It’s important for development at her age, a nasty little voice reminds you, and it just feels like something else you’ve failed at. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, turn on her nightlight, and lean down to kiss her cheek. Her skin is so warm, so soft. You gently swipe the curls from her face.

‘Night night, little love.’

You’re still marking your essays when Frankie comes home. 

You know you shouldn’t be. You know you should have curled up on the sofa or in the guest room like he’s told you to before. Know you should be asleep, barely managing to keep your eyes open, but you feel so fucking miserable, and you’ll be damned if Frankie comes home to you crying wrapped in his duvet.

Your coffee is cold, and a sip of its chill only serves to spark irritation in your stomach. You begin gulping it down, wishing it gone, before spilling some on the sheet of paper in front of you. You curse quietly just as you hear his keys in the door, dabbing at the blotch on the page as he toes off his boots in the hall. Your pressing only seems to be making it worse, little flakes of paper coming off on your sleeve as he enters the kitchen. 

‘Hey,’ he says quietly, ‘I thought you’d be asleep.’

You give up, leaning back in your chair to look at him. 

‘How’d it go?’ You ask, throat tight.

He shrugs. 

‘Okay. Dylan has some burns and Eddie is pretty shaken up, but they’ll both be okay. Ended up taking Dylan’s last flight.’ 

You take a deep breath. 

‘I’m sorry, Fish.’

‘Why? You didn’t set fire to it.’

You know it’s one of his usual quips. You know he’s not trying to be smart, not trying to rile you up. But you can feel it happening, all the same. 

‘Are you okay?’

He looks at you, assessing. It’s not like you to not snipe something back, not like you to not take the joke further. 

‘I’m fine. Just took me by surprise, that’s all. I’ve seen worse.’

You nod. He frowns. He doesn’t like it when you’re quiet. 

‘Sorry I was gone so long.’

It hangs in the air for a moment. You clench your teeth, frustrated at yourself for the undeserved irritation. 

‘You were at work. ‘S not a problem.’

He’s staring at you. You can feel it as you lean forwards again, pen in your hand. The words in front of you blur. 

‘Whatcha reading?’

You should go. You should really pack up before this ridiculous anger bubbles over. It’s not Frankie who deserves it, not the kids who deserve it. You should sleep on it, get some perspective. Fuck, do some mindfulness or something. 

Frankie drums his fingers on the wood when you make no reply, and you glower at him as he moves around the table, eyes fixed on your pile of marked essays. He thumbs the corners, and you bristle.

‘Oof,’ he says, picking up the last paper you graded. ‘F for Fail?’

‘No,’ you bite, ‘F for fuck off, Frankie.’

His eyes flick to yours, surprised, and he’s greeted with a wall of fury which he’s never seen before. It shocks him enough to put him on the back foot. Show his belly. He whistles lowly, dropping the paper back onto the pile, and is rewarded with something akin to the gnashing of teeth. The pieces slot together in his head. The bags under your eyes. How short you’re being. 

‘Okay,’ he says, ‘I think that’s enough for tonight.’

‘Don’t patronise me.’ You hiss, and it’s like you’re an open book for him to read. The flame in your stomach roars to life at the look he gives you. You need to take a nap.

He pulls the rest of the papers away from you, and you try to claw them back, outraged. He grabs your hands, holding them away from your work, and your wrists twist in his grip.

‘Frankie,’ you seethe, ‘Let me go. I’m not fucking around.’ 

But he doesn’t. He’s seen you worked up before, knows you better than you think. Knows this isn’t just the result of a few bad essays, knows this is because of something more. Knows how to make you feel better. ‘Francisco Morales,’ you start, ‘Get your fucking hands off me -’ 

He tightens his fingers again and tugs you up off the chair. It squeaks across the floor as you stand. Something about your attitude sparks a flame south of Frankie’s stomach, and he swallows sharply. Nothing a good hard fuck couldn’t fix, and he blinks at himself, surprised. He drops your hands. Where the fuck did that come from?

‘Get off -’ you growl, and he points at you.

‘Sit your ass on the couch. I’ll be there in a minute.’

You set your jaw and glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. He watches as your mouth twists into a scowl before you turn on your heel and stomp through to the living room.

He takes his cap off, scrubbing a hand through his hair and exhaling through his nose before adjusting himself in his jeans. He tidies your papers, puts pens and markers back into your pencil case, closes your laptop, packs your bag. Moves to the cupboard for two mugs, busying himself with tea and coffee as he tries to push thoughts of your furious eyes from his mind. How he could kiss the frown from your forehead, the scowl from your lips, how he could take you apart with his mouth, his cock, make you forget, make you feel better -

When he steps into the living room, you’re sat with your back to him, crowded into a corner of the couch. He places your tea on the table behind you, and his coffee on the other at his end. He lowers himself onto the cushions, relaxing against the leather, watching you. Your shoulders are almost up to your ears, fingers picking at the skin around your nails, eyes on your lap. He waits, chewing his cheek, hands twitching at the way your nails dig into skin.

‘I’m sorry for snapping at you.’

Your voice is small, quiet. He rubs his eyes and sighs.

‘It’s okay, baby. I know you didn’t mean it,’ he pauses. ‘I’m sorry for - manhandling you.’

You huff a breath through your nose, scratch at your knuckle. Frankie feels the worried pit in his stomach start to yawn.

‘Bug,’ he says, softly, ‘Talk to me.’

You wipe your hands over your thighs, and Frankie wonders whether it’s him. Something he’s said or done. He knows he’s not been looking hard enough for another sitter - maybe you’ve just had enough. His gut twists.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing - just. A bad day, is all.’

Too fast. He can feel his eyebrows lift.

‘Because of the tests?’

You shake your head.

‘All of it. The whole day was wrong.’

Frankie waits again, resisting the urge to move closer to you. You need a moment, though everything in his body wants you near right now. The scratching at your knuckle is incessant, and Frankie observes the movement with his own growing anxiety. You clear your throat.

‘All my lessons were shit. Everything was shit. I forgot reports and data drops, and the kids wouldn’t shut the fuck up, and I yelled at my favourite class, and almost everyone in my tenth grade group failed their assignment, and I just - couldn’t smile enough, wasn’t good enough for Lucia, and I’m so tired,’ you rush out, pressure building behind your eyes and at the back of your throat. ‘I’m tired, Frankie.’ You whisper.

He’s nodding, hands clasping and unclasping over his lap. 

‘Bug, baby,’ he says, so gentle, ‘Please don’t worry about Luc. Don’t ever worry about not being good enough. You know she thinks the sun shines out your ass,’ he pauses, but there’s no giggle. ‘And I bet your lessons weren’t shit. You had a bad day - that’s all. That does not make them shit.’ He can see your head quirk minutely, hear the thought as though you’d spoken it aloud. Wrong. He keeps going. ‘And things get forgotten, but they’ll get done. Did anyone say anything?’

You shake your head.

‘No. Helen just said they need to be done as soon as possible.’

‘So no one was upset? No one yelled?’

You shake your head again.

‘So it’s fine. You won’t be the only one, bug. And kids never shut the fuck up. It’s annoying as fuck. You know how long I’d last in that classroom?’

‘Five minutes?’ You say, a tiny curl of amusement in your words.

‘Twenty fucking seconds. You’re a saint.’

He hears it, though faint. A small huh of a laugh. He continues, smiling a little.

‘And fuck the tenth graders. If they shut the fuck up, they’d have done it properly. They wouldn’t have fucked it up. They wouldn’t be making my best pal upset, here on my couch.’

You breathe out, shoulders sagging.

‘Maybe they found it hard, though. Maybe I didn’t do a good enough job of explaining it all -’

‘Ah,’ Frankie interrupts, ‘Maybe. But were they concentrating when you explained it? Or were they talking football teams and weekend plans?’

The scratching stops. Frankie counts the seconds by the tick of his heart beat as you pop your knuckles and sigh again. You still haven’t looked at him. 

You suck air through your teeth.

‘Football teams and weekend plans. But they still - the results are awful, Frankie. They’re gonna think I can’t do my job.’

‘They’re not gonna think that. They’re not. This is one bad day, one bad result. You’re doing all you can. But you can only do so much, bug. Today was just not your day.’

Your body is vibrating with tension. You link your fingers together, watching the way the skin shifts between the joints.

‘It just - it wouldn’t be so hard if they fucking listened to me,’ you say, still quiet, but angry again now. Upset in a way that makes Frankie’s chest swell. ‘And then I get to thinking - maybe it is me. Maybe I’m just shit at my job and nobody’s bothered to tell me yet -’

‘Enough. You’re not doing this. Of course someone would have told you. Bug, they’re kids. They don’t even listen to their parents when they’re told to defrost the chicken when they get home from school. You’re not doing anything wrong.’

In the low light, Frankie can see you bite your lip, chin wobbling.

‘Hey,’ he says, softly. ‘Hey. Don’t cry. If anyone should be crying, it’s them. You’re doing your best. The least they could do is meet you halfway.’

‘But it’s my job, Frankie. And I care.’

‘I know you do, baby,’ he says, finally leaning forward, squeezing your thigh, ‘I know you do. So - what can we do? You’re tired. Lots of sleep. Long lie in on the weekend. But there’ll be lots of things you can do to turn things around. What can you do for tenth grade?’

You look up, finally. He gets a glimpse of your eyes, panicked, worried, before you turn them away again. You swallow, nod.

‘I guess I could… break it down for them. When I give their marks back. We could write an answer together. And Lucy showed me a really good feedback grid I can print for them all so they know what to work on.’ 

‘Good. That’s good. Make ‘em write it again?’

You twist your fingers.

‘Yeah. I guess so. There’s time. And they could do with the practice.’

Frankie squeezes your thigh again, stroking his thumb against your pants. You huff.

‘There. See? Already fixin’ it. Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy.’

You quirk your head.

‘You’d think. More like - fuckin’ - difficult, difficult, lemon difficult.’

A slow smile spreads across his lips, despite himself. And when you look up, catch it, you fight to keep your mouth from doing the same.

‘You can laugh, bug,’ he says, ‘That was funny.’

A small giggle floats from between your lips, but it’s still watery. He can taste the salt in the air.

‘What else?’ he says.

You shake your head, retreating back into yourself again.

‘Bug?’

Your eyes are back down on your hands, fingers twisting, twisting, twisting.

Frankie holds his breath, heart aching in his chest. He can feel it radiating off of you, something deeper, painful.

‘I just - it made me think maybe I’m not cut out for it. Maybe I’m not as good as I hoped I’d be, and -’ you cut yourself off, throat tight. You swallow, and Frankie leans towards you. One of his huge hands reaches out to yours, and he gently pries his fingers between your palms, thumb stroking over your knuckles. The tears come without you realising, hot and quick, so many of them you’re startled. ‘And maybe - not as good as dad said I would be.’ You shrug again, wounded, vulnerable. Frankie shifts, the arm closest to you wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest. Your voice catches, fear and guilt straining against sound. ‘That was the worst part. I felt like I was letting him down.’

‘Letting him down?’ He says into your hair. You feel his lips against your scalp as he speaks. ‘My god, bug. How could you ever think that?’ He squeezes you tighter, and you fight the sobs clawing up your throat. ‘Every day, you go in there and you kill it. No one in that school has ever said a bad thing against you. And you come home with notes, drawings, emails from kids and staff and parents who tell you that you’re making a difference. That you’re helping them learn, you’re making them feel safe, feel like they’re worth the time you give them. Do you know how special that is? Do you know how many of those kids come to you for that?’

A broken noise escapes your mouth, and Frankie begins to rock you gently. 

‘I’m proud of you,’ he says, ‘And I know if I’m proud of you, your dad is watching you with his heart about to burst. You could never let him down. Look at you. You are so special.’

You hiccup against him, and Frankie nuzzles his face into your hair. Your tears are hot, damp through his t-shirt, but you can’t stop. You hold to his arms, breathing him in as holds you close. Your legs are going numb, head aching, and you don’t know how long you sit there like that with him holding you. He soothes you with quiet whispers, waves rushing in and out, and once your breathing is back to normal you pull away from him with a great sniff. You laugh at yourself, wiping at your face. He smiles gently back, little crow's feet ceasing the corners of his eyes. 

‘You okay?’ He asks. 

You nod. 

‘Yeah. Just gross. Need to blow my nose.’

He shakes his head at you. 

‘You’re never gross.’

You roll your eyes at him, and he chuckles. 

‘There she is.’ 

You shift on the sofa, stretching and popping your joints before hauling yourself up to go to the bathroom. 

‘Do you want anything?’ You ask shyly. He shakes his head. 

‘Nope. Take your time.’

You shut the door quietly behind you in the bathroom, stepping to press your head against the cool tile. You try to empty your mind, but your chest is heavy. Everything that Frankie said, everything that was so easy to share with him. You’d thanked your lucky stars many a time over the last year that he’d bounded out his front door the evening you’d moved in, but now there was something more to it. You roll your head against the cool ceramic and press your fists to your chest. Your dad was a man who believed in fate, in things happening for a reason. Here, in the quiet calm of Frankie’s house, you have a feeling that he pulled some strings. That he knew who you’d need. 

Lips almost pressed to the tile, you whisper to him. 

‘Thanks, dad.’

The words hang in the air, slung out the universe, met with warm silence. Your throat tightens again, and if you close your eyes tight, you’d swear he was at your shoulder. Like you could turn around and he’d be there. 

When the tightness passes, you inhale deeply and turn to the sink. You splash your face with cold water, blow your nose, and make your way back to Frankie. 

He’s right where you left him, the TV on quietly. You flop down into your usual position, and he makes motions for you. You swing your legs onto his lap, and he runs his hands up your shins. Gentle, tender care again. You tip your head back and speak to the ceiling. 

‘Thank you.’

He’s quiet for a moment. 

‘You don’t need to thank me, bug.’

You make a noise of dissent. 

‘You should know. You should know how much I appreciate you. How much I love you.’

You blink at the lights and shadows above you. How easily that slipped off your tongue. It’s never been difficult for you to tell your friends you love them. Hell, you even said it to the lady who served you at the store the other day. But something about saying it to Frankie feels… different. 

Your breath gets caught in your chest, and then Frankie’s thumbs dig into the flesh of your calves. 

‘Love you too, bug.’

You inflate your lungs at the same time as he kneads a particularly tense spot on your leg, and you loose a quiet groan. You’re not sure if you imagine the minute pause of Frankie’s hands before he thumbs the same spot again. 

‘Fuck.’ You hiss. 

This time, he does pause. He pauses and prays you don’t feel the way his cock twitched. 

‘Does that hurt?’

You pull your head back up and find him watching you with dark eyes. 

‘No,’ you say quietly, ‘Not really.’

He nods, studying your face at the next pass of his fingers. Your wince at the tension, but the relief that follows makes your eyes close. This time, he runs his knuckles over your muscles, and you bite your lip, eyes flickering open to meet his. You sigh. 

‘That good?’ He asks. 

You can’t say anything, nothing that wouldn’t betray the flood of warmth sparking in your cunt. 

Mhm. 

He nods, kneading further down your leg. Your head flops backwards again, lip clamped between your teeth, brow furrowed as you will your body not to betray you. You almost have it, almost, fingers flexing against the couch cushions, until he presses his thumbs into the arch of your foot and you moan. You fucking moan. 

You freeze, teeth releasing your lip as you gasp, but he keeps going. Running his thumbs over and over the sore muscles as you let out quiet little gasps, squirming against the couch, soaking your panties. 

‘Jesus Christ, Frankie.’

‘Relax,’ he says, ‘You’re fine.’

You are not fine. Every synapse in your body is firing, every nerve ending alight. You begin to panic, begin to wonder whether you could come from a foot massage alone. Your eyes find his face again, and he turns his head slowly to look back at you, digging firmly into a particularly sore spot. You whine, more pain than pleasure this time, and he presses harder. Hot hurt shoots up your spine, and you whip your foot away from him, breathing heavily. Like dawn breaking, Frankie’s face clears.

‘Fuck,’ he rasps, ‘Sorry, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’

You wince, flexing your foot against the carpet. 

‘’S okay,’ you murmur, trying not to pant, ‘Just a little too deep.’

You can’t look at him. You’re so sure that this man does everything from the good of his heart, with the express intention of making you feel better, but you can’t ignore how your body is buzzing. He can’t possibly know how turned on you are right now. Just a friend comforting a friend. Just a friend. Jesus Christ.

You glance at your watch and curse, all but leaping off the sofa. Frankie stares after you, panicked.

‘Bug -’

You whirl around to smile at him, realising just how wet you are with your thighs pressed together.

‘It’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. I should just - I should really get going.’

He hasn’t moved from the couch, hands crossed in his lap like he’s afraid to move.

‘I’m sorry.’ He whispers. 

‘Don’t be,’ you say - too brightly, too quickly. ‘Don’t be. I - thank you. For everything. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

And you’re gone. Bag grabbed, barefoot, shoes in hand, flying out the front door, across your lawns, into your own house. Dumping the shoes and peeling off your clothes in the safety of your bedroom. You flick the bedside lamp on and yank open your bedside draw, rummaging around for your vibrator, pressing it to your throbbing clit before you’re even on your bed. 

Your body jerks at the sensation, knees giving out as you moan, long and loud, free hand fisting the sheets as you rock back and forth on your hands and knees. Something clatters through your mind, something confusing and guilty, some mix of emotions that stirs in your chest and in your gut, something that tells you you shouldn’t be doing this - again. Shouldn’t be this close to coming already, shouldn’t be so wet, shouldn’t be shaking this hard. Shouldn’t be moaning so loud, so desperately, shouldn’t be thinking of the way Frankie’s dark eyes bored into yours, the way he worked his fingers over your sore muscles, how he’d held you there so you couldn’t escape. What he’d think of you dripping all over his couch from just touching you through clothes. 

You tilt your ass up further, resting your forehead on your arm, feeling sweat gather on your hairline. In your mind, Frankie’s hands are climbing up further than they were before, kneading up your thighs, squeezing and rubbing, all the way until his thumb grazes the edge of your panties. You can imagine how his eyes would get darker as he felt the slick there, so wet it made the closest press of your thighs damp through the fabric. How you’d hold your breath and his gaze as he slipped two fingers beneath the gusset, how he’d sweep them through the wetness there, just spreading it, teasing, enjoying how wet and ready for him you were before slipping both digits inside, easy, so easy -

You clench your teeth against the cry that seeks to force its way past your lips, breath stuttering in your lungs as your body seizes and pulls, cunt clenching and pulsing with your orgasm. Your head slips off your forearm onto the sheets and you curse quietly, betrayed by how easy it had been to come. 

You stand on shaky legs, turning the vibrator off with a click before leaving it on the duvet. You kneel and survey your room, the unread books, the pile of laundry, the freshly ironed shirt ready to wear tomorrow. The window across from you, bare of curtains, looking straight through to - fuck. For fuck’s sake.

Frankie’s bathroom light is on across the dark expanse of midnight grass. You freeze, naked, terrified for a moment that you will see him step into frame and catch you red handed. As if he’d know. As if he’d be able to tell, just from the look on your face, that you’d come so quickly, so easily, to the thought of him slipping his hand beneath your panties. 

But he doesn’t. With an arm over your chest, you whip the curtains over the gaping glass, and get ready for bed. 

Frankie can taste blood.

He barely even registers it, lip clamped between his teeth as he fists his dripping cock in the bathroom mirror. 

He’d sat for a few minutes on the couch after you’d left, trying to will his arousal away, terrified you might have forgotten something and come flying back through the door. Terrified Lucia might be rattled awake and find him to ask what the noise was about. 

When neither had happened, he’d unzipped his fly to relieve some of the aching pressure. He’d turned off the TV and all the lights, something swelling in his chest at the sight of the plate of cookies on the counter, piled high, and hauled his ass upstairs. The movement had made it worse. 

The friction against his cock at every step of his tired feet made him ache fiercely, and he’d forgone his bed, heading straight to the en-suite, where he’d  whipped his t-shirt off and pulled himself out. 

He’s trying to be quiet. Trying so hard as he draws his fist over his tip, spreading the precum down his length, as he twists and tightens his hand. His heart is racing, body thrumming with desire. He’s trying not to think of them, but those sweet, desperate little sounds you made are flooding his mind. He’s fucked. So fucked. 

And he’s weak. 

Weak at the knees at the thought of you laid out on his couch. At the thought of his hands drifting higher, at maybe finding your panties soaked. With his eyes closed, he can imagine your face - shocked, desperate, aching for him the way he is for you. He’d swipe his fingers along your slick slit, and he’d taste them - fuck, he’d give anything to know what you taste like. And when you begged, he’d strip you down and spread you out. He’d lower himself between your legs and kiss every inch of skin he could find. He’d breathe in the scent of you, nose the crease between your thigh and cunt, and he’d eat you. He wants to know what other sounds you make as he takes you apart, wants to lick you from your hole to your clit. Wants to hold you down as you squirm, wants his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. And he wants to make you come. Wants to drink you down as he feels you twitch and pulse beneath him, and then he wants to fill you with his cock. 

He tightens his fist again, barely muffling his groan. He wants to feel you stretched out, gasping as he pushes in. Wants to lean his forehead against yours as he whispers how beautiful you are, how good you’re being, letting him take care of you like this. Wants to see you cry for a different reason, wants to taste the salt on your skin and know it’s him who’s making you feel this good, that it’s only him who can fuck you like this.  

Wants to make you his, wants to feel you come around him, watch your eyes roll into the back of your head - 

He moans as he spills into his fist, cock kicking and jerking with every spurt of milky release that escapes him. Blood roars in his ears and he strokes himself until he whimpers at the sensitivity, panting hotly. 

His mouth is bloody and raw in the glass, eyes wide and guilty. He turns from his reflection in shame, ripping toilet paper and cleaning himself gently, trying not to think of your hands, your mouth, how you might look with his spend leaking from between your legs. 

He throws the paper in the toilet, tucking himself in and pushing the lever. 

He turns after flushing the evidence of his fantasies away, and is fixed with the disapproving eyes of the Star Wars duck on the edge of the bathtub. He pulls a face at it and flips it off.

‘Don’t look at me like that. I bet you do it when she’s not watching, too.’ He says, pointing to the sparkly gold one beside it. 

The duck glares back at him, accusatory, and he sticks his tongue out at it as he swings the door open, flicking off the light before stepping out. He closes the door firmly behind him, and leaves the ducks to their domestic.

Frankie snoozes his alarm the next morning, eyelids fluttering against his pillow as he wraps his arms around his tangle of duvet. He’s warm, limbs languid, still in the haze of a sweet dream, a familiar scent hiding behind the edges of sleep. 

He’s almost passed out again when he jerks awake, adrenaline flashing through his veins as he stumbles out of bed and into Lucia’s room. She’s asleep still, groggy as he gently stirs her, mumbling into her teddy about not wanting to go to school. And despite his best efforts, they’re both sluggish, slow, running late as he dresses her and then himself, as he makes breakfast, as he packs her bag, as he reaches into the refrigerator to grab her lunch - 

Shit. Her lunch. 

He throws a frantic glance at the clock, muttering a fuck too quiet for his daughter to hear as she waits behind him with her shoes, ready for him to put them on. He turns and kneels in front of her, placing one foot on his thigh so he can finish getting her ready. He makes a calculation that includes stopping to get her something from the store on the way to school, but there’s just not enough time -

He whips the door open so quickly it startles you, your hand flying from where it was about to knock. Your stomach is churning, heat crawling up your spine with how fucking weird you must have been last night. 

Frankie looks just as surprised to see you as you are him. 

‘Bug?’ He says, paused in the doorway with Lucia hitched on his hip. 

‘Bug!’ She crows, delighted with the early morning visit, oblivious to her father’s rush. You beam back at her, greeting her with a mornin’, mini Morales, before looking back at Frankie. Something in his chest goes gooey. 

‘I made lunch for you both,’ you say shyly, quickly. Frankie’s eyes drop to the two bags you have held out. ‘I didn’t think you’d have time last night. And I wanted to apologise. I didn’t mean to give you shi- a hard time when you got home. And I’m sorry I ran out so fast.’

Frankie sucks a breath through his teeth, heart rate settling. 

‘You’re a goddamn angel,’ he says, ‘You know that?’

You chuckle a little, looking down at your feet. His heart swoops, and he knows he shouldn’t, knows he won’t, but he wants to ask. 

He wants to ask you why you flew out the way you did. Wants to know why your bedroom light was on so late. Wants to know if there’s some wild possibility you were caught up the same way he was. But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he pulls you in for a one armed hug, and with all the gratefulness he can muster, says -

‘Thank you, baby. Luc, what do you say?’

Lucia grins at you with all her teeth. 

‘Thank you, bug.’

You giggle. 

‘I packed you extra cookies.’ You whisper conspiratorially, and Luc claps her tiny hands. 

You smile up at her, and she reaches out for the bags. You make sure she’s got them handled before turning your smile to Frankie, and he’s sure his heart stops. There’s worry in your eyes still, and it takes everything in him to not swipe a thumb along your cheek, to not press the fullness of his mouth against yours. 

‘We’re going to the beach on Sunday,’ he says, ‘Do you wanna come?’

Your smile brightens, widens. Relief washes over your features. 

‘Please!’ Lucia joins, ‘Pleasecometothebeach - we're gonna build sand castles and bury Papi and swim and eat ice cream -’

Frankie clasps his hand over her mouth, and she cackles against it, legs swinging against his hip.

‘I’d love to.’ You say. 

The beach is a raging success. 

From the moment you’d felt the silky sand brushing between your toes, it was like the stress of the week had melted away. 

Lucia had grabbed your hand as soon as Frankie had dropped the cooler in the best spot he could find, squealing and running all the way to the ocean with you beside her. Frankie had laughed as he ran to catch up, hitting the waves just after you, sweeping Lucia up in his arms as she shrieked with laughter, swooping her low so her toes swept through the water. You swam and paddled together for a while, Frankie only leaving to grab a ball so you could play piggy in the middle in the shallowest shallows.

Now, laid out on the blanket you’d brought, with the sun warming your skin, you close your eyes. 

Everything feels slow - the tick of your heart, the carousel of your thoughts, the way you drag your fingers through the sand at your side. You’re drifting into the arms of sleep when there’s the soft snick-crack-fizz of a can beside you, and then you’re suddenly thirsty.

You peek through one eye at Frankie beside you, and like he feels it, his eyes flick to yours. He offers you the open soda before reaching into the cooler for another. You sit up, groaning a little, twisting to look for Lucia.

She’s still slumped on the sand throne you and Frankie had built her, now fast asleep. Legs planted, arms settled on the armrests like a stately little Lord. Her head tilted back, tiny sunglasses and flowery sun hat on. You can’t look at her for too long before you get the giggles, it’s so fucking cute.

Frankie follows your eyes, mouth lifting in amusement, raising his eyebrows at you.

‘We should take a picture. One for her 18th.’ 

You giggle, and he takes a sip of his drink before flopping down beside you. You take a long pull from your own can before doing the same, turning on your side to face him. Frankies fights to keep his gaze steady, something he’s been trying to do all day. Trying to avoid the skin that had been revealed to him today, trying to avoid how soft you look, how comfortable, how gorgeous. How your skin would taste, how it would feel against his. He closes his eyes.

You watch him. The strong sweep of his nose, the fullness of his mouth. The scruff of his beard, the bare heart-shaped patch before the line of his jaw. Your eyes sweep lower - the wide expanse of his chest, golden skin that seems to go on for miles and miles. It makes your mouth run dry. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before in the hot Florida summer, but up this close, it’s different. The soft band of his belly, the smattering of hair above the waistband of his trunks. The silvery bud of a scar above his hip. 

When you glance back to his face, he’s watching you. Your eyes dart down again.

‘Mexico,’ he says, ‘2016.’

You nod, and reach out your hand. Slowly, softly. Frankie holds his breath, stomach tensing.

You run the tip of your finger along the puckered edge of the scar, and he shudders. You pause, untacking your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

‘Does it hurt?’

‘No,’ he reassures, ‘Just - tickles.’

It’s a half truth. 

It doesn’t hurt. It does tickle. And there’s a burst of heat beneath his skin where your fingers graze him.

‘Was it bad?’

He smiles slightly.

‘Just a scratch.’

You hum quietly, swiping your thumb against it tenderly. He watches you, mouth parted, heart burning. It doesn’t look like a scratch, but you’re not one to pry.

The moment is broken by a soft coo behind you, and Frankie’s eyes lift to it. You roll onto your back.

A woman flashes you and Frankie an apologetic smile.

‘Sorry,’ she says quietly, gesturing to Lucia, ‘She just looks so cute.’

You smile breathlessly, a little flustered. She’s gorgeous. So tan and smiley and stunning.

‘Gets all her looks from me.’ Frankie jokes, and you roll your eyes. The woman smiles.

‘I think you mean her mama.’ She says, nodding to you before continuing on her stroll. You’re still too taken aback to correct her, trying to loosen your tongue before Frankie takes any offence. He laughs beside you, and you roll back to him to apologise -

‘You are literally no better than a man.’

It’s not what you were expecting, and the shock of it makes you laugh, too. You land a soft punch to his arm, a grumbled shut up shot from where you bury your face in the sandy blanket.. But it feels good, the ease at which the jokes come. 

To think, there’d been a night on your porch not long after you’d moved in when you’d mentioned the name Annie and clammed up, panicking about what questions would follow next. The name of your ex-girlfriend - ex-fiancee - had been something which only really existed in your mind at the time. Known, of course, to the friends you’d left back home; friends who had loved her, loved the two of you together. But soured by the reaction of your extended family, the people who had voiced their disgust at who you'd loved, who had been so quick to turn their backs in the face of your happiness, the first you’d found since your dad’s passing. It had made your stomach twist. 

You’d been worried about Frankie’s reaction, couldn’t bear to think of the first friend you’d made - your neighbour - having the same look of distaste - or worse - intense curiosity. 

But he’d done neither of those things. Had marked it with a quiet oh before asking what she was like, where she was, what had happened. You’d told him how you met in college but weren’t brave enough to ask her out until after graduation. How she was an engineer on the east coast - kind and funny and eager to watch you succeed. 

You’d been sparing with the details about how it ended. The breakup had still been a raw nerve, something you had no real desire to discuss. Something which you only found to be the case more and more the longer you spent around Frankie. And then he gave you further reason to be less afraid of what he’d think, whether he had the want to judge.

‘Sounds like my ex,’ he’d said, ‘We were friends first, too. Benny.’

You’re snapped back to the present by Frankie rustling around in the cooler.

‘Have something to eat,’ he says, ‘You’re looking a little shaky.’

You’ve been asleep for most of the way home. 

Hair blowing in the wind of the journey, cheek pressed against your shoulder. You look so peaceful, so beautiful, and something about this - the three of you in Frankie’s truck, Lucia babbling to herself in the back - feels so right.

He’s loathe to wake you. Wishes he could bottle this moment; the sand still clinging to your skin, Luc’s bright smile in the rearview mirror, but you stir all the same when he slows and pulls into his driveway. 

You stretch your arms and yawn, smiling sleepily at him before twisting to look back at Lucia.

‘How you doing, bean?’ You ask.

‘You were asleep!’ She chirps back, and Frankie chuckles.

‘Sure was,’ you grin, ‘Can’t keep up with you.’

You insist on carrying the cooler into his house while Frankie unbuckles her. He holds her hand around the side of the car before she pulls free of him, clattering into the house after you in her sparkling sandals. She passes him in the hall, arms full of toys as she speeds back out to the grass out front, and you smirk at him around the doorway of the kitchen. He shakes his head at you.

‘I don’t know how she does it.’ He says. You grin.

‘She’s four. Give her a few more years.’

He chuckles as he swoops in behind you, pinning your body between his and the counter. He digs in the cooler as you close your eyes against his body heat.

‘Want a beer?’ He says against your neck before pulling away.

‘Thought you’d never ask.’

When you’re settled on his porch, Lucia mimicking the sounds of the dinosaurs she has splayed across the lawn, Frankie bumps your shoulder.

‘You should have asked for her number.’ He grins. You turn to him, still a little sleepy.

‘Whose?’

‘The woman. On the beach.’

You roll your eyes at him despite the heat rising in your cheeks.

‘They’ll get stuck like that, you know.’ He says.

You nudge him back, a little harder.

‘You should’ve asked,’ you chuckle. ‘Gets all her looks from me.’

He snorts.

‘Nah. I wasn’t even on the field. Think you mean her mama.’

‘Should have given her the old I’m the babysitter line.’

He laughs. 

‘God. Imagine. Maybe that’s what I’ll have to tell the guys the next time they ask if I’m seeing someone.’

Your blood heats, a soft pounding in your ears. Imagine. Imagine.

You roll your head on your shoulders.

‘Are you?’ you ask tentatively, ‘Seeing anyone, I mean.’

Frankie shrugs beside you like it’s no big deal.

‘No,’ he says, ‘I kind of… swore that all off after Benny. Didn’t wanna go through it all again. Wasn’t good for me, wasn’t good for her,’ he says, gesturing towards where Lucia is playing on the grass. He’s quiet for a moment. ‘Just don’t think I’m cut out for it. Getting my heart broken again.’

You know how it ended - before it had really begun. A tentative feeling between friends; Frankie falling hard, Benny unsure about the new step. Caught up with the nerves you remember so well in the new turn of discovering himself, scared by the ripples caused within the tight knot of their group of friends. It had been hard on Frankie. Not made difficult by his brothers in arms, who, to all intents and purposes, had seen it coming - but because he was so clearly a man who loved hard. With all the goodness in his heart. It’s obvious in how he talks about him now, in how he talks about Lucia's mother. Love that lingers, that still sees the light.

You watch him as he speaks. The soft sunlight illuminating his curls, turning them golden, chocolate brown, little streaks of grey peaking through. His eyes are bright and flecked with hazel, his lips soft and full. When he talks, they are shaped with sound, with emotion. Expressive and beautiful, moving with the crinkles at his eyes, the frown lines on his forehead. Something pulls in your chest, and you reach out to hold his wrist just above his beer bottle. He squeezes your hand with his free one, and turns to look at you. So soft, so warm, eyes so kind and yet so sad sometimes it takes your breath away.

You can’t ever imagine breaking Frankie’s heart.

He licks his lips, eyes flitting to your parted mouth before resting back on yours.

‘Are you?’ He asks.

You breathe a laugh, something breathless in the sound. You retract your hand and look away from him, back to Lucia, watching her toddle around with her dinosaurs. He studies you, and it makes something spike at the back of your throat. You hate when he gets you like this; like he can see you better than anyone else ever has. 

‘No,’ you say. When you look back at him, his brows curve in a furrow at the sight of your sparkling eyes. You offer him a small smile, take a deep breath. ‘Think I’m the same as you,’ you shrug, ‘Not built to get my heart broken again.’

Frankie dares an arm across your back, squeezing the shoulder furthest away from him. He pulls you into his chest, palm pressing your bicep in comforting sweeps.

‘I’m sorry.’ He says into your hair.

‘Don’t be,’ you reassure him, ‘I’m not - cut up about it like I was.’ You sniff and pull away from him a little to look in his eyes. ‘It just stays with you, like you said before. The hurt and the shock. Everything you had planned. I think it’s just… hard to remember you won’t have that. Hard to not have that future, hard to feel like you’re enough again.’ You smile softly, and he answers with his own. He knows, he understands. ‘Just… really thought I was gonna marry her,’ you whisper, looking down at your hands. ‘Day I asked her, every time I saw that ring on her finger, thought we were gonna spend the rest of our lives together. And it made me so… happy.’ Frankie swallows thickly beside you. The feeling of it, of what you’re telling him, so painful, so raw for both of you. ‘And when it happened, when it fell apart… it wasn’t big. She just told me - real kind, real patient about it - that she didn’t love me anymore.’ Frankie breathes deeply when he hears the catch in your voice, the sting of it. 

Your eyes are on Lucia, but you’re so far away that it worries him. He wants you here, safe, having beers with him on his porch, giggling on the steps.

He can’t ever imagine breaking your heart.

You quirk your head, sighing. ‘Spent a long time tryna figure out what I did wrong, but there was never an answer,’ you shrug. ‘I’m glad she ended it, though. Despite it all. I’d have never forgiven her if she’d stayed.’

A strained hum pulls itself from Frankie’s throat as he watches you lean forward to pick at the grass by your feet. He clears his throat, studies your profile carefully.

‘Do you still love her?’ He asks, voice low and hoarse. He finds, to his surprise, that he’s terrified of the answer.

You frown, slowing your pulling.

‘No,’ you say. ‘I have love for her, but we don’t speak. I don’t want her in my life, but I wish her the best. I just found it… hard to rebuild.’

He thinks back to the day you moved in next door, the bright smile that he hadn’t realised didn’t quite reach your eyes, how you’d been a little thinner, looked so tired. How you’ve changed over the year since, so warm, so full of love and light and energy. How you tear around the lawn with Lucia, how you laugh at his kitchen table, how you fit into his side when you’re watching movies. 

Something swoops in his gut, something so huge and unbalancing that his breath comes shallow, that his ears buzz and his vision blurs. A feeling that makes so much - too much - sense.

Fuck.

He swallows, closes his eyes.

When he turns to look at you again, it’s with a heart that knows - really knows. He sees everything you are, everything you’ve been, everything you will be. Knows you for all your good days and bad days, has seen you at all hours, could hold every piece of your fractured heart in his hands and meld it back together again if you let him.

Your eyes find his. He watches your brows raise a fraction at his expression, watches them push together in a question. 

His mouth is dry, but he speaks.

‘You are,’ he says, ‘You are enough.’

Your eyes don’t leave his.There’s a pressure behind them, a pull in your gut, a skip of your heart. Something on the tip of your tongue. 

Frankie’s eyes slip to your mouth. Your breath catches in your throat, and the world stills. The sounds of the evening, Lucia playing, fade to almost nothing.

If you tip your head, you think he might kiss you. 

A small, wild ball of energy crashes into Frankie’s chest, and the moment slips through your fingers. Frankie lets out a quiet oof, wrapping his arms around his daughter. A giggle bubbles out of your mouth, and he grins at you, but his eyes linger. Lucia turns her tiny face up to him, and Frankie rolls his eyes goodnaturedly.

‘Whaddya want, mija?’

‘Strawberry laces.’ She whispers, and you both laugh.

‘Strawberry laces, what?’

‘Strawberry laces, please, Papi.’

‘Alright,’ he says, shifting her out of the clutch of his arms and onto the step beside you, ‘Sit tight, mi amor. I’ll be back in a minute.’

The front door isn’t even closed behind him before Lucia is crawling her way into your lap, wrapping her arms around you. You tuck your hands against her back, pulling away to look at her.

‘How’s it going, mini Morales?’

She beams up at you.

‘Good. The bugs are winning.’

‘Winning? Against who?’

‘The dinosaurs.’ She says, gravely. You nod, just as serious, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

‘That’s good. Bugs have a lot going for them.’

She leans back to consider you for a moment, her face scrunching up in the low lying sun.

‘Miss Lopez called you Mrs Morales the other day,’ she says, ‘Does that mean you and Papi are married now?’

Your heart lurches in your chest, head spinning a little. You laugh, disbelieving. From the mouths of babes.

‘No, baby,’ you say softly, and her face falls. 

‘Why not?’

You can feel your heartbeat in your toes. You pray Frankie is struggling to find those strawberry laces.

‘We’re - we’re just friends, Luc. People who get married are usually a bit more than friends.’

Lucia frowns.

‘But you are more than friends,’ she insists, ‘You’re best friends. And you love each other.’

Jesus Christ. You squeak out a hm, trying to remain noncommittal. Lucia begins to fiddle with the charm on your necklace.

‘How do you get married?’

‘Well,’ you swallow, ‘Usually you have a big party. With lots of friends and family there. And you have to ask each other first.’

‘Have you been married?’

You wince. How is she doing it?

‘No, bean. I haven’t.’

She nods, thoughtful.

‘Neither has Papi. He could ask you.’ 

You choke out a laugh. Frankie’s eyes on yours, on your mouth. The moment caught in time.

Idle thoughts.

‘He could. But I don’t think he wants to.’

Her wide, brown eyes shoot to yours, hands stilling on the chain of your necklace. A feeling creeps up the back of your neck.

‘He does,’ she says quietly. ‘You’re his favourite person, apart from me. He told me s- Papi!’

She cuts herself off in an excitable screech, and you scrunch your face at it. Luc is wriggling in your lap, lips open wide in a toothy grin. Her hands reach out in fists as Frankie rounds your shoulder, the plastic packet of strawberry laces crinkling in his hand. 

‘Open your hand,’ he says, and Lucia obeys, her fists flattening to palms face up. Frankie drops a small handful of the sweets onto them, and she dances on top of your thighs, shoving two in her mouth at once so she can chew them up like snakes disappearing between her teeth.

She flashes you another grin, red blended with white, and wriggles backwards, running off back to her dinosaurs. 

Frankie settles next to you again, offering you the packet. You take it, fingers scrabbling for sugar as the two of you watch her. For a second, it’s like you’re a family. Like you can feel the weight of a ring on your finger, a ring that was supposed to be there some time in the last six months. You shake your head. A silly thought.

Frankie licks his fingers beside you, and you turn to watch him. The sound of the pop as he releases them from his mouth, the smile that dances across his lips as he watches Lucia, the crows feet at the corners of his eyes. An involuntary smile crawls across your own lips.

‘Got another favour you can do for me,’ you say, still chewing. 

‘Hm?’

‘Sink’s a little leaky. Think you can take a look?’

You hold the packet of strawberry laces out to him, and he takes one, lowering it into his mouth. You giggle at the way his tongue curls around it. He grins back at you.

‘Sure can, baby. Luc is at a sleepover Friday night. That work for you?’

‘I think it might, Morales. I think it might.’

[jdms-flat-ass]

The current mood:

[storm-angel989]

Papi, I didn't mean it (Valentino x Daughter)

TW: Drugs. Overdose. Valentino.

It was the tracker that cued him into her location. 

If he was giving credit where credit was due, he had to hand it to her. Very few beings in this world could successfully hack a Voxtech device and get away with it for as long as she had. But as he lifted her unconscious body out of his club's bathroom, the notion that she was too smart for her own good came to mind. 

“One of you fuckwits, check the cameras and find out what she took,” Valentino snarled to one of the demons. “And shut down the entire club. Leave only the ones responsible for this. I want them chained to the bar.” 

As the demons scurried off to follow his orders, he carried his daughter to the backroom, typically reserved for dancers and dealers. He bit back the fear that wrapped around his heart. No, he needed to keep himself in check. Treat her like he would any other overdose. 

“Stay with me, pequeño amor,” he muttered as he laid her on the couch. “Come on, I need you to wake up.”  

He did a quick assessment of her vitals. Shallow breathing, fast heart rate. Pale skin, cold to the touch. Could be anything he sold. Or anything that he sold mixed with something else. He ripped off what little clothing she did have on as he frantically examined her body for any sign of what might be coursing through her veins, but came up with nothing. He had enough power in his own club to get the answers he needed. He just hoped they came in time. 

“Dragonsvein, sir. Given to her by these three.” A demon yelled, waving a photo as he entered the room. “They laced it with LSD and Cocaine.”

He recognized their faces instantly. Friends, she had told him. Friends from school she was studying with tonight. Or what she was supposed to be doing anyway.

“Did she smoke it, swallow it, inject it, snort it, what?” He snarled. Forget that all three of those drugs were meant only to be one of those options. He had enough at his disposal to ensure she survived this. 

“Swallowed it, sir.” 

“Fuck.” He pulled open a drawer and dug through until he found the correct drugs to counteract what was in her system. She wasn’t going to die on his watch, but she wasn’t going to like what was going to happen when she came to. 

“Come on bebita, I really need you to wake up now,” he muttered as he slid a needle into her vein. He slowly pushed the plunger down. 

He heard her gasp and watched her eyes fluttered open. Relief flooded through his chest. 

“That’s right, come to Papi,” he muttered as he smoothed back her hair. He looked at the demon as he took off his jacket and carefully placed his daughter inside, closing it tightly to be sure she was covered.  “Call the on duty nurse and tell her she has a patient coming in twenty minutes. Have the doctor on standby.” He bent over and checked her pulse again. Good. Stronger now. He carefully sat her up and held her against him. 

“Bebita, I need you to drink this,” he said gently. “Come on, get it all in your tummy.” He pushed the straw to her lips. “If you can’t, Daddy is going to have to get it down your throat another way. And you won’t like it, bebita.” 

To his immense relief, she gulped it down. Her eyes closed and he carefully laid her on her side. 

That was the most he could do for at least ten minutes. He didn’t want to move her if he could avoid it, and ten minutes was more than enough time to deal with the situation outside.

 “Watch her and call me if anything changes,” he ordered as he stood up. “Don’t let her roll on her back and if anything happens to her, consider yourself dead.” 

The demon bowed. He strode out the door, his overlord self taking hold, transforming him from an intimidating club owner to downright terrifying demon. His crimson wings sprang forth from his back, his teeth sharpened and he could feel his body become something stronger, something less controllable. Anger pulsed through him. Someone would pay for the state his daughter was currently in. 

He stood in front of the three three demons and glowered. To their credit, terror played on all their features.

“She called you her friends,” he said in a low growl. “She called you her friends and you betrayed her. Tell me, what exactly did you think would happen after she slipped into unconsciousness? That you would have a good fuck with an almost corpse?” 

He took a step forward. Of course they wouldn’t respond. Cowards. The lot of them. He pulled his pistol from its holster.

One. Two. Three.

The echoes of the bullets rang through the empty club. Silence. And then a small voice.

“Daddy?”

He turned around. Shit, not in all her life had she seen her Daddy in this state. His wings retracted and he transformed back into his usual self. Her Papito. 

That’s when he noticed the expression on her face. A look he knew all too well. 

“Daddy? My tummy hurts.” 

His hands barely wrapped around her hair before she unloaded the contents of her stomach on the club floor. 

“Come on, let’s get you home, niñita,” he muttered. With any luck, she was still too out of it to remember any of this. He lifted her into his arms and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. He would get a new one anyway, he never wanted to think of this night again. 

She fell asleep in his arms on the ride home and he carried her up into his studio. Vox and Velvette met him at the door. 

“Did you call my wife?” He asked as he carried her through the studio, down to the nurses office. “Did you tell her what the fuck our daughter has gotten into?”

“I left a message on her phone. But she’s probably with Lucifer, dealing with some shit.” Velvette said. “But we��re here.”

“Her vitals are more stable now, what did you give her?” Vox asked, checking his phone as the nurse rushed over. 

Valentino laid her on the hospital bed on her side as he filled the nurse in on what was in her system. She left to go pull supplies and Valentino set to work on getting a catheter in her arm. 

He felt her shake under his touch. “Daddy? Daddy, I don’t feel good.” 

“I know, baby girl. Daddy’s trying,” he replied soothingly. “Daddy’s here.” 

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Vox gently pulled him back. 

“Val? Let the doctor step in and do his job.” 

“It’s my daughter.” 

“Yeah, and unless you’re about to put a tube down her throat, you need to step back and let him work on her. You’ve done everything you can at this point. She’ll be okay because of you.” 

“That’s my baby,” he growled.

“Val,” Vox said with a warning in his voice. His eye began to swirl. “Val, look at me.” 

Valentino knew better, but he looked to Vox. A false sense of calm washed over him. “Vox, that’s my daughter.”

“Yeah, and that’s our niece about to have her stomach pumped. We’re upset too, Val. But you’ve done all you can right now. Who did this?”

“I killed the friends that slipped it to her.”

Vox sighed. “Of course you did. Then all you can do is wait. Doc thinks she’ll be fine.” 

Waiting wasn’t Valentinos strong point. He paced back and forth, anxiety washing over him. This was bad, almost as bad as when he had to wait for his wife to bring her into the world. No, worse, because at the heart of this he caused it- he caused something that he would derive no joy from. 

After what felt like too long, the doctor walked out of the back room. 

“She’s alright. She’s awake. She’s asking for you, Valentino. And you two,” he nodded to Vox and Velvette.

“Here, fill me in while Val and Vel go back.” Vox said as he pulled the doctor off to the side. 

Valentino followed Velvette as he tried to keep himself in check. Now that he knew she was okay, anger washed over him. 

“Val? Not the time,” Velvette said quietly outside her door. “Be angry later. Love her and Let her talk now.” 

Valentino took a deep breath and exhaled as he pushed the door open. 

“Daddy, I’m sorry I didn’t know,” her raspy voice choked out and she burst into tears. “Daddy, don’t be mad I’m so sorry.”

“Beibita. Babygirl. Shush, it’s okay. Daddy is here. Daddy isn’t mad at you. Shush,” he sat on the bed next to her. “Babygirl, calm down. You’re going to be okay and that’s all that matters.” 

“Daddy, I didn’t know,” she sobbed. 

Valentino felt his heart begin to break. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her to his chest. “Tell us what happen, beibita.” 

“I went to Lucia’s house to study and then, Emila showed up and she suggested we go to Jax’s house and I know I’m not  allowed at Jax‘s house so I went but instead Jax’s brother took us here and I wanted to go home but all the sudden I didn’t feel good and, and,” she burst into harder tears. “Daddy I’m sorry.” 

“Baby I’m not mad. It isn’t your fault,” he said soothingly as he cradled her. “I’m just not sure how it got into you. Did you get a drink at the bar? Tell me true, I’m going to review the footage with Uncle Vox later.” 

She shook her head vehemently. “No, Daddy I know better.” 

Velvette looked up from her phone. “Her water bottle,” she said, showing them both the video clip. Together they watched as one of them turned her to talk to them. Behind her, the other lifted the lid of her water bottle. Valentino watched as they poured something into it, gave it a good shake and slid it back. Velvette closed the phone. He could imagine the rest. 

“I’m just glad I got to you before it was too late,” Valentino said quietly. “But why did you go in in the bathroom and call me to come get you right away? You knew where you were. You knew you didn’t belong there.” 

“Val…” Velvette said in a warning voice. 

“I didn’t want to get into trouble, Daddy. I just wanted them to take me home.” She replied quietly. 

“Bebita, you will never get into trouble for calling one of us to come get you. I promise, okay?” He pressed her head to his chest. “I would rather come get you and you be safe than ever see you in this situation again. You could have died, Princessa.” 

“But she didn’t,” Vox said as he walked into the room. “Doc said the bloodwork they pulled looks good and she can go home tonight as long as we keep a close eye on her.” 

“Please, Daddy, can I go home?” She pleaded. “I promise I’ll never, ever…”

“Baby. Stop, you’re not in trouble. Deep breath, inhale. Exhale,” Valentino said gently. “Come on, let’s get you home in your own bed. Come to Daddy.”

Valentino lifted her up effortlessly and carried her up the elevator. As she laid against him, a new fear knotted inside of him. 

How was he going to protect his teenage daughter from the world he worked in?

[weirdo09]

algo tan dulce como tu

a prowler! miles x baker! reader oneshot

requested by anonymous

y/n decided to make a special treat for miles since he’d be home late anyways. they’d gotten a few pointers from rio on miles’ favorite dessert, tres leches. this would be their first time attempting something like this but they were confident they’d get it right, rio had sent them a copy of her recipe so they were positive.

the ingredients were easy to find since they were everywhere. once y/n started preparing, they were certain they were forgetting something but couldn’t remember what. ‘probably just my gut playing tricks on me.’ y/n thought as they began cracking 5 eggs. little did they know, they forgot the most important thing specifically written on the recipe.

as the cake was cooking, y/n thought to take a little break. they decided to watch their favorite telenovela and chill on the couch. y/n changed into some more comfortable clothes and got the party started. after about 30 minutes or so, they decided to take the cake out and let it sit. after even more waiting, y/n got the cake ready as they heard keys jingling, a sign that miles was already back. ‘damn, how much time went by?’ y/n thought, putting on some finishing touches.

“hey, mami, estas haciendo?” miles asked, placing kisses on y/n’s cheeks. they smiled, “it’s a surprise.” y/n said, miles frowned. “really, ma?” miles said, wrapping a arm around their waist. “yes, now go take a shower, you smell.” y/n said, shooing miles away. “ok, ok!” miles exclaimed, leaving the kitchen. y/n chuckled, admiring their handiwork.

“ok, now you have to tell me what you made.” miles insisted, y/n scoffed playfully. “yeah? why don’t you try it and tell me what you think it is, papi.” y/n said playfully, offering miles a piece of tres leches. miles stood there stiff for a minute before rolling his eyes, he got a fork and dug in. “so, do you like it?” y/n asked, dragging out the o in so. miles keep chewing, it tasted ok but it could’ve been better. besides, one little lie couldn’t hurt them, right?

“this is delicious, mami, gracias.” miles said, stealing a kiss off y/n’s lips. “you don’t like it, do you?” y/n said, suspicious. ‘damn, i forgot she could read me like a book.’ mikes cursed at himself. “no, no, baby, i do serious.” he said quickly, getting a second piece. “miles…” y/n said, miles gulped. unknowingly, y/n shed a few tears. miles frowned deeply.

‘damn it, damn it.’ he thought on repeat. “hey, mami, esta bien me gusto mucho!” miles tried to comfort them by squeezing them. y/n wetly laughed, “i don’t even know why i’m crying,” y/n confessed under a whisper, “you must think i’m pretty pathetic.” y/n whispered in miles’ neck. miles got an idea, he picked y/n up by the legs and waddled over to the couch.

“no more moping, ‘k, ma?” miles said, y/n sighed. “i wanna hear you say it.” miles said, staring into their eyes. “ok, ok, i’ll stop moping.” y/n said stubbornly. miles smiled softly, “good, now you wanna cuddle?” he asked, y/n nodded their head.

turns out the surprise was bad but it was made up with a cuddle session.

translations -

estas haciendo? - what are you making?

gracias - thank you

mami - mommy

tres leches - sponge cake soaked in three types of milks

algo tan dulce como tu - something as sweet as you

hope you enjoyed it!

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Risk

Joe Velasco x Y/N - drabble - 1.3K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: undercover, attempted assault, injury to reader (not sexual), Joe being protective af, violence, hospital, medical stuff (stitches), flirty ending (barely)

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

Joe shoved you forward forcefully, fully embracing his role as your pimp. This wasn’t his first undercover job but it was yours. Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears but you remained focused on the mission. You stumbled a bit before a few sleazy looking men noticed you. They all sat on different chairs and couches in the midst of the loud party. You saw dozens of young girls, no way even half of them were 18. 

“Hey sweetheart, who do you belong to?” one hispanic man, Tony Marco, your prime suspect asked as he grabbed your hand.

You wanted to recoil but you knew you couldn’t “Papi!” you yelled, smiling sweetly at the man.

Joe walked up behind you, “Aww did my girl catch your eye?” he asked the man. 

“In a dress like that she’s hard to miss.” the man said, pulling you towards him.”What colors do you run with?” the man said, looking Velasco up and down, unable to identify what gang he was a part of.

“Bloods, Crips, North side, West side - The only color I care about is the green that lines my pockets. My girls are loaned out to everyone, as long as they can pay.” Joe said, giving you a slight shove so you landed on the man's lap.

The man nodded, letting a smack land on your ass as your already short dress rode up even higher. “I can respect a man who has his priorities straight. Think I can take shorty here upstairs for a minute?” he asked, rubbing his hand up and down your side.

You let your finger trace over his jaw, seducing him just like you were told to. 

“Just don’t tear her up too bad, she’s my top girl. $800 an hour.” Velasco said. He pulled you up as the man gulped down the last of his drink. He leaned in close whispering in your ear, “Be careful, I’ll be close by.” he said.

The man slapped a wad of cash into Velasco’s hands before he grabbed the back of your arm, dragging you up the stairs. He slammed the door shut as you sat on the bed with your legs crossed. The man smiled at you flashing a few golden teeth in his mouth as he slid his hand between your knees pushing your legs apart. “Why don’t you lean back so I can show you a good time baby?” he said, pushing you onto your back.

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, starting to panic. He pulled the skirt of the dress up, tearing at your panties. You prayed Olivia and Fin saw what was going on through the spy cam that was the button on your dress. “W-wait…” you squeaked out.

“You don’t tell me to wait bitch - I paid your man, now I get you for an hour to do whatever I want.” he said, slapping you across the face. 

You groaned, the fat rings on his fingers stung against your face. You pushed against him, trying to make him back up. 

“Oh you’re gonna be difficult?” he said, holding your wrists down before pulling a knife, he held it near your throat, shutting you up entirely. You felt tears leaking out the sides of your eyes. You prepared for the absolute worst, looking up at the ceiling as you tried to dissociate. 

The man ran his hand up your leg before the door shot open. The man quickly straightened up, slicing your leg open on accident as he pulled away. You shrieked at the searing pain.

Velasco stood in the doorway, nothing but hate on his face. “What you want papi? I paid, now fuck off!” The man pulled you by your ankle so your hips were at the edge of the bed. 

“Tony Marco put your hands up - you’re under arrest for sex trafficking, possession of narcotics with intent to distribute, and a whole bunch of other shit.” Velasco punched him twice - hard. You could hear the bones in his face crack with each hit. He cuffed him and shoved him towards the first cop who entered the room. “Get whoever you can downstairs, see if you can get any of them to flip on him.” Velasco said, trying to shield your body from the other police who flooded into the house.

“Baby…” he rushed to the bed. Your hands were held up, trembling. Velasco gently pulled your skirt down to try and make you feel more comfortable. You flinched away from him and as much as he knew it wasn’t because of him, his heart still felt a pang of sadness. When Valsco pulled his hand back up he couldn’t ignore the bright red blood on his hand. He pulled your dress to the side, noticing the large gash. Whatever knife he used was sharp as could be. He didn’t see bone but he did see muscle, it needed stitches ASAP. He took his top shirt on, remaining in his muscle shirt. He pressed the fabric to the gash, asking you to sit up. 

You were so overwhelmed and had lost a good amount of blood all you heard before the world went black was Velasco calling for a bus.

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

You heard rhythmic beeping before you were able to open your eyes. When you finally did you saw Joe sitting in the chair next to the hospital bed, his hand in yours as he slept. 

“You’re up.” you heard from the doorway, Olivia shutting the door quietly. 

You nodded at her, the memories from the night before were still fresh. You moved the covers slightly to look at your leg, it was wrapped from the knee to the upper thigh in white gauze. “How bad is it?” you asked.

“He got you good, 30 stitches. I’m sorry we didn’t get there sooner, the guys downstairs put up a fight.” she sighed.

You shrugged, “I knew the risk going in there.”

Olivia gave you a tight-lipped smile, recognizing that you needed time to process. “Take a few days. You and Velasco. He hasn’t left your side since you got here.” 

You looked at him, watching his peaceful face.

“You picked a good one.” Olivia said, looking between the two of you before she smiled and closed the door.

You smiled; you and Joe had been together for almost a year but kept it from the squad, wanting work to remain work and private life to remain private. You shook Joe’s hand slightly.

He jolted awake, eyes landing on you immediately before he stood up, sitting on the edge of the bed. He held your hand between his, using the other to stroke your cheek gently. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What happened wasn’t your fault.” you said, holding his wrist as his thumb rubbed over your cheek. 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad. I never should have let you go up there.” he sighed, eyes glancing down at your wrapped leg. 

“Hey,” you said, sitting up and tilting his face towards you, “you are the one who got up there and got that bastard away from me. You are the one who arrested that absolute scum. And you are the one who’s here for me.” you said, pecking his lips. 

Joe leaned his forehead against yours, taking in your presence. “I love you, I’m never putting you in that position again.” he said.

You kissed him again, “I can think of a few different positions we could be in…” you chided with a smirk.

Joe laughed, “You couldn’t wait ten minutes without being an absolute freak?” 

“You have that effect, let's go home.” you said.

Joe nodded, going to flag down a nurse to get your discharge paperwork ready. 

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello! First SVU fic :D will probably also write for Carisi because I love that Italian fuck. Would LOVE requests for either him or Joe. Send them my way ASAP!!!!!! XOXOXOXOXO

[emeraldbabygirl]

WHY IS HIGHER SO FUCKING HOTTTTTTT ESP RYUJI’S ‘my phoenix rising’ PART UGH I TWERK TO THAT SONG UGH. ALSO FOUND OUT THERES A WHOLE FUCKING ALBUM FOR THE HIGH & LOW MOVIE 🥵🥵🥵🥵 UGH THEM EXILE MEN JUST HIT DIFFERENT ITS LIKE A WHOLE BUFFET OF ENDLESS DESERTS 😫 LIKE NO ONE DOING IT LIKE THEM JDH YUM YUMS 🥺

[pablitogavii]

Best friends little sister Pt. 4

It was another EXHAUSTING week!! Faking it all in front of Pedri who really took a liking of Jacobo, Pablo who hated him more than any madridista and even my family who came into town for Ballon Dior..ugh fuck!

"How are you explaining your fake boyfriend why he's not your date tonight girl??" Masa teased cause she was the only one who knew the real truth..I was doing all this to get Pablo's reaction obviously!!! I turned the music up so nobody downstairs can hear it.

"He's technically a real boyfriend, you know that right???" I chuckle as she finished my makeup spraying some perfume onto my chest.

"Not the kind you let between your thighs!!!" she laughed loudly and I rolled my eyes looking in the mirror thinking of the last time I was intimate..it was with Pablo obviously..and it made my head spin..fuck I missed him!!!

"Shut up loca!!!" I push her and we both laugh dancing to the music until my mom called from downstairs wanting pictures..surely Pablo arrived too. I wondered what he might say when he sees me in this dress..it was looking stunningly perfect on my body.

y.n.gonzalez tiktok

Ballon D'ior ready💗

comentarios:

pedrisister: she's stunning 😍😍😍

ballond'ior: gorgeous ❤️

masa.babyy: my makeup slaysss!!!

gavira.babyy.girls: @pablogavi do you think she's beautiful? liked by pablogavi

gavi.pablo: omg he liked!!😳😳😳

jacobo_bru: mia bebaaa!!

gavi.y.n.cute: shut up she doesn't even like you!!

gaviragirls: she matching pablo's suit??🤔

gavibabyy: omg you're right!! pedri wears black and gavi blue 😳

I walked down the stairs in my high heels and Pablo stood there utterly mesmerized..he looked at every curve on my body smiling when he saw my blushed face..damn why was my heart racing so much!??

Just as I was about to step off the last stair, I almost fell but Pablo caught me saying "careful pequeñita" while Masa giggled excusing herself and leaving home. Damn did I really fall straight into his arms!?

After a few pictures and me freaking out every time Pablo's arm wrapped around my waist, did I walk with my mom to the kitchen while we waited for the limo.

"Princesita mia..your heart aches for that boy" she said and I thought she was talking about Jacobo telling her to stop teasing me but then she held my hand and I looked at her gaze towards Gavi. I gulped..was I too obvious?

"Mom, that's Pedri's best friend..and I'm with Jacobo" Isay as she raised up my chin caressing my soft cheek .

"Jacobo is a good boy..very kind..but it doesn't matter what this tells you.." she touched my temple and then rested her hand on my heart "if this doesn't agree.." and then they called my name to join them.

"I love you mama" you say and she smiles nodding and watching as you left with the two boys for the ceremony.

I were sitting between them the whole night feeling Pablo's stare on me most of the times. He was shamelessly looking like I still belonged to him..it pissed me off..but it also made me wet underneath my dress.

"How's Jacobo?" he whispered during a break when Pedri went to grab some water and I rolled my eyes clenching my jaw in annoyance. He's playing with me on purpose but I wasn't gonna let him win!!!

"He's absolutely fine, thank you for asking!" I sass but Pablo was only encouraged to move closer resting his chin on my shoulder and whispering into my ear. I froze from that familiar manly scent and his warm breath.

"I'm sure he's fine..but what about you nena??? I know how your beautiful dark eyes sparkle..when you're satisfied" he whispered the last part under his breath and I fought an urge to moan..damn he was good at this!!!

"Hmm I love looking into your eyes so much..but my favorite is the way they shine just as you're about to cum..holding onto me tightly and begging..papi please don't let me go..hmm and I wouldn't..I wouldn't let you go for anything in the world cielo" the more he talked the wetter I got slowly closing my eyes and enjoying myself. When I heard the last part, I sobered up..I moved away from him.

"But you did let me go..remember?" you say and he pouted about to reach for your hand but you pulled away.

"Cielo..." he said but my eyes were once again becoming sad...I need to stop playing with him...I just end up hurt every time.

"No! I need to use the bathroom!!!" you say getting up and passing Pedri as Pablo followed after you.

"Where are you guys going??? It's starting again soon!!!" he said but Pablo said he needed to use a bathroom really quickly...he couldn't handle you crying again!!!

I came out and someone grabbed me and glued me against the wall...I knew who it was...and I refused to look up into his eyes. I was so tired of all of this...I keep lying...and I just want him to let me go now!!!

"Please...don't touch me...let me go Pablo...stop playing with me finally!!!" I screamed not caring where I was and his hand covered my moth as he rested his forehead against mine.

"Do you really think I like this!!? Seeing you with that idiot when you're meant to be mine!!? You purposefully sitting on his lap when I'm there...but not even commenting on your pictures together!!! Stop doing this to me cielo...please" he whispered the last part removing his hand and holding my chin instead.

"What do you want!??" I say feeling his lips on my cheek as his hand moved down my dress into a slit on my thigh...I felt a shiver move down my spine...his touch felt so familiar, so right and I didn't have the strenght to stop him.

"You cielo...only you...fuck!!! You're drenched!!! Let me hear you moan my name one last time preciosa..I know how much I make you lose control..." he started massaging circles around your clothed clit and you moved closer whimpering into his ear until finally you weren't able to hold it any more.

"P..Pablo" you moaned throwing your head back but he caught it in his big hand before you could hit the wall smiling while kissing your forehead. You heard the audience applaud pulling away as you both rushed knowing you were just late to one of the most exclusive events in history!!!

When Pablo won something in me melted and tear left my eyes...despite everything I was so proud of him. The entire time he spoke he was looking straight at me smiling when he saw me crying happily.

While waiting for Pedri, Pablo took my hand and us two danced in the middle of the parking lot like two idiots laughing like it was the very first time we met...I missed this...missed him.

"Congrats on the award...i always knew you were amazing" I said afterwards and he stopped moving snaking his arms around my waist and pulling me closer.

"Please forgive me..I'll explain everything" he said looking straight into my eyes and I don't know why but I believed him...I wanted to believe him remembering my mom's words...Pablo is the only one my heart aches for.

There was no second guessing in what came next. I moved closer and kissed his lips as he held me tightly in his arms...this was right...this is where I belong!!!

After the event, you came back home never happier only to find Jacobo in your room with a grim expression on his face. Well, fuck!!!

pablogavi

Ballon D'ior Ceremony

Thank you for everything @ballondior ❤️❤️❤️

comentarios:

pedri: congrats hermano! i swear she cried when you won 😂😂😂

y.n.gonzalez: I did not!!!

pablogavi: I saw you did pequeñita!!!

gavirafans: look at them!!!😍😍😍

gavi.pablo: it's clear she's happier with you !

gavithebest: say bye bye @jacobo_bru 😂😂😂

aurorapaezg: I love the dress 😍😍😍

y.n.gonzalez: thank you💗💗💗

"Jacobo, it's really late...and I am..." I couldn't even finish the sentence as he was already throwing a phone into my face.

"Tired!!? Sure you are! Hooking up with Pablo Gavi!!!" I almost choked when I saw what's on the screen. It was an older picture...but it was me and Pablo kissing behind the bleachers...it was after El Classico when I wore his shirt. What the fuck!!! Who took this picture!???

Pedri heard Jacobo from his room clenching his fists and rushing to Pablo's house. Never before did he doubt, but now he was aching for a fight if it was true!!!

"Where did you get this picture???" you ask but Jacobo was in no mood to explain grabbing his phone rather roughly.

"I should have known!!! I asked you if you ever had anything with Pablo Gavi and you lied to my face!!! It makes sense what people online are saying!!!" he was yelling and I trembled really wanting him to just leave at this point.

"He's my brother's best friend, so I couldn't say anything about it but we ended things when I got into a relationship with you" I said trying to defuse the situation.

"Some relationship this is! You won't even let me touch you!! And Pablo Gavi surely already did that!!!" he was starting to get closer and I didn't feel good about it...no I felt uncomfortable...nervous...scared.

Meanwhile, Pedri was banging on Pablo's door being met by half asleep Aurora asking if everything is alright. He rushed inside as Pablo came down the stairs in his pajamas and messy hair.

"We need to talk!" he said and Pablo led him upstairs into his room while his sister retreated back to sleep.

"What happened hermano???" Pablo asked as Pedri sat down running his hadn't nervously through his hair.

"Jacobo and Y/n are fighting...over you" he said and Pablo nodded being patient to see what made his friend came all the way over here...but more importantly he disliked that Pedri left you alone with that idiot!!!

"I'll only say this once Gavi, she's my sister...she's off limits" Pedri spoke calmly although Pablo could tell he was just ready to explode...this was not the right moment for truth...so he did only thing he could...he lied.

"I would never do anything to hurt you or Y/n hermano..." was all Pablo said hating himself internally although it was partially true. He never wanted to hurt Pedri but what he felt for me was undeniable...something he couldn't let go off even when he tried pushing me away.

"Bueno. I should go back then..." just as he said that his phone rang and I was on the other line crying.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch!!!" Pedri yelled telling Pablo what happened as they both went back seeing me crying in the corner of my room with a prominent bruise on my cheek.

"How did this happen hermana???" he asked while Pablo sat on the floor applying ice pack onto my cheek as I held his hand.

"He came closer and when I tried to push him off he pushed me and I fell and hit the nightstand...I just saw blood on my hand and called you" I explained crying in Pablo's arms while Pedri was ready to hunt Jacobo down in that moment.

My parents came back from their dinner and I begged Pedri to tell them while I get decent before coming down. He left and Pablo stayed helping me to the bathroom. WhenI was finally alone, I hugged him tightly crying into his chest while he held my head against him reassuring me that everything will be fine.

"I know about the picture Pablo..." I whisper looking up at his surprised eyes as we both knew this will sooner or later have to come out scared of the outcome.