#They both make up afterwards in parts and services
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darkxsoulzyx · 1 year ago
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FNAF OC GOOFIES,,,
Dawn/Dusk (Nicknamed “DD”) is a dual-AI 9’8” animatronic that functions as a children’s entertainer/performer! Because of the sheer size of their body, they require two AI to properly run!
Luckily for DD, both AI get along 95% of the time, and disagreements hardly ever happen. But, that doesn’t mean they *don’t* happen
Dusk’s approach to things is more reason-based, while Dawn’s factors/caters into feelings and emotions. They often consult each other in lots of situations, and typically compromise on what to actually do. However, there are times where neither side is willing to compromise and… yeah.
Nova (cute little munchkin) belongs to @pepethehumanz !
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thedragonagelesbian · 1 year ago
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Doing legacy, night terrors, and dissent all right in a fucking row really is the anders nightmare train huh
#ive made this exact same post before but its really hitting me working on the fic#not once not twice but THREE FUCKING TIMES has anders lost control over himself in such a short span of time#nearly killing someone and (in my canon) seriously wounding cyrus (the guy hes been in love with for three years)#in the process#like....... the post alrik convo is all the more intense and serious when taken in that light#and then immediately following that up with him & cyrus hooking up (in the same scene in my fic)#like (a) yall probably need to take some time to p r o c e s s and cyrus baby boy PLS go talk to ur other friends#fenris and isabela will apologize for betraying you in the fade you do not need to latch on to anders like this#but (b).................... for anders it IS a strangely meaningful & healing way to renegotiate#his understanding of how much control he has over himself and his body#first by topping cyrus & using that control exclusively in the service of taking care of someone else#and their pleasure#and then afterwards making the conscious decision not to pursue his own pleasure further#by staying with cyrus#bc he thinks its the safer and more selfless option#snyway working on this fic has dredged up a LOT of feelings#i dunno if im ever going to have the confidence to share it bc of. yknow. the hooking up part#but its there and its meaningful and its good for both of them#just........ the romantic feelings it comes with are a bit more questionable/destructive in their singular devotion#cyrus hawke#cyrusXanders#**by NOT staying with cyrus
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blaydie · 3 months ago
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ᥫ᭡ JIAOQIU AS YOUR BOYFRIEND — Sometimes love can be bittersweet. GN reader x Jiaoqiu. SFW & NSFW headcanons.
A/N: In loving honour of him coming home with his light cone (づ ̄ ³ ̄)づ
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SFW:
જ⁀➴ Jiaoqiu is a playful lover. A tease with no malicious intent. While his words and actions may confuse you at times, they’re always worth it when they bring out a radiant smile on your face. The moments when you realise he had you completely fooled, swearing you’ll get him back one day.
જ⁀➴ Smothers you with all of his love and affection. There will not be a moment that passes which makes you believe he doesn’t love you. He will forever adore you with every fibre of his living being. Doing “too much” when it comes down to you turns out to not be enough in his eyes. You deserve the best treatment he could possibly have to offer.
જ⁀➴ Insists on accompanying you on all of your outings. What if you get hurt? Need assistance? He can’t have you going through that alone—there’s too much risk. He has lost far too many people to let another slip through his fingers so easily. Besides, his company should be enough to keep you on your toes. The two of you are a formidable duo.
જ⁀➴ Acts of service is most definitely one of his love languages. Cooking your meals, tending to your wounds, preparing you medicine when you are unwell, etc. If there is any way for him to take a weight from your shoulders, he would do it in a heartbeat. All you have to do is ask when you need more from him.
જ⁀➴ He doesn’t burden you with his negative thoughts or emotions too often. It’s easy for him to handle it by himself—he doesn’t want you worrying when you don’t need to. The perk of being able to wear such a convincing smile all of the time is knowing you don’t suspect when anything is wrong. Though, he doesn’t stray away. He’ll stay by your side the entire time, snuggling up to you to ease some of the mental pain.
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NSFW:
જ⁀➴ His passion knows no bounds. He always has his hands on you, whether it be subtle or not. No matter where you are, it doesn’t matter to him. People should know that you have a partner, shouldn’t they? He has no issue kissing you whenever he pleases, simply suggesting anyone who has an issue with it should go about their day as usual.
જ⁀➴ While Jiaoqiu may be all lovey-dovey with you, he’s quick to drop the sweet demeanour when someone proves to be a problem. Catching glimpse of another person’s gaze lingering on you for too long would cause his expression to falter, his golden eyes widening, brows furrowing. A silent warning not to advance further while he slips an arm around you and holds you close. But he wouldn’t hurt anyone for something so small, would he?
જ⁀➴ “Accidentally” leaves several love bites on you every time you’re intimate. As he fucks you, his lips will trail down any strip of exposed skin, tongue grazing over your flesh to savour your taste. Being experienced in culinary has given him the ability to appreciate certain scents and flavours, yours just so happens to be one of his favourites. He claims that it’s every part of you which makes him lose control so easily, apologising to you afterwards by placing gentle kisses over parts where his teeth sunk far too deep into you.
જ⁀➴ Enjoys both giving and receiving. If you prefer one more to the other, then he can settle for whatever pleases you most. When receiving head, he glares down at you through half-lidded eyes, a dark smirk plastered onto his harmless face. His hand will remain on top of your head, giving you a few encouraging pushes here and there when he feels it to be necessary. When giving head, he’ll make sure to taunt you in any way he can, drawing out your orgasm to see how much you can take.
જ⁀➴ His pace and force can highly depend on his mood. When faced with stressful workloads and general life, he prefers to take it slow, working out every issue compassionately as he seeks relief from you. Days when he finds himself overly excited or angered is when slow turns to fast, gentle to rough. He needs to fuck all of that excess energy out to find a way to calm himself as quickly as possible. Even in heated moments, he will ensure that you find pleasure and that you get a good time out of it. After all, you are his only true priority now that you have accepted him into your life.
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bluesidez · 8 months ago
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The Love Lab presents:
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Wash Day 🫧🚿
pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader
summary: Miguel offers to wash your hair because wash days can be a lot, mischief ensues.
content warning: 18+ MDNI, lots of fluff and banter, talks of marriage/proposal, lovey dovey!miguel, head scratching + massaging, p in v sex (wrap it up 🫵🏾, healthcare is expensive and so are babies), just the tip at one point, cussing, subby + service-like miguel (he does start to enter a daze that is similar to a sub drop, but it's not really that and the reader checks up on him immediately), needy!miguel, creative use of miguel's talons, kissing, hickys, a little hair pulling, manhandling, cunnilingus, fellatio, squirting, slight edging, praise kink, breeding kink towards the end, mentions of cum, overstimulation, a little aftercare, reader is a bit of a tease, miguel is a bit of a brat, more references to cats than I thought, no use of y/n
credit for the art/dividers: Me! (+ illustrator and canva)
a/n: This is my first fic that I am posting on here! 🤠 This one has been in the works for a while, but I am happy with the result. This story is written with a black reader in mind, but it's very inclusive minus the hair situation, so anyone can enjoy the story. There is one unrealistic part that NONE of my natural brethren would ever allow, I beg you to just go with it. 😭 I also used a little Spanish in here, to my Spanish-speakers, if anything is wrong, just let me know and I 'll change it right away!
I also imagined the shower to be one of those fancy walk-ins like this or this but big enough for two, because in my mind, Miguel is stacked in the money department as well.
word count: 6.9k (I got carried away)
To all my sub Mig lovers and fiends! Love ya! 🩵🪮
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It was finally time for the day you’ve been putting off for about a week now, the taxing Wash Day.
Normally, you would drag this day out because you knew that once you started, you had to keep going until your hair was done and either ready for the bonnet or the hood dryer. Although today, you were lucky because you had a braid appointment the following morning, so that meant just a simple wash and a blow-dry. You were even luckier because your boyfriend, Miguel, was more than happy to wash your hair for you.
“I know how tired you get afterwards and I just want to help make the process easier,” is what you remember him telling you last night in your sleepy, whiny state.
Now, here you are the next day watching his eyebrows furrow in confusion, lips pouted in a crooked M as you guide him to the old faithful: the kitchen sink.
“Why are you giving me that face? You said you were gonna help,” you chuckle at his expression, watching as his eyes turn to your hair supplies littered across the counter.
“No, no! I still want to help. It’s just that,” he picks up your wide-tooth comb, running his fingers over the teeth, “I thought we were going to be in the shower.”
You look at him, a little dumbfounded at the statement. You didn’t mind washing your hair in the shower, you did it all the time, but what was the point of getting you both wet?
“I just thought it would be easier for you this way,” you reply, pulling the faucet from the sink and waving it around in an attempt to hype up the situation. “I’ll bend my head in the sink, and you’ll wash it that way. Or! You can hike me up on the counter and I can lay down with my head over the sink. That one’s a little less comfortable for me, but it gives you more than enough room to maneuver.”
“Hm,” he grunts, eyes going from you to the counter, then right back to you. “That’s fine and all, but what if my back starts to hurt from bending for too long.”
You just stare at him, unamused. If anyone would be in pain, it would be you.
“In the shower, we can stand together and I can see exactly what’s going on. Plus, you can wash my hair too,” he continues, pulling you flush against his chest, comb forgotten. He starts to rub your hips in a slow motion. “Let’s make it a date.”
“Ok, first of all, you’re not that old to where your back can just give out like that,” you quip, leaning back from his embrace to look him in the eyes. “Secondly, you expect me to believe that the Spiderman is unable to wash someone’s hair in this sink.”
“At 6’9? Absolutely.”
“Touché.”
Truthfully, Miguel was a bit turned on after spending the last 20 minutes watching you completely melt under his hands from scratching your scalp.
It was such a simple task but all of your sighs and whispers of “right there” and “harder” had him internally groaning.
When it was finished, you were up off the floor easily and blissfully unaware, while he was left with a few of your shedded curls covering his clothes and pre-cum threatening to seep into his underwear.
So yes, while technically the shower was the best option for him, he really wanted to ignite that same reaction from you again. It was addicting.
You reach up on your tippy toes and squish his face to give a quick peck to his lips. “Fine, fine! Quit your puppy dog eyes, we can go to the shower. Just let me pee first.”
Step 1 of Miguel’s master plan was already successfully underway.
He started to pick up your supplies, reading the ingredients out of curiosity. Today you were trying a new line of products that was making huge waves online. He remembers seeing how excited you were when the package came in. You had barrelled into the bedroom in a squealing frenzy, and had it not been for his spider senses listening out for you, he would have jumped from the way you threw the door open.
Even though it was another line of products that would fill up the bathroom cabinets, your giddiness rubbed off on him, so he was ready to see results.
“Baby, come on! I’m ready!”
Miguel quickly huddled up everything from the counter and made his way to the bathroom.
He walked in to see you standing next to the sink, birthday suit on and your hands reaching up to push your hair from your forehead.
Heaven-sent were the first words that came to mind. Here you were, standing in the steam of the bathroom just for his eyes. He couldn’t help but linger in the doorway, heart skipping a beat at the sight of you.
You turned to look back at him, mirth in your eyes, “Mig, come on, the water’s running.”
He didn’t even comprehend the sound of the water hitting the tiles, he was so zoned in on you.
“I’m coming, I was just…admiring you,” he replies, moving to prepare for the shower.
“There’s no way you’re eyeing me up right now. I look a little crazy,” you say, turning back towards the mirror.
“Querida, you could be rocking a spiked mohawk right now, and I would still have the same reaction. You’re beautiful no matter how your hair looks.”
You bit your lip, heart fluttering at his words. If you didn’t have to get ready for your hair appointment tomorrow, you’d stop everything then and there to love on your boyfriend.
For now, you settled on helping him out of his clothes, a smile growing on your face. You pulled his shirt up as far as you could reach, then let your hands roam over his chest, watching the goosebumps that followed behind. You kept your fingers walking down to the waistband of his pants, lightly scratching at his happy trail.
His stomach twitched in response to your touch, hands itching to pull you closer.
You placed your hands at his sides, gripping the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear, slowly tugging at the bands. You stepped forward to get a better leverage, breasts pressing against his torso.
His breaths were coming out in short beats, not wanting to disrupt the spell that you put him under. He looked down at the closing space between you all’s bodies because if he looked up at your eyes, he’d stop everything and take you right there against the counter.
But the shower. He was supposed to make it to the shower. Which was in an area by itself. In the next room. With your hands roaming everywhere, he wasn’t even sure if he could even make it past the toilet.
His eyes fluttered closed as you slid your hands back up his thighs, a deep breath building in his lungs. Like this, he was really able to tune in on both the heat of your body against his and the lingering touch of your hands. Hyper-focused on you and you alone.
Then he heard a loud slap.
His eyes bucked back open, body rigid as the sting came back in waves on the side of his ass.
“Come on, we’ve got heads to scrub!” you said, voice as clear as ever.
He watched you twirl towards the shower, his mind muddled from your switch to playfulness. Had he read that all wrong?
He looked down and sighed at the sight of his dick, half-hard at what could have been.
All he could do was stagger out of the clothes that pooled at his ankles, grab the hair products, and waddle to the shower.
You were already halfway under the spray of the shower head, head leaning back, waiting for the water to completely soak through the layers of your hair.
Miguel came up next to you and detached the shower head, bringing it closer to your scalp, careful not to get water in your ears.
“So first, we have to use the scalp scrub shampoo,” you say, grabbing one of the taller bottles and unscrewing it. “Just take this in your hands first, lather it, and work it into my scalp.”
You pull his left hand forward and squeeze some of the liquid in his palm.
“Is this enough?” he asked, noticing the little amount you put in his hand.
“Yep! A little can go a long way, baby,” you say, turning around to him, trying to determine how you would reach the top of his head.
Oh, how Miguel was so well acquainted with that phrase. Especially after this cat-and-mouse game you’ve been playing with him all day.
You faced him as he placed his fingers on your scalp, beginning to move in circles, spreading the shampoo in several sections.
“You can add a little pressure. I can take it,” you mumble out, almost low enough for Miguel to miss it.
So he does. He starts to scratch at your scalp, remembering that this is an important step. For your hair of course, not his plan.
“Ugh, that feels so nice,” you sigh, trying not to sway under him. “I should have had you do this sooner.”
Miguel thought so too. Here you are, head leaned back, eyes closed, and completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. He kept scratching at your scalp, your head nodding along with the motions.
“Can you scratch over here, please?” you ask, pointing at the right side of your head, eyes squeezed tight to not let any soap fall in them. Even after all of your teasing, you were still so cute in this moment. When Miguel complied, you showed your gratitude by groaning out a quick thank you. With a long sigh, you placed your hands in front of his chest, fingers balled up in loose fists.
“Does it feel good?” Miguel knew the answer, but he had to play along. “You want me to move anywhere else?”
“Yeah, could you just-” you leaned your head over, mindlessly guiding Miguel’s hands. “Right there, baby.”
You brought your hands up to grip at his wrists, needing something to hold onto. Miguel felt insane.
To curb the feeling, he quickly leaned down and kissed your forehead. His head was overloaded with the sound of your voice and he had to keep himself composed.
You looked up at him, eyes big and wide at his affection. He kept making you feel warm doing such mundane things. You purse your lips, silently begging for more.
Miguel brought his soapy hands to the water to quickly rinse them off, then placed them on your cheeks and leaned down again to kiss your lips.
One. Two. Three pecks and you were giggling.
Four. Five. Six pecks and you were on your tiptoes, arms crossed behind his neck.
Seven. Eight. Nine pecks and you were turning your head, opening your mouth for more.
Ten. Eleven. Twelve kisses and you were in his arms, feet off the ground, biting at his bottom lip.
By the thirteenth kiss, you were pulling your head back, staring into his eyes, grabbing at his nape.
“We still have to wash the shampoo out,” you say, watching as his eyes linger on your lips.
“We can do that,” he mumbles, still holding you close.
“Are you gonna put me down?” you ask, tone a little cheeky.
He snaps his eyes up at yours, eyebrow raised. “Are you gonna finish what you started?” He started to move one of his palms down your back, taking a thigh to pull around his waist, and placing his mouth on your jaw.
“Nuh uh, O’Hara,” you chide, pushing against his chest and wiggling to get him to remove his embrace. The water smacks against the tiles as you jump down, one calf still in Miguel’s hand.
“O’Hara?” Miguel scoffed, playfully pulling at you again and tickling your side. “I’m not sure who that is, but maybe you forgot how to say baby, mi vida.”
You laughed at him, finally calling out his bluff, “No, because my baby said he would help me wash my hair, and right now he’s being bad and trying to distract me. So, until you finish, it’s O’Hara.” You folded your arms and tilted your head to the side, daring Miguel to counter your words.
He dropped your leg and muttered out a gruff “fine” with his lips downturned. Two could play at this game and if he wanted to distract you, he just had to turn up the heat.
He grabbed for the shower head and started to rinse the thick shampoo from your hair, carefully weaving through the locks.
“When do we detangle it?”
You started to smile again, happy at his verb usage. He really does listen to you when you talk about your hair.
“When we put on the conditioner, but you can start a little now while the water’s running on it. Need the brush?”
“No, I’ll just use my fingers for a little bit.”
You turned your face back to him, shocked that he remembered another technique.
“You’re gonna finger detangle, ba- I mean, O’Hara?”
“Yes I am, corazón. Why are you looking at me like that? I’m a great boyfriend that knows what his girl needs.”
You squint your eyes, wary at his words. “Uh huh, I bet you do. If you know so much, what’s next?”
“We shampoo again. Rinse. Then it’s conditioner and detangling, just like you said.”
You hummed, internally ecstatic that he actually did know the answer. “Another point for you,” you say, turning back around as Miguel places the shower head back on the hook.
Miguel smirked. He listened to you, he really did, but he also made sure to watch over 20 videos about washing coily hair while you were sleeping. You didn’t have to know that though.
His high was short-lived when you bent over to grab the next shampoo. He grabbed at your hips, watching as the swell of your ass aligned against his front. He pushed his head back and breathed in deep. How unfair.
You leaned back up slowly, turning the bottle around trying to fish for any specific directions.
“This one is a hydrating shampoo. It says you can just put it on my hair and just work it through.”
Miguel repeated the same shampooing process, although this time with less scalp scratching and more scalp massaging. You were once again in bliss at his ministrations, like a cat who couldn’t stop purring.
“O’Hara, you really have a way with your hands. Super relaxing,” you say with snickers underlining your voice.
Miguel just reached for the shower head, ready to rinse for the second time. “This guy sounds like a real catch. Too bad he isn’t here.”
You just laugh at how sulky he sounded, ready to grab the conditioner.
“Well, is there a Mr. O’Hara here? I kind of need him for this last step.”
Miguel stopped in his tracks.
You really didn’t understand how much he wanted to make you his wife. In fact, he started planning the proposal to a T after a year of you all being together. He started to dream about a future with you after the first couple of dates, despite how often he had to tell himself to slow down. It was terrifying yet thrilling how much you left an impression on his life.
Mr. and Mrs. O’Hara.
Mr. O’Hara.
Mrs. O’Hara.
Miguel bent his head in your neck and wrapped his arms around your waist, face burning from his running thoughts.
“Y-you can’t use that against me. You know how I get,” he said petulantly, voice softened in the juncture of your neck, drowned out by the pouring water.
“And how do you get, baby?” you ask, reaching over to run your fingers through his damp hair. You tugged lightly at the root causing Miguel to hug you tighter and groan against your neck.
As hot as the water was, the heat of your body against his left him burning. The angle was weird so he couldn’t exactly rub up against you, but he could kiss along the surface of your shoulders.
He started to slowly press kisses down your neck, moaning as you tilted your head to give him more space. He stopped to linger at the top of your shoulder, taking in a small amount of skin. After he was happy at the mark he left, he opened his mouth a little wider, canines grazing against your skin.
You reach to pull his head back up, resting his jaw on your shoulder.
“Focus, Mr. O’Hara, it’s only one more step.” You say these words lowly right next to his ear, pressing your lips on his tragus then pushing his head up to kiss against his jaw.
When Miguel stood up fully, you could see the dazed look in his eyes. Staring closer, you noticed they were a little dewey.
You had to bring him back down to Earth. You couldn’t have him lost in this steam.
“Hey, baby look at me,” you even your tone and angle his face towards yours. “Are you alright? Do we need to sit down?”
You wait for his eyes to find yours, searching for discomfort.
“No, I'm fine. I’m ok, sorry,” he says, leaning into one of your hands, wrapping his hand around it for extra support.
“Positive? I know the water is really hot so if you need to step out and cool down, then that’s fine. I’ll help you settle down then come back and finish up by myself,” you say, adamant in your words.
“No! No, no. I’m really ok. I’m so cool and calm right now that it’s crazy,” he replies, frantic at the thought of leaving you in the shower. “Hand me the conditioner.”
You look at him again, tickled at the change in condition. All you could do was sigh, twist the cap off of the conditioner, and pull the inner lid off.
He dabbed two fingers on top of the cream, scooping a small amount off of the top. “A little goes a long way, right?”
“A little does go a long way.”
“Can you turn around, please?”
You comply, placing the conditioner in a corner.
“If you need it to lather a bit more, just add a little water,” you remind him.
He began to work the conditioner through, going from the root to the ends. The results were quick and he could see your curls begin to sprout. He started to thoroughly pull his fingers through, working out any leftover tangles. He got to a bigger knot and held the section of hair in one hand, and carefully combed through the knot with the other.
You were feeling peaceful until it dawned on you: you never gave him a comb or a brush to work with.
“Hold on, baby what are you using to take the knots out with? Do you have a comb?”
Miguel placed one of his hands in your face and pushed his talons out, like a cat showing its claws off when you press the center of its paw.
You panic, remembering that they can tear through people and metal, “Um. I don’t think using these bad boys on my hair is the right way to go.”
“Tranquila, mi amor, I got it. I’m using the dull side, see?”
He put a tuft of hair in front of your eyes and showed the process of him detangling while talon-less, then working out the final tough knot with the side of the talon, turning his hand sideways to avoid cutting your curls.
As a result, the section was completely detangled, allowing him to run his fingers straight through the thick strands, and the curls springing back up once he was finished. Plus, from what you could tell, there was no breakage.
Color you impressed because Miguel was pulling out all of the stops today.
“Alright, just. Be careful.”
“Always.”
“If you jack up my hair, Lyla will have to place Jess in charge permanently.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
You stand, arms placed under your chest, waiting for Miguel to finish. Subconsciously listening to the pattern of his breaths and the sound of his talon going through your hair.
“Ok, that’s it. Do you want to wash my hair while this sits?”
Such a smart boyfriend.
“Yeah just let me go ahead and finish this shower while you get your hair wet.”
Miguel stepped back to get under the overhead shower head, letting the water fall on him like rain, watching you as you began to lather body wash on your net sponge.
You were scrubbing away at your skin getting into every crevice, peach fragrance filling the air.
He wanted to reach out and touch you, but look where that’s gotten him so far. Almost kicked out of the bathroom.
You were just as stubborn as he was, no, resolute.
He admired it, especially when you gracefully brought him down from clouds that were his own fantasies.
Focusing back on you, he stared openly as you folded your body in half to reach your ankles causing everything to be on display.
A normal person would put their foot on the ledge to reach below. You were definitely fucking with him.
He watched as you pulled the net sponge across your body, leaning up as the languid movements of your hands pulled the net side to side.
He was glad that the water drowned out his harsh breathing.
You finished off your shower, working the detached shower head over the soap, clearing up your skin.
You brought the shower head lower, making sure that there was no bubble left behind.
When you held your ass to help the water pass all the way down the back of your body, Miguel jumped to hold the base of his cock, softly groaning at the picture you were painting.
He lifted his face up and pushed his hair back, in hopes that the stream could help him clear his mind. But, the water was hot, all it did was make him lightheaded at the thought of you.
“Miguel? Come over here so I can wash you too.”
Miguel tottered over, looking down at your body, shining after all your thorough work. You were placing soap on a pair of exfoliating gloves you had bought for him, lathering them together once you were satisfied with the amount of soap.
You got to work on his body, starting at the shoulders and moving in circular motions.
Miguel stared in silence, hoping you would put an end to this charade. But you continue to be meticulous, covering every inch of his upper body. Lifting his arms when you wanted to. Moving him around when you wanted to.
In this moment, he felt like a ragdoll, letting you do whatever you pleased.
You squatted down to do his lower body, eyes laser focused, not missing a spot.
All Miguel could focus on was your face so close to his dick that was twitching in anticipation. You just ignored it and continued to rub the rest of him down. Miguel wanted to cry.
You were touching everywhere, slowing down on his inner thighs and ass causing his knees to shake.
You held him steady by gripping the back of his thighs and finally looked up at him, acknowledging his presence.
Your eyes traced him all the way down to the gift that was in front of you. You parted your lips and let your tongue brush against the tip, watching as spurts of pre-cum escaped. You couldn’t have that. You leaned forward a little more, taking the head in completely, and allowed yourself a few more licks and a suck before you let go with a pop, watching the thin trail of spit grow as you leaned back.
Miguel whined in frustration, a cloud of desire fading so quickly.
“Amor, why did you-”
You quickly jumped up and rested against him, arms wrapped around his waist and hands lightly groping his butt.
“I didn’t even wash your hair yet, silly,” you quip, chin nuzzling against his sternum. “Now, go rinse off and sit on the bench so I can reach your hair.”
Forget wanting to cry, Miguel might actually do it.
He was so, so hard.
After the soap was gone he trudged to the bench, glancing over at you washing the conditioner out of your hair.
“I could have washed it out for you,” he protests, half bothered by his situation and half annoyed that he let it blindside him from the main point of this shower.
“It’s ok, baby. You really helped me out a lot today and I’m thankful. I’m also making sure you don’t drop to the floor right now, so hold on for me,” you reply earnestly, chuckling at the look of frustration slapped across Miguel’s face.
You bring over the hydrating scrub, some conditioner, and the shower head, and stand in between his legs, ready to start.
Miguel looked up at you like you hung the stars in the sky, undeniably in love and unbelievably aroused.
You started to unscrew the scrub, making sure to part his hair down the middle.
“You’re using your products on me?” he asked, confused at your actions.
“Just the shampoo. I don’t think this conditioner will do you any good, but for the most part, the line is pretty inclusive. Ain’t that neat?”
“Mm-hm,” he responded, cheeks squished against your chest, arms wrapped around your thighs.
“Look forward, for me, baby,” you say, starting to spread the shampoo on his scalp.
He just hummed and groaned in the safety of your torso, while you scratched at his scalp and pulled the shampoo to his ends. He started to kiss and nibble at any skin he could get his mouth on. His grip was getting tighter and he felt a stutter in your breaths.
“Lean back so I can rinse this out.”
He placed his chin on your stomach again, eyes full of hearts.
“I’m almost finished, I just need to put your conditioner on.”
Miguel hummed once more as you placed the conditioner at his ends first, then scrunched his hair up, careful not to mess with his scalp. Mindful of his wavy, curly hair texture like he was for yours.
His wine eyes kept staring at you, as if you were the 8th wonder of the world. You felt heat in your face, an accumulation of the almost boiling water and Miguel’s full attention.
He was simply grinning, face wet and tinted from the water.
“You’re so cute,” you say, rinsing out the last of the product.
“Only with you,” he replies, still trying to make you look into his eyes. “Can you come closer?”
You set the shower head down and run your hands through his strands, “I feel like I’m already as close as it gets.”
“Not really,” he said, swiftly sitting you on his lap like you weighed nothing. “You could always be closer to me, cariño. I can think of many ways to make that happen.”
You finally allow yourself to indulge in his shenanigans. Leaning your forehead on his, you open your mouth to say, “Is that why you were so adamant about getting in the shower? To get as close to me as possible?”
He looked from your eyes to your mouth, “No?”
You bring your hands from his hair to his neck, “You know you can’t lie. In fact, you’re like, really bad at it.”
“Fine. It was partially because of that. How did you know?”
“Like I said, you can’t lie and neither can your face. You’ve been pouting ever since I let you scratch my head and especially when I wanted to wash my hair in the sink.”
“Am I that easy to read?”
“Kind of,” you say, a laugh twinkling off your lips. “I can always tell when you want me.”
“Yeah? And what am I telling you right now?” He starts to move your hips, placing his erection right under you, grinding your lips against him.
You close your eyes, a flame beginning to blossom within you, “I guess that you need, fuck, you need me.” Your clit was throbbing against his length as he dragged your body back and forth.
“I do, bebé, I do,” Miguel was moaning loudly, melting at the feeling of your pussy finally warming him up. He moved his lips to yours, desperately trying to have more of you, gripping your hips even harder.
“Baby, s-slow down,” you say in the midst of his kisses, trying to put your feet on the bench next to him to gain some sort of stability. You knew he was pent up, but he was moving so frantically, you were scared he might slip off.
“Te necesito. Please, just-” Miguel cut himself off with a groan in your neck, grinding your slit along himself faster. He started to kiss down your chest, finally getting to your breasts, and gliding his tongue along the wet skin. He took a nipple into his mouth, allowing himself to suck.
The flame from before was starting to grow, “Miggy if you keep going, I’m gonna cum.” He was just starting and you already felt everything coming to an end.
How were you so close, yet he was the one who was riled up?
“Miguel, I’m-” you hold on harder to his neck, eyebrows furrowed.
“Uh huh. C’mon, give it to me,” he encouraged, staring at you, eyes cloudy.
You break above him, a scream crawling from your throat, hips stuttering in his hold, and liquid leaking onto the floor.
“Oh my god,” your mind was hazy, reveling from how quick you came, but mostly at how needy Miguel looked.
“Was it good?” he asked, hugging your body as he switched angles, dragging his body closer to the edge of the bench, letting your feet fall to the floor. His voice was whiny, desperate, wanton. “Was I good for you? Did you feel good?”
You brought your mouth to his temple, movements shaky and heart still thumping, “You were so good for me, baby. So good.”
He sighed, breath leaving his lungs as if what you told him was a matter of life and death.
“Then use me,” he leaned back, hands pressed against the seat. “Use me, however you please.”
You stared at him, a little stunned but fully immersed. When you brought your hand to his chest, you could feel how fast his heart was moving. You brought your mouth to his once more, a thumb on his chin pushing so that lips could part. You kissed him deep, making sure to direct his focus there while you placed your knees on the bench.
Sitting just above him, you guided your sex to his, allowing his tip to barely kiss you. You wanted him, yearned for him inside of you, but not yet.
You slid his tip past your slit, only edging it in partially, then rubbed your pussy up and down the head, allowing yourself to open up.
Miguel moaned into your mouth, hands curling into fists as he felt your walls close around the top of him. He started to move in tiny thrusts matching your rhythm.
“Nuh uh, baby, it’s just me right now, remember?” You break your kiss to reprimand him, bringing your hand from his chin to his stomach, and stopping all movement.
Miguel could only cry out and nod, upset at the loss of your body devouring his own, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, keep going. I’ll be still, cariño, please.”
“Good. There he is, my sweet baby,” you say, voice a prime example at how much Miguel begging for you was affecting you.
You start back, ass moving with a bit more force. You lean to press a long kiss against his neck, losing yourself in the sound of him barely inside of you, his groans a lovely melody filling up the room.
“You feel amazing, Miguel. So big, and you’re only giving me so little,” you pant in his ear, knees starting to hurt from how hard the tiles were.
“It’s all for you. Just for you,” he gasped, twitching when the sounds of your juices got even louder at your constant movement. “Mi amor, please, can I hold you?”
“Always, baby.”
Internally you chuckled, you never told him he couldn’t touch you, you just followed his plea to use him like a toy. He was so pussy drunk, he forgot the parameters he set for himself.
He wrapped his biceps around you, your arms folding behind your back in the process, but that didn’t stop you from riding out the high that was another orgasm.
“That’s right, keep going. Úsame, take what you need,” he requested. He was itching to dive deeper into you, not wanting your pleasure to end.
You threw your head back and whined high with Miguel’s name on your tongue, gushing out your release for a second time.
“Fuck.” Miguel was still holding onto you, legs taut in their position. He swerved your pussy across his length, listening at how wet you were.
You laid your head on the tile above Miguel, relieved with its slight coolness and trying to slow down your rapid heartbeat. Your hips kept bucking as an aftereffect.
You didn’t get that much of a cool down before Miguel was at it again, finally sliding his dick in until he bottomed out.
The two of you let out long moans in unison, a harmony that wasn’t unfamiliar to your apartment.
In this position, your face was back in front if Miguel’s, eyes watery from the sensation of him filling you up.
“You’re perfect, you feel perfect,” Miguel cradled you, trying to get as comfortable as he could, despite the impossible position he put himself in.
Lifting his hips off of the bench, he held himself up by his back pressed against the tiles.
Before you could even ask him if you all should move to the floor, he knocked the wind out of you, holding you up as he slammed into you.
“Miguel!” you shout, clamoring for anything to grab onto after the impact had you knocking forward.
“I got you, I promise. Won’t let you fall,” he heaved out, words spilling out as fast as his hips were snapping.
All you could do was mutter out words incoherently, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass reverberating off of the walls. Your eyes finally let go of the tears they were holding, overwhelmed by your state of being.
“What’s that, mi amor?” Miguel cooed at you, licking off one of your tears and kissing your cheek. “Can you feel me? Is it too much?”
“I, ngh, I,” you could barely get your words out, your brain turning into mush after each thrust. Miguel kept going, humming as he spread kisses around your face.
“You gotta answer me, baby. I need to know,” he whispered.
“I’m trying,” you respond, voice cracking from overuse. You were still peeved at his composure. “I thought you said, oh my god, you said you didn’t want to hurt your back.”
Miguel just pursed his lips, eyes clearing up for just a second, “I didn’t. And I’m not going to, super-healing, remember?”
“That’s-” your sentence was cut off by Miguel hiking you up and smacking you back down in time with one of his thrusts.
“Shit! Do that again,” you sob, thoughts coming to a stop.
“Yeah?” Miguel tried his best to keep his eyes on you, but you were squeezing so tight around him that his eyes kept rolling.
“Yes, Miggy. Right there, that spot. It’s so,” you were drooling at this point. “It’s so much.”
Miguel kept it up, glad to be hearing those words, proud of himself for igniting you.
You held your head down, body wound tight, “I think I’m gonna cum. I’m close.”
“Again?” Miguel asked, heart fluttering at you falling apart on his dick.
“Yes, baby. Don’t stop,” you say, voice wavering.
Right as you felt your body beginning to let go, Miguel halted and sat back on the bench.
“No, no, no. Why did you-” You were cut off by Miguel grabbing you and placing you on your shoulders, pussy in his face.
He opened his mouth and pushed his tongue in where his cock once was swirling in and out, sucking at your folds. He starts to hum as if you've fed him his last meal, causing your orgasm to come in waves.
“Oh!” you shout, thighs quivering around his head, one hand gathering a fist of hair and the other pawing at the wall. Miguel was lapping everything up, holding you so that you couldn’t even think of falling.
“Ok, ok,” you say, mewling as he kept you in place while your hips shook. “S’too much.” He finally let’s go, placing you back in his lap.
“Did I do good?” he asks, chest rising and falling rapidly now that he catered to you. His face was a mess, evidence of you all down his neck.
You kissed his nose, giggling at his need for praise, “Yes, baby. You did amazing. Fantastic. Perfecto.”
He was practically vibrating with joy, kneading at your thighs.
“But Miggy, there’s still a problem,” you say, holding his face with both hands. “You still didn’t cum yet.”
You watched his face flit through several phases: ecstatic, worried, then hungry.
“Can I keep going?” he asks, hands starting to roam again.
You simply nod and try to prepare yourself for him moving you around again.
He sinks back in slowly, careful of your sensitive body. You try your best to move, hips working in circles, hands holding onto his thighs. You couldn't help but to squeeze onto him, despite how tired you were.
“You look so pretty,” Miguel mumbled.
“Bet I would look prettier if you finished. Inside.”
That fired him up even more. He started to help you to bounce up and down his length, teeth gritted. You held your head back, eyes scrunched at the feeling of him inside again.
Then he started to whimper, a telltale sign that he was close.
“Can you say it again, please?” he said, moving to stand with you in his arms.
“Say what?” you ask, exhausted yet in awe that he still had so much energy. “That I want you to cum inside? Fill me up?”
You could feel him twitch inside of you, mind hazy at the thought.
“Shockingly, no. My name. Porfa, mi vida. I need to hear it.” He was still holding you as he pounded away, eyes never leaving yours.
You’ve been saying his name the whole time, so surely that can’t be it. Then, it dawned on you.
“Let go, Mr. O’Hara,” you say, mouth right next to his.
And so he did. He bent over, hands gripping your sides as he snapped his hips frantically, groaning into your mouth as he kissed you hard. You could feel him seeping inside you, hot liquid filling you up.
You clutch at his shoulders, feeling your hold slipping from how wet his skin was from the shower and the heat. You cry out again, body sore from all of fun and sensitive from overstimulation.
Miguel finally let up for what felt like hours, standing up straight and pulling you off his dick. He hissed at the feeling, angling your body parallel to his so that everything could fall to the shower floor.
You lay your head on his shoulder tiredly, grateful that he was still carrying you.
“That’s going to mess up the drain. You should have just let it stay in me until it took,” you mumble into his shoulder, hearing his breath hitch at your words. “Or until I got to the toilet or something.”
He brought you both back to the bench, “You're on the pill so stop teasing me about that.”
“But that doesn’t mean that you can’t live out your breed-”
“Yeah, yeah. I got it, mi amor,” he says, pecking your lips to stop you from continuing. “Now let's clean you up. Again.”
He reaches for the shower head and checks the temperature. Humming, he aims the spray at your lower area.
You jump and yelp, “That’s so fucking cold!”
“Bébe, it’s literally warm. I just checked!”
No wonder he was about to die in the steam, “You know how hot I like my showers, and that’s ice cold right now.”
“Well I’m sorry it’s not burning, but we have to clean you up,” he said, trying to console you. “I’ll warm you up later.”
You look at him and there’s this playful look on his face. “No,” you say, just the thought of doing this again making you sleepy.
You eye his body up and down. “Maybe later.”
He just chuckled and finished up.
An hour later, the two of you are dry, blow dried, and comfortably laid out across the couch with baking competition shows queued up on the TV.
You look up at Miguel from your position on his chest, cheesing from ear to ear.
He feels you staring at him and looks down, eyes warm. “What?” he asks, watching your face light up.
“Nothing. I just love you,” you say, unable to look away.
He kisses you, heart keeping a steady beat, “I love you too.”
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I hope you enjoyed reading! 🩵🩵
Any likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated and welcomed.
(And did anyone catch my Beyoncé Cécred refs?? I have no idea how brand names work with fics so I just stuck to nameless descriptions😭)
- Blue 🧼
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byuntrash101 · 1 year ago
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realistic sex with seonghwa
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seonghwa x f!reader fluff | smut | mdni a/n: welcome to this series. where i'll try to imagine how each member would actually fuck, as ✨realistically✨ as possible. u voted for our shinestar to be the first one but tell me in the comments/asks who u want to see next. enjoy ♡ disclaimer: i say realistic but lets be honest this is pure delulu behaviour and total fiction. everything is solely based on the vibes the boys give off.
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in the relationship he's very loving and attentive. seonghwa is a romantic at heart. he loves big gestures. like expensive gifts and fancy dinner dates. he's a passionate man
(an aries ♈)
although he's not into pda (doesn't dread it as much as hongjoong though who he utterly despise it). he likes to hold you and kiss you but he would rather do it privately
but oh boy when he gets you alone. you will drown in the love. you will suffer the wrath of his aggressive hugs and kisses
he will literally kiss your cheeks so hard that it will scrunch up your face or hold you so thigh that you can't breathe. for him there's no other way of showing his love for him. it's ardent and burning.
(did I say an aries?)
talking of getting you alone *wink wonk*
a ✨neat boi✨
he will always prepare a towel to you clean up before you even truly starts
I feel like you guys are kissing and things get a little heated he would straight up ask if you tryna fuck 
slkslskdlsdkdk
as soon as you say yes he hops off the bed/couch and goes to get the kit™ which includes towels, lube and toys
he might be prepared to clean up afterwards but thats only because he fully intends on getting n-a-s-t-y with you. before he cleans this man is going to make a mess
seonghwa is freaky (member of freak line with woo mingi and joong even if I think he's the less freaky out of the four). he plays coy but i feel like the demon takes possession of him when he’s on stage or in bed. 
he lives for the applause that's why he gives me the vibe of a service top. he usually doms but he will occasionally sub if his partner is into it.
if he subs that would mean he truly trusts his partner and he's ready to give up control. which I feel is something that is difficult for him to do
he will like to be on the bottom and seeing you ride him. 
he's more into praises than degradation but I feel like he would enjoy a healthy blend of both
"my good fuck toy", "you're being so good to me", "what a good little slut"
nothing too mean. he will surely enjoy being bossed around. (cfr that fancall where he literally folds because op tells him not to make her wait). he will enjoy when you give directions. command him to get in his knees for you, or tell him to open his mouth
but wether he subs or doms he will always enjoy some biting. he loves loves loves when you're close to him and you sink your teeth in the crook of his slender neck. he enjoys the slight pain
but most of the times he will top/dom. that's his comfort zone and it shows.
like I said earlier that man lives for your approval and your recognition so he will do anything to satisfy you.
and he will take 👏 his 👏 sweet 👏 time.
quickies aren't for him. he's a perfectionist. when he does something he does it 100%. he gives his all or he doesn't see the point in even starting… he'd rather wait until you have more time.
seonghwa loves and I means loves to give oral. he's oral giver line with mingi.  
he's ready to spend hours on knees head buried in your pussy ignoring his sore jaw and painfully hard cock just to make sure that when he stops your legs and trembling and you've soaked the bed all the way to the matress.
and the worst (best) part is that he's far from done
it's only the beginning of the fun
there's no point in changing the rhythm so once again when he finally slides into you he takes his time. he will coat himself with your juices grazing his tip along your folds and extra sensitive clit before pushing it in very slowly.
all the while being very quiet. barely exhaling a small sigh of pleasure because one big thing about hwa… he loves sounds. he has a huge auralism kink. so he will stay quiet just to get even hornier on the way you sound.
he wants to heart it all in great detail. (the perfectionism kicks in once more)
he wants to hear your pussy gushing out more nectar for him as he slowly fills you up
he wants to hear how you hold your breath while he gives that first slow stroke that you've been begging him for what feels like hours.
then sighs in pleasure as he reaches the bottom of you.
there he will bend down to kiss you.
sloppy kisses. very sloppy. with lots of tongue. he wants to share your taste (and realust of his hard work) with you
that's why I think hwa's favourite position is missionary. he can hear better and he can kiss you while fucks you.
he loves to make you moan into his mouth. he wants to swallow your every sound of pleasure he wants it all.
and he won't be satisfied until he makes you cum at least twice (and i insist thats the bare minimum). because hwa is an over achiever and also a good guy and as goes the famous saying: nice guys finish last.
it's only when you're satisfied (read: exhausted and worn out to the bone) that he will finaly cum too.
he doesn't have favourite spot he likes to cum anywhere on or in you. well at least that's what he says because I feel like he loves to finish inside or all over your pussy.
he loves to see how good he ruined you and messy your cute little cunt got for him. pulsing, weeping, creaming. all swollen and red.
he loves to know he's the one that made you like this. 
hwa is possessive it's less on the nose then joong but still
also you remember when I said freaky?
he's def the type that goes down on you for sloppy seconds after he's finished. if he's feeling extra generous (sadistic) he will drag out yet an other final orgasm out of your exhausted little cunt. just to have the pleasure of hearing you whine louder and squirm under him. pining your thighs open while he tastes himself on your folds.
with hwa it's not over until it's over
and finally he will share the delicious blend of your burning love for one an other with you in a passionate kiss. this time around the passion is more controlled less carnal and more romantic. he wants to show you again how much he loves you and this kiss is the prefect way
right after of course he's running around the place to bring you water and clean you up
maybe even washing you up in the shower if you aren't too tired and you can still stand (9 times out of 10 you can't) if you are too tired then he'll simply let you sleep in his arms (and never in the wet spot. if only there's one. chances are he prepared well enough and there's none)
like I said a neat boi <33
who should i post next?
IF U WANNA HELP ME PLEASE REBLOG WITHOUT USING THE COMMUNITY LABELS 🖤
realistic sex with mingi, with yunho, with wooyoung, with san | ateez masterlist | navigation
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saltnsugarbear · 3 months ago
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you've never done me wrong (except for that one time)
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summary: a kitchen friendship is born anew as Carmen's hold on the staff stumbles.
title from: "True Blue" by boygenius
word count: 3.8k
content warnings: swearing, reader is close friends with Richie. mentions of divorce, Mikey's death, depression, hazing in the work place.
part one! nsfw headcanons!
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Carmy works in silence beside you. Your head is resting on your arms against the counter.
Every night the two of you work on dish presentation and recipes. You're usually the first to feel the effects of exhaustion from the day, laying your head on the counter and watching Carmy work in his notebook.
His colored pencils are scattered and the surface is decorated with pencil shavings. You watch him intently, taking in the curve of his nose, the furrow of his brow, the set of his mouth as he colors with a precision you envy.
The dynamic between you two is one of mutual benefit. Carmy understands how to best present a dish, how it should look on a plate and appeal to the diner. You understand pairings, what ingredients need to be added or removed for a dish to be balanced and shine. And you both work spectacularly in a kitchen, moving together like a dance that only the two of you have learned. Any time one of you is paired with another, it's a mess of bumping into one another and miscommunication.
The only thing you don't agree on is staying awake until a few hours before service prep starts. Carmy has told you several times you don't need to stay awake with him as he works in his notebook, but each time you refusal. Instead choosing to give him grief about being up all night. Your belief is that if you maintain the same sleep schedule, you'll both be on the same frequency for service.
So that leaves you, exhausted in the kitchen fighting the drooping of your eyelids, and Carmy, sketching and coloring a new dish you two had been brainstorming.
"Hey.." The whisper of Carmy's voice startles you. He's collected his pencils and cleaned the counter around you.
"Did I fall asleep?" You search his eyes and Carmy nods.
You sigh and sit up in your seat, rubbing your eyes as Carmy stands up from his own chair. He waits as you slip off from your chair, grabbing your coat and slipping your arm through his.
Carmy has come to expect your gentle affections, the simple touches you offer. A guiding hand at the small of his back, linked arms and holding hands.
You let Carmy lead you to your apartment. You've both taken this walk dozens of times over, you can close your eyes and slump against him as you walk together.
"Stay the night.." You mumbled. Carmy hums beside you, he sounds distant.
This isn't the first time you've asked him to spend the night at your apartment. It certainly won't be the last.
The first time it was under the pretense that it would be quicker for both of you going into the kitchen. Less travel time he has to waste, to and fro.
So when he unlocks your front door, you're unalarmed. Carmy helps you kick your shoes off before he takes off his own. He drops his things beside them, and leads you both to your room. He flips the switch by the door thats attached to the warm Christmas lights you have on your ceiling.
He sits you on your bed, pulling the covers back for you to lay down and lays them over your body. Carmy makes to leave when you call his name. He stops in his tracks as you shuffle farther back and lift the blankets for him.
Carmy was used to setting himself up on your couch. He knew were your extra bedding was and he never complained about the kink in his neck afterwards.
However inviting him into your bed was new. He nervously shuffles towards the edge of the bed and you nod tiredly.
Carmy climbs in beside you, hesitantly. He's still in his jeans and t-shirt. No one will notice his ruffled street clothes tomorrow.
He's awkward as he lays on his side, facing you. You sigh, grumbling something out as you grab at his shirt. You pull at the fabric, bringing him towards you until your face is against his chest.
Carmy is tense until you wrap your arms around him, keeping him close to you. You can feel him relax slowly, and then he wraps his arms around you.
The both of you fall asleep like that. Holding each other under the blankets, lights tacked to the ceiling like stars.
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August goes by with as little animosity as you can muster.
Which is not much.
But it's enough that Carmen doesn't feel the need to mention it for a while. The month goes by with as little exchanges between the two of you that can be managed with him being your boss and coworker.
It's awkward at first, and still is. Your cigarette breaks are cut short or prolonged to avoid each other, tasks take longer than they should to avoid running into each other.
You hate the way that you notice how you both still move together so seamlessly. The both of you move around the kitchen together like a dance only you know and it makes you want to throw up.
It reminds you have your time together at Daniel. It reminds you of how things could be different.
You can spot when Carmen notices it because his movements suddenly become awkward and stilted. You run into each other more once he clocks the smooth kitchen dynamic you have. It kind of pisses you off.
You find yourself getting short with him when this happens. Which leads to the butting of heads.
But you spend more time away from each other then around one another. Richie makes snide comments on it until you eventually get him to shut up. No one else notices, at least they don't mention if they do.
Ebra and Tina take to gently harassing Carmen. Making him prove his keep in the kitchen. He throws tantrum after tantrum but they are unrelenting in their antics.
You can see Carmen's fuse running shorter and shorter with them as each day begins anew.
He is going to snap.
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Richie is regaling a story about some kid picking on Eva while you're sorting through the plastic utensils and prepping napkins.
He keeps looking at you through out the story and you're nodding along to show your engagement in the story. As he's getting into it, the door to the kitchen swings open.
"Hey, chef?" Sydney pokes her head through the doorway and grabs your attention. "Fill in for Tina? She's going to be late up until service."
You sigh and nod, "Yeah, for sure."
As you follow Syd into the back of house, Richie blows you a kiss that makes you roll your eyes. Sydney has your station set up by the time you're done washing your hands.
"So, Tina was just on vegetable prep. Nothing too crazy, I don't think. I mean, you know the drill, right?" Sydney looks at you and you nod.
"Vegetable prep is nothing, my dear Sydney."
"Okay. Then I don't think there's anything else you need to know. Just let me know when you're done." Sydney taps the counter and you nod before she departs to her own station not far from yours.
The two of you work in the kitchen in mostly silence. Carmen is in the office so Marcus and Ebra are the only other two moving around their respective parts of the kitchen.
"Did you um-" Sydney starts talking, and she hesitates as she lets her thoughts tumble around. "Did you work in a kitchen? Before this?"
"Yeah, actually. I..." You pause and then sigh. "I used to work with Chef Daniel Boulud."
"Oh shit." Sydney glances at you, eyes wide.
You huff a laugh and nod. "Yep."
"How did... How did you end up here?" Sydney asks, turning back to her own prep.
You pause long enough Sydney starts to back pedal, "Actually, you don't have to-"
"No it's okay. Um..." You clear your throat and furrow your brow. "Something happened.. And I had to quit. It was that or be fired."
"Oh shit.." Her voice is hushed but you shrug in response.
"That was four years ago and I'm mostly over it. But it definitely opened my eyes to some shit." You glance at Sydney before looking back at your cutting board.
"But I mean, maybe it was for the best. I met these lovely people," Sydney scoffs a little at that. "I got to know Mikey and I know Richie now. I don't know. I got a new family out of the situation so maybe it's not all bad. It definitely hurt though." You nod as you cut through carrots.
"That's a good way to look at it.." Sydney trails off as the two of you begin to work in silence again.
"I'm sorry that happened, anyways." Sydney does a half shrug and you nod.
"Thank you, chef." You hum.
Sydney hums in response and nods. The two of you continue to work in silence again.
After a few minutes Richie enters the back, fidgety and looking for someone to talk to. He steers clear of you and Sydney, deciding to go to Marcus and Sweeps. He launches himself into conversation, beginning some story you're sure he's already told you.
As he talks and gets more into it, his voice gets loud. Sweeps and Marcus egg him on and you can see Ebra hovering. Eventually Richie is shouting to be heard and laughing loudly.
"Richard," You grab his attention with his full name, not looking away from your station, and loud enough to be heard over his own chatter. You raise your hand to lay level above your head and start moving it downwards.
"Oh shit. Sorry, sweetheart." Richie's voice is quieter now.
"It's okay, bub. Thank you." You bring your hand back to your task and Richie continues his story, keeping his voice as leveled as he can.
"Holy shit." Sydney breathes out next to you and you shoot her a questioning look.
"He doesn't listen to, like, anyone." She looks at you and searches your face like it'll show her the answers.
You chuckle and nod at that. "He only listens because I put up with his other shit. And his daughter likes me, so it's hard to explain to a five year old why her cousin that she's seen for years stops showing up."
Sydney keeps looking at you in awe which makes you shake your head. "Back to work, chef."
You gesture to her cutting board and she tears her gaze away with a nod.
"Um... Why would you stop showing up, chef?" Sydney asks with her brow furrowed.
"I wouldn't. He just... Has these weird attachment issues. He gets anxious over it so he... Behaves himself to not scare me off. He has his bad days but we're only human." You shrug. Sydney hums and the two of you go back to working in silence.
Once you finish, Sydney guides you through mixing and storing it in accord with the restaurant system. As you're cleaning up your stations, Carmen comes into the kitchen like a force of wind. He stops a few steps from the office when he spots you at the counter.
You watch in your periphery as Carmen looks between you and Sydney. Sydney nods at him and he shakes his head back at her.
"Uh.. Chef." You turn as Carmen nods at you.
"Chef." You look at him as you finish wiping down the counter. You both stand there for a few seconds until Sydney clears her throat.
"Thank you, chef... For helping with Tina's prep." She nods and gives you a smile.
"Yeah, it's no problem, Syd." You nod back as you depart from the two of them. You make your way to coral Richie and Sweeps to the front of house, ignoring Carmen's gaze on your back as you leave.
Richie slings his arm over your shoulder with Sweeps behind you, as Carmen rounds up his cooks and begins debriefing them for service.
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After the health inspector leaves, hell breaks loose. Everyone else dispersed to their respective stations, except for you, Sydney, Carmen and Richie.
Richie and Carmen start yelling and jabbing fingers at each other again. Once they start shoving each other, Sydney attempts to break it up again. When that doesn't work, you shove your way between the two of them, less worried than Sydney about who gets knocked by an elbow.
Richie immediately stops his movements and favors yelling at Carmen from behind you. Carmen bites his tongue, glaring at Richie above your head and clenching his fists at his sides.
"Shut up, Richard!" You turn and look at him over your shoulder. You notice Carmen inhale to begin his verbal assault again and stop him in his tracks. "That doesn't mean you start again, Carmen. You need to go take a fucking breather."
Carmen stares at you and there's a fire in his eyes. "We got a fuckin' C. You can't be fuckin' okay with that? It's, it's-"
"I don't give a fuck what it is right now. You need to step out, and maybe when you're feeling like having a real conversation, we can deal with this. Instead of taking that shit out on Richie."
That was the wrong thing to say. It only adds fuel to the fire that is Carmen's anger.
"Maybe, if you fucking cleaned- If, if you actually helped around this place instead of- of fucking flirting with Richie!" Carmen gestures wildly, his voice raising with each word.
"Don't you fucking yell at me." You stab a finger into Carmen's chest, getting up in his face and much louder than him. The kitchen has all but ceased movement and clatter.
"Don't yell at me, you fucking child. You know that shit doesn't work." Carmen is silent as you study his face before backing off.
"Get your fucking shit together, Carmen. Instead of taking it out on your chefs." You untie your apron as you head towards the back door.
"Where the fuck do you think you're goin'?" Carmen calls after you. In response you flip him off as you barge out the door.
Once you're outside, you fish out your lighter and pack of cigarettes, shaking out a stick before tossing the pack and your apron onto one of the crates on the floor. When you light the stick you take a deep inhale and hold before letting it out.
The door opens and you're prepared to launch yourself at Carmen.
Instead you see Sydney. She’s got a container of water in her hand her eyes cast towards the ground. You hum at her in acknowledgment as you take another drag. After your appraisal Sydney walked over and sat on the opposite crate from where you had thrown your stuff.
"I have never seen someone tell Carmy off like that." Her voice is soft and a little surprised. You let out a huff of a laugh as you release the smoke from your lungs.
"He's just an asshole." You say as you dip down and offer Sydney your pack. She scrunches up her nose and shakes her head, which makes you grin.
"Smart move. This shit kills." You punctuate your sentence with another drag that makes Sydney chuckle.
"Did you know Carmy? Before the Beef?" Sydney toes at the asphalt before she looks up at you with big brown eyes.
You turn away and shrug, "Depends on what you mean by know. I've worked with him in the past. I thought I knew him as well as I knew myself but he ended up being a back stabbing bitch."
You flick your cigarette to the ground and stub it out with your shoe.
"Don't get too attached to the idea of you guys being super great work buddies. He'll throw you to the curb if it means saving his own ass." With that you grabbed your apron, opened the door and give Sydney a two finger salute before walking back in.
Inside Richie and Carmen are arguing about the caulk. Still. You sigh and begin tying your apron behind you. It's going to be a long fucking service.
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The door from the kitchen swings shut as you walk through, making your way behind the counter until you hear people talking in the dining area.
"Oh shit. Hi, Mr. Cicero." You spot Cicero talking with Carmen by the window.
He and Carmen turn towards you, expressions a stark difference between each other. Cicero smiles at you as you make your way over to them, but Carmen looks shocked at your intrusion.
"How many times do I have to tell you, kid, it's Uncle Jimmy." Cicero pulls you into a side hug as you shake your head.
"Yeah, and Richard's actually my cousin." You sigh as he let's go of you. "If you're lucky, maybe you'll reach Mr. Jimmy instead."
"It'll have to do." He sighs and then gestures towards the sign in the window. "What's that about, kid?"
You follow his gaze to the C in the window and shake your head.
"Just business as usual, Mr. Cicero. I mean, you know," You shrug as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "It's been a rough going but um... I think we're getting somewhere."
Your gaze flicks to Carmen briefly before turning back to Cicero. Cicero nods when you look back at him.
"Alright, kid. Now uh... You know I love seeing you, but I mean, you know," Cicero gestures between him and Carmen. You get the hint.
"Yes, of course, I'm sorry-"
"Don't apologize, you actually saved me from more of the same story." Cicero assures you as you fidget with your apron.
"Of course," You smile and nod at him. "Make sure you come by again soon."
Cicero nods and brings you into another side hug. You return the hug as you bid him farewell, effectively removing yourself from the conversation and heading back to the kitchen.
At the same time you enter, Sydney and Richie enter through the back door. They're both silent as they walk in. Sydney stops by her locker, opening it and shedding her bag and coat. She fishes out the bag from the hardware store and her apron before she closes the door and hands the bag to Richie.
Richie snatches the bag from her and Sydney leaves to go find Carmen before service.
Wordlessly, you take out your pack of cigarettes, holding it out to Richie in offering. He shakes his head at you in response, so you lightly bump him with your shoulder on your way out the back door.
You plop down on one of the crates along the wall, fishing out your lighter and shake out a stick. Once you have it lit, you lay your head back against the wall when you inhale.
You're out there for a few minutes until the back door opens. You don't move, scrolling through your phone and not entirely bothered by whoever might be joining you on their own smoke break. There's the crunch of footsteps until the stop short. They don't start again but the door hasn't opened again. You look up and a nearly drop your cigarette when you see Carmen.
He's stood a few feet from you, his own cigarette hanging off his lips as he takes you in.
Deciding you were there first and desperately needing this cigarette (and maybe a second), you turn back to your phone. Effectively ignoring him. You hear the click of his lighter and the drag he takes through the filter, but he doesn't move.
You continue to ignore him when you flick away the bud of your cigarette, taking a moment to finish your article before you fish out another one. Carmen takes that as his signal to speak up.
"So, you uh- you just know everyone from my family?" He asks you, making you look up at him. Carmen is watching you already as he exhales, his blue eyes studying your face.
"I didn't track them down, if that's what you're thinking. I didn't decide to move to Chicago and find the Berzatto family as some long awaited revenge." You look down to grab your pack, so you don't have to see his eyes anymore, and take out another stick. You place it to your lips but before you can get your lighter, you hear the click of Carmen's. When you look back at him, he's holding his lighter out for you.
When you don't brush him off, Carmen slowly moves and watches as the flame sparks the end of your cigarette. Once it's done, he pulls his arm away quickly, as if you'll bite it off.
"I didn't think you had." Carmen shrugs.
"Yeah well, I thought I knew everything you thought." You let that hang in the air for a moment. Until Carmen clears his throat.
"How did you meet um..." Carmen doesn't finish. You know who he means.
"My brother. Graduated with Mikey, knew he was looking for people. Set me up." You gesture with the cigarette in your hand. "And you're not actually related to Cicero or Richie so.."
"Close enough," Carmen huffs and kicks at the pebbles on the asphalt.
"Nat's pissed at you, by the way. Not as much as I always am, but pretty close." You nod and then take a drag, looking down the alley towards the street. You want this conversation to end soon.
Carmen sighs at that and you catch him nodding, like he already knows.
"And quit being such a dick to Richie. He's obnoxious but he's dealing with enough shit without you piling onto it." You voice your disdain for his bullying with your exhale of smoke.
Since February, Richie's personal life had taken a nosedive into the garbage. In the weeks after Mikey's death Tiffany served Richie with the divorce paperwork. This took another massive toll on Richie's mental health when you were already trying to hold it together. You think that the presence of yourself and Eva barely kept the man with his head above water. You spent weeks creating a routine of assurance and dependability with Richie that he still questioned, even now.
"I'm uh... I'm s-" Carmen starts, looking at the ground. Again.
"Don't fucking do this." You glare up at him. Carmen looks at you with wide eyes. "Just shut up. I'm not doing this again."
You turn away from him, brows furrowed and lips set in a frown. You don't see him leave but you hear his footsteps on the asphalt and the creak of the back door. Then it's quiet again.
You sigh, and rest your head against the wall again. Finishing your cigarette in the Chicago peace.
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angelbarelywrites · 6 months ago
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♡ slashers scenarios | let’s get kinky (part 2)
♡ fandoms; Friday the 13th, House of Wax, Scream (kinda), Hannibal (TV), Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)
♡ characters; Jason Vorhees, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Danny Johnson, Hannibal Lecter
♡ reader; gender neutral
♡cw; graphic sexual content, kink content, daddy kink (NOT ddlg), blood kink, knife kink
♡notes; i’m alive (ish) !!! i think i forgot how to write but have this
•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•
Jason Vorhees
> he’s a vanilla guy, honestly
> he’s a virgin when you meet and still believes a lot of what his mother taught him
> however, he is eager to please
> so eager to please that with some gentle coaxing, you could get him to try about anything once
> he’s a natural service top- but he’d bottom no questions asked
> in terms of dom and sub dynamics, he fits pretty snugly in the sub category
> but as I said, he’d try anything once, including completely doming you
> and even if he is submissive, the man is tall, wide, and pure muscle
> it’s not hard for him to get rough- sometimes he is without even realizing it
> but the aftercare is always top-notch, he takes care of you the whole rest of the day/night even if it’s not necessary
> funnily enough he thinks oral is pretty scandalous at first, but god he loves when you suck him off, lapping and trying to take all of him even though it’s probably impossible
Bo Sinclair
> maybe listing kinks he doesn’t have would be faster
> in all seriousness, there are quite a few he’d be gunning for when the topic comes up for the first time
> he loves being called daddy or sir, or would accept most other dom titles
> he’s super into roleplay- but he loses the plot pretty fast
> he love love loves tying you up and using you as he pleases
> if you trust him enough he’ll gag you too, and maybe leave you tied up while he goes to take care of business
> he likes spanking and biting and bruising your hips from gripping you too tightly
> and he likes kissing all of the little marks he left for days afterwards
>making sure they heal properly, he always says, though he’s quick to replace them
> if you can manage to get him to sub- big if- he’s an incredibly whiny and desperate brat. but taking him can be fun.
Billy Lenz
> he’s the switch of the century 🔥🔥🔥
> he alternates so frequently between praise and degradation that it’s jarring at times
> “oh just look at my pretty whore- you like billy’s cock? take it like the fucking slut you are—“
> and he loves loves loves being on the receiving end of both as well
> he has an oral fixation, big time. And if your fingers aren’t in his mouth, his fingers are in yours
> and, to no one’s surprise, he loves phone sex
> he’ll call you from the attic as foreplay
> and he loves watching you, peeping through the wall as you put on a show for him
> he loves edging- mostly on the receiving end
> and when he finally cums, he wants it to be all over your face or chest.
Danny Johnson
> borderline exhibitionist. maybe not even borderline.
> y’all are fucking in the car, in alleys, anywhere you can have just enough privacy
> and man oh man, is he going to take so many pictures of you
> posed on the bed or on your knees in front of him or freshly fucked and nearly in tears
> when he has you screaming, he wants to hear his name, not anything else
> he’s a hair puller, and he’s more than happy to choke you
> if you ask nicely, that is. he’ll have you beg for most things
> he calls you his kitty or puppy, or baby doll if you don’t like either of those
> if you stroke his ego and praise him, he’ll do absolutely anything you want
> he’ll even be a good boy and bottom for you if he trusts you enough - though he’s an absolute pillow prince when he does bottom
Hannibal Lecter
> debatably the “worst” of the bunch
> he’s the type to really commit to BDSM dynamics
> you WILL call him master, and he’ll probably call you “my pet”
> he likes choking, spanking, the whole nine yards that a lot of the other
> but he very much has a knife kink, and a blood kink. he likes giving little nicks and lapping the blood up, getting a proper taste of you
> of course he can live without it, but if you let him indulge you’d be greatly rewarded
> and even with his strictly dominant nature, he is a very generous master
> he loves going down on you, and he loves overstimulating you when he does
> he’ll have you whining before he gets past your thighs, seeming to always know just what to do make you squirm
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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 4 months ago
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F*CK, KILL, MARRY — nsfw alphabet w john wick (&femreader)
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[Warnings: NSFW, discussion of various sexual and kink topics that are 0% canon and 100% my fantasies opinions] gif cred: @lunaspacks & @gifpacklove
[A]ftercare
The literal king of aftercare. It does not matter what kind of sex you’re having with John—even if it’s of the slowest and sensualist variety—he’s making sure you’re clean, kissed, snuggled, and hydrated afterwards.
[B]ody Part
What part of your body does this man not consider his favorite part, is the better question? Seems like his goal in life is to get every little piece of your flesh—especially the batches you don’t like—into his mouth and hands so he can convince you how much he loves, craves, pines after all of you. Speaking of hands, of course you love his chunky, scarred, battle worn fingers. And, since that seems to be your favorite part of him, he’s happy to agree, and wiggle his digits in front of you every once in a while as a teasing reminder of just how much you like them.
[C]um
The only thing John Wick likes teasing more than you, is himself. He’s entirely too good at keeping you both up all night either cumming or just on the precipice of it, so, by the time you’re both spent, things tend to be sticky and soaked in more than just sweat and saliva.
[D]irty Secret
There’s nothing he keeps from you, really. If you’re into it, he’s into it, and vice versa. Look at those puppy dog eyes and tell me you’re gonna tell this man no if he wants to suck your toes.
[E]xperience
Might have been a bit of a whore in his younger days, when he was still trying different bad coping skills for dealing with his own self loathing. Present, John has to really have that emotional attraction for his pants to get tighter, but he absolutely knows his way around female anatomy—as evidenced by yours and his soaked sheets.
[F]avorite Position
Either his face tucked up inside your pussy so deep his hair gets wet (John Wick’s favorite activity is making you cum in his mouth), or your knees hooked over his shoulders so he can watch your eyes roll back in your head while he reaches screaming, teeth gnashing, hellishly pleasurable depths.
[G]oofy
This one very much depends on his mood, although he’s not opposed to play fights and chasing you around the house a little bit before bending you over the couch and fucking his winning prize. He’s more playful than not most of the time, always teasing and sly, grinning against your lips and nuzzling your thighs and starting tickle fights —which may just be the only sort of fight he actually loses (sometimes).
[H]air
This man is not shaving that often these days…Something(one) else is taking up his free time. Plus, he loves to see beard burn on your skin—it means you’re his. He truly does not care at all about your body hair; whether you shave or don’t, he’s still burying his face in your cunt.
[I]ntimacy
Loving and fucking go hand in hand for him; where there is no love, there is no fuck. If he’s fucking you, he’s loving you at the same time, sometimes so deeply and intensely that the emotion becomes more overwhelming than the actual sex, which is a feat of its own. Constantly saying the dirtiest, sweetest shit to you—commanding your attention again when you try to bury your head in a pillow or close your eyes for some reprieve from his attention.
[J]ack off
You’ve both made a maddening deal that you won’t cum unless you’re in the other’s presence. It gets exceedingly frustrating at times, especially when he decides to come home from a week-long contract and then edge you out of your fucking mind for a few hours before he sends you to heaven and back on his cock
[K]ink
Hide and seek — spoiler: you always lose. Topping from the bottom — whatever you’re into, he’s into. Whatever you want, he’ll give it a try with enthusiasm. He loves pleasing you, serving you, giving you everything that you ask for and then some. John Wick is a service sub at heart, even if he takes the dominant roll to prove it. Edging and overstimulating — Living a life of pain, agony, and heartbreak has made him appreciate the finer things in life, like his cock and your cunt aching so desperately it becomes painful. He can spend all day nibbling your ears, teasing you with dark promises, brushing against your little sensitive spots, and then all night kissing your swollen clit and tickling your gspot and fucking you slow and devastatingly softly. And then there’s his love for receiving edges, leaking pools of precum while you tease his cock and kiss his tummy and nibble his hipbones.
[L]ocation
Private. He wants you to himself. The thought of someone else seeing or touching you, unless it’s something you really crave, makes him want to break bones stuff. Besides some hand holding and light cheek pecks in public, he’s not one for PDA.
[M]otivation
You don’t have to try to turn John on, which is both a blessing and a curse. More than once have you purchased a pair of cute (not even that sexy underwear) that he has ripped in half so that his impatient mouth can latch onto your pussy. He also adores femininity in all its purest forms—pretty sundresses, little strappy heels and sandals, the curves and soft places on your body, your cute giggles and soft touch and adorable pouting. Even better if you’re naturally not feminine to begin with, and take on a more masculine role; he loves to bring the little lady out in you, and take care of her.
[N]o
John will get a little rough if you ask; spank you, fuck your soul into the next life, a little bit of facefucking, but all the while he’s checking in on you, making sure you’re okay, asking if you need anything, giving you little breaks. He’s just naturally so sweet to you, it’s hard for him to complete a rough session without constant reassurance from his babydoll. So, gags are a no. He wants to—likes to—hear you, and he doesn’t need something obstructing that.
[O]ral
There are two ways that this could go. 1) With Wick slurping between your squishy thighs until dawn, delaying one orgasm after another until you’re sobbing and thrashing, until he finally lets you cum with his pruned fingers fucking up inside and sore tongue on your massively swollen clit. 2) With Baba Yaga burying his face into your folds, still in the sweaty work suit and maybe even a little blood on his tie, and taking you to heaven and back until he thinks you’re wet and stretched enough—spoiler, you are both of those things as soon as you see him…as soon as he opens his mouth—to take his cock.
[P]ace
Quick, bruising fucks in the car. Weekends in his woodsy, romantic cabin where you spend more time on his dick than off. Slow tonguing on the kitchen counter. Riding him on the doorstep while he’s in his suit when he just wants to get you off one more time before he goes off on a long job.
[Q]uickie
He prefers slow and sensual and teasing, but sometimes his cock disagrees with all that. He’s a man, after all, has needs. When he gets that haunted, dark, narrowed, pussy hungry look in his eyes—you’re fucked. You don’t know this, and he might not either, but that’s the same look he gets when he’s hunting a target.
[R]isk
What is the need for it? You’re his, completely. He doesn’t require added adrenaline when you’re around—you are his high.
[S]tamina
Y/n: *slaps John Wick’s ass* trust me, this baby can go for miles. Wait no, no, John-JOhN! Listen!—
[T]oys
As familiar as he is with the world and how it runs, he himself is a bit old school. That means holding doors open and putting you on the opposite side of the sidewalk away from traffic, but it also means he prefers to get you off with himself rather than any plastics or silicones—that is until you showed him just how fun they could be. Now, he may be initially resistant to vibrators and dildos, but that doesn’t mean he’s not privy to other tools that aid in your undoing—feathers, belts, ties, rope, his gun (unloaded, of course, don’t worry).
[U]nfair
Sometimes you feel like all the stoic, broody, dark assassin does is tease you. Not that you’re complaining, as long as his tongue or his fingers or his teeth are on you.
[V]olume
John Wick is a man of focus, determination, and sheer will power—but, make no mistake, he whimpers for you just as often as he growls.
[W]ild card
John didn’t think he’d get much out of thigh riding, until he saw you completely bare grinding your soaked cunt against the tensed muscles of his leg while he remained full on suited in black. Your fingers wrapped around his tie, the thick Kevlar of his jacket, rumpling and dampening the pristine white shirt underneath, mouth open and panting, flushed and grinding, desperate to get yourself off, nipples plucked swollen and dark by his fingers.
[X]-ray
Big Wick Energy. And, surprisingly, something you love to bite and poke, a cute little permanent pudge on his lower tummy amongst the hard panes of ab and tendon and muscle.
[Y]earning
If you’re both in good health—alright, sometimes even if you’re not (see: bullet and stab wounds, period cramps, broken bones)—you’re fucking. Often and earnestly. Debauching every available surface as soon as you get through the doors of each other's dwellings. He’s spent a lifetime training to kill, honing his body into the perfect weapon, building his inhuman stamina, unsure of why he was doing all of it in the first place—until he realized it was the universe’s grand design to assist him with fucking you whenever and wherever he wants; even when you get tired and he has to use you past the point where you can’t move or speak or think. As you’ve come to learn, it doesn’t matter if you’re too cockdrunk to assist, because John can fuck for the both of you.
[Z]zzzzzz
When he’s actually done, he’s out immediately. Just one of those common manly traits you like to poke fun at him for. At least he sleeps, now.
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glassrowboat · 7 months ago
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Daydream in a Nightmare
Authors note: I read a soulmate au where with dream sharing. Everytime you fall asleep you and your SM would meet in a world that would reflect your consciousness and who you were. So down below are the boys and what I think the places their dreams would depict.
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Mondstadt
Diluc: The cathedral. His mom, back when she was alive, used to play during service and afterwards Diluc ran over greeting her with the biggest smile, asking her to play him one more song. She never failed to. Maybe that's why there's always a gentle melody playing whenever you see him as he rests his fingers over the same white tiles, simply trying to remember how to play.
Kaeya: The Dawn Winery. Or at least parts of it. Behind closed doors there's the scent of grass, of dirt, and the faintest smell of ash. He says it's simply the vineyard that in the real world would be right outside, but he knows well as he pulls your hand from the doorknob that it's ruins of a fallen nation haunting him right on the other side.
Albedo: Glass walls. A maze of mirrors and reflections. If you ever have stopped to bother to count between Albedo’s musings as he shares with you the secrets of the world, you'd notice that for some reason he always has more reflections in the walls around you than of your own figure. Like there's more of him than there is of you.
Venti: Old Mondstadt. Back before the revolution, back when there were people in the streets wishing their God weren't so unjust, but in his dreams that wall of spiraling wind is never there. A warped perception of a life he wished to have lived as he sits in your lap not as Venti the bard, but a wind sprite trying to bury into your clothes for warmth. Just don't call him pipsqueek or he'll try and bite your fingers. Playfully. You think.
Liyue
Zhongli: A place that no longer exists, one torn away by this world during the archon war. It's unlike him not to comment on a place, a trinket, an item, as you pick something up and fiddle with it, but this place he never goes into full detail on. However, he will tell you all about the artisanship of the table you two are sharing tea over.
Baizhu: His home back in Chenyu Vale, back before the illness hit his village, back before his parents passed away. Just a modest home that shows signs of being truly well lived in and loved. Mindlessly while you two talk he'll be cleaning the place, just the way he always does at the pharmacy. Though it does help give him something to fill the silence. It turns out he's a lot more used to Changsheng chiming in with comments than he thought. He just hopes you two get along when the time to meet in person finally comes about.
Ga ming: A festival. There's water kicking up at everyone's feet, up to everyones ankles as people with their face covered in all manner of masks walk you both by. Ga ming would pull you along from booth to booth, trying his best to win prizes despite the fact you both know they'll be gone by the time you wake.
Xiao: A Chinese pavilion in the sky. You walk among the clouds as you follow the path of the street, looking over the accents that seem somehow both rich in color and dull, muddied all at the same time. Something you've noticed from his dreams compared to yours, his always have a lingering black fog creeping in at the corner of your eyes. It makes you feel like someone else is in this world with you, like there's eyes waiting to do more than just watch.
Inazuma
Kazooha: A meadow. The wind passes you both by, stirring up pages of books you two sit reading in silence. You can't help but wonder if these are all books he's read before, especially the ones that wax poetry or something else. His thoughts, perhaps? Maybe Kazuha's very own writings? But that matters little as his head is resting on your shoulder as you try to catch words between the fluttering sheets of paper.
Itto: A kabuki play. It always ends up in you two hiding away in the back room where the performers would get ready before getting back out on stage for the next act. You would see the brightest of colors, richest of fabrics, and practiced movements so fine tuned that you can't understand why Itto is so focused on taking the makeup on the vanity in the back simply so he can paint your face with red marks just like his. To each their own you suppose, and who are you to complain when it means drawing hearts on his arm when Itto isn't paying attention?
Gorou: A tea house. It's a small place, simple, but certainly not lacking charm as Gorou pours you a cup. At first the fact you could actually taste the rich herbs on your tongue in this dreamscape threw you off, but now it's just another part of this odd reality. But saying that, the first time you spat out the drink he offered as soon as the bitter taste hit you. Apparently he never expected you to not already be used to green tea. The poor fella was apologizing for the rest of the night, ears laid flat on his head and tail tucked between his legs. It's okay though, you made it even by trying to give him dog treats. It was you having to beg for forgiveness then.
Thoma: It was different this time. No glowing blue flowers and a forest that you two would stroll through mindlessly while chatting for hours. No, this time Thoma was sitting on a wooden platform below a giant stone statue. Intriguing, yes, but mattered little compared to the rope burns around his wrist. He tried to tell you not to worry about it. That it was an accident. But that mattered little as your lips pressed to the red, irritated skin and he gave you a strained smile. You knew better than to ask about it more from there.
Ayato: It's ever changing. It's like he is constantly thinking of something whenever He falls asleep and it reflects in his dreams. Once it was a Japanese styled room the next it was some room in Fontaine's architecture. But it's always a bedroom. A place of relaxation as Ayato buries his head in your lap like it was a pillow. He'll whine about being overworked until you're tempted to pull on his hair just to make the man shut up for once, but last time you did that it led to the bed being used for a lot more than just rest. For now just pat his head and let him vent, the man needs it.
Sumeru
Kaveh: A sketch brought to life from his mothers blueprints. One he saw his mother sketching back when Kaveh was a boy and she would let him sit on her lap, let him comment on the drawings. She would always find some way to incorporate his addictions into the sketch. Nowadays he knows the building that was actually constructed in the end to be simpler, duller than the one his mother wanted, but in his dreams with you it stands tall and proud.
Al Haitham: An attic. It's dusty and it clearly had a hole in the roof that was covered over by some wooden planks and nails. A patch work job that needs to be fixed but if you ever take the time to bother with it while Al Haitham sits in an old rocking chair covered by a quilt reading the night away it will only be there the next dream cycle. It pisses you off. He pisses you off. All nonchalance and an apathetic look even as you plop yourself in his lap and take that book away. And what pisses you off even more? How he dares to call you needy as he holds you close. It's best to ignore the fact he started reading over your shoulder.
Tighnari: Pardis Dhyai. He'll sit on the walkway watching you kick the water of the ponds around, paying no mind to when you splash at him. Not anymore at least. He's learned quickly if he makes a snarky comment you'll give one back and it'll go on and on until somehow it ends in him getting dragged into the pond with you. Both dripping algae filled water as he wondered what gods made this numbskull his mate.
Cyno: Lambad's Tavern. Everytime he would come back from treks in the desert he would go there, get a drink, and play a round of cards with whoever was willing. It was a pattern. Work, work, rest, and more work. But now he didn't have to constantly be on work mode as he sat with you in the old booth shuffling cards as he tried to explain to you how TCG works. So far everytime you lose you've thrown those elemental dice and him, and with a smile he lets them hit him in the head despite being fully able to dodge them. His soulmate is such a sore loser.
Wanderer: Shakkei Pavilion. He hates it. Hates that this is the place his unconscious has chosen to sink onto so stubbornly. His wooden fingers would slide over the paintings depicting Scaramouche’s past that has now been severed from him in everyone's eyes but Nahida and the Traveler. If you knew, would you still hold his hand? Would you still trace the details of his joints and comment that you find his pretty face such a stark contrast to his sharp words? He's afraid to find out, the idea that you might be his fourth betrayal always lingering in the back of his mind.
Fontaine
Neuvillette: Under the water where the currents would carry stray bits of seaweed and fish swimming past. The first time you shared a dream with him here he had to calm you down as instinctively you held your breath, taking your hands in his and assuring you if he can talk like this, you can suck in air just as well. It took some time getting used to, but now he watches as you grab starfish off the ocean floor and bring them over to him like a prize to be presented. This is what humans must be like Neuvillette tells himself as you braid them into his hair.
Worcestershire sauce: A home. A nice one at that. Big, had decent furnishings, pictures of kids hung up on the wall. If you listened closely enough you could even hear children playing outside from the cracked open windows that showed the brightest sky outside. Wriothesly would walk behind you as you would watch the grass blowing in the wind, not saying a word as he rested his chin on top of your head. He never thought he'd be back here again. The very place made him feel sick to his stomach, but with you? It was bearable. Even as you tried to grab his handcuffs from him.
Snezhnaya
Childe: His childhood home. Back before the renovations he bought for the place with his money as a harbinger, back before the redecorating of rooms to fit more children, and back to what the house was like when he was just a boy yet to fall into the abyss. Back when everything was simpler. He would pick up toys that have gone missing, never to be seen again and stare in wonder how it all is exactly how he remembers it. It makes it so much easier to be Ajax with you, rather than Tartaglia.
Dottore: The hospital he was working in when trying to help Eleazar patients. For the life of him does he hate it, being back in the desert always having to tip his shoes out of sand that never seems to fully clear off. It doesn't help you try and pour sand down his shirt, but in a way he supposes it's better you two stay out here under that blistering sun than you going inside to be met with the smell of death. No, you don't need to know about that side of him just yet.
Pantalone: His office. It always makes it hard to tell at first if he's awake, not when the same scene greets him either way. You always joke about him being married to his work and you're the mistress in this relationship. At this point he counts on the comment as soon as his eyes flutter open and he's greeted with the sight of you sitting on the desk he's been using as a pillow. Still, he can never help the genuine smile at seeing you once again.
Captain: A flower field. The snowdrops peek out from under the fluffy blanket of white powder, crunching under every step he takes. Even in his dreams the cold of Snezhnaya is ever present, ever biting. It only makes sense you are shivering behind him even as he lets you steal his cloak that is more of a blanket on you than anything. This field, he knows it well, knows that what waters these flowers is more blood than anything else, but that matters little as he wraps his arms around you. Maybe he can find a way to dream you a proper jacket.
Pierro: A grand hall. It reminds you of the way ballrooms are described in romance stories as the couple depicted would dance the night away. Columns so high you have to tilt your head back just to see where they meet the ceiling covered in paintings you've never seen before. That is until Pierro steps into your view. He always offered his hand to you before you could ask, and as your fingers interlocked he would tell you about them. Always ready to answer your questions. It meant someone was curious about a part of his long lost nation. So, of course, he was always happy to share.
Scaramouche: A never ending fire. It's a small shack, engulfed by flames that never seem to dwindle or burn out the wood it feeds on. Like this place was stuck in time in his mind. He doesn't talk to you, not any more than a sharp shut up. The only time that glare he showed you disappeared is when you pulled your hand back from the curious fire with a hiss, not expecting it to actually hurt in this fake reality. For a moment you could have sworn he took a step towards you, but he never came any closer than that as he hissed at you to be careful. Dumb mortals should at least know not to burn themselves.
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naomi-nana · 5 months ago
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dating headcanons . wind breaker
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headcanons of you and him when in a relationship.
featuring : umemiya hajime, hiiragi toma, kaji ren
cw : fluff, a little violence mentioned in kaji but not too heavy, f!rdr for hiiragi, ooc?? maybe
a/n : i kinda accidentally type too much about this but who cares anyways lol, might make another part because im obsessed with them
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— UMEMIYA HAJIME :
- he'd be extra protective of you. he was already very protective over the people in the town, and now that you're his 'other half', as he calls it, he's going to be even MORE protective of you. but not in a weird way, but in like "make sure to tell me when you're home" way, and if you didn't tell him at all he will show up at your house and knock the door until someone opened it.
- he absolutely will spend his money just to get what you want. not in a rich guy way, but in like "oh you want that? sure, but wait for me to get the money, yeah?". you've told him countless of times that he doesn't have to get you what you want, but he insist on buying it for you.
- definitely likes to hold your hand in public. but if you're uncomfortable by it, he's not gonna force you and he will respect your boundaries. though he will not leave your side. even if he does, he'd still keep an eye on you.
- he is such an acts of service guy. will do anything you ask him as long as its not considered negative. he will cook for you, tie your shoelaces, will help you get something thats way too high for you to reach.
- will bother you about your interest. if you show interest in art, makeup, acting, singing, or anything, he will ask you about it. "oh really? what makes you like doing it?" he likes listening to you talk about your interest(or he actually just likes listening to your voice).
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— HIIRAGI TOMA :
- he'd increase the amount of parfume he uses when he noticed you're around. he wears so much of it that umemiya can't help but cough everytime he walks past you and hiiragi. he would call umemiya overly dramatic about it.
- if you ask him to buy matching stuff, he'd be a little hesitant at first but he will agree to it. matching shirts? sure. matching bracelet? definitely. just make sure to not have umemiya around when you're wearing matching stuff unless you want hiiragi to have a very bad stomachache afterwards.
- if you wear makeup everywhere you go, even if it's just a little, he wants to see you doing it. when you ask him why, he just said that "i like seeing you taking care of yourself." which makes you very happy.
- would have a conversation with umemiya and he suddenly talked about you instead. umemiya would definitely tease him about being such a 'simp' over his girlfriend, and he just smiled sheepishly about it.
- would call you at night atleast once in a week to ask about your wellbeing. he just can't help but feel worried about you. if you said you were okay, he'd be relieved and ask you if you have eaten yet or not. if you said you were having like a bad week, he'd ask if he could come over and spend some time with you.
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— KAJI REN :
- will ask himself every night about how he ended up dating you. he's literally so confused because of how different you both are. in his mind, you're so perfect and rarely lose your temper or yell at anyone, and he's like a monster. he once told you about his thoughts and you reassured him that he's not a monster and how you both are literally meant to be together.
- won't initiate the first move at ALL. if you want to hold his hand, you better do it first because he will never ever suddenly hold your hand just because he wants to. though, he definitely tried to do it once and failed. he ask hiiragi how to hold your hand without feeling weird inside and he just laughs at him.
- would kick anyone in the face if they ever dare to talk about you behind your back. and it will be even more worse if they said it to your face. though, if kusumi is around, he'd ask him to tone it down a bit and just yell at them to back off instead of immediately going into action.
- will give you his playlist for you to listen to. he's definitely thought about making you a playlist but he never did it because he actually don't know what songs to put in the playlist, so he just shared his playlist with you.
- you once gave him a new phonecase because you said that his phonecase is so bland and boring. he uses it on his phone now and shows it off to everyone.
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naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use,(with or without permission), do not reccommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.
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uncookedfeeler · 9 days ago
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How it all started 👹
Jessi x Reader
Tags : 5k, smut
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Loyalty is a deep and enduring commitment that manifests itself in trust, respect and support. It implies a sense of obligation and responsibility where each individual acts in the best interests of the other. This bond, which grows stronger with each passing week, month and year, is the cornerstone of any successful partnership.
For the investor, it's the guarantee of a long-term financial investment, not without risk of course, but also the exclusivity of every opportunity linked to the person being supported.
For the celebrity, it's the guarantee of permanent and intangible financial support, as long as the terms of the contract are respected, as well as access to other resources in the eventuality of difficulties.
It's been a busy few weeks for you, and as the number of visitors to your establishments increases, so does your workload. The financial returns are excellent, your customers seem satisfied with your services on both sides, and there's no sign of a downturn in business, which in a way doesn't bother you and the last thing you want to see right now is problems like scandal.
Scandals are an integral part of the industry in which you do business, and you are no stranger to them yourself. Before you implemented a 'zero' policy in your establishment, there were a number of outbursts from investors who were a little too physical with your customers, which earned you some minor concerns, but also a great deal of respect and trust for the way you handled these problems.
And nothing prepared you for the one that set the nation alight last night, incriminating your oldest client and long-time friend. So you arranged a meeting with this person.
It's not uncommon for you to appear in public at your favourite club, enjoying your own service and waving to the many clients and staff who fill the place. Amid discreet glances and whispers, you sit down at a table in the middle of the room and lean back.
Quickly, one of your employees, accompanied by the manager, appears in front of you to serve you. 
"Welcome sir, I'm sorry I didn't come to greet you myself", says the manager in a hurry, the little man looks rather stressed and his face doesn't remind you of anything, probably a newcomer, you think.
The young woman next to him, much more stoic, bends down slightly to greet you.
"Good evening, sir, how are you? A double with ice as usual?" The familiar tone seems to disturb the manager, who is about to reprimand her.
"Yes, please, Seola," you say, smiling at the spectacle unfolding before you, and after taking your order, the young woman gives her manager a dark look of authority before returning to the bar.
"I'm sorry sir, I'll make sure she's disciplined, please excuse her", the manager says to you, bowing to show his respect.
"Haha, don't worry newbie, even if you're her boss she'll give you a hard time" you give the manager a light pat on the back before letting him disappear from your sight.
Shortly afterwards, Seola appears with your drink and sits down opposite you as if nothing had happened. 
"So what's he been saying since yesterday?" you ask her in a low voice.
"People seem worried, the fact that it happened right outside the bar doesn't help, especially with the media attention of the scandal", she replies, matching the volume of your voice.
"It's not good at all, is it?"
"Not really, people here know she's directly connected to you, so we need to solve the problem quickly, at least internally"
"Leave it to me, sorry for the trouble"
The young woman gets up and goes back to her work, information gathering is crucial in your field and people like Seola, who are your ears within your walls, make it a lot easier. 
And just as you're enjoying your drink with a clear mind, you hear the sound of heels tapping in the distance, then the surrounding noise falls to a deadly silence, and without even looking in the right direction, you know who's just entered the room, and quickly all eyes follow the progress of the woman who appears behind you and finally sits down opposite you where Seola was just a minute ago.
Under the red and dim light of the room, a small woman with long light brown hair appears, wearing a strappy purple outfit that accentuates her huge breasts, slightly hidden by a large sparkling crystal heart necklace. Her make-up is striking, with heavy eye shadow and a bold lip, giving her a pouty look.
"Sit down Jessica" you say firmly and loudly so that the whole room can clearly hear your order, supported by your furious expression, the young woman obeys without saying a word except for a simple one:
"Oppa ... I" that comes weakly from her trembling voice.
It's a show of dominance that you are preparing to display to your audience. Jessi, the woman with such a charismatic and strong image, is crushed under your authority and you intend to make an example of her.
With a simple, dramatic wave of your hand, you ask one of the waiters to bring a glass of water to your table and, leaning back in your armchair, you light a cigarette, even though it's forbidden inside, but no one will dare reprimand you, given the way things have turned out.
The woman keeps her legs together, doesn't dare look at you, and stares at the glass of water in front of her. She's obviously waiting for you to start your scolding, as usual. But this time she's gone too far and you stare at her for several long minutes.
"Oppa, I... I didn't mean to cause so much trouble, The kid came out of nowhere and my friend just overreacted. It's not like I pushed him myself" The young woman finally breaks the silence and looks up at you for the first time.
You don't know where to start, the situation is so bad from every angle, so you just listen.
"Of course I feel sorry for the boy, but with the CCTV and now the police questioning, it's just nonsense. People really do have time on their hands".
You already knew she wasn't the most mature of the bunch, but her reasoning is completely wrong, so you take the lead.
"Is that all you've got to say to me?" Anger slowly builds inside you, from the tension and adrenaline pumping through you.
"YOUR FUCKING FRIEND HIT A CHILD, A MINOR, IN FRONT OF MY ESTABLISHMENT, FOR GOD'S SAKE!" You throw your half-empty glass down, shattering it into a million pieces as it hits the floor. You continue to make large movements towards Jessi, explaining:
"LISTEN TO ME, JESSICA, I AM TIRED OF CLEANING UP AFTER YOU. YOU PUT MY BUSINESS AND EVERYONE AROUND US AT RISK WITH YOUR BULLSHIT".
"Oppa, I'm sorry, sit down." Her voice shaking, she also stands up to try and calm you down, but to no effect.   
In your exaggerated anger, you rip off his collar, throw it on the table and grab his face, squeezing his cheeks hard.
"NOW YOU'RE GOING TO LISTEN TO ME VERY CAREFULLY, YOU'RE GOING TO SORT OUT THIS PROBLEM WITH THE POLICE AND THEN YOU'RE GOING TO LEAVE YOUR LABEL AND MAKE YOURSELF VERY SMALL BECAUSE I SWEAR TO YOU, IF I SEE YOUR UGLY FACE ON TV AGAIN, WE'RE REALLY GOING TO HAVE A PROBLEM".
The pressure and violence of your words overwhelms Jessi, who begins to cry her eyes out, her make-up suffering the effects and running down her face. From the outside, the scene seems to have shocked your audience, who are witnessing a public humiliation, but that's all it takes to show that you're still in control of the situation.
You let go of the woman's face, still in shock, and you can see in her eyes that she is terrified and didn't expect this when she arrived.
"Go and freshen up in a private room, I'll join you in 5 minutes, we haven't finished our discussion yet," you order her, snapping your fingers, and the young woman complies before disappearing from the main room,
You turn to your staff to apologise for the mess and you do the same to everyone in the room, the audience seems to have been captivated by the scene, leaving a feeling of respect but also fear. Finally, you make your way to the corridor where the private rooms are located.
Access to the corridor is controlled by scanning a membership card to open a sliding-door that blends seamlessly into the wall. Although entry to your establishments is already by selection, those who wish can pay to gain access to these private rooms.
Once the door is open, you enter a corridor about twenty metres long, with several doors on either side. Each of these rooms is numbered and equipped for total privacy. As you walk along with your hands in your pockets, one of the doors on your left unlocks and you see one of your clients and former idol, Ms Seolhyun, step out:
"Good evening, Madame. I hope you're having a lovely evening? Everything going well inside?" you say with a warm smile as you stop in front of door N°4, greeting her with a simple nod.
“Good evening, Sir! Everything's going great... I..I just need to go to the toilet, thank you so much for your concern!”, replies the young woman as she leans over to greet you, her large breasts on full display.
You notice the delightful sweat on her face and her gorgeous, slightly flushed complexion. You even take the time to pull up the strap of her dress that has slipped off her shoulder, being careful not to drop the access card that is stuck between her two magnificent boobs. Then you move aside to let her pass.
You discreetly peek inside and see one of your old friends, Mr Hang, sitting on the sofa at the back of the room, enjoying the mouth of a short-haired woman while playing with the breasts of another.
You shut the door yourself with your foot until you hear the click of the latch, sealing the privacy of your clients once again, and make your way back to the room next door, wearing No. 6, you take your hands out of your pockets and pull the belt out of your trousers before wrapping it around your hand. Gently, you scan your card again on the badger by the door and enter the room.
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You move slowly into the room, your footsteps echoing lightly on the tiles, each inch adding gravity to the moment, and stop before a kneeling Jessi, her eyes fixed on the floor.
Without a word, you drop your belt at her feet, immediately attracting the young woman's attention, her gaze rising towards you with the anxiety she is trying to hide.
You walk past her, staring at her coldly, and sit down on the beige leather bench just behind Jessi, who is still kneeling. She now has her back to you, emphasising the vulnerability of her posture in the face of your lack of response.
And for the first time since you entered, you start talking to her : 
“Come here, darling” you say in a soft, affectionate voice and you see her obey without hesitation. She leans towards the belt on the floor, clutching it between her teeth with total obedience, in a show of deliberate submission. As she moves towards you on all fours, her eyes lowered, she seems to be aware of your penetrating gaze, which follows her without distraction, detailing her every move with silent satisfaction.
Finally, she reaches the seat and gently lifts her head to offer you your belt, her eyes tentatively searching your gaze for reassurance. In that suspended moment, you reach for your belt, then gently loop the strap around her neck, adjusting the buckle with cold precision. The belt tightens just enough to remind her of her existence without compromising her breathing. You take care to use the notch, deliberately drilled a little lower, adapted for this precise use.
“There you go” you murmur in a low, confident voice, Jessi's eyes rise slowly towards you, filled with unreserved submission, but also with a deep and palpable desire, the young woman is waiting for you to set your devotion on her.
“I'm sorry, my darling, for what I did before in front of everyone”, you gently reach out your hand to her, letting your fingers caress her still red cheek with tenderness, your thumb caressing it in a slow gesture, as if you wanted to erase your mistake, the young woman in her vulnerability closes her eyes and slowly lets her head rest on your thigh.
“But... you've been very naughty today and daddy needs to give you a little punishment, do me a favour and take off my trousers” and without further do the young woman complies and starts unbuttoning your trousers and then pulling off your underpants to free your semi-hard cock.
Jessi wraps her fingers around your shaft, gently stroking it to the head in a few thrusts. Then she extends her tongue and slides it along the underside of your cock, from the base to the tip. You let out a soft moan, your head falling back. "Go on girl, just like that..."
She swirls her tongue around your bulbous head, licking the beads of pre-cum dripping from the tip. Then she wraps her lips around it and sucks hard, lowering her head until the glans touches the back of her throat.
"Mmmmh! Now I recognise my little Jessica..." You gasp slightly as Jessi begins to rock her head back and forth, sucking on you with deep desire. One hand cupping and stroking your swollen balls as she works your shaft with her lips and tongue.
In no time at all, your cock is soaked in saliva and throbbing against the roof of her mouth. Jessi gives your swollen head a few more licks before pulling out. "Mmm do you like it when I do this daddy? Let me take care of your big cock a little longer.
She stays on her knees and slowly slides the straps of her tight dress to the side, exposing her huge tits as they bounce under the effect of gravity. You look at her lustfully and your cock continues to harden as they begin to push against each other.
She takes your thick shaft and presses it between her soft mounds, wrapping it in warm, soft flesh, squeezing her breasts around it and sliding it up and down. You just watch blissfully as your cock disappears between the flesh of her breasts, again and again.
Jessi continues to fuck you slowly and sensually, occasionally moving to suck the head of your cock before pushing it back into her cleavage. Her heavy breasts engulf it completely, your thick shaft disappearing each time before reappearing glistening with sweat. The wet, obscene sounds of her movements fill the room.
"What a needy little slut", you growl in approval as she gags and drools on your cock "You like choking on my big cock, don't you?" She hums in response, the vibrations making you roll your eyes.
Saliva drips down her chin as she works you, and you can't resist tangling your fingers in her soft hair, gripping it tightly as you begin to thrust into her mouth. "That's it, take it all in like a good girl", you command.
Jessi relaxes her throat, letting you push your cock deeper until you feel her nose pressing against your pubic bone. You hold her down, your heavy balls resting on her chin before you pull out. She gasps, tears stinging the corners of her eyes, only to see you thrust back in.
You use her mouth like a fleshlight, thrusting into her head and grunting with pleasure. Drool drips down her chin as she gags and chokes on your thick meat. But she was a fighter, she took everything you gave her.
Pulling back abruptly, you slap her face with your saliva-soaked cock, leaving traces of her own saliva on her cheeks. "Open up you little slut," you say, lifting her chin with the tip. "Ah!" Jessi screams as you thrust your cock back into her open mouth. As you start to thrust, you pull on the belt around her neck, tightening it just enough to make her dizzy. Her eyes roll back and she moans like a whore.
Holding her neck tightly, you finally let go of her hair and start slapping her fake tits hard, the impact of your thrusts leaving red marks on her body and you really let go, brutally fucking her face. Her throat swells obscenely with each deep thrust.
"Take it, you cock hungry bitch!" you growl, punctuating your words with particularly vicious thrusts. "Choke on my cock!"
Tears stream down her face as she chokes and spits, her throat convulsing around you, you can feel her dizziness from the lack of air and the rough treatment. But you don't care. All you care about is using your property for your pleasure.
Just before you spit your load, you pull out and point your cock at her face. Jessi manages to get her hands up just in time to grab your thick, heavy balls and stroke your cock as I come. Shot after shot of hot, sticky cum splashes into her face, coating her cheeks, nose and open mouth. She swallows as much as she can but it drips down her chin and onto her breasts.
"Tsk tsk, you're a mess", you say, chuckling darkly as you pull yourself in "Get up and take your dress off, we're going to have a chat while I claim your little pussy again".
Jessi stands up on shaky legs, her tiny body glistening with sweat and cum. Her once innocent face is now covered in your thick, sticky cum. Tears stream down her cheeks as the reality of what has just happened begins to sink in. She looks up at you with pleading eyes, silently begging you to comfort and reassure her.
You pull her towards you, hold her trembling body in your arms and let her rest on your shoulder. "Shhh, it's all right, my little girl", you coo softly, running your fingers through her tangled hair "I'm sorry, Daddy, I was naughty, I didn't mean any harm".
You slowly let her sit on you, her little body spreading out as you stroked her back. Her breasts, now covered with your fingerprints, rise with each shuddering breath. You lean down and take a stiff nipple between your lips, sucking and swirling your tongue around the sensitive bud. A soft moan escapes her as you lavish your attention on her abused breasts.
You align your still rock hard cock with her fully soaked pussy. With a slow, deep thrust, you bury yourself inside her, moaning as you feel her silky walls tighten around you. She lets out a cry, a mixture of pleasure and pain, as you thrust your thick cock into her cunt.
You begin to move, establishing a steady rhythm that makes her pussy throb around your throbbing cock. Her hands come to grip your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as you fuck her. Leaning down, you capture her lips in a passionate kiss, your tongue thrusting into her mouth to claim every inch of her.
Pulling away, you plant hot, mouth open kisses along her neck before latching onto her pulse point and sucking hard to leave your mark. She arched her back against you, her hips undulating in response to your deep, powerful thrusts. The wet sound of skin against skin echoes around the room, mingling with her moans of need.
"Sounds like someone needed that", you growl into her ear. "Your pussy is really tight, is it my big cock you miss so much?" Grabbing her hips hard enough to leave bruises, you thrust into her, the force of your thrusts bouncing her off your thighs.
Reaching between her spread thighs, you find her sensitive clit and begin to rub tight circles over the swollen bud. She lets out a high-pitched squeal, her head bobbing from side to side as you pull her closer to the edge. Her pussy begins to ripple and quiver around your cock, signalling her impending orgasm.
"That's it baby, let yourself go" you instruct as you pinch her clit between your fingers. "Play on my big cock like a good little slut". Her body tensed, her back on the table as her orgasm overwhelmed her. She begins to convulse, clear fluid gushing from her pussy, covering your cock and balls.
As you feel her tight pussy milking your cock, you let out a bestial grunt. Pulling out, you flip her stomach onto the table, grab your belt again, throw her head back and force your way into her still throbbing hole, giving her no time to come down from her euphoria.
You thrust into her with brutal, punishing strokes, the wet sounds of your cock sinking into her cum-soaked pussy obscenely loud. She moans and sobs, her battered body no match for your relentless assaults. The force of your thrusts shakes her entire body, her crushed tits swaying beneath her with each stroke of your hips.
Leaning over her, you bite her shoulder, growling and moaning like a wild beast as you thrust into her. Your balls slap against her clit with each thrust, bringing her to the brink of another earth-shattering orgasm.
"I'm going to cum, hold your pussy tight", you moan, your thrusts becoming erratic and you tug on your belt as your orgasm approaches. "I'm going to stuff my cum into this fertile pussy." You pound into her a few more times before thrusting deep and crashing against her womb. With a loud groan you explode, painting her insides with thick streams of hot cum.
You continue to rock inside her, driving your sperm into her quivering hole. She moans and gasps as your cock twitches inside her, each spurt sending sparks of pleasure and pain through her body.
Finally, exhausted, you collapse onto your back and pull her onto you. She lies limp, still impaled on your softening shaft, her mixed fluids flowing around your cock. You wrap your arms around her and hold her close as she kisses you lovingly, her small body shaking from the force of her orgasm.
"Shhh, it's all right now", you soothe her, covering her face and neck with soft kisses " I've missed your body, feeling your pussy milking me like that reminded me of all the times I got you pregnant, but we need to talk about what's next, darling". You whisper compliments in her ear until her breathing slowly calms down.
While you're still slumped on the bench, with Jessi resting on top of you, your phone buzzes with an incoming text message. Pulling it out of your pocket, you see that it's from your friend Mr Hang.
When you open the message, you are immediately greeted by an extremely obscene photo. In the shot, three young women - Seolhyun, Choa and Jimin are kneeling in front of the camera, their faces completely covered in huge ropes of thick, creamy cum. Each of their mouths is stretched around Mr Hang's huge semi-erect cock, obviously fresh from an aggressive blow job on its thick shaft. The bulging cockhead, coated in their saliva, glistens obscenely as it emerges between their lips. You can even see trickles of cum dripping from her chin and splashing onto her swollen breasts.
The sheer depravity of the photo makes your cock throb in Jessi's pussy. She moans and clenches around you in response to your arousal. A diabolical thought crosses your mind as to how to respond to Mr Hang's message.
Gently, you encourage Jessi to lift herself off your rigid pole. Cum immediately pours from her gaping hole, her stomach and thighs already soaked in the creamy cum you've pumped into her. It's at this moment that you realise just how much of your cum you've filled Jessica with - it's impossible not to get pregnant with such a load.
Moving surprisingly quickly for having just ejaculated inside her, Jessi collapses onto her back on the table and spreads her legs. Streams of pearly cum continue to ooze from her pussy, running down her slit and spreading over her tanned skin.
You reach out to steady Jessi's right ankle, lift her leg and use your other hand to tilt your phone for the shot. Through the lens you frame the perfect shot - Jessi's cum-filled pussy opening invitingly on the messy table, her swollen pussy lips smooth and glistening with your cum. Swirling ribbons of cum paint the insides of her thighs and the surface of the table a pure white.
You snap a few photos to immortalise the debauchery that followed your crude coupling, the obscene evidence of her well-trained hole. Pressing the screen, you send the most incriminating picture to Mr Hang in response to his obscene message, knowing that he will appreciate it.
As she rests her leg, she looks up at you coquettishly, her face flushed and her eyes heavy with desire. Your palm lands on her ass check with a resounding slap as you rub the pink imprint of your hand across her tanned skin.
"That's how I love you Jessica" you growl, your voice rough with lust. "And I'm far from finished with your wicked cunt, unless I change and hammer your arse".
Jessi moans in need and arching her back, presents her dripping cunt to you like a bitch in heat. You slap her arse again, leaving another red mark on her creamy cheeks. The way she moans and wiggles her hips fuels the fires of your excitement.
You push into Jessi's dripping pussy again as she lies on her stomach and spreads herself for you. "Remember that first night?" You ask, grunting as you sink deeper into her tight warmth. “When my little Jessica spread her legs for her daddy" She lifts her head and gives you a shy smile. "Oh yeah? You really remember our first time together ? When I signed that first contract?"
You grin, remembering clearly. "How could I forget? Eighteen years ago, you were this cheeky 17-year-old young rapper trying to make a name for yourself. So fucking eager and innocent, not realising what you were really getting into with me".
Jessi lets out a small laugh. "Innocent? Please, I knew exactly what I was getting into when I agreed to be your artist and personal fucktoy. I just had no idea how long you'd keep me around once you'd had your fun". Jessi moans, her back arching as she takes you completely inside her "Mmm yes, I'll never forget that Daddy", she moans. "You were so gentle... the first man to claim me completely".
You grip her hips tighter, your fingers digging into her soft flesh as you slap her roughly from behind. "And look at you now", you growl in approval. "My perfect little breeding slut. So eager for my cum."
"Always, my body and my womb belong to you," she says, thrusting herself back against you. "You're the only one who's ever satisfied me... who's ever filled me so well"
"Well, yes... that too. But also that you were the one. The girl I wanted to make mine forever," you slow your thrusts, savouring the feeling of her wet heat clutching you. "And I did. I've kept this tight pussy all to myself for eighteen years now."
"Mmm yeah, and what a crazy ride it's been..." Jessi muses, clutching my cock. "Like when I got knocked up, huh?"
You nod, remembering the panic and subsequent solution. "The first couple of times you told me you were pregnant, I nearly had a heart attack. I couldn't risk you carrying my child yet."
"Yep. Abortions and the morning-after pill have become my best friends'". She jokes dryly. "Although I suppose I should be grateful that you always went out of your way to help and support me afterwards".
You nod. "Yes, it's true. I could never get rid of that gorgeous bum, and I haven't even mentioned your tits" You punctuate the sentence with a hard slap on her hip.
Jessi yelps, then moans as she pushes herself back against me "Ffffuck, keep it up. I'll cum again if you do".
You smile and obey, picking up a relentless pace, watching her ass jiggle with each slam of your hips against hers. You slid one hand down her body to squeeze her tits as you fucked her mercilessly. "That's it, come for me Jessica. Squeeze my cock like the perfect little cock muff you are".
"Ungh, so close!" She gasps, the walls around you begin to throb, signalling her impending orgasm "Fuck, I'm coming again... I'm coming!"
Jessi's pussy tightened and she came with a loud moan, her whole body shaking with the force of her orgasm. The grip on her pussy was too strong and with a moan you buried yourself deep and came violently, shooting thick ropes of cum straight into her quivering pussy, still full from your previous load.
You collapsed together on the table, gasping for breath as the aftershocks rippled through us. After a moment you withdrew carefully, watching with satisfaction as your cum dripped out of her wet, saturated hole.
Jessi lay on her back and look at you with a lazy, satiated expression "Fuck, you really let it all out deep inside me, I'm not going to be able to get any more, look how my pussy is overflowing".
You giggle and take her in your arms. "Yes? Well, get used to it again. Because this body is still mine, as it has been for the last eighteen years. And I still have a long way to go before I'm done with it".
She smiled mischievously at you "Mmm, I love it when you get all dominant and take charge. I suppose this is the part where you stuff my pussy every day with your seed?"
You smile back and kiss her deeply, knowing she was right. "And I intend to keep this pussy mine for at least another eighteen years. At least. So get ready because the rules have changed, no more contraception or abortion, it's your turn to make me drink your milk, Mummy"
.
.
Your bedroom is softly illuminated by the glow of the bedside lamps. The air is thick with the musky scent of sex and sweat. Jessi lay on the king-size bed, her hair fanning out against the silk pillowcase. Her voluptuous body drenched in sweat, the marks of your passionate lovemaking visible on her ivory skin in the form of red scratches and love bites.
You stand over her, your handsome cock still semi-erect, glistening with a mixture of your combined juices. Her freshly crumpled contract, stained with traces of your thick, potent cum, lay forgotten at the foot of the bed, a testament to the depraved acts you'd just indulged in together.
"Please", Jessi moans, looking up at you with desperate, lustful eyes. "Come empty yourself inside me. I need to feel you come inside me again and again until my womb is filled with your seed."
She spreads her thighs in invitation, exposing her dripping, well-fucked pussy to your delight. "Make me pregnant, Daddyy. Now that my career is over, come and start my life as a mother. Please ravage me again!"
You tower over her, a predatory gleam in your eye as you watch the spectacle of debauchery before you. Your aching cock contracts and hardens at her shameless pleas, ready to deliver another massive load deep into her fertile young womb.
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monster-fluffery · 2 months ago
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Harpies as Romantic Partners(SFW)
I absolutely love harpies and they’re probably my second favorite monster out there..
So enjoy my thoughts! I apologize that it’s short!
GN! Harpy x GN! Reader
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First of all, Harpies have some of the strongest instincts out there among monsters. This could mean a myriad of things. Let’s start with something simple. Harpies mate for life, choosing one person to love for the rest of their lives. They’re dedicated lovers and mates; who would do anything in the name of their beloved. They’ll show off and show you just how fast they can fly, how long their wings are, how good they are at hunting and bringing you food… whether you think it’s a little gross or not, it’s a cute gesture. They have nesting instincts, building you a home and bringing you little gifts to win your affection.
Your harpy partner’s love language has to be gift giving and acts of service. This is all part of the harpy mating ritual. To be more specific about gifts, anything shiny catches their eye. They’ll bring you all sorts of shiny rocks and lost jewelry for you to wear. Their neck feathers will puff up in pride when they see you enjoying the gift, fueling their pride. Making you happy is their top priority.
You’ll never go cold with a harpy around, because they’re insane cuddle bugs. During the nesting period, your partner will be sure your ‘nest’ is stocked up with warm blankets and pillows per your request. On top of that, they want nothing more than to be your harpy heater. Harpies are cuddle bugs, typically out of instinct. They’ll use their own bodies to be a shield for you as you sleep, in your most vulnerable moments. However, when your partner learned about how humans cuddled.. they fell in love with the concept. You’ll often find the, snuggling their beak against your hair or neck. Their arms will wrap around you as you both become a messy tangle of limbs.
Circling back to acts of service… grooming/upkeep is very important for your partner. Many times, they’ve took a hold of your hips and dragged you into their lap. Your back is against their chest and their arms encircle your waist, trailing their claws up and down in a gentle repetition. Then, they leaned their head down and begin to ‘preen’ your hair. Their beak will pick out any knots or tangles, any loose leaves or dirt. Even afterwards, they’ll release your waist to comb your hair with their talons. It’s very soothing, like a scalp massage. You surely won’t complain about your beloved wanting to pamper you, right?
If you’re not afraid of heights, your partner will have no problem taking you for a trip in the sky. They’ll scoop you up bridal style and take off into the endless sky, day or night. You’ll tuck your head into their neck, clinging to their feathers to make sure you won’t fall.. though it’s only for your peace of mind. Your partner would never drop you; they’re much more focused on the fact they’re holding you in your arms than the fact that you’re in the sky. You’ll zip through clouds or get full uninterrupted views of the starry night sky.. and it’ll be one of the most majestic sights you could ever fathom.
Harpies don’t have too much knowledge on how humans show affection. So, you will have to teach them a lot of the basic types of displays. When you taught them about kisses, you swore you saw their light up with amazement. They were fascinated by the idea of kissing and they’ll take every opportunity they can to absolutely cover every inch of your face with quick paced kisses. They never fail to make you topple over in a fit of laughter at their displays.
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wardenparker · 3 months ago
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The Stars Re-Align, part 1
Frankie Morales x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst
Rating: M for Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.1k Warnings: Reader is given an age and a grown daughter. Starts out as Santiago x reader. Cursing, food/alcohol, meddlesome friends, mentions of military service (obviously), glancing mention of Tom's death, past drug use, off-page abusive relationship, panic attacks, complicated relationships, family drama. Summary: When your daughter and your boyfriend talk you into having a birthday party, you are not prepared for all of the surprises that come your way. Notes: A little love triangle and 'one that got away' vibe for your Feral Frankie Friday!
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“Rachel!” Calling from the kitchen is an old, unbreakable habit by now, but dinner is almost ready and you know your daughter is in the living room studying. She has plans with her boyfriend tonight which means she’s getting her reading out of the way, and you’re proud of her for having such good habits and steady resolve. It’s not at all what you were like at her age, and you’ve worked hard to make sure that she has opportunities that you never could have. Being a young single mom was rough, but every second you have with your little-girl-turned-young-woman is worth it. “Supper’s ready, honey. Find your bookmark!”
“Sure thing!” There’s no point in reminding you that her book is a digital copy, no bookmark needed, but she dutifully saves the spot and closes her laptop. “It smells good.” She compliments, walking into the kitchen and over to the fridge to bust out the bottle of wine that had become a habit with dinner since high school. Nothing fancy, just a cheap sangria, but it was a ritual that both mom and daughter enjoyed. “Are you going out with Santiago tonight?” She asks as she gets down the glasses to pour.
“He might come over to watch a movie since you’re going out.” Your two-month-old relationship isn’t deeply committed or deeply anything yet, really, but you like him. He’s attentive, handsome, and funny, and deeply — okay there’s one deeply — good in bed. “Do you want the good parmesan, or the shaker can? We have both.” Spaghetti with onions, peppers, and sausage isn’t necessarily gourmet, but it’s a family staple. Something your dad used to make you when you were growing up in New York City and you have made for your daughter her whole life afterwards.
“Good parmesan.” She hums. “Let’s be fancy tonight.” Bringing the glasses over to the small kitchen table, she moves on to set out the silverware. A chore when she was younger, it’s now just become habit when you eat together. ‘Working together as a team’ is how you always phrased it and it’s something she loves about her relationship with you now. You’re a team. “I’m going to stay at Ben’s tonight, so you and Santiago can have wild sex.”
“Be safe.” She’s twenty-four, so you’re not going to quibble about her sleeping over with her boyfriend, but you do give her a meaningful look when you set down the plates on the table. “Don’t make me a grandmother and I won’t make you a sister.”
Rachel laughs, it’s the same statement you have been using since she was first dating boys after puberty. “But Mom!” She pouts playfully. “I really want a baby sister!”
“Think I’m getting a little too old for that option, honey,” you huff, but laugh anyway. “Ask Santa for one at Christmas.”
She grins at you, bringing over the basket of breadsticks that are an Olive Garden copycat. Plain frozen ones that you brush with butter and garlic salt. So many of the meals you have together are mocks of the restaurant meals she had wanted when she was younger and you couldn’t afford. As an adult, it’s humbling to see the lengths you went to in order to make her happy.
“You’re coming back tomorrow, though, right?” Though you typically aren’t one to make a big deal out of such things, Santiago had offhandedly mentioned to your daughter a few weeks ago that it was a shame you weren’t doing anything for your birthday and Rachel had jumped on board with talking you into a party. The backyard barbecue will be small, but a chance to meet your boyfriend’s friends and have a few of your own friends from work come over. “It was half your idea, after all.”
“Yeah, I’m going to be there.” She promises. “Oh, is it okay if I bring Ben?” She asks. “He’s got another party to go to if not, but he said he would rather spend time with me.”
“Yes, you can bring Ben.” He’s a few years older than Rachel and has had a very different life experience, but you like Ben Miller. He’s doing his best to make an honest way in the world and he treats Rachel with love and respect. And probably in ways that you want to know absolutely nothing about. “There’s going to be plenty of food. Santiago and I are managing that end.”
She snorts and shakes her head. “Of course you are cooking for your own party.” She huffs.
“Get sassy with me and I’ll send every stitch of leftovers home with other people,” you threaten, though it’s hollow and comes with laughter.
“Not like you won’t make enough to still bring home food.” She shoots back with a grin. If there was ever a party, you always made too much food. It might be pasta salad, but you and she would be eating it for a solid week after everyone had gone home.
“Nothing fancy,” you assure her even though you know she’s right. “Burgers and dogs. And veggie burgers for the few people that skip red meat. All the accoutrements. Santiago is in charge of the grill, which he’s very happy about. And I’m making that cheese dip you like along with my guac. Salsa is coming out of a jar despite protests.”
“Let Ben bring the salsa.” She volunteers immediately with a grin. “He’s got some recipe he got from friends he used to serve with.” She explains. “He was going to make it for their party but we can hijack it and bring it to yours.”
“Deal.” That’s one more thing off your checklist and you’re fine with that. “And the cake is coming from an actual bakery, not a supermarket. I do listen to your protests most of the time.”
“The buttercream is far superior.” She huffs happily and lifts her glass when you are both sitting down at the table. “To a wonderful birthday weekend.” She offers. “One you never forget.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” You tap your glass against hers and smile. “Forty-two feels like it will be a good one.”
******
“We have the cake, the burgers are all ready to throw on the grill. Fish is bringing the baked beans, Ironhead is bringing the potato salad and you said Rach’s boyfriend is going to bring the salsa?” He arches a brow in concern. “What do you know about this guy? Is it good salsa? Because I’m going to be offended if it’s Pace.”
“I was told he has a recipe from somebody he served with.” The Pace is in its jars in the cupboard where Santiago can’t be offended by it, and you slip past him to look at your checklist taped to the cupboards one more time. “Coleslaw is made, cheese dip is made, and you filled up the outside fridge last night so that’s all set. I think we’re okay. The last thing is the guac and that only makes a few minutes.”
Santiago slides behind you and wraps his arms around your stomach and hums. “So we have time to go back to the bedroom?” He asks playfully, even if he would haul you back there if you said yes.
“Only if you’re planning on disappointing me,” you tease, knowing he never has and never would. Not on purpose. Still, you twist to kiss away the pout that has certainly formed there. “People are going to be here any minute.”
“We could always tell them to go the fuck away.” He laughs as he suggests it and then the doorbell peels out right afterwards. “That’ll be Ironhead.” He predicts. “Will’s always early.”
“Is that his real name? Will?” You call back when Santiago goes to open the door. You can make guacamole with your eyes closed due to the fact that you’ve had this recipe longer than your daughter has been alive, and you go to the fridge to get the ingredients.
“Yeah!” He calls back over his shoulder before he opens the door to find his friend on the doorstep. The smiles are genuine, almost guilty considering the shit they’ve gone through for the past five months since South America. Grief and sorrow have pulled at them, but it also has finally started to let them live again. “You made it!”
“Of course I did. You didn’t think I’d miss out on seeing your ass do something domestic, did you?” Will ‘Ironhead’ Miller slaps Pope’s shoulder. “Nice place she’s got. You tried to move in yet?”
Pope chuckles quietly and shrugs. “Maybe in another month.” He jokes. “Gotta get in good with the kid first.”
“Right, the kid.” With another friendly slap, Will Miller steps inside the house. It’s well-appointed, clean, and obviously loved. “She coming today?” He thinks so, but he can’t remember. Although a barbecue and pool party seems like a kid thing. But somehow Will remembers the kid not being kid. Teenager? He can’t remember now.
“She spent the night with her boyfriend, but she’ll be here.” Pope nods. “Although she’s already said she won’t call me daddy but I can take her for ice cream.”
“Nobody ought to be calling you ‘Daddy’,” Ironhead huffs.
Santiago laughs and shrugs. “You’re right.” He admits, knowing that he’s not father material. One of the reasons you were an attractive option was that your kid was grown. He didn’t have to play daddy, although from what he’s understood, the dad was your first love and was too immature to stick around. “Benny didn’t ride with you?”
“His girlfriend’s got a family thing today.” Will shrugs slightly, but honestly he’s impressed. His kid brother is crazy about this girl. It’s six months in and he’s starting to use some very committed language — which is fucking thrilling to Will as it signals Benny finally starting to grow up where sex and relationships are concerned. “He’s gonna come by later.”
“That’s good. I want him to come and have a few beers. Fish should be here shortly.” Pope will be happy to see everyone, it’s better than just checking in and having a beer. This will be a good time to really catch up. “How’s things with Marie?” He asks Will softly, knowing that Frank has been a little closed mouth about things between him and his lady. South America hadn’t been great for their relationship, although no one really likes her, she’s the one who was dabbling in drugs and got Fish hooked on coke.
“She was throwing some fit last night about Fish being out with another woman.” Which is obviously bullshit. Frankie would never step out on the mother of his child. But living in the apartment next to Frankie and Marie means he overhears plenty of bullshit. “All he was doing was asking if she wanted to come today. So who knows what kind of mood he’ll show up in.”
“Shit.” Pope sighs and shakes his head as he escorts Will though the living room and towards the kitchen where you are. “He needs to just bite the bullet and leave her.”
“We all know that. But it’s Fish. Too loyal for his own fucking good.” Will hadn’t been expecting to see anyone standing in the kitchen, let alone you, and he clears his throat. “Um—sorry, ma’am. Soldier’s habit,” he apologizes.
“It’s fine,” you promise him, actually laughing at the sheer display of manners. “I survived my daughter’s teenage years. You want to know who swears more than soldiers? Teenage girls.”
It’s been a long goddamn time since Will has been around teenage girls, but he just nods politely and offers his hand. “Will Miller.” He introduces himself. “Santiago has talked you up to be some kind of Wonder Woman, and it looks like he was underestimating your worth.”
"That's very kind of you, Will." You take his hand and introduce yourself easily enough, reflecting momentarily that Santiago has pretty friends. Blonde and blue-eyed isn't your type, but good looking is good looking. "Would you mind helping us get the last few things outside? And the pool is open, I hope Santiago told everyone."
“Absolutely, ma’am.” Like any good solider, Will is going to follow orders and he immediately picks up the heavier items to carry outside. “You have a beautiful home.”
"Thank you." It's something you worked hard for, and you continue to work hard for every day. Everything in your life has been to make sure your daughter is healthy, happy, and well taken care of. It was a lucky break that you got a well-paying job in your field to boot. "And you don't have to call me ma'am. Though I appreciate the manners."
“We need to give her a nickname before Taz does.” Will snorts.
"Taz?" You haven't heard that name before, and it piques your interest as Santiago helps you set things out on the table on the deck.
Will chuckles. “Youngest in our team.” He explains. “Short for Tasmanian Devil. Brother’s like a whirlwind of stirring up shit.”
"Got it." The Army nickname thing had taken you a second to get used to, but you're on board now. It's a brotherhood thing, and you like that Santiago has such a tightknit group of friends still. It's not something you've really had much of in your life, so you're glad to see when it happens for people you care about it. "Well, I told Santiago, but whenever your friends get here just let them into the backyard. The bathroom is off the living room, but everything else worth getting at is outside."
“Yes ma’am.” He smirks slightly when he says that again before disappearing out of the sliding glass doors.
"Are all your friends polite and helpful?" You glance back at the man you've been seeing for the last few months and crack a smile. "I'm glad you invited them. It's about time we started to meet each other's friends."
“Until they are assholes.” He jokes, giving you a bittersweet smile. “We lost a friend half a year ago and it seems like we’ve had a hard time getting back in the routine. Thought this might be the little jolt we needed.”
"Then we'll make sure it's a fantastic day." He hasn't confided too much about his years in the service or about where he was before moving back to Florida a few months ago, but this is probably a large part of the reason why. Either way, you slip your arms around him for a comforting hug. It's the least you can do, when he's gone through something terrible and is willing to open about it a little.
“It’s your day.” He protests, turning and kissing your lips. “It’s supposed to be good for you, not me. We will have a few drinks, have a few laughs and then…” He waggles his brows. “Well kick everyone out and I’ll make you cum until you pass out.”
The hum that forms in the back of your throat is as pleased as it is dirty, and you kiss him once more before your doorbell rings again. "I'll get it," you nudge his nose with yours and step back, albeit reluctantly. "Go hang out with your friend."
People trickle in little by little. Friends from work, mostly, and the one mom from Rachel's school days that you stayed friends with despite Rachel and her son never actually having been friends. Eventually the text comes through from your daughter that she's a few minutes away and that makes you smile brighter than just about anything else today.
Pope pulls out his phone and texts Frankie, wondering when he’s coming – or if he’s going to come at all. He is worried about him, knowing that he’s under a lot of pressure. Marie blames him for losing his license and then going down to South America for two weeks when it was only supposed to be one. He couldn’t even tell her what happened and that was causing issues.
Had to wait for the babysitter. On my way now. Says the text that comes through a few minutes later, but there is a temporary distraction from waiting for Catfish: Rachel's car pulls up and parks outside the house, expelling both your daughter and her boyfriend onto the front lawn.
“Come on, Ben.” Rachel grabs his hand and rushes him towards the door. They are running behind because of the pre-party activities he had talked her into and while she’s not regretting that in the least, she wants to get inside and wish you happy birthday.
“Sounds like everybody’s out back, baby,” he steers her toward the fence surrounding the backyard instead of the front door, but when that brings him closer to the actual driveway of his girlfriend’s house he frowns — deeply — in confusion. He shouldn’t recognize the two vehicles sitting behind Rachel’s car and her mother’s, but there they are: Pope’s slick vintage Corvette right next to Will’s jacked up picked up truck. There’s no denying the two vehicles, he’s seen them together far too often. “The hell?” Benny breathes, but Rachel doesn’t hear him. She’s too excited to see her mom and moving them through the gate before he can hang back to do a double take at the cars.
“Mom!” Pope looks up at soon as he hears a familiar happy cry but then he’s immediately frowning. Watching as Ben Miller moves through the fence gate with Rachel. “What the fuck?”
“I told you she was bringing her boyfriend, didn’t I?” Santiago’s level of confusion is confusing in its own right, but you ignore it in favor of meeting your daughter at the edge of the porch to give her a massive hug. “Hey sweet pea!”
It helps that Benny looks just as stunned as Pope does, Will stopping short when he sees his younger brother and doesn’t hesitate to call out. “You made it!” He huffs out and shaking his head at his brother’s fickleness. “Girlfriend’s family already kick you out?”
“Nooo…” Benny blinks against the sunlight, having left his sunglasses in his truck. “You’re at the wrong party, assholes.”
The ball busting smirk immediately slides off of Will’s face, due to the knowledge that there is no way they could be at the wrong party. “Benny…” He glances at a stunned Pope and sighs heavily. “We’re at the right party.”
It only takes about a second more, but by the time Benny breathes “Ohhh shit.” He’s also cackling with laughter. “Are you telling me—” The younger Miller brother looks around and drops his voice for the sake of not embarrassing the girl he adores. “Are you telling me Pope is banging my girl’s mom?”
Will snorts and shakes his head. “Looks like.” He agrees quietly. “Hell of a birthday surprise.” He hopes that it won’t change your daughter’s mind on dating him, Rachel has been fantastic for Ben.
“Fuck….” Pope snickers quietly, shaking his head at the irony. He should probably go spell this out for you so you don’t take it the wrong way. No one knew. Even after hearing about Benny’s girlfriend for months, only Will and Fish had met her so far.
Rachel pulls back and gives you a beaming smile. “Happy Birthday Mom.” She hums, winking at you. “Santiago spend the night last night since I was with Ben?” She’s not been paying attention to the guys, too focused on you.
“We fell asleep watching our second movie.” It’s mostly true — true enough that you can play it off as innocent because you did technically nod off during the second movie — but the empty bowl of popcorn and wine glasses in the living room had waited until this morning to be cleared away once you hauled each other off to bed. “Did Ben have a fight last night or did you guys just go out?”
“No fight.” She shakes her head. “Next weekend, so we just got to go out. Although he wants to know if you would like to come to the fight.” You’ve met Benny and she thinks you like him, but she wants you to get to know him better. Which is why she had suggested they go to your party today instead of his friends’.
“If you want me to.” You don’t feel too excited to watch your daughter’s boyfriend get beat up, but you do want to get to know him better. Rach is so obviously head over heels for him.
“It’s up to you.” She smiles and looks back at Ben, curious to find Will here. “Um— what’s his brother doing here?”
“Whose brother?” Turning to follow her eyes, your head tilts slightly in interest. Santiago and Will are deep in conversation with Benny already. “That’s one of Santiago’s friends. Will.”
“Mom…” Rachel’s eyes widen slightly. “That’s Will Miller…Benny’s older brother.”
“That…” You swallow, slowly registering the situation as you watch the men interact. “That makes things interesting…” You’re dating a man who served with your daughter’s boyfriend…this is going to get complicated…
“Oh god.” Rachel bites her lip as Benny and Pope quickly break away and come over to the two of you. “So…”
“So, this is interesting.” You repeat the phrase almost disbelieving.
“Kind of a funny coincidence, huh?” Benny wraps his arms around Rachel and plants a kiss in her hair.
“I didn’t know.” Rachel promises you with a small shake of her head. “Shit, Ben. I can’t believe I didn’t know it.”
“I think I know why.” You observe, clearing your throat and accepting the comfort of Santiago’s arm around your waist as you look up (and up) at Ben. “I’m going to guess that your nickname while you were serving together was Taz?”
“Yeah.” Benny nods and looks back between all the other men. “Oh fuck, we’ve been just using our nicknames and they didn’t know.” He groans. "I'm sorry baby." He turns to Rachel with an apologetic look. "Pope was talking about his new girl and spending as much time as possible with her, so he missed the last fight you were at."
“It’s a little unconventional,” you admit, wondering what Santiago thinks of all this. “But not terrible, right?” As close in age as you and Rachel are, it wouldn’t be the first time you have had mutual friends. Just the first time you were ever dating mutual friends.
"He's a good guy." Pope assures you, like it's the first time you've met Benny. "And we can kick his ass if needed."
Benny snorts and rolls his eyes. "You wish, old man."
“Rach?” Your fingers run through her loose curls gently and you give her a questioning look. While this isn’t the day you want to have — after all, you do like Santiago — it’s ultimately up to her. Everything is and always has been in your life, and you made that decision for a reason.
"I don't think that you need to stop seeing Santiago just because he knows Ben." She rationalizes. "I think it's fine, what do you think?"
“Just as long as you’re comfortable with it.” That goes for the men involved, too. But they don’t seem to mind beyond being apologetic.
Rachel snorts and shrugs. "Just as long as they don't share sex stories." She giggles and shoots Santiago a smirk. "And we won't either."
“I was not planning on it, sweet pea.” You might be close, but that’s a step too far even for you. “Never ever.”
Agreeing completely, she walks up to Pope and gives him a hug. "So if you make my mom cry, I'll have my boyfriend beat you up." She teases.
“Got it.” She’s a grown woman, but he can’t resist the urge to mess with her thick hair, watching her face wrinkle in disapproval before she moves back to Benny, who smooths the familiar curls with care. “Now we just need Catfish to get here and we’ll have everybody.”
"I'm here!" A hand appears over the fence before he opens it, hat pulled low, and he grunts when he picks up the cooler full of ice and beer that he had stopped and picked up on the way. "Sorry I'm late."
“Fish!” Benny kisses the side of Rachel’s head before peeling off to grab the cooler from him and take it to the porch so his friend can catch his breath. He doesn’t see the tick in the tilt of your head or the way your eyes widen just a second later.
'Fish', or Francisco Morales, looks up and smirks at Benny when he grabs the cooler. Thankful, although he wouldn't make too much of a fuss about it. Getting older sucked and he's still feeling the effects of that workout he helped the other man do just two days ago when his normal sparring partner was sick. "'Bout time you made yourself useful." He huffs playfully and looking towards Pope to wave. Freezing with his arm halfway up in greeting when he sees someone that he had never expected to see before – you.
The way you shrink into yourself immediately is instinct. As much shock as anything else. But within seconds you’re stepping forward to block Rachel from view and shakily a demand an explanation. “What the shit is going on?” You hiss, though you’re not exactly sure who you’re talking to, you just don’t want to make a scene in front of your coworkers. They consider you to be such a calm, collected woman.
Frowning, Pope turns towards you, reaching out to touch your arm and stepping closer to you. "Babe— what's wrong? What are you talking about?" He follows your gaze back to Fish and he grunts in confusion. "Fish? He's another teammate. One of my best friends."
“Fuck.” Deflating on the spot, you feel like you could just collapse where you stand but that wouldn’t help the situation any. “We—we, um—know each other,” you explain quietly. “But it’s been a long time.”
Feeling like he's been kicked in the chest by one of those fucking mules, Frankie stumbles forward and murmurs your name softly. "I— what are you doing here?" He asks, frowning slightly.
“This is my house.” You wonder if Santiago even explained where he was inviting him, or if you have a nickname to their group just like they all do to each other. “I wouldn’t expect you to still remember my birthday.”
All the blood drains from his face and it falls into a wounded look. Realizing that you have to be Pope's girl. "I— remembered." He murmurs quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Seven billion people in the world. Figured someone else would have the same day too." It's almost a kick in the teeth, that comment of yours. Considering he had a fight with Marie because he had said your name this morning when he was talking to himself after waking up. You were the reason he had fought, again, with the mother of his child and she had pitched a fit and left. Making him wait on a babysitter so he could come to this party. To find out that it was for you. He's so fucking lucky that Marie isn't here. He clears his throat roughly and bites his lip. "Happy birthday, gatita." He uses the nickname from a million years ago and steps back. "I should go."
A press of overwhelming guilt and the instinct to stop him makes you reach out, grabbing his arm before you can stop yourself. “No. You shouldn’t.” You admit, even though it hurts.
"No," He shakes his head and gives you a wry smile. "I should." He sighs softly and looks over at Pope. "This is your girl, huh?" He asks, confusing the other man even more. "Keep her and take care of her." He tells him. "You'll regret it if you don't." He reaches for your hand and pries it off his arm gently, squeezing it before letting it go.
“Where’s Fish going?” Benny returns from the deck just a second too late, but just in time to watch Frankie leave again and see the bewildered looks on his friends’ faces.
"I don't fucking know." The entire day has been one big bag of surprises and Pope doesn't particularly like surprises. He turns towards you for some kind of explanation, although the nickname gatita sounds familiar, like Fish has mentioned it before. "You know Frank?"
“We grew up together.” It’s the best you can hiccup out before you take off like a shot, following Frankie through the gate. “Frankie!” He’s already down at the street, but he pauses when you call his name and it gives you time to catch up.
Waiting for you as you rush towards him, Frankie takes off his Standard Oil hat and scratches his hair. Struck by how nostalgic the moment is, waiting for you to catch up to him so many times once upon a lifetime ago. “Look, I’m sorry.” He sighs when you are closer. “I didn’t know, okay? I’m going.”
“I think you should stay.” Not as fit as you once were, you puff a little and put your arms around your waist. “We, uh—for Santiago, if nothing else. You’re his friend and I—I’m somebody you used to know.” And there is so, so much to tell him…
The idea that you might want him there makes him pause and he frowns slightly as he stares at you for a moment. “Only if you’re sure.” He still hesitates. “It’s your birthday after all.”
“It is.” And you’re not sure. You’re really not. But since he’s reappearing in your life almost twenty-five years later, the lump in your throat is winning over logic.
“Last time I saw you was on your birthday.” Frankie frowns, wondering how he could have been such a shit head back then. “Seems like the circle is complete.”
“Eighteen was a long time ago.” It was right before he left for boot camp, and you’d been pushing him to commit to you before he left. A stupid thing to do at such a young age. You know that now. But you were so stupid in love with him back then and there was so much going on.
“Yes it was.” He can admit that, biting his lip and shuffling slightly. “And I was an asshole.” He had broken his own damn heart, even if he hadn’t known it at the time.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.” Squeezing your eyes shut makes you feel like your heart is going to burst, but the universe has decided that it’s time to finally time to come clean. “I was scared. And I’m sorry.”
“I was stupid.” Frankie has so many regrets from that time of his life, just compounded over the years and he almost steps closer to you, but he doesn’t. He can’t, he doesn’t have that right anymore. “I proved you right. I didn’t come back.” The argument is still confusing in his memory, just as much as it had confused him then. You had pushed to get married before he left and he had wanted to wait. It had become a sticking point and in his stubbornness, he had broken up with you.
“You didn’t come back and you didn’t have a cell phone…and then your parents moved.” With their only child moved on, Frankie’s father had accepted a transfer upstate from the Standard Heating & Oil Co that both of your fathers worked for. “I had—I had no way to talk to you. To—to tell you—” Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, surprising you since you thought you had cried every last tear you had over Frankie Morales.
“Tell me?” Frankie frowns and he does step closer, hating to see tears in your eyes again on a birthday. Especially because they seem to be because of him again. “Tell me what, gatita?”
“Fair warning.” Wiping at the corners of your eyes, you can’t quite look him in his even when you straighten out again. “You’ll hate me. And you probably should, at this point.”
“I don’t think I could hate you.” Frankie admits quietly, unable to even imagine a world where he would.
“You might.” Wiping your hands down your face and breathing out a deep, frustrated groan, you look up again to see the eyes of the boy who was your first everything looking back at you, and you crumble. “I didn’t have any way to contact you,” you repeat again, knowing you could and should have tried harder anyway. “And I was scared of losing you because — because I was pregnant.”
The way his brows pull down is instantaneous and he immediately puts his hands on his hips and twists around as he absorbs your news. “You— you were pregnant?” He chokes out, looking back at you with a wounded expression. “I— what? No? What— pregnant?”
“That’s…that’s why I was pushing you so hard to propose.” You admit, eyes cast down at the ground.
“You didn’t say a word.” Frankie shakes his head. “Why— why didn’t you tell me? If I had known—”
“I thought if I told you that you’d only run away from me faster.” Which, at eighteen years old, had seemed like pretty sound logic to you. “By the time I was scared enough to just want you there regardless, it was too late. You were…you were gone.”
“By the time—” he shakes his head, eyes wide and he swallows harshly. “What happened? Don’t— I— what are you saying?”
"I'm saying that you have a daughter." A fact which sticks in your throat now like you had tried to swallow a pinecone. "Who is smart, and kind, and headstrong, and stubborn as hell. But she's doing so well for herself that a lot of that stubbornness just slides right by."
Frankie blanks out for a minute, staring at you before he turns away. Grappling with his emotions as he bends over and tries to take a breath, groaning slightly in disbelief. “No.” He shakes his head, turning back to you. “No! Don’t tell me that!”
"I'm sorry." It isn't worth much, as apologies go, but you kneel down beside him on the grass and wonder if he'll be mad enough to strike out if you put a hand on his back. "I really am. You should have known a long time ago."
“Twenty-four,” he chokes out. “You are telling me I have a twenty-four year old daughter?” His face screws up in the regret and tears. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking.”
"I had no way to tell you." It's a lame excuse, or at least it feels lame, and you do rest your hand on his back but it's so gentle you don't even know if he can feel it.
“Oh fuck….fuck, fuck, fuck…..” Frankie moans, closing his eyes and his fists bunch against his thighs. “I-I-I— don’t— I can’t –”
"Frankie?" His breathing sounds panicked, and you soothe one hand in circles around his back. "Breathe, okay? Just breathe. Everything's okay. She—she's grown. She's raised. No one is asking you to do anything."
“I—I missed it.” He manages. “I missed everything.” Closing his eyes as he realizes that his trajectory of his life would have been vastly different if he had known.
Oh. It's the opposite. The exact opposite. He's not panicked that you're going to expect him to stay, like you thought he was. He's upset that he missed Rachel's childhood. "There's...there's still the whole rest of her life ahead."
“I— I should have been there.” He drops his head down even more. “Fuck— you must hate me. She must hate me.”
"It's my fault you didn't know. Why would I hate you?" As much as it has ever hurt to lose him, you've never actually hated him. Just missed him. Which isn't the same although they can be confused for each other. "And Rachel— Frankie, she knows the truth. That we were young and lost touch."
“Rachel.” He shakes his head, focusing on her name and it’s so goddamn familiar. “Her name is Rachel?”
"My aunt Rachel died right before she was born," you explain, wondering if he even remembers meeting your mother's sister a million and a half times at different family functions while you were together. He was always invited for every holiday.
“God.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head, hating that he had been such a fucking idiot back then. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers.
"I am, too." More sorry than you can possibly say, but what else can you do at this point but try to move forward?
“So I managed to ruin another birthday of yours.” He pushes aside the grief and sorrow that is threatening to overwhelm him and locks it down. Compartmentalize, shutting down, it’s what he knows best. He can freak out about this later when he’s left.
"It's not ruined." It's awkward, and it's uncomfortable, and you're not really sure what to do now. But it's not ruined. "It's—it's not—I don't know what today is, but it's..." you sigh heavily and stand up again. "I don't know, Frankie. If you want to leave that's up to you. But our lives cross now, and I know...I know Rachel would want to meet you."
“Oh god. Is she— is she there? Here?” He asks, shaking his head. “Can I meet her?”
"If I wasn't going to let you meet her, I would have just kept my mouth shut about the whole thing," you needle him gently. Just wishing he could or would do as much as crack a smile. It seems desperately needed.
The huff, the quarter of a smile is almost involuntary. Almost in disbelief and he looks over at you with a heavy stare. “I want to meet her.” He tells you quietly. “If I had known, things would have been so different for us, gatita.”
"No use crying over spilled milk, I think." Twenty-four years of regret is a lot to process, but you nod in acknowledgement. Just a small motion of thanks that he is at least saying out loud what you suspected.
“Fuck.” He huffs again and uncurls his hands to wipe them on his jeans. “I’m nervous.”
"Telling you not to be seems cruel," you huff, though you're not sure what else to say. "No one planned this. No one saw this coming. It will be as much of a shock to her as it is to you. As—as it was to me to see you."
“Forty-two.” He shakes his head and looks back over at you in awe. “You don’t look a day over fucking eighteen.” It might be a small embellishment, but you look amazing and so much like the girl he has loved for so long.
"You're not so bad yourself." Santiago may be on the other side of that fence, but a part of your heart has always and will always belong to scrawny Frankie Morales from Brooklyn. Even if he isn't scrawny anymore – which is a thing you can't help but notice.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, centering himself before he nods. “We should go back.” He murmurs.
"I promise she's not scary." Although you'll understand when it is a complete shock to her. And to the others. "Just...let me tell her first? I ran after you so fast that I didn't explain to anyone else yet."
Both of you stand up and he scrubs his hands on his jeans again. “Sure, sure.” He agrees, knowing that it could be sort of a shock, even if she’s known about him her whole life.
"Remember to breathe," you advise him with a wry chuckle, even though it's good advice for you too.
“When I remember how.” Frankie snorts, slightly pacing in place as he glances towards the back yard gate.
"Come on." Nodding toward the yard, you take a step in that direction to see if it will spur him on. The urge to offer him your hand is misplaced, and you have to quell it by putting your hands in your jeans pockets. "We've kept them waiting long enough."
Frankie exhales roughly and trails along behind you, wanting you to take the lead. He has to tell you about Luna at some point, but he will do that after he meets the daughter he never knew he had.
“Sorry about that.” Once you’re on the other side of the gate again, you see Rachel standing in the midst of Santiago, Benny, and Will all looking concerned. “That was…unexpected? Shall we say?”
“Mom?” Rachel moves closer to you and frowns as her eyes slide back to where Frankie is hanging back. “Why are you upset with Fish?” She asks softly, looking back at the other three men and then back at you. “You said you knew him? When? I don’t remember you dating him.” Your dates had been few and far between, even rarer that she had met them, but she would have remembered someone called Catfish.
“I’m not upset, sweet pea. I’m just surprised.” It’s a lie, but a prudent one. You are upset, and it’s because your little slice of peace has been disturbed. But no one did that on purpose, so you’ll just have to live with it. “Why don’t we—we should talk about this inside.”
“No. Here. Now.” She has inherited her stubbornness both you and Frankie. And she’s eyeing the man she had met a few months ago and hung out with suspiciously. He looks like he’s about to be sick and she’s not above taking a baseball bat to his knees if needed, whether or not she had liked him before.
“Rach, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” you murmur, looking around the backyard. Most people are milling about and a few are in the pool, but they obviously all know something is up.
Rachel stares at you for a minute and then she shoots Frankie a glare because you look so upset before she turns around and marches towards the house.
“You guys, too,” you decide, figuring it’s probably best to get all of this over with. Santiago is dating you, Benny is dating Rachel, and Will is bound to find everything out soon enough.
There’s not a lot of hope for him with the glare shot his way, so Frankie hangs back for a moment. Reconciling the fact that Rachel is the girl that Benny has been dating. His daughter is dating his friend. His friend who has been bragging about his girl to him. And their sex life. He’s going to throw up or punch Ben in the mouth.
Once everyone is inside, you check to make sure the bathroom is empty and close the sliding doors tightly. Everyone outside can wait. This is far more important. “Everything is okay,” you start, making sure that right off the bat Rachel knows you aren’t mad and Santiago understands you don’t hate his best friend. His best friend. Fuck. “It was just—as surprising as it was to find out Santiago and Ben are friends…this is an even bigger surprise.”
Frankie leans on the side of the wall, staring at the tip of his boot as he tries to wait for you to tell Rachel. He can’t blurt it out, she’s your kid. Not his— not really. He hasn’t done a goddamn thing to help raise her, but he has to admire the job you’ve done.
"The thing is, Rach." Blowing out a breath, you reach out for your daughter's hand and just pray she won't hate you. "You wouldn't remember when I dated Frankie. Because it was before you were born."
“Hermano.” Pope’s eyes widen and the nickname clicks. He knew he had heard it before. “Gatita? This is—” he whistles quietly. “Mierda.”
When Rachel still looks confused, you breathe deeply and try your best not to shake. Or to chicken out. "There are a lot of blanks to fill in along the way, but...sweet pea...Frankie is—" Oh god, you're going to throw up. You're absolutely going to throw up. "He's your father."
You could hear a pin drop, or a mouse fart, the room is so quiet. Every head snapping towards Frankie in judgement and he doesn’t pay them any attention, focusing on the one person right now that matters. His daughter.
"I don't understand." Rachel stands bog still, clutching your hand with eyes as wide as saucers as she looks frantically between you and Frankie. She had liked this man. He is a good friend to Ben. But now she doesn't know what to think.
“Your mom and I were high school sweethearts.” Frankie isn’t sure what you might have told her, but he’s going to tell her what he knows to be true. “More like middle school, but you know?” He shrugs. “I didn’t know she was pregnant.” He promises. “I swear I didn’t know.”
Will sighs from the other side of the room. “Oh shit.”
"Everything I ever told you about him was the truth." You had worked hard to always be fair to Frankie when you were raising Rachel, even if it led to never telling her very much about him unless she asked. "He didn't know, and I had no way of telling him. It's been...it's been twenty-five years since we even spoke to each other. So you can understand why I was surprised to see him walk in today."
“And he’s friends with your boyfriend and mine.” There’s a note of disbelief in her voice that Frankie doesn’t blame her for.
“We were on the same team for years.” Frankie explains. “I was their pilot.”
“That’s why we lost touch,” you remind your daughter gently. “He left for boot camp.” Considering Ben isn’t the first Army boy that Rachel has dated, you have always sort of had a suspicion that she was subconsciously searching for her dad in these men. It just never occurred to you that it would actually work.
She looks at him, almost accusatory in her gaze. “Why did you never come back?” She demands. “If you loved her, why did you just walk away?”
That makes Frankie wince, and he shoves his hands in his pockets again. “Have you ever done something dumb and been too goddamn proud to admit you were wrong?” He asks quietly, and Pope, despite his own feelings about the entire situation, won’t let Frankie’s daughter twist in the wind.
“He used to talk about his gatita.” He interjects. “Regretting not making up with her and wishing he could get in contact with her.”
“It was harder back then, honey.” The gentle reminder is important, because Rachel might not have grown up in a world of luxury but she’s definitely never known a world without cell phones or social media. “When I told your grandparents that you were coming, we moved. It was just a little further outside the city, but the place was bigger and the neighborhood was safer. Your grandma found a better job and— and with neither of our families still in Brooklyn, we couldn’t have found each other. Even if your dad had come back looking for me, or tried to call our old apartment? We wouldn’t have been there.” At least she hasn’t ripped her hand out of yours yet. You’re considering that a good thing “We were kids, and we made mistakes. Very big ones. But you know he didn’t leave because he didn’t love you.”
“I would have never.” He promises, his voice thick with emotions. He shakes his head and frowns slightly. He doesn’t know why he didn’t realize who she was to him now that he knows. She looks just like a perfect combination of you and him, with your nose, thank God. But her ears curl just like his.
“Oh god…” In trying to process everything, Rachel glances up and looks at Frankie’s hat again, groaning to herself and wiping one hand at the bottom of her neck just like he does — but neither of them ever noticed the simile gesture. “I always just thought the hat was a funny coincidence,” she admits with a huff.
“My hat?” He takes it off and scrubs his hair quickly before putting it back on his head. “Had it since I was a kid.”
The Miller brothers look confused, and you offer them a wilted smile with your explanation. "Both of our fathers, Rach's grandfathers...they both worked for Standard for forever. That's how Frankie and I met."
“Oh shit.” Benny frowns slightly and moves over to Rachel’s side, squeezing her hip supportively.
"I know this is a lot." It's a lot for everyone, but you're mostly just talking to Rachel. Your whole adult life has been lived for your baby girl and now emotions are unraveling at light speed. "But nothing has to change. You're a grown woman, sweet pea. And whatever relationship you want with your Dad is up to you."
“I’ve spent time with him.” She admits quietly. “After a fight of Benny’s.” She looks back at Frankie and bites her lip. “But I’d like to get to know him as my dad.”
"I know this just got sprung on everybody," you murmur again. The fact is that right now you have a yard full of people and all you want to do is disappear under your comforter and pretend it isn't happening. "But...life throws you curveballs, right?"
“Yeah.” Frankie huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling like his entire world has turned on its head. Wishing like hell he could snort a line but he promised himself he wouldn’t touch that shit again.
"We should give you guys some privacy." When Will finally speaks up, it's to motion to his brother and to Pope that maybe they should step outside. There are a lot of emotions creating tension in this room and they're not going to be made easier by having an audience.
Pope shuffles slightly, wanting to stay, but he also needs to think about this entire thing. The situation is blowing up and he doesn’t want to make things worse.
"Maybe you could throw the burgers on the grill? And we'll be out in a few minutes?" He had offered to be in charge of the grill today but that was before everything had gone to hell and now you have no idea what he's thinking. "And I promise we'll talk through everything, too."
“Of course.” He nods and doesn’t lean in to kiss you like he might have just a few minutes before walking in this house. Feeling almost guilty for the entire situation right now.
That missing kiss is enough to tell you that everything has changed. Santiago has never shied away from affection or from public displays, and this is exactly the time that a partner might have offered that kind of comfort. Whatever you end up talking to him about later, you're now prepared for him to end things. But you can't fault him for that. You had a baby with his best friend – even if you didn't know each other then.
“Baby?” Benny looks at Rachel, checking with her before he leaves.
"It's okay," she promises him, going up on her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. "I'll find you when we come back out." And she's going to find a White Claw or six in the garage fridge, too. Fuck.
“Okay.” He shoots Frankie a worried look, not liking the despair on his friend’s face and shuffles to the door.
"I figured it might be easiest to just tell them the facts up front and then let all of us talk," you tell them both, now wondering if that was the right move at all.
“Yeah.” Frankie nods, understanding why you did it, but he looks over at Rachel with regret and waits for her to say something.
"Do you, actually...do you mind if I talk to Frankie—" Rachel hums awkwardly over it, before reconsidering. "If I talk to my father alone for a few minutes?" She sort of feels like they're ganging up on him, and while she has questions and she's sure that you do, too...hers are going to be very different from yours.
“I don’t mind.” Frankie glances back over at you for approval.
"I should go make the rounds outside." As much as you don't want to, it is your party and they are your guests out there. Most of whom noticed that something odd has happened even if they don't know what. Still, you nod and lean over to hug your daughter. "Come back out when you’re ready. Ben looked like he'll worry until you do."
“I will.” She promises and Frankie catches your eye as you glance over at him.
“Thanks.” He murmurs, thanking you for the opportunity to talk to Rachel. He knows you could have been very different with this entire thing. Blowing out a breath when you walk out and shut the door, he looks back at his grown daughter. “So hit me with it.” He tells her.
For a second Rachel is dumbfounded. She just stands and stares at him, but then her shoulders slump and she shrugs and she blows out a long sigh. “I guess I know the real reason my middle name is Francine,” she poses, shaking her head. “Mom said it was because The Nanny is her favourite show and I completely fucking believe that because she worships Fran Drescher, but I’m willing to bet that’s one of only like six lies she’s ever told me in my whole life and it’s actually because of you.”
“Francisco Alberto Morales.” He introduces himself to her quietly, nodding and trying not to be humbled by the fact that you gave your daughter a version of his name. Something to connect the two of you.
“And you guys were…you were together for a long time?” She knows the story. She’s heard it from you over and over again. But something in her feels like she needs to hear it confirmed from him.
“Seventh grade until her 18th birthday.” He frowns at the way that makes him sound, how callous it could be construed. He has just walked away after so long.
“And she wanted to get married.” Rachel prompts, needing these landmarks of the story confirmed for her.
“We had a plan.” He shuffles slightly and looks around the neat and well decorated home. You’ve done well for yourself and it shows. “I was going to get through boot camp and my ‘A’ school while she started college and then when I got to my first duty station, she would transfer to a school nearby.” His shoulders round when he remembers that last fight, the missing piece now clicked into place and with maturity, he can see that you had been terrified, not overbearing. “Her birthday, she blind-sided me with getting married.”
“She wanted to skip forward and get married first, and you didn’t agree.” She can see it from both sides, now. As an adult it makes sense why an eighteen-year-old planning his life would think his girlfriend was just trying to trap him — or even that she wanted the wedding more than she wanted him. “But…you never got married at all? Even after Mom?”
“No.” Marie isn’t married to him, he couldn’t do that even if he had been inclined to. She was still technically married to some guy in her past, or so she claimed. “But….”
“Oh god, don’t say Marie.” Rachel bursts out, talking before she can even think. “She’s awful, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. I didn’t feel like I had a right to say anything before but I totally do now and she’s abusive and terrible, and I will absolutely help you leave her if you need help. I’ll babysit Luna anytime and — oh my god Luna is my sister—”
Frankie shuffles and looks down at his feet. Marie hadn’t been at her best the first time that Rachel had come to the bar after the fight. She had been pissed off because his hearing had been postponed again and he wasn’t closer to getting his pilot’s license back.
“Look, if you’re happy, it’s whatever.” Rachel shuffles, not realizing she’s moving the same way as Frankie, and shrugs. She senses she’s hit a nerve. “I’ll still help with Luna whenever you need. I—I always wanted a baby sister…”
“She’s not bad.” Frankie had dealt with her for a long time and it seemed harder to leave than it was to stay. “That was a bad night.”
“If you say so.” She doesn’t believe him, but the very first day she meets her father isn’t the day to push too hard.
He doesn’t know what to say, so he looks around the house again. “Did you and your mom struggle?” He asks quietly.
“My grandparents helped.” The short answer is yes, but she doesn’t want to make him feel guilty. “We lived with them when I was little, then we moved down here when I was about thirteen. Mom got a job with Disney.”
Frankie nods, frowning slightly. He has his retirement and his Thrift Savings Plan from the military, which he will hopefully be able to not use once he gets his license back. He’s not in the best position to offer any kind of help, but he will. “You’re in school, right?” He asks.
“I’m getting my masters at UCF.” Rachel nods again. “I still live with Mom. Here, I mean. She didn’t make me leave or anything when I started college.”
She’s dedicated. Frankie knows that college, especially graduate programs, are expensive. “That’s good.” He bites his lip and wonders if the offer would offend her. “I have my G.I. Bill.” He mentions. “I can gift it to a spouse – which I don’t have.” He shrugs. “Or a child.”
It's a very sweet offer, but that doesn't really surprise her. She already knows Frankie is a sweet guy. "Save it for Luna," she tells him. "I have great scholarships, and that way she'll be able to look forward to school without worrying about student loans."
It’s feels like a rejection, even though he knows it’s not. He nods and clears his throat. “That’s good.” He has an odd sense of pride for her achievements, even though he had done nothing to contribute.
"What do you want to know about me?" There's probably plenty, but now Rachel feels a bit self-conscious. She's at least heard stories about him. All he knows about her is whatever Ben has told him.
“Everything.” The word tumbles out before he can stop himself and he looks embarrassed. “I— I want to know everything.”
"Everything is a lot," she laughs, but understands. She wants to know everything about him too. She's wondered about her father forever. "What if...what if we did some father/daughter stuff? I could come over and spend time with you and Luna or we could grab a drink sometimes? Just...exist together. And all the get to know you stuff will come in time?"
“Yeah.” He nods eagerly and smiles at her, his eyes crinkling and his face lighting up at the idea. “I like that. Any time. Any time at all.”
“Okay.” She’s feeling bone tired by all of this so she can only imagine how you and Frankie feel, but as Rachel moves over to the notepad on the far table to write her number down for him, she purses her lips slightly and tilts her head. Her thinking face. “Don’t…please don’t be too hard on Mom?” She asks, holding the slip of paper out to him a second later. “She doesn’t ever say it, but I know she’s missed you. And she worked so hard to raise me alone, she just…she deserves the world.”
“I’m not mad at your mother, querida.” He promises, taking the paper and looking down at it before he folds it up carefully and tucks it into his pocket. “I’m mad at myself.” He explains. “Too goddamn proud to admit I was wrong, and I apparently missed out on a hell of a life.” He looks up at her with pride. “And a hell of a daughter.”
“Well shucks, Paw,” she laughs, obviously very touched by the sentiment. “I guess we both have a bunch to catch up on. But we can do that.”
He snorts and huffs out a grin. “By the way, I’m going to punch your boyfriend in the mouth.” He warns Rachel. “So don’t go screaming at me when it happens.”
“Benny?” She makes an audible huffing sound. “What did he do?”
“You’ll find out.” He won’t say now, but he shrugs. “He deserves it, and he’ll know it.”
“Seems weird, but okay.” Men do weird things sometimes. She’s not so young that she doesn’t know that.
He chuckles and sweeps his head off his head again. “You look like your mother when you wrinkle your nose.”
“It’s funny.” She wrinkles her nose again but consciously, wondering if she really does look like you that way. “She always said I had your smile. And your ears.”
Frankie reaches out and brushes her curls back behind her ears and smiles. “You do have my ears.” He admits.
“Is it weird? She asks, stifling a laugh. “To realize that?”
“Surreal.” He admits with a sigh. “I don’t know what to think. I went from being too old to have a six-month-old, to being the dad to a grown ass woman.”
“I was teasing Mom about wanting a little sister last night,” Rachel admits with a groan at the irony. “Shows me right.”
Frankie smirks slightly and shrugs. “Isn’t life sometimes a kick in the teeth?”
******
“What a Fucking kick in the teeth.” Will pushes out a sigh in the backyard, cracking open the beer he grabbed from the cooler Fish brought.
“Yeah.” Pope frowns at the grill, pushing the perfectly aligned burgers with the spatula. “Who would have thought?”
"What are you gonna do?" It's not as though Pope has had a lot of time to think, but Will knows him long enough to know that the wheels are already spinning. They have all heard Fish talk about his gatita, and now that they know who she is? It at least warrants a reaction.
Pope glances over at Will before he looks back at the grill, his movements a little stiffer than just a moment before. “What can I do?” He asks rhetorically. “She was his first.”
"Just because she was his first doesn't mean that he has to be her last," Benny offers, not quite sure what else to say. They all know that Pope had been starting to fall for you, even if it had never been said. Now he is very obviously pulling back.
"No, but she would want him to be." He admits quietly. "She had told me about her first love. She didn't tell me his name." He says pointedly when Benny opens his mouth to ask the obvious question. "But she told me enough to know that she's still in love with him. And we know that Frankie never got over her."
"So it's not about stepping back," Will observes, sipping his beer in the hot Florida sun. "It's about letting them be together."
Closing the grill, Pope sighs, hands on his hips as he looks around the backyard and comes to his decision. "Don't you think Fish deserves to be happy?" He asks quietly.
"Of course he does." The idea that Will might think otherwise practically makes him clutch his proverbial pearls.
"And fuck knows we want Marie gone," Benny huffs under his breath.
"His gatita is the one to make both of those wishes come true." He's sure of it and he will bow out like a gentleman. It's the least he can do since the last half year of hell in his personal life is partially his responsibility. He had pushed Fish to come to South America. Pope looks back at both of the other men. "Want to help me fix Fish's life?"
Benny is the first to smirk, clapping his hands together and rubbing them dramatically. "You gonna pull a binder out of your ass or are we talking this one through?"
"First, I'm going to get really drunk and pretend like I'm not falling on a sword." Pope snorts, snatching the beer out of Will's hand and taking a drink. "Then, we're gonna figure out how to get Fish custody of Luna." He tells them quietly. "That little girl is the reason he's still with Marie."
"We just need proof that she's the one with the drug problem." Will mumbles, not wanting to say those words too loud. "And we need his hearing to go through so he can get his damn license back."
"Yeah." He sighs and points at Will. "Can you talk to your ex?" Pope asks, knowing it's a big favor. "She's still working in the DA's office, right? Maybe she can help us? Or know someone who can?" Being a paralegal isn't the same as being an assistant DA, but she knows people.
"I'll see if she can at least point me in the right direction," Will nods in agreement, knowing that as uncomfortable as talking to his ex-fiancée will be, it's definitely the right course of action. "She always like Fish. It shouldn't be too hard to get her to give an e-mail or phone number of who can help."
“Marie isn’t going be happy learning about Rachel.” Pope glances at Benny. “You know that.”
"She's going to be furious." Ben agrees, wiping his hand through his hair and blowing out a raspberry. "She's gonna think Fish kept it from her on purpose."
“Poor bastard looked like he was about to fall over.” Pope sighs. “I hate this.”
"We're gonna make it work," Benny promises him. "Sorry you got shoved into the middle of it, though."
“It’s okay.” It wasn’t and it actually really hurt that he was going to have to end things with you and pretend that he’s just friends with you, but his brother is worth it.
"Better to find out now than a year from now," Will offers, knowing it isn't a whole lot of comfort. But at least it's honest.
“Yeah.” You walk out of the house and he immediately turns to watch you. “Better now.” Santi murmurs, his heart aching.
******
Most people leave around dinner time, splintering off to nighttime plans or to go home to their families. Santiago, Frankie, and the Miller brothers stayed long enough to help you clean up and Rachel is loading the dishwasher when you realize Santiago has gone temporarily missing. On a hunch, you go down the hall to your bedroom and frown to see him there, tucking things back into his duffel bag.
"Decided not the stay the night?"
He hates that you caught him and he stands tall after shoving in a t-shirt and tamping down the guilty feeling. “It’s been a…surprising day.” He tells you. “Figured it might be better to change the plan for tonight.”
"Just for tonight?" You have a feeling you know the answer, but you want it out in the open. No questions or doubts.
His eyes slide away from you and for a moment, he falters. Wondering if this is the wrong thing to do. “No.” He admits, walking over to you and cupping your cheeks in his hand. “I am— was— falling in love with you.” He won’t lie to you. “But you’ve been in love with Frank for far longer than you’ve loved me.”
It's enormously frustrating for him to be both presumptuous and right. The last thing you want is to admit it, especially as tears press at the back of your eyes, and so a protest comes out of your mouth instead. "He's with someone else," you point out, knowing that someone mentioned it earlier. One of the Miller brothers, you think. "He's—he's—it's so complicated, Santi."
“I know it is.” His brow pinches together and he leans forward to kiss your forehead. “And if it’s too complicated, I won’t let you twist in the wind.” He promises. “But you deserve to find out if your love for him is still there.”
"This isn't how I saw today ending." Overwhelmed and next to tears was definitely not on the docket, but you're not going to beg him to stay. That's not the kind of girl you are anymore. You haven't been in a long time. "What a shitty birthday."
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Pope closes his own eyes and leans his forehead against yours. “I can stay if you want.” He offers in a whisper, feeling guilty all over as his resolve crumbles.
"You'd feel guilty if you did." He's a good man, that's why. It's part of what you liked so much about him when you met, and part of what's grown on you. "Like you were betraying Frankie."
“I would still stay.” He promises.
"You'd feel guilty and then you'd start to resent me." The defense mechanism of crossing your arms over your chest might guard you in spirit, but it doesn't stop you from feeling like utter dogshit in this moment. "Just...know that this isn't how I wanted things to go between us. That's all."
“I know.” He murmurs softly, the slight smile on his lips ironic. “I know, baby. I didn’t want this either.” He admits. “But I’m still going to be here for you. That won’t change.”
“Could I just ask you one favor before you go?” All things considered, it’s very minor and sort of the least you could possibly ask.
“Anything.” Pope would do anything for you, he’s proving that, but he wouldn’t deny you simple request if it’s in his power to take care of it.
“I don’t know if you’re going to see them at all tonight or not but just…don’t tell Rachel yet? She’s going to spend the night with Ben again and I know her. She’ll come straight home to be with me instead. I don’t want to ruin her night.”
He chuckles softly, aware of what that says about you as a mom. “You are a good woman.” He murmurs, leaning in kissing your forehead again. “I won’t say anything to her.”
“I’ll tell her tomorrow.” You promise him. It’s not that you want to hide things from her — it’s that you know she’ll act rashly out of loyalty to you if she finds out tonight. She might even break up with Ben, which is the last thing she actually wants or that you want for her.
“When you tell her is up to you.” He would never think that he should have an input on your relationship with Rachel or when you tell her. “Whenever you are comfortable.”
“Well…” A shrug and a half sigh are the best you can do, not really sure of what else to say. Maybe you’ll get on Pet Finder tonight and look for a cat. Or three.
“Oh…” Pope reaches into his bag and pulls out your gift. “I didn’t want to give this to you in front of everyone.” He tells you quietly. “But this is for you.”
“You didn’t have to.” Especially now. Especially with everything that’s happened today. But you still smile weakly and accept the bag. Yup. It’s gonna be me and three cranky, elderly cats. That’s my future. “I—um, thank you. It’s…very sweet of you. You’re a very sweet person.”
“No, I’m not.” Pope snorts as he steps back. “But you are worth the effort.”
Impulsively, it does make you want to ask why he’s leaving, then. But you know the answer. You know this is about you and Frankie having a past and that nothing is going to change Santiago’s loyalty to his best friend. What’s even more annoying is that you like that about him, it hits harder and hurts more. All you can say without letting the emotions through the floodgates is just to excuse yourself to grab the book of his that you borrowed because it’s downstairs in the living room.
Staring at the door, Pope sighs and pulls his phone out of his pocket to text Will. Deciding that he needs a drink after the emotional rollercoaster of the day.
______
Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer
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7ndipity · 11 months ago
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Aftercare Headcanons
Ot7 x Reader
Summary: How each member would handle aftercare with their S/o
Warnings: mentions of sex(nothing explicit tho), not proofread
A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this!(note: since I did a similar list for Hobi a while back, part of his section is kinda reiterations from that post).
Masterlist
°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
Jin:
Aftercare with him is pretty quiet, tbh. He tends to get a lil shy after sex, especially if it was a rougher, more intense session, so he mainly likes to just hold you and talk for a while to help you both calm down.
He’s pretty simplistic when it comes to his routine(hydrate, wash up, sleep), but he’s super cute and gentle about the whole process, cracking lame jokes here and there to make you laugh(lowkey bc it’s part of how he checks to make sure you’re in a good headspace afterwards, but also just bc it’s Jin)
Lots of soft kisses and lingering touches as the two of you clean up(loves showering with you and would totally just stay in there hugging you till the water runs cold)
Will happily make you both some snacks if you’re hungry, but he definitely needs a nap with you to fully recharge.
Yoongi:
As I’ve said before, acts of service is his main love language, so this is very much his wheelhouse.
He’s surprisingly cuddly after sex, especially if it was a more intense session. He finds quiet skinship afterwards even more important than during the act. He might restrict your hands so you can’t touch him during sex, but afterwards he’s making sure to hold them and let you touch and feel him, helping both of you ground yourselves.
He might not be the most elaborate with his routine, but he’s very serious about the basics. Like, he knows you might feel too tired to do much, but he will nag your ear off about dehydration and the dangers of UTIs if he has to till you drink some water and go to the bathroom.
He kinda melts when you look after him too, tending any scratches or marks and offering to massage any sore muscles. He’s used to being the one in the caregiver role, so when the roles reverse, he turns into the softest baby.
Hobi:
He’s so soft and giggly after sex, his hands never leaving you, playing with your hands as he leaves little kisses all over your face, speaking softly as he asks how you feel and if there’s anything you need.
He tends to go into caretaker mode a lil bit, making sure you have some water, maybe a snack if you feel up for it, carefully checking you over for any marks or sore spots that need extra care if it was a more intense session.
He almost forgets to look after himself as well until you kinda take the reins on him, treating him in much the same manner as he does you. Loves when you wash his hair for him in the shower.
After you’re both clean and back in the bed, he likes to just kinda hang out with you, watching a movie or show together, even though he almost always ends up falling asleep while you play with his hair.
Namjoon:
Honestly, he gets a little shy/nervous during aftercare? He knows he has a tendency of getting pretty rough even during softer sessions, so once he calms down and his head clears, he wants to make sure you’re okay and that he didn’t go overboard.
Handles you so tenderly and with so much gentleness. Takes a lot of pride in getting to look after you in such intimate ways, washing and drying your body, helping you get dressed, making sure you eat and drink something before you fall asleep, etc.
Absolutely melts at the way you take care of him afterwards too, always ready with gentle reassurances and soothing touches as you work out any soreness he has(could honestly lead to a super soft round two if you’re not careful)
He doesn’t usually fall asleep that quickly after sex, so once you’re both clean and settled in the bed or wherever, he likes to talk for a while till one of you falls asleep, tending to get a little sentimental as he goes on.
Jimin:
He’s so sweet and comforting after sex, aftercare with him would be full of the softest touches and kisses, refusing to leave your side for more than a minute(unless you want some time by yourself, then he’s waiting impatiently for the second you say okay so he can tackle you for another cuddle session)
Likes just getting to lay with you for a while as you come down, talking quietly while running his hands over your body absent-mindedly or playing with your fingers to help you both ground yourselves.
Takes looking after you quite seriously though, making sure you drink enough water and do some stretches to relieve any soreness in your limbs before moving on to the shower to clean up(where he will continue to hug/cling to you as you help wash each other)
Gets quite tired afterwards, but will only fall asleep once he’s sure you’re both okay and tended to, either holding you close to his chest or vice versa.
Taehyung:
He’s usually super sleepy after sex, so initial aftercare is pretty basic, but still super important for both of you.
He tends to get really clingy, needing to hold you close as the two of you talk and get your bearings, seeking reassurance that you’re okay and that you both feel good, that you love him, etc.
Honestly, you might have to take the reigns a little bit to make sure you’re both clean and hydrated and taken care of in those ways before he falls asleep on you(he just feels soo subby to me, I can’t)
In the morning/after a nap however, you’re waking up to a bubble bath, food, massages, the full royal treatment. He basically waits on you hand and foot for the next couple hours to make up for his initial lack of focus.
Jungkook:
He is so soft but serious about aftercare. He knows he can be more than a little rough when he’s lost in the moment, so he tries to counter that by being extra gentle with you afterwards.
He has the whole thing down to a system, it’s almost like a post workout routine for him, (lowkey the type to high-five you afterwards like “good job babe”🙄)
He’s honestly kinda hyper about the whole thing? Like, as soon as he manages to catch his breath, he’s immediately up and all over the place, getting you both some water, helping you to the bathroom to wash up(will straight up carry you if your legs are shaky) grabbing some fresh sheets if needed.
It’s only once you’re both clean and tended to that he kinda starts to slump and gets tired and cuddly, snuggling close to you before dozing off.
Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz
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forgeofthenine · 1 year ago
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Could I request an NSFW headcanon for Dammon and Zevlor with a breeding kink 👀 I feel like of the tiefling bachelors those two would definitely have a breeding kink
Also your writing is amazing and perfect ❤️ you are quite literally one of the only blogs powering me through this tiefling hyperfixation of mine thank you 😭😭
Thank you so much Anon, I've been wanting to write for this kink since before I started the blog!! I'm so glad to hear I'm fuelling your hyperfixation, and I'm always happy to be of service <3
I added Rolan in as a little extra treat, I hope you enjoy :)
NSFW under the cut, surprisingly gender neutral considering the theme
No real warnings, just possible overstimulation for all parts but particularly for Rolan
Tiefling bachelor's with a breeding kink
Dammon
This man, dear lord
I have never seen a man with a bigger breeding kink
Dammon is a family man through and through, and no one could blame either of you for enjoying creating that family
As soon as you two settle into baldurs gate it's a thought that never leaves his mind
Absolutely the type to whisper in your ear what he's going to do to you later, sometimes to the point you need to pull him into the bedroom yourself
Once you're there, he's all over you
It doesn't matter if you can get pregnant or not, he always fucks you with that same intense need
Dammon kisses you so sweetly as he pulls you into a mating press, sinfully holding you down against the bed
He's able to keep you pinned for hours if you'll let him, the stamina used in his forge also finds a use in the bedroom
The strain never bothers him, Dammons focus entirely on the way you squeeze so nicely around his dick, how you moan with every thrust of his hips
There's nothing quite like having your legs held down, Dammons tail wrapping around an ankle, his lips hungrily kissing yours before parting to murmur in your ear
"Mm, go on, you can be louder than that darling. Let everyone know how much you want my cum, want me to breed you-"
He pays plenty of attention to your chest too, squeezing and sucking as he imagines how you'll look swollen with milk
It's obvious, but he cums inside every time
Dammon watches as he pulls out too, seeing his seed dripping from you before asking if you're up for another round
Zevlor
After years of thinking the possibility of having kids was behind him, Zevlor stopped thinking about it so much
That is, until you asked, and reawakened something inside him
Suddenly his thoughts are consumed by the idea of getting you pregnant
Once again, whether or not you can get pregnant doesn't matter to him
I feel like Zevlor is partial to missionary style, some may thinks it's boring but he sees it as a classic, it lets you both feel everything and he loves seeing your face
He'd also be partial to cowgirl if you want to top, it lets him see your whole body and run his hands over every part of you
He's just so soft with you, even his pace is sweet and focuses on your pleasure
Zevlors the type to talk sweet nothings to you as he makes love to you, his breeding kink really does just come from how much he loves you
"You look gorgeous, my love. I can't wait to see you carrying our child."
You'll always cum too, multiple times
A lot actually
He does too
Definitely the type to stay inside afterwards, keeping his cum deep inside with the hopes of it taking
He pulls you in close, spooning you so your bodies are still pressed tight together as he wraps himself around you
The type to also place a large, warm hand over your lower stomach as he imagines the family you'll both have
Rolan
Rolan is a bit of a wildcard
I have a feeling he secretly likes children, and is shockingly good with them
After his younger siblings, and all the refugee children, once he's settled into Ramaziths tower his mind will drift
Unlike the other two, it's very impromptu
Rolan would have you pressed against a bookshelf in his private study, taking you roughly from behind
Some stranger, some asshole, had put his hands all over you and Rolan wasn't having any of it
What was the best way to show you had all you needed already, with him? Getting you knocked up
He was in such a rush that you're both still mostly clothed, your pants pulled down and his robes pushed aside with the laces of his pants undone
He nips and kisses your neck as he thrusts into you, hands firm on your hips and tail spreading your legs apart
When he does cum, he pulls out slowly, and presses any that leaks out back in with his finger
Rolan revels in your fucked out moans as he does, taking advantage to finger you to another orgasm
"That's it baby, go on, give me another and I'll give you more of my cum. Gonna fill you up all over again."
It won't take long until you feel a familiar ridged cock rubbing against your ass
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clementine-thedestroyer · 6 months ago
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Thinking about smokejumpers or hotshots!141 x forest ranger or otherwise forest service employed reader…
(Hotshots, if you don’t know are the special firefighters that go in to do the really dangerous parts of wildfire fighting, and smoke jumpers are firefighters that parachute into remote areas.)
But, anyways- thinking about reader who’s either working for the national parks or forest service and somehow, ended up on the wrong end of a wild fire. Didn’t get the notice to evacuate in time, couldn’t- whatever the reason is. They’re stuck in the danger zone and convinced they’re going to die, curled up in the corner of whatever remote ranger station they’d been stationed at with soaked towels stuffed under the gaps between the door and frame and the air outside too hot and smokey for them to try and leave the house. They’re curled up in the corner fucking sobbing because they’re going to die there, they’re going to die, they’re going to die- until their door is busted down with an axe and a giant figure clad in fire gear shoves his way inside.
At first, they’re freaking out- they’re not thinking straight. The door being knocked down brings a rush of hot air and smoke billowing into the cabin that makes their eyes water and their lungs burn.
They try to fight the figure briefly, terrified and in a haze of fear and adrenaline as the person throws them over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes and books it the fuck out of there.
But from Price’s perspective (because yes, it’s Price) he and his team were working on the edge of the danger zone- trying their best to keep the fire from spreading further until he hears that there’s someone farther in- a forest ranger or something who didn’t get the evacuation order in time, who’s ranger station was never even expected to be in the path of the fire until the winds changed and left everyone, including them, scrambling to contain the fire.
He hears about it, and he doesn’t hesitate, yelling to Simon to work on arranging an evacuation for them all, because the fire’s growing and moving faster than expected and they need to get out of there.
So he absolutely books it the half or quarter mile to the little ranger station no more than thirty minutes from being engulfed by the fire and forces entry, finding you curled up in the corner struggling to breath through the smoke and sobbing.
He throws you over his shoulder without a second thought. There’s no time for him to explain himself or comfort you, he’s just running as fast as he can because he knows that while he may be able to survive closer to the fire’s edge with his suit and respirator, you certainly can’t.
When he gets back to his team, he can hear the helicopter. Gaz and Soap are screaming at him, telling him he’s out of his mind- that he had no idea that you were even still there or alive, that he could’ve gotten both of you killed, that what he did was stupid and reckless- while Simon is barley holding the situation together between the other two freaking out and his own worry for his captain.
The evacuation was a mess- between the already hazardous conditions and the addition of someone without any protective gear- but they make it out
Afterwards, you’re rushed to the hospital for smoke inhalation. You’re undeniably hurt, but you’re alive.
When you’re well enough to leave the hospital, you track down the fire crew that saved you, wanting to thank them. You show up at their door with a tray of fresh baked goods, shifting shyly on your feet as you present the tray of sweets to the tall, burly man you’re told was the one who carried you to safety.
You introduce yourself, stuttering out your words as you thank him and give him the treats you’d baked.
Behind the man, there’s two nosey men (and one less blatantly nosey man watching from the kitchen, though you don’t see him) sticking their heads out from behind him to get a look at the pretty girl their captain had pulled out of the fire.
They invite you in, ignoring your protests and worries about intruding and insisting you stay for dinner.
Price introduces you to his crew, taking the time to explain what they do, why he went back towards the fire to get you, how he’d know you were there, ect.
In a way, it helps you heal from the trauma of the whole ordeal some.
They ask about your injuries, how you’re doing- and slowly, the conversation turns more casual, with Soap cracking jokes and Gaz chatting you up about your degree and job with the forest service.
Safe to say, you spend a lot of time at the station from then on.
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