#WHY IS THIS DENIM FUCK SO FUN TO DRAW

[penguin-scribbles]

a cold and maddening descent 🍏🐙

[aurorawritestoescape]

GOING DOWN || 3,4 k

Joel Miller x f!reader | Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: you have a hot boyfriend and a hot ex who’s still obsessed with you. Why not get the best of both worlds?

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, darkish!reader, toxic!reader, boyfriend!Joel, ex who desperately wants you back!Frankie, soft!Frankie, infidelity (reader’s), praise kink, size kink, unprotected piv, creampie, handjob, m!oral, pussy eating, cum eating, f!masturbation, stalking (reader loves it), voyeurism, exhibitionism, swearing, dirty talk, pet names princesa-princess, mi amor- my love. Reader wears a dress. Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: I have no excuse for this one. I don’t know why I look at our baby Frankie and want to do all this. I’m not sorry though, it’s hot to me and also fictional😉 the title’s inspired by the song “I’m goin’ down” by Mary J. Blige and Frankie’s special talent😏 Happy Frankie Friday, my loves!💖

Written for @burntheedges ‘s roll-a-trope challenge - my trope was Exes. Thank you for the fun event, Kate❤️ Kisses to wonderful @milla-frenchy for beta-ing this filth😘 dividers by @saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST || more Frankie - The Hoodie

You are looking out of the window at the night street, illuminated by a few golden lights, when you feel Joel’s heavy hands on your hips and then his lips plant a kiss on your neck from behind.

“Let’s go to bed,” he mumbles, his gruff voice coated with lust.

“No, fuck me right here.���

He smiles against your neck.

“Really? Want the neighbors to see us, dirty girl?”

“Yeah. Neighbors,” you smirk, not tearing your eyes from the car parked outside your apartment building. Your ex’s Pickup.

Joel pierces you with his big stiff cock and before you start moaning like a whore, you open the window a little so you two can not only be visible, but also perfectly heard from the street. Cool autumn air hits your heated face and your nipples get hard under your thin dress.

"Oh yeah, Joel! Harder!" you cry out, reveling in the way he's dragging his huge manhood in and out your channel. You're taking it like a good girl-always wet and tight for your boyfriend's cock.

Your fingers swiftly pull down your neckline, exposing your bouncing tits to whoever might look through your window. And you're sure that someone is looking.

Not knowing about your sick game, Joel is grunting loudly, thrusting deep and hard into you, your back flush with his broad chest. He’s rubbing his stubble against your neck, then your cheek until you turn your face to him and your lips lock in a sloppy and passionate kiss, while he’s holding you close, drawing pleasure from your tight pussy.

Joel’s hand snakes under your dress and having found your naked cunt, begins swirling your clit between two thick fingers. You part from his mouth, whimpering loudly.

“Yeah, baby! Let ‘em hear what a slut you are for me. Getting fucked in front of the whole neighborhood.”

His words push you over the edge and you come on his cock, crying out from pleasure. You don’t fake it. There is no need. He is that good.

Joel follows you soon and shoots his thick warm cum into your pulsating core. When he stills and pulls out, you hastily fix your dress and grab your dog’s leash.

“I’ll walk Tom.” You kiss Joel with tongue and leave the apartment, leaking your boyfriend’s load with every move.

When you step out into the night, you walk along the street a few meters and tie your dog to a street pole. On your legs, trembling from the hard orgasm, you saunter to your ex’s truck.

The passenger door is already open for you when you reach it and you get in, feeling cold air lap at your pussy, coated in Joel’s cum.

A pair of beautiful kicked puppy eyes greet you there and you turn slightly in your seat to see your ex better in the dark car.

Frankie’s wearing a denim shirt, dark blue jeans and his favorite baseball cap that you always hated for hiding his gorgeous curls. He looks the same as the day you left him. Maybe the bags under his eyes are darker but it could be the poor lighting at fault.

“What are you doing here, Frankie?” Your voice is soft and calm, with a pinch of sadness thrown in for his sake.

The man nervously fixes his cap and glances at you from the side, like a guilty dog. He clears his throat and lies,

“ ‘m checking on you.”

His velvety voice caresses your ear, it’s soft like everything about his character. He starts chewing on his lip while his eyes are staring into the darkness ahead of him.

“No, you’re stalking me, baby. I see your Pickup everywhere I go. Near my work last week. I spotted you at the bar today. And now you’re here… spying on me through the window.”

He proves that he watched your little show when he spreads his thighs wider and bucks his hips, unwillingly attracting your attention to his big bulge. You both are quiet for a few moments.

“I miss you,” he finally admits, turning to you. His eyes are sad and sappy and you should feel sorry, bad or at least sympathetic but the overwhelming feeling in your heart is a triumph. He’s not over you. You’re the best he’s ever had and he desperately wants you back.

You’ve been feeling elated lately when you noticed Frankie stalking you. It’s been fun playing with him and you don’t plan on stopping. You pull your brows together and coo,

“I understand, baby, but you can’t keep coming here. Joel’s a jealous type. I don’t want any problems.”

While you’re talking, Frankie’s nodding along, eyes downcast. You place your hand on his shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze. His own big paw flies to yours and after bringing it to his mouth, he presses his lips to your palm. Your heart flutters at his need for you and your pussy tingles when you remember the way his plush lips were leaving kisses all over your body weeks ago.

“Baby,” you breathe out and he looks at you, not letting go of your hand. You see tears in his eyes, not enough to spill but enough to fuel up your ego. His eyes are so pretty like that, wet lashes and glossy chocolatey irises.

“Aww, Frankie,” you coo and open your arms to him. He rushes to you as if you’re his lifeline, wrapping his big strong arms around your torso and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You’re hugging him back, trying not to suffocate in his steel embrace and rubbing his muscular broad back. Frankie’s as big as Joel, both are much bigger than you, and warmth spreads deep in your core when his scent envelops you just like his body.

You smile when you notice him still wearing your favorite cologne.

Soon your body craves something more than just a hug so your lips part and a soft whimper escapes your mouth. You know well that your pretty noises always make him wild.

Your ex reacts immediately and you feel an open mouth kiss on your neck.

“Frankie.” Your tone is scolding yet fake and you sigh deeply, brushing his chest with your barely covered breasts. Your ex grumbles at the sensation and then whispers, his voice already strained with lust.

“I miss you so much.”

You hug him tighter and feel his hot breath on your cleavage when he leans lower to plant another kiss on your collarbone. His cap slides off his head and falls on the floor but he doesn’t care. Looking down at his beautiful dark curls you run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails and Frankie almost roars against your chest. His arms pull you closer to him, even though your torso is already flush with his. He slightly lifts you off the seat and you tug at his hair in warning, steel in your tone.

“Put me down, Frankie.”

He listens to you like he always does but your roughness earns another loud groan from him. You smile, imagining how hard his cock must be now.

Frankie leaves soft kisses on your clothed chest, your belly and soon his head is resting on your lap, while his arms are wrapped around your hips as if he’s scared you’ll float away.

You’re stroking his head, marveling at the silky waves of his hair, shining even in the dim light, and slightly tilt your hips up when his prominent nose pokes your mound through the thin fabric of your dress. As if thinking about the same thing, Frankie breathes in full lungs of your arousal and a guttural moan vibrates against your covered pussy.

“I miss her, mi amor,” you barely hear him mumble and you sigh. Recently satiated by Joels’s pounding, your core gets reignited with sticky desire and you bite your lip, your dark gaze sliding over his sexy shoulders and his head, with his face hidden. You part your legs just slightly, letting him closer to your needy pussy.

Like a dog sniffing out his favorite treat, Frankie’s nuzzling your lap, and his lips and nose are brushing against your thighs, your lower belly, your cunt through the fabric.

You gasp when his fingers dig into your soft hips a bit too hard and he hastily relaxes his grip and looks up at you.

“Sorry, princesa.” His blown out eyes are filled with guilt and want and you give him a smile, cupping his scruffy cheek.

“It’s ok, baby, just be careful with me, ‘k? No marks.”

“Yes, yes, of course, mi amor,” he murmurs, returning his head back onto your lap.

After a couple of minutes in his arms, the fire in your core morphs into an ache and you squirm under him with impatience.

“I should go, Frankie. Joel’s gonna worry.”

“No, please,” he almost whines, hugging you tighter. “I—,” he stumbles.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I —? Can I see her?”

He’s staring up at you and you tilt your head to the side, faking confusion.

“Who?”

He knows that you understand but you need him to say it. So he plays by your rules. Like he always does.

“Can I see your beautiful pussy?” He sits up, facing you, his huge body squeezed in between the wheel and his seat. His bulge looks even more prominent now and you gush at the thought that he must be leaking into his boxers.

“Oh, Frankie, baby, you know I have a boyfriend. I can’t.”

His pleading eyes are fixed on you as he begs,

“Please, mi amor, just a look. I miss her so much. I miss you. Please.”

With another fake sigh you glance out of the window to check the surroundings, and after finding the street empty, you turn back to him.

“Ok, just for a second. Get in the back.”

“Thank you, mi amor,” he mumbles, hurrying out of the truck.

You squeeze between the front seats and sit down, turning to Frankie as he joins you at the back of the car. Your ex impatiently grabs the hem of your dress but you stop him.

“No one should know about this, understand?”

Frankie nods eagerly, mumbling yes’s like a junkie before getting a hit of his drug and you let him lift your dress and expose your naked pussy.

Your hands clutch the dress against your waist, and your legs are pressed together but it’s evident how wet you’re - your folds shine with Joel’s cum and your slick arousal.

Frankie’s breath hitches and his broad chest expands, straining his shirt.

“Beautiful,” he praises as his hand flies to the apex of your thighs.

“Nah-ah”, you grab his big paw midair and place it on top of your thigh.

“No touching. You wanted to look, right?”

“Yeah,” Frankie halfheartedly agrees, furrowed brows showing his discontent. “Then at least open your legs, princesa. Need to see her better.”

You try to contain your excitement as you tut at your ex,

“You’re so naughty, baby.”

You slowly part your thighs wide enough for your pussy to bloom in front of his hungry eyes.

Frankie’s mouth goes slack and his gaze clouds up when he sees your glistening pussy lips, puffy clit and your inviting hole. You shift a little on the seat, leaving wetness on the leather, and when you clench your walls in anticipation, you both see a little bit of pearly white liquid slide out of your entrance.

“Is this…?” Frankie mumbles, not tearing his eyes off your recently used cunt.

“Yeah. I know you’ve been watching Joel fuck me so don’t pretend that you’re surprised. My pussy’s full of his cum,” you say with defiance and wait for his reaction.

Frankie’s softly growls and his hand on your thigh contracts into a fist.

“Shhh, big boy,” you purr, bringing your fingers to your pussy. You gather some of Joel’s seed, leaking from your hole, and spread the creamy juices over your hardened clit. You rub yourself a few times and when a soft moan escapes your lips, Frankie echoes you.

“Feels so good,” you admit and begin pleasuring yourself in front of your ex.

“Jesus— fuck,” Frankie mumbles. His eyes are obsidian, forehead glistening with sweat with a few wet curls stuck to it. With his gaze tormented and pained, he reaches down to his belt.

“What are you doing, baby?” you ask, pausing your ministrations.

Frankie freezes and replies, stumbling over his words,

“I need — need to take my dick out. It hurts.”

“Ok, Frankie.” He hastily unzips his jeans when you add, “But don’t touch it.”

Frankie groans but then sighs with relief when he pulls the waistband of his boxers down, tucks it under his balls and his cock springs free. It hits his shirt and leaves a dark wet spot.

His member is throbbing, the dark pink tip, glossy and fat, is oozing his clear need for you and you lick your lips, enticing the man even more.

Frankie follows your orders and lets his cock bob and drip pre-fuck juice all over his balls and jeans while you moan again, tracing your sopping hole.

Your ex rubs his cheek, focused on the place he desperately wants to claim with his tongue and cock and croaks after wetting his plush lips,

“Let me kiss her, mi amor.”

Bingo.

That’s what you wanted as soon as you saw him at the bar today. If you cared to admit maybe you already dreamed about it when you noticed him stalking you last week. But what’s a prize without a game? Now it feels extra special.

With a little smile, you throw off your shoe and plant your bare foot on the seat, opening your thighs wider for him.

“You gonna taste another man’s cum on my pussy? just to kiss her?”

Frankie’s eyes snap up to yours and you see his defeat, his despair, his love in their depths.

He nods silently.

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” you coo. “Ok, baby, go ahead.”

With a grunt Frankie bends down, slowly adjusting his position between your legs so it’s comfortable for you, and when his soft warm lips kiss your cold cunt, you flutter your eyes shut with a pleased mewl.

Frankie’s always been the best at pussy eating. Joel often goes down on you but it’s different. He demands your ecstasy, claims your pussy with his mouth, makes you scream when his rough tongue impatiently rubs at your clit. His movements say ‘Give me’ while he’s eating you out.

But Frankie. He’s whispering “Take it”. Take your time, take your bliss, take my lips and tongue and use them, let yourself drown in pleasure. He laps at you softly and languidly, licking your pussy like it’s the most delicate flower, the most delicious fruit.

You grab your phone out of your pocket and text Joel that you met a friend by accident and need to catch up.

Frankie doesn’t see any of it, he’s gone, fully concentrated on pleasuring your soft cunt. His hands are gently holding your thighs apart, his face buried in your pussy.

“How’s she?” you whisper, raking your fingers through his silky curls and tugging on them slightly to get his attention when he doesn’t respond right away.

“I taste him on you,” Frankie grumbles, parting from your sex, “‘m gonna get it off you.”

He returns to work, making out with your folds and sucking the other man’s cum off your clit and you already feel yourself close to unraveling.

“Yes, like that, baby. My pussy misses you.”

You feel Frankie smile against your cunt before he begins stroking your clit with his tongue again and again until you cry out his name into your hand, while your hole clamps around nothing, walls contract and release another portion of Joel’s thick load.

Trembling from the orgasm that’s rippling through your body, you watch Frankie lap at your entrance, drinking the runaway seed and your slick, prolonging your shattering climax with this depraved act.

He doesn’t stop kissing your pussy until you get overstimulated and try to close your legs.

“Did so good for me, Frankie,” you murmur through heavy breaths.

“Thank you, mi amor,” your ex gruffs, sitting up, his face blushed, the gaze hazy and drunk on you.

He’s shivering from the arousal, his engorged cock generously leaking precum, and you take mercy on the man.

You scoot closer to him, wrap your hand around his hot cock and start slowly pumping it. It’s soaked with his juices so your palm slides easily over his hard length but to make him absolutely wild you gather some slick off your cunt and rub the underside of his cock where his tip meets the shaft with your wet thumb.

Frankie moans like a needy slut and in a second the first rope of cum shoots out of his slit.

You hastily lower your head, take the head between your lips and start drinking his load as he’s feeding it to you, jerking and thrusting his hips up, while your hand is gliding over his shaft.

You swallow everything to the last drop and lick it all over, cleaning his cock and earning a jerk of overstimulation from your ex. Then you sit up, wiping your mouth curled into a satisfied smile.

“Fuck, princesa, I love you,” Frankie breathes out falling onto the backrest, his cock softening but still standing at attention. You smile at his confession and your hunger finally seems satisfied.

You begin fixing your clothes and he watches you for a few seconds before tucking his cock into his jeans and then shifting closer to you. He gets into your space and you feel his warm hand pressed to your lower back. His huge frame is looming over you and you look up into his chocolaty eyes. They seem sad again.

“I want you back, mi amor—I... I need you.”

You sigh deeply and shake your head, taking his big hand in yours.

“You know it’s over, Frankie. I’m sorry, but I’m with Joel now.”

“Why? Why can’t you be with me? Why is he better?” He asks, furrowing his brows and leaning even closer to you.

“Baby,” you whine, averting your gaze from his puppy eyes and tracing hearts on his hand. “We talked about it. He’s …he’s like whiskey, he’s rough and heady and… you’re like hot chocolate, Frankie. You’re sweet but you’re too saccharine for me.”

“I can get rough with you, princesa.”

You giggle and shake your head.

“It’s not who you are, baby. And it’s ok. Someone will love you for it one day.”

You hear him sniff before he yanks his hand away from yours.

You know you should leave, break it off once and for all but the sick, mean, greedy side of your soul wants to pull him back as soon as you have pushed him away.

“Frankie,” you purr and grab his arm as he’s about to get out of the car. A slight touch from you is all it takes to stop him and he turns to you, his eyes glossy, his expression defeated.

You get closer to him and take his face between your hands. To kiss him goodbye. To poison him more.

He falls into the kiss head first, embracing you tightly, pressing his torso to yours so close it’s difficult to breathe.

You both moan against each other’s lips and you pull on his hair with passion and possessiveness. His tongue is licking into your mouth and you’re tasting yourself, sensing a faint trace of Joel’s cum. It’s so sick and twisted that another surge of arousal burns your core.

You make out for some time until you part from his lips.

“I should go, Frankie,” you whisper, snaking out of his embrace.

Frankie’s arms fall and he nods, looking lost and inebriated. You use this moment to hastily get out of his car.

“Bye, baby,” you chirp, smiling at him, but before you close the door he wakes up from the trance and calls for you.

“I won’t stop, mi amor,” he admits with determination in his shaky voice. “I’m gonna keep coming. I need you.”

“I know,” you say with a fake sigh and close the door.

You’re walking to get Tom, feeling Frankie’s eyes on your back, and trying to calm down, you bite your lip, but the excitement overwhelms you and soon a triumphant smile spreads across your face.

Thank you for reading!💖

MASTERLIST || more Frankie- The Hoodie

tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

Tagging lovelies who showed interest in my Wip post @sawymredfox @604to647 @thundermartini @bonezone44 @casa-boiardi

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Bad For Business: Level Four

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.2K] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutal annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter.

There was a boy at the desk asking for you. 

He was tall and a little wild looking, unruly dark curls and tattoos peeking out from under the leather and denim he wore, all ripped off sleeves and silver rings. He was smirking at Steve like he knew something he didn’t, like was in on some sort of secret. 

Steve didn’t like him. 

“She’s on her break,” Steve told him, eyes narrowed like he couldn’t help himself. “Went to the store or something.”

Steve expected that to be the end of it, but the boy with all the rings just grinned, dimples on show before he hoisted himself onto the desk. “I’ll wait,” he said, too cheery. “I’m Eddie, by the way. Munson.”

Steve nodded, keeping his distance as he pretended to tidy away loose rota sheets, used up ticket stubs and a piece of paper Robin and Argyle had been drawing progressively larger dicks on. One had wings and a halo. 

“Yeah, I know,” Steve frowned. He was still suspicious. Why was the local drug dealer coming in and asking for you? The arcade was quiet enough that Steve didn’t have an excuse to leave, and honestly, he wanted to stick around and see. “Just didn’t realise you guys… knew each other.”

Eddie looked smug in an awful way, still acting like he was clued into something Steve didn’t have any idea about. Like he was trying not to laugh at him. The longer haired boy tilted his head to the side, all charm and bravado, still smiling. “Oh yeah.” He nodded, enthusiastic. “We know each other real well. Super close.”

You hadn’t mentioned Eddie before. Not in front of Steve. Fuck, you’d never mentioned any sort of boyfriend at all. But then Steve remembered nights that it rained, when he’d jog to his car only to see you run past him, jacket over your head and clambering into an old van, the windows dark enough that you could never see the driver. 

Maybe he’d been kidding himself all those times when he assumed it was your dad. 

“Oh,” fuck, is that all he could say? “Cool.” 

There was a beat of silence between them, smothered in arcade game jingles and alarm bells that announced a new winner, but the air was heavy enough to be felt, thick with a tension Steve wasn’t used to. 

Was this what being threatened felt like? 

No. No. Steve didn't have anything to feel threatened about. So why was he still talking?

“I guess - I mean - well, I just never knew she had a boyfriend.” Steve cleared his throat, all awkward and he found himself standing a little straighter, chest puffed out, chin held high.  

Thank fuck Robin wasn’t on shift, ‘cause Eddie was laughing and suddenly Steve felt about three feet shorter. What the fuck was this guys problem?

“I didn’t know you gossiped about your love lives, Harrington,” Eddie shot back. His smile was wolfish and it looked like a challenge, it felt like a dare. “You interested in who she’s hangin’ out with outside of work?”

“What?” It was jarring, the way Steve’s stomach dropped. A new kind of nervousness twisting around his guts, a heat that crawled from his stomach to his chest. His cheeks felt too warm. “What? No. Jesus, no, I just— we’re not even friends.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it still tasted like one. Bitter and acidic, like swallowing a too big pill without water. It got stuck in his throat, made him wince. 

Eddie tutted, leaning back in his hands, taking up the majority of space on the counter top. His legs were swinging, rips across his knees in his black jeans, a chain hanging from his belt looks, glinting in the neon lights. He looked like he was having far too much fun. 

“That’s a shame,” Eddie twisted his lips, big eyes looking all sad, acting up like he was on stage or something. “She’s real sweet, isn’t she?”

Steve scoffed, a choked out laugh that made Eddie’s lips twitch up. Steve busied himself with more loose papers, bundling together things that weren’t supposed to be filed with each other, name badges and empty chocolate wrappers stuck between faxes. 

“Uh, sure, maybe,” Steve wrinkled his nose, squinting at the other boy. “I don’t know. She’s never, uh, all that sweet to me.”

And then Eddie was laughing, a full, bright cackle of a laugh and Steve was once again left feeling like he didn’t know the full joke. But he didn’t get to ask what he’d missed, what was so funny, ‘cause a kid who could hardly see over the desk approached him, a sticky hand full of equally sticky tickets that he wanted to swap for some knock off Star Wars toy. Disgruntled, Steve fussed with the glass cabinet where they kept all the ‘prizes’, his gaze flickering between Eddie and the door.  

Surely you’d be back soon. Right? To see your boyfriend.  

When the kid was gone, happily clutching his ‘nightsaber’ (even Steve knew that was wrong), Eddie was watching him again. 

“She’s pretty, right?” 

Steve froze. “What?” Was this some kind of trick? Who the fuck goes ‘round asking other dudes if they think their girlfriend is pretty? “I don’t— I’ve never—”

Eddie was grinning. Again. That Cheshire Cat smile, white teeth flashing somewhat threateningly. Steve didn’t know what the fuck was going on. Was this about last week? The powercut? Did you go home and tell your boyfriend how close Steve got to you, how he held your hand and for once in his goddamn life, Steve Harrington didn’t wanna argue with you?

“You don’t think she’s cute?”

Nothing had happened. Nothing ever would’ve. It couldn’t. You hated him, and Steve hated you. Right? Right. 

“Look, dude, I don’t know what your deal is, but I’m not trying to hit on your girl, alright?” Someone got a new high score on the pinball machine across from the desk and an alarm rang, tickets flying out of the dispenser, lights flashing red and green. It felt like a warning. “She— we— we don’t talk, alright? Not like that, god, we’re not friends, okay?”

Eddie didn’t really seem to believe him, but Steve was more than relieved when the boy shrugged and slid off of the counter, dimples on show, beaming at him. He dusted his hands off like he’d completed whatever task he’d come to do before dropping a set of keys in front of Steve. 

“Tell uh, my girl, that it was a radiator leak. No biggie. Car’s out front,” another flash of a smile, too charming now. Steve’s head was spinning. “Catch you later lover boy.”

What the fuck?

Eddie made his way past a crowd of kids, neon signs lighting up his skin in shades of lime green and fuschia. He spun before he got to the door, clapping his hands together and pointing back at the other boy, like he’d just remembered something important. 

Is this where Eddie threatened him? Told him to stop looking at his girlfriend and keep his hands to himself? It was a fucking powercut, it was pitch black, what was he supposed to do? Let her hurt herself? The argument was already playing out in Steve’s head, his defence at the ready. 

Besides, he could take Eddie Munson, right? Sure he was pretty much the same height but Steve was broader, stronger, surely. But maybe Eddie had that trailer park kid scrappiness, that feral sort of energy Dustin said Max exuded when she got ramped up—

“And, uh, Harrington?”

Steve felt his fist tighten around the countertop. 

“You’ll catch more bees with honey than vinegar.” Eddie saluted, a massive skull glinting silver and pink in the light, and then with a wink, he was gone. 

What the fuck?

He didn’t get a chance to ask what Eddie was on about, because Lucas Sinclair and Dustin Henderson approached the desk, ignoring how he was standing with his mouth agape, brows knitted together in confusion. Everything was almost forgotten about as he argued with the two young boys about how no, he didn’t know when Donkey along was getting fixed, and no, he wasn’t prepared to let them poke about at the machine with Dustin’s backpack screwdriver. 

And then you came back from your lunch, a flash of daylight breaking the darkness of the arcade as the door opened and shut behind you. Steve watched you hand a wrapped sandwich to Argyle before making your way around the desk to where he stood. 

Maybe he was staring, maybe that’s why you were looking at him weird. Maybe that’s just the kinda gaze you gave him on the daily. You were wearing a skirt today, black and swishy around your thighs, your staff shirt cut off so it hit just above your navel, much to Murray’s despair. There was a warning written up and stuck to your locker, but you hadn’t seemed to care. 

“What?”

Shit, Steve was still staring. He blinked, shrugged and turned back to the cash machine, despite no customers to serve. “What? Nothin’, god.”

You didn’t argue with him, just narrowing your eyes at his strange mood before pushing your way into the staff room. It was empty bar someone’s leftover lunch and a walkman that lay on the table and then suddenly Steve was barging his way into the too small room, a familiar set of keys in his hands. Your disco ball keychain sent rainbows over the walls, tiny glimmers of light across Steve’s cheeks, his hands, his arms. 

He held them out to you, cheeks tinged pink like something had happened and you’d missed it, ‘cause he couldn’t really look you in the eye either. You stared, taking your keys from the boy slowly, like any sudden movements would scare him. 

Not that you cared. 

Steve spoke before you could say thanks, leaning against Murray’s abandoned desk with his hands shoved in his pockets as he cleared his throat. The air was heavy with something, more tension than you were used to, a weight to it that was more than summer air and teenage hormones. 

“Your uh, your boyfriend dropped them off,” Steve was finally looking at you, brown eyes honeycomb in the too bright lights. “Said it was a broken radiator or somethin’.”

You frowned, confused at the word that was thrown out between you. Boyfriend? But once again, before you could manage to speak, Steve was talking again, all his thoughts tumbling out at once, swimming at your feet. 

“Eddie Munson, huh? I didn’t— I didn’t know you were dating him. Or anyone. Not that it matters,” Steve sucked in a breath, like he was trying to catch each sentence, like he could swallow back the words he’d already said. “It doesn’t matter, obviously. Why would it? I mean, fuck, s’not like we share updates on our love lives or shit—” 

“Harrington.”

“—like, I don’t care if you’re dating him, I just didn’t, like, except it, you know? Munson? Didn’t think he was your type, not that I know what your type is, s’not like I think about it or anything—”

“Steve.”

The boy stopped talking, jaw snapping shut as he looked at you, a little wide eyed. He was breathing a little heavier, hands leaving his pockets only to take through his hair. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You played with the keys in your hands, disco ball keychain clinking prettily between the silver. The reflections scattered, rainbow coloured freckles on Steve’s cheeks. “I’m not dating Eddie, we’re just friends.”

You weren't sure why you were explaining this.

“But Munson said—” Steve stopped mid sentence, the abruptness of it hanging in the air between you. Eddie hadn’t said you were dating. Eddie hadn’t called himself your boyfriend, had he? No. That was Steve’s doing. “Uh, he called you his girl… I just assumed…”

You snorted, eyes rolling in a way that held a lot more affection than what he was used to seeing when it was directed at him. You shrugged, dropping yourself into a chair at the table, eyeing Steve with a new sort of curiosity. He really was acting fucking weird. 

“We’re close,” you said, copying Eddie’s words from earlier without even knowing. “Best friends, you know? Nothing… nothing more.”

“Oh.” Steve’s lips were a pretty ‘o’ shape, pink and pouting and you practically saw the gears inside his head whirring. “Right.”

“He was probably just trying to be funny,” you explained, unwrapping a chocolate bar you’d taken from your bag. You bit into it, licking caramel from your lips. “He’s not though. Despite what he thinks.”

Steve nodded, looking a little dazed, but he pushed himself off of Murray’s desk and sent you another look you couldn’t really decipher. Before he made it back to the door that led to the arcade, you stopped him, an edge to your voice that wasn’t there before. 

“Did he, uh,” you winced when your voice cracked, staring at the table instead of the boy. “Did Eddie say anything else?”

Steve almost kicked the desk leg, swearing as he spun back to you, eyes darting over your face, like he was trying to work something out. He thought about Eddie’s questions. 

If Steve thought you were sweet. If Steve thought you were pretty. 

“What?”

‘You’ll catch more bees with honey than vinegar.’

“Did he say anything? You know, stupid shit.” You licked your lips again, chasing sugar, looking nervous. 

Lover boy lover boy lover boy. 

“No,” Steve lied, feeling something burn in his chest. Maybe it was the breath he was holding. “No, he didn’t say anything else.”

[discordantwords]

distraction

cw: violence, blood

_____

"Let's make this interesting." The voice is rough, unfamiliar. Masculine. Whoever has them—and, to be fair, the list of possibilities is quite long, they've made a great deal of enemies over the years—it's not anyone John recognises.

The room is badly lit, but John can see well enough to catch Sherlock rolling his eyes. He almost laughs, but his heart is thundering against his ribs and there is blood dripping from somewhere in his hairline and he'd prefer they both save the snark for when they're well away from this dank, foul-smelling basement.

A faint light blooms from somewhere behind them. Phone screen. They're being recorded.

Well. That doesn't bode well.

"Hit him," the man says.

"Yeah?" John asks, squaring his shoulders. He licks his lips. "And why would I possibly do that?"

Cold steel at the back of his head. The click of a safety. In front of him, Sherlock takes an aborted step forward, then freezes, hands held out in front of him in a placating gesture.

"He's pissed off loads of people. Loads of people who'll pay good money to see him hurt."

John sniffs, looks at Sherlock, looks away. Keeps his voice casual, unconcerned. "Yeah, don't think so."

"John—" Sherlock says.

"No," John says. He shakes his head. His hand clenches once, unclenches. He presses it against his thigh, scraped knuckles against stiff denim.

The gun eases away from the back of his head.

He sniffs again, locks eyes with Sherlock. There is a furious, helpless expression trapped there in the furrow of his brow, the downward curl of his mouth. They really are in trouble, then.  

A red dot appears on Sherlock's forehead, dancing merrily between his eyes. John sighs, looks down at the ground. The bravado that has kept him upright slides away. His shoulders slump.

"Hit him," the man says again. "Or he dies."

"No," John breathes. He closes his eyes and is back in the cold air of the Saint Caedwalla's morgue, Sherlock at his feet. No, not this. He'd rather have the gun.

"Go on. Nothing you haven't done before, right?"

"Who are you?" John growls.

There is no answer. He did not expect one.

He lifts his head, squares his shoulders again. Presses his lips into a tight line. Sherlock holds his gaze, gives him a little nod.

"No," John says again. "Nope. Not doing—not doing this."

"I'm not asking you to kill him," the man says. "Just rough him up a little bit for the camera. Won't that be fun?"

"John—" Sherlock says.

"Shut up," John says, because Sherlock is going to try to convince him that it needs to be done, and he knows it needs to be done, because the gun is trained on Sherlock and not on John. Because he'd gladly die to keep from hurting Sherlock, but he'd do just about anything to keep from watching Sherlock die again.

"Go on," Sherlock says, puffing himself up a little bit, his mouth curling into a disingenuous smile, and John knows he is going to start saying awful, terrible, monstrous things. Just so that it's just that much easier to swing his fist.

He won't let Sherlock do that. John doesn't deserve that mercy.

He swings. His fist connects with Sherlock's cheek. There is a muted thud of flesh on flesh. Sherlock rocks but stays standing.

"Don't pull your punches."

"I'm not," he lies through gritted teeth.

The red light jitters on Sherlock's forehead, drawing his attention. He shakes his hands out, presses them flat against his thighs. Shakes his head.

"John," Sherlock says. His voice is low, and serious. "It's all right."

"No. This is very fucking far from all right."

Sherlock's head droops a little bit, a flicker of sadness on his face. When he speaks again, his voice is resigned. "I know. But it is—"

"Don't say it," John chokes, and swings again. This time he connects solidly, and Sherlock drops to his knees, breathing hard.

"Again," the man says.

"Shut the fuck up," John shakes his head. He puts his hands on his knees, blows out a shaky breath. His ears are ringing. He thinks he might be sick.

"Again or I'll paint the wall with his brains and leave you down here to clean up the mess," the man says. "I'll film that, too."

John groans and straightens up. His face is hot. His eyes leak. There is a pressure in his chest, rising, bubbling, catching in his throat.

Sherlock looks up at him from where he waits on his knees. There is a bruise darkening his cheekbone.

John swings, and Sherlock turns his face into the punch. Teeth slice into the thin skin of his knuckles. He jerks his hand back as Sherlock doubles over, blood dribbling from his split lip to the ground.

"Again."

"John," Sherlock says, lifting his head. His voice is hoarse. His eyes are wet. He is trying to smile, but his teeth are smeared with red. "It's all right."

"Any idea who this arsehole is, yet?" John grinds out, trying to sound casual and missing by a mile. "Any great deductions? Escape plans? Now would be a brilliant time."

"Again."

Sherlock climbs slowly to his feet. He brushes dirt from his coat, an achingly familiar motion. Stands, calmly waiting.

It's just about the worst thing that John has ever seen in his life.

It isn't, of course. He has seen worse things. Sherlock, dead on the pavement in front of Barts Hospital. Sherlock, eyes wet and wounded, smeared with his own blood, staring up at him from the morgue floor. His own knuckles, split and bleeding, itching to keep going, to strike again and again and again. Wanting to crush him, shatter him, stamp him down and kill him all over again.  

"No," John says. "No."

Sherlock closes his eyes, bracing for another hit. The red light on his forehead slides teasingly along the slope of his brows.

There is no getting out of this, John thinks. No matter what he's told. He will be forced to split his knuckles against Sherlock's face, to crack bone and bruise flesh and spill blood. To kill him in the name of saving his life.

Their captor is right, he thinks. There are loads of people who would pay a great deal of money to see that.

Christ, if he has to be the one to cause Sherlock's death, let it be for something good.

John surges forward, fists his hands in Sherlock's coat, yanks him into a rough kiss. Their faces press together, their legs tangle. Sherlock stumbles and they both go down, knees against concrete. Sherlock's mouth opens to him and John tastes blood and he tugs harder at the coat, trying to drag them together into one, so that the bullet, when it flies, will pass through them both.

Sherlock bites his lip. Hard. John cries out at the unexpected pain, lets go. Sherlock rolls sideways and staggers to his feet and John pushes up to follow, only to be felled again when Sherlock delivers a brutally efficient kick to the back of his knee. There is the sound of a scuffle, and the heavy, meaty thud of a body striking the hard ground.

John climbs unsteadily to his feet, touches his bruised lip with bruised fingers.

Sherlock stands only a few paces away, chest heaving, staring down at the crumpled form of their captor. He's unconscious. Respiration steady. If John had been the one to get at him, he would not be breathing. He wonders if Sherlock knew that, if that's why he knocked him down.  

"Laser pointer," Sherlock says, and he quirks a smile that pulls at the tear in his lip, sending a fresh trickle of blood down his chin. "Fake gun. Thought that might be the case, didn't want to risk it until I was sure."

"You—" John says, his words tripping over themselves, tangling in his mouth. He shakes his head. He cannot seem to speak.

And then Sherlock gives a groan and sinks back down to the ground, his back against the grimy wall. His head lolls, adrenaline fading. "Might need—a little help. Getting out of here."

John drops into a crouch next to him, presses a hand against Sherlock's bruised face. The skin beneath his palm is hot and damp. "Hey," he says, because he can think of nothing else. "Stay with me. Sherlock. Stay awake. Hey."

"Handcuffs," Sherlock says, flailing an uncoordinated hand towards his pocket, and John dutifully digs them out, secures their assailant before turning back towards him.

"How's your head?" John asks, helpless.

Sherlock squints at him, his brow crumpled up in bewildered pain. "Hurts. Obviously. Thought you were a doctor."

"Ta for that," John says, and there is a part of him that wants to laugh and a part of him that fears he might be sick all over the filthy concrete floor.

"You kissed me."

John presses his lips together, a bright spark of pain. He breathes out through his nose. Says nothing.

"Effective distraction," Sherlock says, finally. His eyes fix on John's, pale and wondering, before slipping shut again.

"Yeah," John says, because he cannot imagine giving voice to the thoughts in his head. "Distraction. Knew it would work."

[jungle-angel]

🤭 Number 45 screeeams Rhett 🌸

YOOOO!!!!!! Abso-fucking-lutely!!!!! So guess what honey?? This one's on me (lol).

Rhett couldn't take his eyes off you as you wandered through the back field near the main house. There was no work to be done that day or in the next few days, the cattle all ready for auction, the horses having been tended to and Abigail, the milk cow, her calves and her mate all wandering happily in the pasture with the little bells on their necks.

His eyes stayed fixed on you in that pale blue and yellow gingham house dress you had made, the very one that showed off your legs and dipped low to reveal just enough of your cleavage when you bent over. You went about picking small handfuls of brightly colored wildflowers, mountain daisies, indian paintbrush, harebells, yarrow, goldenrod, bachelor's buttons, fairy slippers and black-eyed susans. You looked like a dream to him, a wonderful, heavenly dream that he never wanted to wake from.

Rhett sat right up when you lifted the hem of your dress, drawing it up so far that it revealed part of your deep-blue lace skivies. It was only for a minute as you scratched a rather annoying bugbite that had been there for quite a while, but the sudden sight made his inner desire flare to life.

You came back to him, letting out a rather sad little sigh. "S'matter my peach?" he asked.

"I always hate when July ends," you told him. "Means summer will be over and we'll be cooped up in the house for three or four months."

Rhett stood up from where he had been sitting under the tree and drew you to him. "I know peach, I know," he told you.

"Don't get me wrong, I love apple picking, Halloween and all that," you told him. "But I miss the flowers and the heat.....just being able to go outside."

Rhett tilted your chin up so that your faces met, pushing his hat back just slightly so he could kiss you easily. "So whaddaya say," he said, before kissing you again. "We make the most of it and have a little fun?"

You hummed happily as his kiss trailed from your lips to your jaw, Rhett's arms encircling your waist. His hips pressed against yours, the stiff denim of his jeans against the thinner fabric of your dress....and something else with it.

"A little happy now aren't we?" you said with a naughty grin.

"Darlin, ya'll have no idea," he chuckled.

The two of you moved away from the tree and into the tall mix of wild grasses and wildflowers as Rhett carefully laid you down on your back. He nipped at your neck, your collarbone and your breasts, the obscene sucking and kissing noises throwing you quickly into a blinding ecstasy you had become familiar with.

"Please don't stop Rhett," you begged. "Feels so good."

You felt his stubble covered cheeks and jaw tickling the insides of your thighs as he kissed a little trail, lower and lower down to your core, hitting all the right spots he had mapped out in his brain.

"Don't clench on me now, darlin," he chuckled when you squeezed the muscles together in your thighs.

You felt your insides fluttering as he slid your panties off and worked his tongue into your core and the folds around it, Rhett's strong arms hooked around your thighs to keep him off the ground. "God I forgot how good you taste sweetheart," he mumbled.

You could hardly control the moans that were falling out of your mouth. It was a waterfall of moaning, panting and breathlessness that was music to Rhett's ears.

But then it stopped.

"Rhett?" you asked him. "Rhett, why did you stop?"

"Gotta take my pants off," he answered.

You snorted and laughed as Rhett first removed his maroon button-down shirt and then his jeans, freeing the large, throbbing monster-cock that lay in wait for you. You felt him sit you right up and into his lap, his cock sliding into you with ease, much more so than it had done the first time he had fucked you in the back of the truck.

It was a whirlwind of deep kissing and groping, his hands roaming up your dress and popping the buttons on the back to slide it right off. It wasn't long before the two of you were completely naked, Rhett's hips shifting and moving against yours, making you moan with each thrust.

"Jeez darlin!" he exclaimed with surprise. "You're fuckin soaked!"

You couldn't deny it if you wanted to. The noises that came from the both of you, your hips slapping together, the slickness, the heavy breathing, it was all unholy.

And you loved it.

You let out a squeaky little cry when you felt something hot explode between your legs, your foreheads touching, eyes shut and your lips just barely brushing together. It took a minute for the two of you to catch your breath, guiding each other down from the dizzying high and waiting for your breathing to even out.

You both lay in that field, skin-to skin with each other, a little sprig of bright red indian paintbrush in your fingers and perfectly content in the moment. "We could always spread some of those seeds in the garden," Rhett remarked when he saw the little red flower.

You chuckled a little and kissed his lips. "Don't worry," you told him. "I have a feeling we've already spread enough seeds out here."

[frantic-fuck]

Snakelet - Chapter 5 (cont'd)

@augusnippets Day 8 - Protective Caretaker, with an undertone of Found Family

Word count: 518

Masterpost

Content: Post-torture injury, implied lab whump, caretaker doing their best for whumpee's sake, when the caretaker is takered care of

Honestly I just wanted to follow the last snippet up bc I like writing Zop lmao

~

Seeing as Janessa's 'forgotten' to free Zop from the operating table, they do their best to make themself comfortable — not an easy task in her presence, even without restraints. "And just how d'ye plan on fixin' him up, eh?"

She looks at them like they're an idiot. So, the same as she always does. "I'll commission a healer, and he'll be good as new."

"D'ye really think that's it?! He's bein' tortured, for fuck's sake! Get ye the best healer in the world, it's not gonna fix his mental scars!"

"Of course not. That's your job." She boops them on the snout, hurriedly drawing her hand back when they snap their jaws with the full intention to bite her finger off. ...Probably why she's left them tied down. "I expect that he'll be perfectly capable of going back to normal within... a week, let's say. I'm sure you can manage that. You want him obedient as much as I do."

"Oh, fuck off. We both know yer not gonna ruin yer little deal over somethin' out of his hands. Yer damn lucky he'll let this slide." They flex their leg, instantly regretting it when agony washes over them anew.

"Fine. Then I'll take it out on him instead. I'm sure he'll have plenty of fun new buttons to push. Is that better for you, Zop?"

They snarl, refusing to admit defeat outright. "Fuck you. Never said I wasn't gonna try. I'm used to fixin' yer mess, anyway."

"This is not my mess."

"Don't ye start, it's yer fuckin' fault he—"

With narrowed eyes, Janessa dismisses them, responding from outside the gem as Zop collapses into Maya.

"Clearly, he didn't adequately salvage your mental capabilities. We'll have a discussion about that when he returns."

"Meh meh meh, I'm a little bitch, I am." Zop sneers weakly, more concerned with the blood pouring down their leg. "Ye think we can clean this up? Don't want him fussin' over me when he gets back."

"...Let us worry about that after we stop the bleeding, yes?"

"Aye, right. Help me there, will ye?"

With Maya's help, Zop staggers to the crack in the floor, which they've made considerably wider this past week. Solstice places a hoof on the crack and faer horn on Zop, and slowly but surely, their leg closes up.

They carefully flex it and suck in a pained breath. Still hurts like a bitch, but at least the blood's staying inside.

"Good enough. Now I can—"

"Sit down, is what I assume you are going to say, correct?"

Zop squints at Maya, who stares back up at them, and eventually sighs in defeat. "'Course. Don't wanna open it back up, anyway."

Satisfied, she helps them lie down comfortably on the jouch while Solstice addresses the other janimals about 'jleaning jhe jlood.' They prop their leg up on the jouch's arm with a groan.

"Dunno how he manages to deal with her all the time."

"She does not stab him, for one."

Maya plops her furry head on Zop's chest, and they stroke her soft, denim fur.

"Aye. Lucky me."

[gentlebilady]

The OTHER Harringrove Chappell Roan song fic I've been possessed by

Steve was blowing like a goddamn race horse, his breaths loud and quick. His body was trembling, fine tremors running through his legs, his stomach clenched tight. He opened his eyes and looked out the windshield of the car – it was dark but the moon was bright and it lit up the cornfield they’d parked by. He looked down when the head his hands had been gripping shifted; Steve forced himself to release the curly hair wrapped around his fingers. Billy was grimacing.

“What’s wrong?”

Billy grunted.

“This fucking hurts, dip shit.”

Steve giggled, the sound escaping him before he realized what he was doing.

“Oh yeah, yuck it up. You get your rocks off, and I’m squeezed into a footwell like a goddamn clown.”

Steve’s hand, completely independent of his brain, brushed a few strands out of Billy’s eyes; those eyes closed and his head leaned into the hand, before Billy huffed a breath, pinching Steve’s exposed hip and slapping at the door.

“Come on, man, open up. I gotta stand up, my legs are killing me.”

Steve started to open the door, then, belatedly, did a quick look around, checking to make sure no other cars had pulled up. The backroad wasn’t commonly used as far as Steve knew, but teenagers were always looking for new spots to neck. The area was empty. Steve stumbled out, feeling weak and giddy, and did up his jeans. There was a scuffle by the car and he spun around.

Billy was down on one knee in the grass, cursing and frantically rubbing his calf.

“Fffffuck.”

Steve grimaced in sympathy.

“Charlie horse?”

Billy grunted before falling back on his ass and stretching his legs out in front of him, leaning back against the car. Steve knelt by his feet, wrapped his hands around the man’s calves, and started long strokes up and down. It wasn’t easy over the denim but he found a rhythm. He noticed the silence after a moment and looked up.

Billy was watching his hands, his upper body relaxed against the warm metal of his Camaro. His eyes shot to Steve’s and Steve suddenly felt the way he did when Billy crawled between his legs in the front seat: heart racing, mind blank. Somehow, it had the same feeling of intimacy, despite everyone having all their clothes on.

“What are you doing?” Billy’s voice had an edge of something in it that Steve didn’t recognize, but it stopped his hands in their tracks.

“Oh, um, I don’t know. Just trying to help. I would do this when I got cramps.”

Billy was silent for a moment before drawing his legs away and standing up.

“Thanks, man, I’m good.”

Steve was left kneeling on the ground looking up and feeling just a little bit foolish, though he wasn’t sure why. He quickly stood.

“Yeah, sure. So, um, whatcha wanna do now?”

Billy twitched.

“I’m heading to Jenning’s.”

“Chris?”

“Yeah. He’s having some sort of party or whatever.”

“Oh.” Steve felt even more off center. “I thought we were-”

“You want me to drop you at your house?”

“oh. Um, yeah, sure.”

Billy headed around to the driver’s side and slid into the car. Steve tried to gather himself for a moment, before getting into the passenger seat. The seat was still pushed all the way back and he immediately had a vision of Billy on the floor between his legs, fingers scrabbling at his zipper. The memory gave him some courage.

“Actually, take me to Chris’. I forgot it was his birthday.”

~

you guys. this is so much fun. who knew???? based on Casual by Chappell Roan

[winderlylandchime]

The Man, the Myth, the Legend is tired and in pain but that’s his own fault and you will see why: ‘OH HOT GUY ALERT! Emmett..baby..he is wearing denim on denim with a leather jacket, if that doesn’t scream gay, idk what does. GAY! WHAT DID I SAY!’ He just paused the episode and walked to the tv to look at Justins art ‘THATS bc you accepted a boy who wasn’t beaten yet. So of course his work was different, sherlock! Now stop being a prick and let my boy draw on his computer! We expect our students to what now? What did he just say about excelling at everything? Just bc he’s disabled doesn’t mean he won’t be amazing?! Oh just say you don’t accept disabled people you old fart! Fuck you and your tradition! I hate this clown..oh i guess the clown has some brain after all!..BRIAN! Dont put any ideas in his head.. oh he wants him to succeed and be the best and do good and this is a lot to handle on so many pain meds’ ‘why is linds being a bitch? Since when is she so uptight? Oh, the silence is LOUD…BRIAN WILL YOU GRAB THAT AND THEN HE JUST DOES? OH HE IS GONE. THAT MAN IS IN LOVE! HE IS SO IN LOVE AND NOBODY EXCEPT ME FOR SOME REASON SEES THIS *looks at me like he just realized im there too* can you see it?!’ ‘Okay dudes, that was not chill! You don’t do that to your friends. It’s fun to be jokey but that was not cool, yall are better than that…are you tho? MICHAEL BET 5 WEEKS?! i guess people do change. Tell them debbie! At least she gets it, even if she only gets it once every 17 episodes’…‘Ben better be better than David. Oh is he gonna be the one..i mean he’s asking him to talk about comics..david hid them. I hated that. Okay Benny boy, you can stick around, I’ll allow it but you get 3 strikes!’ ‘Okay goatee dude, chill the fuck out. People are allowed to have relationships and still be the hottest thing around. Don’t make him self conscious, i have worked overtime to try and get him to admit to being in love! DONT RUIN THIS FOR ME!….NOOOO HE RUINED IT FOR ME!…MICHAEL! WHAT THE FUCK MICHAEL WHO JUST SAYS THAT TO A PERSON? Just when i was about to be in your corner, someone please hit him! You cant just say fucked up shit and then say sorry! Thats not how that works!’ Then he felt bad for Mikey bc of the school thing and then he hated that he felt bad bc hes mad at him ‘Oh we are getting hot and HEAVY! Bri Bri, i am impressed! You knew he was upset and why! Oh so that guy was nothing but Justin is something? MY DUDES WE SERIOUSLY NEED TO LEARN HOW TO TALK. Aww he doesn’t want Brian to change. Now that’s love! Oh COME ON, I CANT FUCKING WIN EVEN FOR A MINUTE! Im a good person, i deserve good stuff, throw me a bone ffs’ ‘aw Benny boy is listening! Oh he is way better than david! If youre the one, you can stay! Just do me a favor and make mike more tolerable, i am begging for the sake of my well being..that was sweet mike, now give me brian and justin again!’ He had to go and take his last dose of pills for today and he just looked at the ceiling and flapped his arms around while making no noise at all, so id say he’s handling it well. ‘Listen, i am 100% straight. But THIS *points to a paused screen of Brian in the green light in the beginning of the non confession scene* is one beautiful man! I AM INTRIGUED And I would not mind him hitting on me.’ I made a comment that he is now 54 years old to which he puts his hand up in my face and goes ‘I’ll get back to you on that’ and just continued to watch. 1/2 of 2x06

Dear sweet anon - I am SCREAMING over him asking if you see that Brian is in love too. Yes, Brother Anon, that's why we're all here 20 years later. Still sobbing over them.

And yes, Gale Harold is the most beautiful man to ever man. I have a straight crush on him and even at 54 he could get it. The green light scene is one of my favorite. UGH that profile.

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

Celia's design- Visual references

thought it might be fun to run though the bits and pieces i picked up from other characters<3

big curl- at first definitely ripped from Kakyoin. later shifted to be more like Juris as a more stylized ringlet curl as oppose to a stretched-out-by-weight curl like Kakyoins. because it was way easier to draw and shade with a simple flow of hair in a spiral

middle curl- Wakaba. i dont have the braincells to go into the link but. there's something there.

golden hair- originally just a more gold-y blond i really leaned into it with some stylistic colour choices then when returning to proper colour i kept it. partly inspired by a lot of the amazing art of Giorno with his hair coloured golden

Trenchcoat [original design] - this is like a convergent choice based on both my old outfits and also Jotaro looking cool as fuck in his. the Jotaro influence was definitely subconscious as i remember getting annoyed that they ending up looking somewhat similar with the long coat trousers and black and gold- its a large part of why i ditched the trench and the predominately black clothes too. a long black trench was my most iconic dress choice for my late teens alongside a miniskirt [which is why i shove her in one- though i put her in denim like the original material of the outfit that heavily inspired her main design]

Curly hair- imma be honest i just wanted a character with short hair and messy curls. like me<3

body type- i was disappointed that Jolyne wasn't as ridiculously buff as earlier jojos. that's kinda it. also i wanted to push myself to draw different body types and go for a physically strong and seems like it female* character

Eyes- mainly the small white pupil. it started with Mura, and Georgie got it to. its just a quick and cool way to make someone noticeably different & even unsettling. Celia often wears sunglasses to cover them when shes trying not to be intimidating

in a similar vein, her hair grew longer over time as i drew it, as i had fun making it almost sentient, defying gravity to cling to her. the longer at the back kinda helps it look more masculine? in a weird way? idk

hair colour pt2: there's a constant battle between red and gold in her, and the dark red shadows in her hair grew to show just how bloodstained she is to her core. also with her only having two skin colours in her pallet with red used for deeper shadows and white and sometimes yellow used for highlight sit makes her seem even more unnatural. for this reason as well as the constant inspiration from Alanna, if Celia didnt have her golden hair i would see her hair as more ginger than blond, more orange than yellow

the arrows- based on the original design of human algebra, where the stand used the fusion 360/blender move tool on an object [god im such a nerd], but the design got to messy, so it was simplified to arrows [this is where the design for her belt- a circle with arrows moving out, as well as the heels of her special boots comes from. which end up looking like a rotated male gender symbol. so foreshadowing for her genderfuckery]

[kuiinncedes]

these fucking leather jacket highlights

[honeyquinns]

CLUB HELLFIRE

CHAPTER ONE

hellfire main characters

prequel

warnings // cussing, drugs, bullying, s1 steve, chrissy as a bully, toxic parent

——————————————————————————————————

1983

it’s September 7th, 1983, first day of school. Stacie’s first day of senior and Eddie’s … second but hell maybe this will be his year..

*alarm goes off* Stacie reaches her hand out to shut off the alarm but it’s simply not budging, “oh my god! enough!” she yells throwing the covers off her body and slamming down the clock, making it stop. she rubs her eyes getting the sleep out and pushes her hair out the way then she screams when Eddie catches her off guard “Eddie what the fuck!?” Eddie smiles at her brightly, hanging half way into window “GOOD MORNING SLEEPING BEAUTY! it’s the first day of school!” he says loudly sliding himself in, still in his pj’s flipping himself onto Stacie’s bed. “you’re a little too happy this morning… why?” she says squinting at him “ohhh just.. i don’t know man, i think it’s my year ya know?-“ he says with a face of realization “senior year number one wasn’t too fun. barely got the band started, never got to retaliate on Jason for the gym situation, didn’t go to prom…” she interrupts him “you didn’t even wanna go to prom” she says flatly “that’s not the point! but this year.. this year we’re gonna party like it’s 1990!” he says scrunching his face with his fist in the air “okay Munson well since this is our year how about you go get changed and i’ll meet you over for breakfast?? gotta get passed the ol’ drunk bastard” she says getting up looking for something to wear “hey how ‘bout we wear our hellfire tees today? i already gave the guys theirs and today we’re gonna have a club meeting.. you just have to come get yours” he asks. “hmmm yeah okay i’m down! now go away, i can’t allow you to see my goodies” she says shooing him out the window, “babe, we’ve been friends long enough, it would be an honor to see your goodies” he says smiling hugely “oh get out!” she says pushing him. he runs toward his window yelling “it’s okay! i’ll show you mine anytime” he flips into his bed looking back “yeah that’s because i’ll be the first to see it!” she yells back.

Stacie walks to her closet looking to see what would go nice with her Hellfire shirt. her and Eddie spent weeks on the designs, making it perfect for the club. when Eddie had designed the art, Stacie came up with the idea to call it Hellfire.

*flashback to sophomore year*

“what about this??” Eddie shows Stacie the art he made for their club. “that’s sick!-“ Stacie said with her eyes wide “but i feel like something to be added to it” they both though for a minute “what about D&D dice???” he says “yeah! and add a sword to it?” she asks with a statement. Eddie starts adding all the ideas to the piece of paper “…i could add a flail too” he says still doodling on. once he finishes they both look at it in awe “that looks fucking awesome” Stacie says amazed “i try” Eddie smirks still admiring the drawing. “but what should we name it?” he look at her and back at the drawing, “demon club? devils rejects? oh! hells bells club?” he says excitedly. Stacie looks at him with her brows raised “you have a very good talent for art but not so much everything else” she takes the piece of paper from off of his desk and walks around his room thinking “what about…Hellfire?” she looks up at him and he looks back at her smiling “Hellfire Club” they both just stare at each other without saying a word but knowing exactly what their minds are thinking “Princess Stacie i believe we’ve officially got ourselves a club” she’s nod at him agreeing “now all we have to do is bring in some members” she said.

*end of flashback*

Stacie decided to to wear her black high waisted denim jeans with a thick black belt, adding a barb wire chain on the side of her hip. she fixed up curls almost Donna Summer style, still wearing her pj shirt and threw on her busted black and white converse, grabbed her backpack and headed out to the living room where her dad Don was sitting. “pass me a beer, will ya?” he said in a low voice watching ‘Happy Days’ weirdly enough. Stacie grabbed 2 beers wanting to avoid any confrontation that could ruin her day except a lot of times that simply won’t happen with Don. “here you go..” she says in a low voice, setting both beers on the side table when he grabs her arm “i better not have heard that boy Eddie in your room this morning.” she jerked her arm back, holding her wrist from the tight grip he had “of course not” she looked down at her feet angrily, just wishing to have the courage to stand up to him at some point. Don stands up walking up, standing over her. he lifts her chin up making her look at him “that’s what i thought. i don’t want no devil worshipper in my house, let alone his pervert uncle” and that’s when made Stacie feel with rage. she thought he had a lot of nerve to shit talk Eddie and Wayne when they’ve always been the two to actually care for her. Eddie being her shoulder to cry on and always putting a smile on her face and Wayne making sure she had clothes and something to eat, even if he didn’t have much. all she wanted to do was just take that beer bottle and smash it upside his damn head but she knew it would turn bad for her. “whatever.” she pushes her face away from his and storms out the trailer, walking quickly to Eddie’s.

“hey stacie! come on in! Eddie’s still in his room.” Wayne said smiling. “hey Wayne” she smiles and slightly rushes walking toward Eddie’s room. “tell that boy to hurry up! i don’t want you kids to be late and there’s some breakfast on the table!” he yells picking up his coffee “you got it!” she shuts the door behind her revealing Eddie dressed in his hellfire tee with black ripped jeans, his beat up converse that he drew all over and his favorite rings he got from an antique shop. he was writing some lyrics with his electric guitar in his hand. Stacie skips over and plops on his bed “watcha writin’?” she asks. “juuust finished my last lyric to the song. do you think the guys would love it?” he hands her his notebook with the title “Hell on Wheels” as the name of the song. Stacie reads through it thoroughly. Eddie looks down at her grinning. he always appreciated the way she supported him and always took the time do the small things like read the lyrics to his music, helping him with his drawings, even defending him from bullies even though she was being bullied too. when Chrissy Cunningham and her army of cheerleaders would tease her and humiliate her in the girls locker room, she’d walk right out after retaliating on them then threatening Jason Carver or Steve Harrington after seeing them push Eddie into lockers. he admired the way she was able to stand up for herself and certain situations and he learned more to stand up because of her. He truly loved her and was glad that they were best friends.

he gets pulled from out of his thoughts when she speaks, “this is fucking awesome Ed” she smiled widely looking up at him “you think?” he smiled back “of course! it’s fucking metal. you’ve gotta perform this at the Hideout!” she sits up still admiring his lyricism. “hell yeah we are! but i have to ask and before you say no just hear me out” she looks at him knowing what he’s gonna say “i really want you to sing it” he tells her “no way! i only go to see you and the guys perform and that’s how i’d like to keep it” she shakes her head not wanting to deal with the stage fright and just simply not wanting to sing “but come on! you have the perfect voice! the raspiness is fucking metal, hardcore! all those times you’d sing along to The Runaways? Stacie i want you to” he said standing up and pleading “your voice is raspier than mine why can’t you do it.” she leans back on the bed “because my voice cracks and you know how to voice control. plus i wrote it specifically for you” he pouts his lips out, making his eyes bigger than what they already are hoping she’d give in and say yes. Stacie looked at him giving it some thought. for years Eddie has been pushing her to sing more and to eventually join the band. she sighs “alright Ed, i will-“ he starts getting excited “-BUT this doesn’t mean i’m officially part of the band. i’m just doing this for my best friend” he smiles grabbing her, yanking her into a hug. he’s way taller than her, him being 5’10 and her being only 5’1. her head leaning against his chest. “thank you Stacie, really” he says as they look up and down at each other. he pulls her back holding on to her shoulders “you won’t regret it! everyone is gonna love you” she smiles at him “i sure hope so.. now give me shirt and let’s go eat. i’m sure Wayne is gonna be upset if we let the food get cold.”

Eddie walks up to his dresser drawer, opening it to grab baseball tee hellfire shirt. he chucks it at Stacie and she turns around to put it on, looking back at Eddie “do you mind?” she asked to which he gave her a blank face “seriously?” she gave him the blank face back “so serious” he rolls his eyes playfully and turns around looking at the posters on his wall. Stacie takes off her shirt and replaces it with the Hellfire tee. she walks over to Eddie’s mirror hanging over his dresser and he follows standing behind her. she cocks her head to the side with a questionable face “what’s wrong?” he asks “it’s missing something.” she walks into the kitchen, where Wayne has already left for work. she grabbed a pair of scissors and walks back into Eddie’s room and goes straight back to the mirror. “what’s that for?” he asks again. she ignores him and cuts a piece of the tee from the bottom, putting the scissors down on the dresser and rips the top to reveal her belly pierced stomach. she smiles at herself admiring her work and Eddie smile along with her “pretty hot” he said she turns to him then back to the mirror “bitchin’.” she says.

they both grab their backpacks and head to the kitchen eating the now cold scrambled eggs and bacon that Wayne left for them. they left the trailer and into Eddie’s black pickup truck that used to be Wayne’s and they headed to school.

*at school*

Stacie and Eddie were standing at their lockers with Jeff, who they met through Jeff’s older brother James who was a basketball player that bullied them the year before, always finding a way to make Stacie uncomfortable and always pushing Eddie around. James was actually the leader to the gym situation with Eddie but he refuses to speak of it, even to Stacie. she was dealing with her own shit and he never wanted to tell her, she only knows bits and pieces. Jeff found out about it and that was the moment he hated his brother. he knew if he could do something like that to Eddie, what’s stopping him from doing it to Jeff or allowing his friends to do it? after all Jeff was also a ‘metalhead freak’. when he had started his freshman year at Hawkins, he apologized to Eddie and at first Eddie was weary about him. he didn’t trust him at all and swore he was exactly like his brother but Stacie felt him out and they ended up becoming best friends and letting him join Hellfire.

“man guess what?” Eddie beams toward Jeff “she said yes, didn’t she?” Stacie peeps her head out of her locker and looks at them both “you mean the guys knew that you wanted me to sing?” she asked annoyed “of course! i needed a back up plan in case you were on adamant on saying no” jeff chimes in, “and we would’ve had to beg on our hands and knees for you to say yes.” he grabs out his history book. “too bad i said yes already. i would’ve loved to see all of you at your knees begging at my feet like the royalty i am” they both roll their eyes playfully laughing at her. Eddie throws his black metal lunch box that he uses for certain inquiries only and grabs a notebook and pen, slamming his locker shut to reveal ‘Open this locker and you DIE’ written on it. “i’m surprised Mrs. O’Donnell hasn’t gotten into your shit yet over that” Jeff points out to his locker. “it’s because she’s full of shit. at most, she’ll give me detention and force me to scrub the paint off.. eeeven in the alley near the football field.” he said shaking his head slightly “so you’re okay with getting detention” Stacie leans back against her locker. “not exactly but i should be allowed to express myself. isn’t that what they teach us. ‘Kids, you control your future. YOU have the power to be who you want. Express yourself and love your life the way you want’” he say mocking the school principle, reciting what was said during the last pep rally last school year.

they all sit laughing when all of a sudden a hand slams against the locker above Stacie’s head. they all turn to see Steve Harrington standing right there. he nods at the guys “mop head, brace face” he said then looking to Stacie while the guys scoffed at his ignorant nicknames. “hey Stacie” he says smirking at her “what do you want Steven?” she says annoyed. “Steven? you know i like that you call me that.” he leans closer to her and she backs away “what do you want, assface?” she said annoyed once again. “oh Stacie, baby, you’re breaking my heart.” he says holding his opposite hand from the one on the locker to his heart, pretending to be hurt. “i was actually coming to ask you if you could tutor me for chemistry?” Eddie and Jeff look at each other unamused wondering what gave him the audacity to even ask her “and why would i do that?” she asks, crossing her arms. “because you’re like the smartest girl in his school.” “really?” she said still having her arms crossed, unamused. “of course. plus we have a little chemistry you and i.” “yeah more like her fist and your face” Eddie mumbled making Jeff laugh. Steve looked up at them angrily then turned back to Stacie smile “come on, what do you say?” Stacie sits for a few seconds to think “20 bucks.” Steve coughs from being shocked “what?” “20 bucks. every time you want me to tutor you, it’s gonna cost you 20.” she says blandly hoping he would say no. “deal.” all three of the ‘freaks’ looked shocked by his answer. “you’re not serious” Eddie said still shocked. “as a heart attack.” Stacie sighs at Steve knowing he’d keep bothering her “fine i’ll do it. but don’t try anything or Eddie will come over with his bat” Eddie smirks at her answer looking directly at Steve. he looks at both of them and back down at Stacie “i promise i won’t but believe me after one night with me you’ll be begging for me” he says smirking at her. “fuck off, Steve.” she throws her hand up to his face to keep him from being an closer and brushes away with Eddie & Jeff by her side, heading to lunch.

a/n: hi !!! i was so busy today so it took me a while to write this but i hope you guys enjoyed. don’t forget to reblog!! next chapter will be sunday unless i get too excited and post early. also any requests sent to me, i’m working on them currently and you’re welcome to send in more!

this will also be on my wattpad <3

[lovedrunkheadcanons]

Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on AO3

Rated M

There ought to be a law limiting the amount of sugar one could add to a cup of coffee.

When Fr. O’Malley assured Hannah that Satoru would come find her when he was ready to talk, she hadn’t imagined he’d show up at her doorstep the following morning, looking stunningly handsome in a black bomber jacket and stone washed jeans, white Chuck Taylor’s tapping the floor impatiently.

“You’ve got ten minutes,” he said, Six Eyes glittering behind dark sunglasses. “Get dressed.”

Hannah was ready for him in six.

Next thing she knew, she was standing outside a random street corner in Tokyo, herded into a coffee shop far too commercialized to be authentic, and made to watch the world’s strongest Sorcerer alter the chemical composition of his drink. Hannah couldn’t say how sweet a “A Venti Doppio Espresso, with 20 shots of espresso, 10 pumps of white mocha and 7 pumps of cinnamon dolce, topped with a heavy dollop of whip cream and chocolate drizzle,” was, but she doubted it lacked sugar. The espresso alone was enough to put a toddler under cardiac arrest. Whatever Satoru was drinking, it wasn’t coffee.

Dunking his fifth packet of sweetener into the mix, Satoru glanced at the woman, fidgeting uncomfortably in her chair, refusing to make eye contact. She wore a lilac blouse tucked neatly inside her patched jeans, the worn out denim thinning white around the kneecaps and bottom hems fraying. Her long hair was plaited in braids crowning her head, revealing the ivory streamline of her neck, enticing his eyes to roam farther south, past the arch of her collarbone. He caught whiff of lilies hiding amidst the roasted coffee beans and felt a tingling in his crotch. Satoru crossed his legs, cursing himself for it. No. He couldn’t afford to get carried away. Not here. There’d be time for fun and games later. Right now he had questions in need of answering, if he could just draw them out of her first.

“I don’t know how they do things where you’re from,” he said, stirring in the sweetner with a straw. “But I’m pretty sure it’s rude to turn down a fresh cup of coffee when someone else is paying. Starbucks ain’t cheap nowadays.”

Hannah looked at him and then looked down at the green siren printed on the paper cup in her hands. Satoru was “nice” enough to order her some coffee while simultaneously flirting with the barista like he wasn’t a married man and “obliging” Hannah to take a seat near a window, whereupon he shoved the hot drink in her hands. The twin-tailed siren’s grin appeared conniving. A sickening feeling roiled in the pit of her stomach. She knew then that this choice in venue wasn’t accidental.

Satoru snapped a finger in her face.

“Oi, am I gonna have to force words outta you again like last time?” he said. “Cause you’re becoming a real buzzkill, Princess.”

Their eyes latched onto each other. Nervously, the Hannah bit her lip and said something too soft for his ears to catch. The Starbucks was in the middle of its morning rush.

“Louder.” Her behavior irked him. “Speak up.”

A deep breath. “Why did you bring me here?” she asked, peering up at him through wary hazel eyes.

Finally. At least she wasn’t stuttering.

“Whatya mean?” Satoru said, feigning ignorance. “Can’t a guy treat a girl to some coffee?”

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“Eh?”

The color in her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. Her gaze dropped to her lap submissively. He felt his crotch betray him again. Fuck. Quickly, so as not to arouse suspicion and avoid disaster, Satoru slipped his hands underneath the table and squeezed the inside of his wrist, twisting the skin hard enough to leave a bruise. The tingling petered out.

“I’m sensitive to caffeine,” he heard her confess. “It gives me anxiety.”

“Oh.” Satoru tugged his jacket sleeve down to hide what he’d done, acting like her words hadn’t offended him. “Well, in that case, maybe I could use the company.” He raised his espresso to his lips and took a sip.

“M-Meaning?”

Uh-oh. There’s that stutter again.

“Meaning,” Satoru stressed, placing his cup back on the table. “I think it’s time we have a good honest chat. You and me. Man to woman.”

A student to their right, typing furiously on his laptop, released a dreadful sneeze; a bad omen.

“Sorry,” Hannah’s brows narrowed. “I’m confused.”

“How so?”

She gave him a cynical look. “Weren’t you the one who said you wanted nothing to do with me? That you wanted me to stay away? That you didn’t give two — ’”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’m an asshole,” whined Satoru, rolling his eyes with a wave of his hand. “Just forget I said any of that crap. I’ve changed my mind. After all, I’m a human being with free will and can do that, right? Isn’t that something you Christians also believe in? Free will? — Speaking of which, you better not cram any of that Jesus hocus-pocus down my throat like Yaga's friend always does. I’m not looking for a savior, thank you very much.”

She winced at “hocus-pocus.” Though by no means ashamed of her Christianity, Hannah preferred to live out her faith through the quiet example of Thérèse of Lisieux, rather than the fiery zeal of St. Paul. Religion was a deeply personal thing. It felt like breaking an entry when cramming proselytisms down people’s throats. Either way, there’d be no evangelizing on her part. That was already agreed upon in her marriage dispensation from the archbishop.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she said dryly.

Satoru looked pleased. “Good.” He propped an elbow on the table. “So…what’s it like?”

She blinked. “What’s what like?”

“You know,” he goaded. “The Sight? Being able to see Curse attacks before they happen? What’s that like?” Hannah said nothing and stared forlornly at the table. Satoru whistled lowly. “That bad, huh?”

The seer nursed the coffee in her hands, sad reflection gazing back at her. “I watch people die when I go to sleep,” she murmured. “Of course it’s bad.”

“How long have you had it, you think?”

She watched the reflection shrug. “Since I was six years old. Maybe five? I can’t remember very well. At first, I thought they were just nightmares; mere figments of my imagination.” She forced a strained smile. “I wish that were the truth.”

“Do you know how it works?”

Hannah shook her head. “Aside from its strange relationship to Cursed Energy, not really. What I do know is that it's terrible and I wish I never had it.” She didn’t like where the conversation was headed. “Can we talk about something else…please?”

Satoru felt the awkwardness creep in. This is why he hated small talk. “Listen,” he sighed, combing a hand through his hair out of habit. “I imagine this must be rough, being far from home and not having Daddy Warbucks to look after you anymore, but — ”

“Lord Thames is not my father,” Hannah said at once, a vehemence knifed in her tone.

Satoru’s eyes widened, mildly surprised by her little outburst and raised his hands in appeasement, the sarcasm having flown over her head.

“Alright. No need to get pissy. I was only joking.” He lowered his hands. “Who the hell is he then?” Unbeknownst to her, Satoru already conducted research on the fat bastard after his trip to England. A company called Thames & Sons, S.E. was the first thing to pop up on his radar. From the onset, it appeared to be a holdings company, primarily in the business of producing and selling luxury goods, including yachts and other seafaring machinery. The company logo was the same heraldic shield he saw bedeck the gilded halls at Wasserton; two sirens on either side, one brandishing a harp, the other a trident. However, Hannah added a new piece of knowledge to the puzzle.

“He’s my uncle,” she said, her grip tightening around her coffee cup. “Though, I was nothing more than an inconvenience to him, a blight in need of swift removal.” Her voice rang hollow. “Like mother, like daughter, I suppose.”

At this, the lines on Satoru’s face outwardly softened. There was an emotion submerged in his blue eyes Hannah couldn’t quite fish out. Like a wave it rippled across the surface and then stilled.

“What happened to her?” he said. “Your mom?”

Hannah remained affixed on him. Best to pull the dagger out, she thought. While she’s got him here. The short version will do. For her sake more than anyone’s.

“She killed herself.” Hannah said it cleanly, her voice flat. “They found her lying face-down in her room one morning, lungs corroded, heart ruptured. They said it was cyanide poisoning. God only knows how she managed to get it. Probably through one of the servants.” She looked away as if ashamed. “My uncle disowned her shortly after I was born. That’s probably what drove her to commit suicide. She was barely twenty-two.”

Tragic? Yes. Entirely unforeseeable? No.

At this point in history, it was commonly assumed that Thames women were cursed, be it mental illness, abuse, bad luck, or in wake of Hannah’s mother, a deadly combination of all three. Shoddy nursery rhymes were even sung about it to ward off young girls: “Beware the House of Thames, who hasten maidens to their ends...” If indeed beautiful women lived tragic lives, the Thames could’ve written the book. They amassed enough scandals to rival that of the Tudors, making them prone to conspiracies and vulnerable to gossip; Particularly regarding the Countesses of Graivmor, who allegedly existed, but for some peculiar reason were never seen in public, leaving many to speculate there were no countesses and all Thames children were secretly bastards or adopted. Of course if these rumors were true, it wouldn’t explain how their magic was so excellently preserved. And were it not for this magic, and immense wealth (which was also suspect), the Thames wouldn’t receive so much as an invitation to tea. But Hannah, an illegitimate, wasn’t to be received anywhere besides the usual calls to morning Mass.

Satoru sat vigil, listening intently. “Why’d your uncle disown her?”

A fragile snort escaped her lips. “Why else? My mother was a peeress under one of the last existing Sorcery families in Europe. It’s dishonorable for a lady of her rank to bear a child out of wedlock, especially with a non-Sorcerer. It also meant she couldn’t terminate the pregnancy in case the child wielded magic, which unfortunately didn’t happen with me.”

Satoru shifted in his seat. “Sounds like you regret being born.”

Hannah turned to look at him. She’d never voiced the quiet part out loud. The question that’d been haunting her all her life. “I don’t think it matters one way or the other,” she said. “But seeing how my mother is dead, I’ll let you be the judge.”

The two relapsed into silence, broken only by the sound of construction outside, the chime at the front door alerting staff to new customers. Keyboards. Page turning. Quiet chit-chat.

“I’m sorry,” Satoru said, wondering whether she could tell how much he meant it. “That must’ve sucked.”

Hannah shrugged her shoulders. “I was a baby. I hardly knew her.”

“What of your old man? What became of him?”

Her taut smile lacked humor. “Abandoned my mother when she became pregnant with me and hightailed it back to New York, so I’m told. On top of an unplanned pregnancy and destitution, my mother also suffered a broken heart.” Her eyes appeared distant. “Sad isn’t it? When the people who are supposed to love us... don’t.”

Satoru’s expression was unreadable. “Do you know where the deadbeat is now?”

“My father?” she asked. Satoru nodded. “No, and with any luck, it’ll stay that way.” Her eyes flicked up at him. “What about you?”

He cocked a brow. “What about me?”

She could already hear Fr. O’Malley’s voice protesting in her ears, “Don’t do it, lass. I’m warning you.” She nudged the priest aside. “Well, I never.”

“Your parents?” Hannah said, feeling a bit braver. “I figure there’s a reason we haven’t been introduced?”

She waited for a stretching, agonizing moment, thought for sure she had him, but when Satoru opened his mouth to speak, he unceremoniously clamped it shut and let out an airy chuckle. “Yeah, no. I don’t think so. Nice try.”

…

…

…

“Sorry. Perhaps, you misunderstood. I’m asking whether I'll get the chance to meet your — ”

“I understood you perfectly fine, Princess. You’re the one with the hearing problem. Ask me again and see what happens.”

“But,” Hannah was honestly quite baffled by this veiled threat. “But I revealed my entire past to you just now. I’ve never done that with anyone outside of a confessional.”

“Okay.” Satoru looked as though he could care less. “And?”

She set her jaw, anger rising to her defense. “The least you could do is be polite and reciprocate the sentiment.”

Satoru pressed his lips in a hard line. He leaned forward across the table, Six Eyes wildly close, and said. “I know this may come as a bit of a shock, Princess, but politeness isn’t really my forte. You’re free to ask questions, as many as you like, but that doesn’t mean I’m obligated to answer them. In other words,” he switched to English, “you’re S.O.L.”

S.O.L.

Shit out of luck.

Hannah could no longer feel the coffee in her hands, nor its warmth. Her whole body went numb, as though someone had taken a rusty pair of scissors and snipped off the last shred of hope she’d been clinging on to. “So, let me get this straight,” she said, voice even-keel. “You brought me here to this place. Said you wanted to have a ‘good honest chat.’ I answer your questions honestly and truthfully, yet you refuse to do the same?”

The Six Eyes wielder gasped and struck a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “Hey, now. I’m not being untruthful. I’m simply choosing not to answer. There’s a difference.”

She breathed through her nose. Her eyes burned, but she dared not blink. “Well, then…that’s awfully disingenuous. Thinking you could lead me on like that.”

“Oh, cry me a river, sweetheart.” Satoru said waspishly. His voice held none of the savage humor from before. “All I did was ask a few questions. I wasn’t lawding over you, forcing you to say those things. And I don't have to tell you certain shit if I don’t want to.” He sneered into his coffee before taking another swig. “Disingenuous.”

Wind knocked from her sails and spirits dampened, the seer slumped in her chair, accosted by his harsh reticence. Two steps forward, five steps back. They’d returned to square one. This man was impossible.

“Patience, Hannah,” Fr. O’Malley urged. “Patience.”

She inhaled deeply, bridling her anger and consternation. “At the very least, will you answer my next question?” she asked. “Truthfully this time?”

His smirk was too handsome and smug for his own good. “Depends on the question, but go ahead.”

Swallowing hard, Hannah said, “Why did you consent to the marriage.” She couldn’t meet his gaze as she spoke. “You’re obviously not interested in a wife, so why take one if it’s not what you wanted? You don’t have to lie. I can tell you’re unhappy.”

Satoru clicked his tongue at her bald accusation. Not as unhappy as I should be, he wanted to say, but thought better of it. His Six Eyes scrutinized the little seer for a moment, face impassive, calculating. He stacked both elbows on the table and wove his fingers together.

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like if the Sorcery world were different?” he said, breaking their short-lived silence. Hannah didn’t answer. Satoru inclined his head to look out the window, watching an old woman on a bench scatter sunflower seeds to a flock of hungry pigeons, commuters walking past her. “I can’t speak for The Association, but our higher-ups are trash.” He rested a palm to his cheek. “They think because they’re older it makes them wiser, but anyone with half a brain could tell you that’s a load of horseshit. Those feeble minded idiots don’t care how many civilians die, or how many young people they brainwash into becoming martyrs. All while spouting some stupid nonsense about ‘world order’ and ‘tradition.’” He balled his fist. “Pisses me off just thinking about it.”

Hannah didn’t know what to make of this information. “W-What is it you’re implying?” she said tentatively.

His eyes never wavered. Had Hannah been standing upright instead of sitting in a chair, she would’ve faltered from their harshness. “I want to reset this shitty Jujutsu world,” he stated firmly. “To undo the damage those trash heaps have wrought upon society.”

Hannah's heart stopped. She could feel the blood drain from her face. “You want a revolution?”

His eyes were like smoldering blue flames. “I want change,” he emphasized, heatedly turning to glare out the window once more. The old lady on the bench was gone. He swished his coffee cup. “The higher-ups are still wallowing in their own shit after what happened in San’ya. Rumor has it there’ll be a ‘no-confidence’ vote soon."

Hannah gnawed her bottom lip. “Isn’t that a good thing?” Satoru’s eyes flashed at her. She bowed her head. “I-I mean, based on what you’ve told me, it sounds like the issue is resolving itself; The current regime will disband and a new one will take its place. Why interfere?”

He sighed loudly at how little she grasped the situation. “Because, Princess, the ‘no-confidence' vote is just for show. These people aren’t serious about issuing a new regime. They’ll just reshuffle the same deck of cards, and if you cry foul or raise a stink, they’ll either demote you, or put your head on a chopping block.”

Hannah slid him a caustic glance. “Don’t you fear execution?”

Satoru released an incredulous snort, “Hell no. You kidding? I’m the one holding this shit-show together. They can’t afford to get rid of me. Not that they could. I’d kill them all, before they’d get the chance.”

Hannah’s throat felt knotted. It was worse than she thought. “Then what’s stopping you?” She tried not to waver when his eyes coined into slits. “It’s not that I condone mass murder or anything, but if what you say is true, why not set fire to everything and declare yourself king?”

The Sorcerer helped himself to another swig of coffee, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “King, eh?” he murmured, pausing as if to mull it over with himself. “Nah, I have no intention of becoming anyone’s king,” he admitted. “Sure, for a while I contemplated killing everybody off and starting over from scratch. Only problem is it would be counterintuitive. You can't demolish an institution if you’ve got nothing better to replace it with. And it’s not like people approve of massacres anyway. I don’t want to become the very thing I sought to destroy." He turned to look at her. “Which is why I plan to use a more - shall we say - diplomatic approach.” He twirled a long finger at her, smiling at some private joke. “You.”

Hannah stared blankly. “Me?”

The Sorcerer nodded. "The bargain was simple: I be a good little Boy Scout and get married, thus fulfilling my ‘sacred duty’ to the clan or whatever, and as my reward, they offer me a teaching position at Jujutsu High. Voila. Easy peasy.”

Hannah tilted her head. “A teaching position? You want to be a teacher?”

“Yup,” he said in English, punctuating the “p” with his lips. “I plan to rebuild the system from within. That way I can foster the next generation and gain strong, loyal allies in the process. Plus, ‘Gojō-sensei’ has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Admit it, you’re impressed by my genius. I knew you would be.”

Despite herself, Hannah heaved an inward sigh of relief. “Then a reformation is your goal? Not a revolution?”

He shrugged. “I was kinda going with ‘nonviolent coup,’ but yeah. Whatever floats your boat.”

“Have you revealed this plan to anyone else?”

“Sorta,” He examined his fingernails like he’d lost interest. “Though, technically, you’re the first.”

“And you're able to do this because of the Limitless?”

Six Eyes honed on her like a falcon about to swoop in on its prey. Her heart ratcheted. His shift from carefree to serious frightened her. The man who saved her life was nowhere to be found. No, this man was formidable. This man was dangerous.

“You know about that?” he said cooly, the fire in his eyes now a glacial frost. He was a remarkable contradiction; both fire and ice.

Hannah shivered. “I know of it, yes,” she conceded. “But Fr. O’Malley didn’t elaborate.”

The Jujutsu Sorcerer’s mouth quirked. “Yeah, bet he didn’t. Just as well. It’s better to show in person anyway. Here…” He spread his left palm out as if to give her a high-five, but in the midst of unfurling his hand Hannah gripped the table and flinched, afraid he might do something…regrettable. Satoru’s face twisted into a scowl. “Chill. I’m not gonna hurt you. Now, be a nice girl and place your hand on mine, okay?”

Hannah froze. “W-What?”

Satoru bore a wide smirk.

“Oh, you heard me, Princess.” He wiggled his fingers suggestively. “Come on. Don’t be shy. Promise I won't bite.”

She didn’t budge. “You actually want me to…”

"Ugh." He rolled his eyes, "Why do women have to be so stubborn all the time? Hurry up. My hand's getting tired."

Hannah swallowed the huge lump in her throat. Hesitantly, with shaky hands, she lifted her left palm to his as instructed. Closer and closer she crept, nearly making it, could practically feel it, but instead of touching callused skin like she anticipated, her forearm went no further, halted by an invisible wall keeping their hands squarely apart.

What on earth? She commanded her hand forward. Nothing. Not an inch more.

“Surprised?” spoke Satoru, amused by her trial and error. “Don’t be. What you’re witnessing is no trick. This is the resting state of the Limitless; Infinity.”

“Infinity?” she repeated, remembering Fr. O’Malley used the term in Principle Yaga’s office.

He nodded, gossamer bangs over his eyes. “With this Curse Technique, I’m able to manipulate the flow of space and time at will, making the theoretical concept of ‘Infinity’ fully realized. You can try all you want, but so long as this Technique remains active, your hand will never reach mine.”

Hannah was troubled by this. “I’m not sure I follow,” she said. “It’s a force field of some kind?”

“Hmm, not quite. You familiar with Achilles and the Tortoise?”

“Zeno’s Paradox, you mean?”

…

Okay.

He wasn’t expecting her to know that.

Kudos to her.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Well, that’s basically what’s going on here.” He pointed to his open hand. “In retrospect, I’m breaking down motion so acutely to the point it’s stopped in toto, or at least it appears that way.”

“I see,” replied Hannah, still piecing it together. “But Fr. O’Malley said the Limitless gave you the ability to repel and attract? He mentioned nothing of stopping.”

“Oh?” Satoru's grin turned Machievellian. “You mean this?”

The invisible gulf between their hands suddenly widened. Hannah could do nothing but watch as her palm was gently “pushed” back to her shoulder, fully outstretched. A red aura haloed around her arm.

“Reversal…”

Then Hannah’s hand was returned to his as if pulled by threads, her fingers barely touching the pads of his fingertips. Her pulse ran rampant in her chest, anxious by their close proximity and the blueness of his eyes concentrated solely on her. The red aura became a deep azure.

“Attraction,” he purred.

She heard her breath gasp. In the course of a single heartbeat, their fingertips at last met each other, then their palms, and then finally his fingers began to slip teasingly between her own, pinching the skin where their wedding rings collided. His hand felt massive, rough calluses and scar tissue grazing against her flesh, eliciting the hairs on her forearm to raise approvingly. He chuckled at the rosy hue dappling her cheeks.

A rush of excitement coursed through him at how easy she was to seduce. He didn't impede the tingling in his crotch this time, but rather kept it at bay, wondering how much longer would it be until she was in his bed, naked, writhing, pleading for him to make her his. He’d give her a solid week, tops. “See? Told you I don’t bite,” he said flirtatiously, his voice velvet smooth, stroking his thumb atop their clasped knuckles for extra measure.

Meanwhile the blood in Hannah’s veins felt as though it were boiling inside a kettle. His hold was gentle yet firm and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t like it; Lucifer and his good looks. She couldn’t bring herself to let go, so she tried for a diversion. “I h-haven’t thanked you for saving my life,” she squeaked, wishing she had a fan to cool herself, or a block of ice to press to her cheeks.

This must’ve been the last thing Satoru expected her to say because the tips of his ears also warmed a faint pink. “Whatever, don’t mention it,” he said, quickly looking away, hubris forgotten. “No big deal.”

He released her hand.

But Hannah was adamant. “I’m serious. If you hadn’t arrived when you did I would’ve been — ”

“You would've been Curse meat,” he snorted. “Again, it's no big deal.” He didn’t think she’d thank him. Few people did.

“Only it is a big deal.” She reached across the table and grabbed hold of his hand, feeling the muscles tense up. “Please, Fr. O’Malley said you’d retrieve the Sukuna fingers for us. I may not be a Sorcerer, nor the wife you wanted — In fact, I’d go so far as to say there’s nothing extraordinary about me at all — but for once in my life I could save people. Actually save people instead of watching them suffer and die. I can’t tell you how that makes me feel. I — ” She stopped, fearing she’d taken it a bridge too far, her cheeks blazing. “Anyway, I’m glad you changed your mind. Truly.”

Satoru’s mouth thinned, not impressed, not underwhelmed.

“That’s cute, Princess. I’m touched.” He deftly slid his hand from underneath her’s to pour a sixth packet of sugar into his half-empty drink. “However, there’s something you should know. While I’d love to say I agreed to help outta the kindness of my own heart, I very much adhere to the philosophy, ‘you scratch my back, I scratch yours.’ That being said, what will you give me in return to sweeten the deal?”

“You get an ally.” For all her shyness, for all her foibles, the rebuttal was immediate. “A loyal one. I can’t say whether I agree with your coup, but if it means you’ll help me find the Sukuna fingers, then I’ll support you in your mission. That’s something you said you wanted, right? Loyal allies?”

The Sorcerer pretended to weigh his options, rubbing his chin. “Hmm. My help in exchange for your unwavering loyalty.” He was messing with her really, having made his decision last night, standing outside that bathhouse, ogling her naked body like an old lech. He clapped his hands together. “Alrighty then, I’ll agree to your terms. On one other condition.”

Hannah beamed. “Of course. Anything.”

He internally grimaced. Her enthusiasm reminded him of a puppy, naive and trusting. She shouldn't be so quick to make promises like that, proof she was inexperienced and easy to take advantage of. That needed to be corrected. Asap.

“You learn how to fight.”

He watched her elation flatten into sheer disappointment.

“I can’t control Cursed Energy,” she said.

Satoru could've laughed. “Who said anything about Cursed Energy? I know brats half your age who can fight plenty without it. I don’t care whether you’re a non-Sorcerer, or what level that Curse was. You gave up the second it had its greasy paws. I’ll see to it personally that doesn't happen again. You may be weak, but that’s not an excuse to forfeit your life like that. Capeesh?”

The hint wasn’t lost on her. “I’ll see to it personally…”

“You’ll be my instructor?” she asked.

“Why not?” he replied, shrugging. “How else am I to teach a couple of angsty teenagers, if I can’t teach a smallfry like you how to defend herself? So, there. Congrats. Try not to let it go to your — Huh? What the heck is this?”

Hannah was holding some kind of twig out to him.

“It’s for you.” She presented it with both hands. “It’s part of an olive branch.”

Satoru blinked. Where the hell did she find an olive tree in the middle of frickin’ Tokyo? They primarily grew in Shodoshima where it was drier.

“Right,” he said unsuredly. “Uh, am I supposed to do something with it?” He silently prayed she wasn’t encouraging him to eat this thing.

“Extending an olive branch symbolizes peace and new beginnings.” She nervously tucked a loose strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “I was hoping we could start over…if that’s alright with you?”

Following her escape from Jujutsu High, and a stern talking to from Principle Yaga that she was to stay on campus at all times (Mr. Ijichi bore the brunt of Yaga’s ire), Hannah changed into suitable clothing and went into the greenhouse in search of garden shears, where she noticed a young olive tree rooted in a pot. Either someone placed it there that morning, or she hadn’t been paying close attention, but after finding the garden shears, she clipped off a sample and gingerly placed it in her pocket for safekeeping, planning to gift it to Satoru when the opportunity arose, which came sooner rather than later.

Fascinated, Satoru plucked the little sprig from her hold and lifted it towards the Starbucks window, examining its waxy oblong leaves and cellulosic properties. He noted the color was similar to the green in her eyes and he could smell its smoky perfume wafting from the tiny branches. Hannah interpreted this as a good sign and offered him her hand in friendship.

“I’m Hannah,” she said with a timid smile. “Hannah Thames - er - was Hannah Thames, but you already knew that.”

A perfectly cordial introduction.

Honestly speaking, she was prettier when she wasn’t sad.

Satoru stared at her proffered greeting, peered into her eyes, testing to make sure it was safe, then enclosed his palm around her’s without teasing.

“Satoru,” he replied, shaking her hand. She reminded him of a doll. A little hina doll. Too forceful and she’d snap in two. “By the way,” he added, “You might want to start packing your stuff when we get back.”

Her brows rushed downward. “How come?”

Ooo, she's gonna love this.

“There’s been a slight hick-up,” Satoru said. “After Wednesday night’s fiasco, the powers that be no longer think it safe for you to reside in the dormitories. I told them no, but they wouldn’t listen. So it looks like you’re moving in with me. Soon as it’s convenient.” His voice lowered. "Oh yes, we’re gonna get nice and cozy with each other, aren’t we, Princess?”

Hannah gulped.

New beginnings, indeed.

Chapter Contents

[the-girl-who-cried-wolf]

Fingertips on me

5SOS Calum Hood fan fic

This was mainly inspired by the pretty nail polish Calum was wearing lately, so I ended up writing a random fic about it <3 not much else to say really, enjoy reading!!

Background: painting Cal's nails for him can be fun, but he's always a little impatient

Warnings: mild swearing, fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

“Y/n?”

Calum’s voice echoed through the apartment, reaching all the way to where you sat on your shared bed, busily typing away on your laptop. You looked up as he came into the room, a box in his hand and a frown on his face.

“Hey, y/n, can you help me out here?”

“Sure, love, what is it?” You shut your laptop and pushed it onto the bed beside you as he came over, fingers dancing through the bottles of nail polish that were neatly arranged in the box.

“I need to pick a colour, and I don’t know what will suit best…” he hummed as he sat beside you, picking out a bottle of bright pink to see the colour, then dropping it back and checking another one.

“You’re painting your nails?”

“Yeah,” he looked up at you, a shy smile dancing over his face. “Me and the boys wanted to do a photoshoot tomorrow and we all decided that we’d do our nails, and maybe a little makeup or something for it.”

You grinned back at him. “That sounds awesome, Cal.” You leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder and watching his fingers sort through the bottles, making soft clinking noises with every movement.

“You know I love when your nails are painted,” you murmured, pressing a light kiss onto his arm. He stopped sorting through the bottles for a second, picking up on what you were doing before you had even started.

“Yeah?” He turned his head to look at you, his hand abandoning the polishes in favour of dragging a finger across your jaw, turning your gaze to him. He was sitting so close already, he just had to look down at your lips and you were done. How did he do this so effortlessly? His voice was low as he continued, “Well how about you help me paint them first, then you can look at them all you want.”

“Just look?” you said with a sly grin.

He smirked at that. “We’ll see. But we have to paint ‘em first, okay?” You just sighed as he turned back to the box, lifting out a bright orange one with a frown. “The fuck is this?” He spun the bottle around to read the label. “Sunburst Grapefruit. You couldn’t just call it orange could you? Pretentious bastards.” You chuckled at that, earning a smile from him.

“Do you know what colour you wanted? Did you guys have a theme in mind or something?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Ash said he’d do red, and Luke’s are already silver I think. And Michael wasn’t sure yet but I’m assuming he’d do black or something, you know him.” Calum raised his eyebrow a little as he picked out a dark purple-ish colour, holding it between his thumb and finger like it was an object of disgust.

“I’ve literally never seen you wear half of these colours, y/n, why do we have so many?”

“Well you never know when you might need some-” you checked the label of the one he was holding- “Aubergine Maroon.” You laughed at his evident confusion.

“It doesn’t even look like an aubergine, damn it,” he said as he put the bottle back with a little laugh of disbelief. “These names are so fucked up.”

You just laughed at his mocking. “Ok, ok, give it here. If you’re just going to insult all the ridiculous name choices then we’ll be here forever.” You took the box and placed it in your lap, fingers running through the colours until you found a dark blue one, almost navy coloured, and pulled it out for him to inspect. He put his arm out behind you so he could lean back a little, his other hand reaching across to hold the polish for a second. He shook his head.

“Too dark. They said it would be a low light shoot,” he said.

You nodded and placed the bottle back in its place. “How about this one?” The cornflower yellow was certainly lighter. He screwed up his nose though.

“Maybe the cooler colours would be better,” he leaned forward to watch your fingers dance over the blues and purples, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Not green?”

“Nah.”

“Oh, how about this one?” You pulled out a baby blue colour, a lighter shade of sky blue. He hummed in thought for a second.

“Actually…yeah, that might work.” He reached out his hand to hold it.

“See,” you nodded at the pale bottle in his tanned hand. “It contrasts your skin nicely.” You smiled sweetly at him, making him laugh.

“Ok Miss Sunshine, now you can help me paint them,” he said with a smile as he took the box from your hand and stood. “Cause lord knows I’d fuck it up in two seconds flat if I did it by myself.” He walked out the door without checking to see if you were following.

“Come on, y/n, let’s go.”

---

“Shit, that’s cold!”

“What did you expect, tough guy? Quit whining will you,” you told Calum with a smile as you began painting his nails with the baby blue colour polish. You were sitting at the kitchen table now, his hands spread out in front of you as you applied the polish as neatly as you could, a frown creasing your brow as you concentrated.

“It tickles.”

“Shh.”

A moment of silence passed. A few more nails finished. Then his free hand started tapping on the table a little, the sound of his rings echoing on the wood as he started a beat. You looked up at him, eyebrows raised. He just smirked.

“Sorry.”

“Do you want me to paint your nails or not?”

It was hard to fight off the grin when he was staring at you so sweetly, mock innocence all over his face. “Yes, please.” He wiggled his fingers to bring your attention back to them. You huffed out what might have been a laugh as you went back to painting, quickly finishing off that hand and holding out your hand for the next one. He switched them over, placing the other hand in front of you as he blew on the freshly painted nails.

“You look like such a diva,” you giggled.

“That’s cause I am one.” He grinned, giving you an imaginary hair flick before blowing more on his nails. You laughed at him. What a dork.

You quickly finished up his second hand and screwed the lid back onto the bottle of nail polish. “There you go, Cal. Now just don’t touch anything for ten minutes and I’ll do the second coat for you then, okay?” You stood from the table, stopping in front of him when you noticed his pout.

You just raised your eyebrows at him. “Yes, diva?”

“But what am I meant to do for ten minutes?” his whiny voice was saying something completely different to his wide eyes as they watched you lean down in front of him, matching his sitting height.

“I’m sure you can find some way to amuse yourself,” you said quietly, eyes dropping to his lips, then dragging up his face back to meet his dark eyes. “Unless you can’t even do that by yourself.” You reached out and flicked his nose with a cheeky smile, tutting when he went to grab your wrist. “Uh uh, no touching, remember?”

“Not fair,” he mumbled, another pout turning his lips downwards.

“God, you’re pathetic,” you muttered as you straightened up. “Come on then. The sofa’s more comfortable.”

---

You flicked the TV on to play quietly as Calum went and sat on the sofa, careful not to brush the wet nail polish on anything as he went. He sat and looked up at you with a little grin, hands spread out on his thighs so he wouldn't bump them into anything. You just smiled and shook your head at him. He really was like a little kid sometimes.

You sat down next to him, remote in hand, surfing through the channels until you landed on a sports one. You knew he liked watching soccer matches, so you let that play.

Finally quiet and content, Cal just watched you as you tucked up your legs and leant into his side. He carefully lifted his arm and settled his hand on the back of the sofa, leaving room for you to properly snuggle into his chest, which you did. He was deliciously warm and cuddly in his big hoodie.

“You happy now, diva?”

He pressed a kiss to your head. “Mm hmm. Be happier if I could touch you though,” he whispered into your hair. You could hear his cheeky smile.

“Well just wait a few minutes,” you checked the clock on the wall, “then you can touch me all you want, princess.”

You casually lay a hand on his thigh as you pretended to watch the TV, slowly picking at the loose threads of his distressed jeans, and smoothing out wrinkles in the denim. Completely unnecessary touches, you both knew that.

“Y/n.”

“Mm?”

“Don’t.”

You smirked as you turned your head and leant back to look at him properly. “Don’t what?” you asked innocently, a hand still resting on his leg.

“Don’t be such a tease,” he almost growled, even as he fought off a little smile. “You could let me kiss you at least.”

“Okay, princess,” you said quietly, a smile quirking up the corner of your mouth.

That was all he needed to hear before he leant towards you, connecting his lips to yours ferociously. You could feel the strain in his arms as he willed himself not to touch you, to only taste with his lips. You indulged him for a long while, letting him bite at your lips and swipe his tongue along yours before you gently pushed him back with a hand on his chest.

“What’re you doing?”

You just looked at the clock, then back into his dark eyes. “It’s been ten minutes. They should be dry now.”

The smirk he gave you was pure evil as his hands were finally free of their invisible restraints, one coming to rest on your jaw and draw you in for another hungry kiss, then both hands slipping down to your waist as he quickly pulled you onto his lap. You gasped a little in surprise at the sudden movement, and you felt him smile into the kiss.

Your legs straddled him as his wandering hands came to rest on your thighs for a moment, before drifted back to your waist, then up and over your back. He couldn’t stop touching you now as his mouth explored your, drinking you in as much as he could.

You eventually parted for breath, a smile on your red and swollen lips as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Only ten minutes, and you were that desperate.” You said quietly, making him blush a little through a smile.

“Only for you, princess.”

“Hey, don’t steal my nickname,” you laughed as you swatted at Calum’s chest, before crawling off his lap.

“What, it’s cute,” he said as he offered you a hand to help you stand, chuckling at your clumsiness.

You just smiled in response as you went and retrieved the bottle of nail polish from the kitchen table. You came back and sat beside him again, holding his hand still against his thigh as you balanced the bottle on the coffee table in front of you, dipping in the brush and spreading the polish over his nails once more, easily falling back into the rhythm.

A moment of silence passed as he watched you, then, “How long will this one take to dry?”

You grinned at him, pure, evil delight on your face.

“Twenty minutes.”

Thanks for reading!! Check out my [masterlist] for more fics <3

(and thanks to @theduckgoesquack for helping me with this one, ily jocelyn 😌)

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

was it a dream, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: You fucked Min Yoongi on Jeon Jungkook’s bed, then you took Jungkook’s virginity because Yoongi told you to, and still you and Yoongi don’t know what the fuck you are because, let’s face it, everything is too complicated now – so I guess that’s grounds to let Jungkook cum all over your face and tits as Yoongi fucks you? Sure, whatever.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, alcohol consumption; no one wants to admit anything and there’s no closure tbh; fluff and feels; smut (fem reader, threesome, semi-public sex, fingering, f-receiving oral, nipple play, penetrative sex, doggy, facial, cum-eating); non-idol!AU - friends with benefits / lovers? with Yoongi and JK

a–dick–ted au, but can be read alone.

–

next on ‘dreams‘ playlist > pretty ting by bibi ft. kim seungmin > te quiero by twly ft bibi

"I get bored."

"Mhm."

"I don't like lingering."

"Mmm."

"... We're still in front of the house, Yoongi."

"I know where we are."

Min Yoongi was peeling your black hoodie up and over your head. Well, actually, his hoodie. It made your now red hair cascade down over your shoulders, wisping around your red bra straps. Yoongi was the one who suggested you to dye your hair. You didn't do it for him. You were going to do it anyway. 

Right.

Whiskey on his breath, leaning in. Tasting like danger and sex, just because it was him. 

"I like this skirt," Yoongi purred. "It's tiny."

He was referring to your plaid red skirt. Almost schoolgirl-style, except no schoolgirl wore anything that short. You used to wear it in high school when you went to the arcades on weekends. Back then, you were much skinner and trying to unsuccessfully hook-up with guys. You still fit into it, waist-wise. Ass-wise.... not so much. You filled out over the years. 

"It's cold."

Yoongi hummed knowingly. His hands worked up your thighs, spreading them out. Pushed down your black thigh-high socks so he could knead more of them. 

"You still wore it though."

Well, yeah. You weren't trying to pick up random guys anymore. Only Min Yoongi. Every time, at these loud ass house parties with too many drunk people and too loud bass. It was a mess. Someone was attempting to chug a whole barrel of beer and ended up vomiting in the grass. 

Disgusting. 

"Why do you go to these things?" you muttered as Yoongi lifted one of your legs, tucking it beside him so he could stare at your clothed pussy. Red, seamless, cheeky. Not a thong. He clicked his tongue in disappointment, but you ignored him. 

"Free alcohol."

"Really?" you snorted, backing up a little as his hand neared. "I could just buy whiskey and bring it to you if you want free alcohol that bad."

Yoongi smirked, licking his pink lips. Wet, glistening. You wanted them on your clit right now. His fingers dipped down, stroking the smooth red fabric lightly. Too lightly. Teasing you. You twisted the urge to raise your hips for more pressure. 

"Where's the fun in that?"

You raised an eyebrow. 

Yoongi pressed down, fingertips shoving the fabric into you, soaking it instantly. You sucked in a breath, staring into his dark, cat-like eyes.

"Why do that when I can make you jealous by going to these parties and having you wonder if I've kissed someone else, touched someone else, fucked someone else?"

He rubbed your clit through the fabric and you gritted your teeth, moving your hand down, but Yoongi was faster, slapping it away. Rubbed harder, a low moan leaving your throat. You didn't want to reach up with your other hand because you might lose balance and hit your steering wheel and accidentally honk your horn. That would be a disaster. 

Yeah.

Of course, that’s why you weren’t stopping him now.

"I don't care what you do, Yoongi," you panted, glaring at him. 

Different house, different party, same car, the correct scene this time, with the right guy in your car, getting you off through your panties. 

Why don't you have a boyfriend?

That was Yoongi's first question when he slid into your car this night. Looking fine as hell with his black-and-white flannel, gray t-shirt, black cargo pants, black sneakers. Straight black hair covering his eyes, a clean undercut when he pushed it back to smirk at you. 

Yoongi curled his finger, now grinding your clit with his knuckle. Oh, fuck. Your juices leaked into your panties, darkening the wet spot and filling the car with your scent. Close.

"You don't care, hm?" Yoongi mused in a tone implying that he knew you cared. Very much. After all, what happened last time… You don't slap bitches across the face for no good reason. 

"She was making out with someone who couldn't consent from my point of view."

There was a dark sparkle of mischief in Yoongi's eyes. 

"Who was? I wasn't referring to anything in particular."

Shit. 

Your face heated and you grinded into his hand, breathing hard, not caring anymore. Whatever. Who cares what Min Yoongi thought? You were going to get off and whether he was there or not didn't fucking matter. Yoongi pressed his knuckle into you, dark hair shadowing his eyes, soft exhales as he watched you near your peak. 

"Cum for me," Yoongi breathed, raspy and deep. "Right here, in front of this party, in your panties, and on my hand."

He could make you do anything. 

You bit your lip and pressed the back of your head into the car window, shutting your eyes, letting the whines out. Pleasure warming you, tendrils of heat crawling up your torso from Yoongi's hand, your soft voice telling him he was so good and he was purring your name, drawing it out, so sexy in his husky tone saturated with lust. 

"A-ah, Yoongi..."

Your back arched and your breathing hiked, onto the edge and then falling, falling, Yoongi's knuckle suddenly slicker, your hips rocking and shivering, whimpering as the pleasure shocked your heart, beating so fast and hard that you felt your pulse in your throat. You heard Yoongi snicker, spreading his fingers out, pressing them to your wet panties, shoving them into your folds, rubbing soothingly.

"I like this most," came his smokey whisper behind your closed lids. "I always have the most fun with you."

You're such a bad boy, Min Yoongi. 

You breathed out in long, smooth breaths, trying to calm your speeding heartbeat. Yoongi's hand still on your crotch, the other on your thigh, squeezing it.

"Noona, open the door."

A muscle in your eyebrow twitched. You sucked on your tongue and opened your eyes. A clear voice with silvery depth. It had come from behind your head. You made eye contact with Yoongi. 

He looked thoroughly amused. 

You turned your head partway to see your side mirror. Yup. Ash blond hair, dark eyes, black tattoos as his right hand tapped your car window, tan skin, sharp jawline. White turtleneck, white denim jacket over it. Black jeans.

The wrong guy. Jeon Jungkook. 

You heard your car doors click and, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Yoongi press the button to unlock them. Hmph. Jungkook moved from the front seat to open the backseat. Climbed in like he owned the damn place. He also smelled like alcohol, but all kinds, unlike Yoongi's whiskey scent. 

"Hey, hyung."

"Hello, Jungkook."

You didn't look at him. 

"Hey, noona."

"Get out of my car," you spat.

"Should I get out of the car, hyung?"

"No. She doesn't mean it."

You glared daggers at Yoongi, who smirked widely. Your legs were spread open in Yoongi's lap, your hoodie was off, there was a giant wet spot between your thighs, your skirt was far too short to cover anything, and your red hair was in disarray, fucked up by Yoongi's insistence. Your eyes flickered to Jungkook, who looked back at you. You thought he would be gazing at your body, but he wasn't. He was staring at your face. 

Somehow, that was worse.

Your neck heated and you looked away from those brown eyes, to the house. Jungkook's female harem was at the porch, gaggling at your car. Seven of them. Why was there seven? That's a random number, you thought. They were beginning to recognize your car. Hmph. Well, you can have him, just leave me and Yoongi alo–

You gasped as Jungkook pulled the lever of your seat, dumping you to the back of the car, scooping his arm around your shoulders, grabbing your head and kissing you hard, tasting like alcohol and smelling like laundry and the sea. You moaned into his mouth as Yoongi slipped under your panties and shoved two fingers into you, grunting at your tightness. Jungkook's soft tongue slid into your lips, your name mumbled onto your tongue, rubbing it as Yoongi fingered you. Too much simulation at once. Jungkook's free hand pushed up your bra, exposing one of your breasts and pinching your nipple. You whined, hips bucking into Yoongi's hand, too much, it was too much, Jungkook’s rough kisses and Yoongi's long fingers, and you felt the wet squelch as it all spilled out, gushing down Yoongi's hand, chest heaving in Jungkook's arms, moaning your release into the younger man's mouth. 

Jungkook broke the kiss, scrambling down as Yoongi removed his fingers. Yoongi brought them to his face and swirled his tongue around his digits. He hummed approvingly around his fingers as you whined, feeling Jungkook's hot tongue lap up the rest, licking at your swollen clit, sensitive from Yoongi's prior work.

"Don't put your dirty tongue on me after you've ate out other girls all night," you gritted out, hand reaching down to grip Jungkook's blond hair. Not pulling him away, but not pushing him in either. 

"I didn't eat anyone out," Jungkook murmured into your pussy, vibrating the slick lips with his low voice. "Hyung told me you were picking him up and that you would pick me up too."

You said no such thing. You gave Yoongi a peeved look and Yoongi just smirked around his wet fingers, smearing your juices over his lips and licking them off. You shivered and pushed Jungkook's head into your pussy, gasping as he shoved his tongue into your hole. 

The girls outside seemed to realize what was going on. They were pointing accusingly and yapping amongst themselves. Your tits were half out, after all. 

"Great, now everyone thinks I'm a slut, Yoongi," you grumbled.

"Who cares?" Yoongi said dismissively. "Anyone who talks shit is going to answer to my fist."

Jungkook lifted his head, panting for breath, chin shiny with your pussy. He didn't look outside. He simply curved his arm around Yoongi's head and flipped off anyone looking in the car. You raised your eyebrows. Thank the American culture for making the middle finger the universal 'fuck you' so that even Koreans knew what it meant. Yoongi seemed to know what Jungkook was doing and laughed huskily as Jungkook backed up, slumping in the backseat. 

"Am I supposed to drive like this?" you hissed, shoving your exposed breast back into your bra and snapping your panties into place before lowering your leg. Ugh, your underwear was soaked. You had pulled your foot out of your boot before Yoongi started pretzeling you in the driver's seat of your own damn car. You shoved your foot back into it now, fixing yourself up. Yoongi plucked the black hoodie from the driver’s seat. 

"Technically, this isn't yours."

"I thought it looked familiar," Jungkook remarked, wiping his chin and then licking off the back of his hand.

You righted your seat, rolling your eyes. 

"Whatever," you mumbled as you started your car. 

-

“Why did you make me do it?” you had asked him.

Yoongi’s lips trailed along your bare shoulder, pulling down his blanket to leave his marks on you.

“Do what?” he had murmured against your skin, making you shiver.

“The whole ‘taking-Jeon-Jungkook’s-virginity’ thing.’”

He traced your shoulder blade with his tongue. “Did I read the situation wrong?” Completely neutral, his hand coming up to run his fingers through your hair. You melted into the action, one of your favorites. It made your skin tingle and your breathing soften, releasing the tenseness in your chest. “You always tell me if I’m wrong.”

“Yeah… I do.”

“Did you hate it?”

“… No.”

Yoongi turned you around to face him, his black hair brushing against your cheeks. Eyes barely open, but seeing all of you. He collected your hair in his fingers, pushing it back and away from your neck. His lips swollen from your kisses; his fair skin nicked with pink from your bites.

“That’s good.”

His finger drew the line of your collarbone, dark orbs watching your lips part, wanting him. Pulling yourself closer to him, skin to skin, his warmth against yours. You leaned in. Yoongi didn’t move away, his breath against your lips.

“What are we?” you whispered.

“Don’t know.” His lips grazed against yours and your moaned softly into them. “Whatever you want.” Dainty, simple kisses. “We’re whatever you want. You know that.” Capturing your lips, trapping them, fingers dancing down, looping around your waist and pulling you close, chest to chest. “You want it to stay like this, it will stay like this.” Grinding against your thigh, hardening against your softness. “You want me to keep driving you crazy, you want me to keep letting Jungkook play with you, then it’ll happen.”

Deep, intense kisses, teasing you, making you addicted to him.

“You want me to go away and leave you alone, I will.”

Your arm came around and you tangled your fingers in his black hair, kissing him fiercely.

“No, don’t leave me alone,” you breathed. “Want this. Want you.”

He purred your name against your lips, flitting his tongue between them.

“Want you, Yoongi.”

-

Everyone said the same thing.

Min Yoongi is a bad boy. Min Yoongi is a playboy. Min Yoongi doesn’t care about anything. He’s just a guy who makes pretty good music, but think twice before trying to get close to him. He’s had the same friends for years and any new ones were superficial acquaintances.

You didn’t care about any of that. You weren’t really hanging out with him anyway. He was just always there when you were kind-of, sort-of dating Kim Namjoon. And it was a kind-of, sort-of because you kept it that way. Namjoon kept asking you to take it further, but you held him at a distance, saying it was too early and that you were careful with your heart.

Then It was the little things. Accidents.

A brush. A graze. A single fingertip.

Yoongi’s eyes on yours. Watching you. Challenging. It didn’t mean anything, until it did. It didn’t mean anything, until the touches got bolder, the moments got longer, and then you were in the bathroom hallway of some random club, face-to-face with Min Yoongi, and he was close, so close, but not touching you. He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you and you knew, shit this whole thing with Namjoon is not it, because no matter how good riding Kim Namjoon’s dick was, it was not Min Yoongi’s stare that was instantly making your pussy throb.

His long fingers danced in the air. Tracing the curve of your jaw, but not touching you. Whiskey on his breath, but not breathing on you. Cocking his eyebrow at you, at you. His palm turned upwards, two fingers outstretched and, if you leaned forward, you could place you chin on them.

But you didn’t.

“Are you wet?” Yoongi whispered huskily, barely heard over the loud bass.

You blinked slowly. “Are you hard?”

His lips curved into a devious smirk.

“Yeah.”

Pause.

“Yes.”

Someone was vomiting real fucking loudly in the men’s bathroom.

Yoongi dropped his hand and took a step back. Let his eyes linger on you as he backed up and walked away, rounding the corner.

You broke up that thing with Namjoon that night. It wasn’t fair to him and he wasn’t in that deep yet, so he was chill with it. Understanding. He wasn’t getting the vibes from you either. You didn’t even know if you had vibes.

You didn’t throw yourself into Min Yoongi’s arms. That would be rude and, besides, it wasn’t like you knew him that well. But Namjoon still invited you to things, concerts and stuff, because he was a nice guy and, even if you guys weren’t dating, he was still friendly. And you went, even if you didn’t really like people. Just in case.

The first couple times, Yoongi wasn’t there.

And then he was.

And then it started again, but bolder this time, crazier things, short skirts and exploring hands, no talking, no chats, only eyes and touches, until it wasn’t, his hands curling into your shirt, shoving you against the wall and kissing you and you kissing him back, fingers slipping under his leather jacket and pushing up his shirt, nails on his skin.

His raspy voice against your puffy lips.

“Let’s have some fun.”

Always going to these damn parties, always asking you to take him home so he could take you down, gasping your name into your ear, telling you the same thing.

“I always have the most fun with you.”

Asking you how you wanted it today, from the back, from the front, against the wall, saying he’ll do anything to get you off. You want his tongue? His fingers? His dick? He would give it to you. Spread your legs open on his kitchen counter and eat you out like you were his fucking groceries.

Always reminding you.

“The best sex is still you.”

You would still go to the events Namjoon invited you to, his underground concerts, and watch Yoongi open for him every once in a while, growling into the mic and glaring at the audience, until he found you, lips curving into his trademark open-mouthed smirk that would be in between your legs later that night.

Min Yoongi is a bad boy.

Min Yoongi is a playboy.

Min Yoongi doesn’t care about anything.

So what?

You can feel however you want.

You can live however you want.

No reason to take anything seriously.

Whatever, right?

-

“Give me the fucking hoodie.”

“Nah, you can borrow Jungkook’s jacket.”

“Except you can’t button it, noona.”

You sucked in an annoyed breath. “Fine, give me the fucking jacket.”

Min Yoongi smirked, watching Jeon Jungkook strip his denim jacket and hand it to you. You put it on, scowling. “You act like it’s acid,” Yoongi chuckled.

“I’m burning,” you snapped sarcastically. “Absolutely dying being covered in Jeon Jungkook.”

“You want to be covered in Jeon Jungkook’s cum, that’s for sure.”

You took too long to respond to Yoongi’s quip. Jungkook smirked, placing his forearms on the headrest of your seat, craning his head around to look at your face. You turned away, feeling your neck and ears pulse. His ash blond hair drifted down, shading one of his brown eyes.

“Yeah, noona? Is that what you want? I’ll give it to you.”

“Shut up.”

You twisted away and got out of your car, followed by the two men. Didn’t look at either of them. It was a cold night, but your body was hot. It wasn’t covered enough. You felt an arm curve around your waist, tattoos on a tan hand. A sharp chin balancing on your red hair.

“Need your help, noona. I’m kind of drunk.”

“Let me call the Grim Reaper.”

A fair hand sliding under the denim jacket, making you hiss with the cold touch.

“You chilly?” Yoongi teased. “Need cuddles?”

You didn’t say anything. He could feel how hot your skin was, saw your ears were fucking scorching with embarrassment with how short your plaid skirt was. You locked your car, ignoring them.

“It’s only three flights of stairs,” Jungkook murmured, probably staring at your ass.

Whatever, right?

-

“Need my jacket back, noona.”

“Where’s the hoodie?” you grumbled to Yoongi.

Yoongi shrugged. “Left it in your car.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fucking typical. I’ll go get–”

Yoongi shoved you into Jungkook’s apartment.

-

“He just wants another taste.”

Warm lips on your neck, large fair-skinned hands circled with black-and-white checked flannel dancing up your bare chest, bra already gone. Jungkook already on his knees, looking up at you, licking his lips. Still in his white turtleneck and jeans.

“Look at him. Isn’t he cute? Don’t you want to shove your dripping pussy into those pink lips and grab that blond hair?”

“You’re so bad, Yoongi.”

You lifted up your skirt, so fucking short it was basically useless. You ticked your chin to your panties, damp from earlier in the car. “Help me take them off, Jungkook.”

Jungkook licked his lips again, letting his tongue dawdle before sliding it back in.

“You sure, noona?”

“Yeah.” Sucked in a breath as Yoongi teased your nipples, too familiar of a scene. “Want your mouth, please.” Rubbed them in between his fingertips and you moaned, leaning into Yoongi’s touch. “Please, Jungkook, wanna cum in your mouth.”

The side of Jungkook’s lips cocked upwards. “Of course, noona.” Reached up and hooked his fingers on the sides, pulling them down your thighs, mouth watering as he witnessed your wetness. Leaned forward and buried his nose into it, inhaling deeply, shuddering. “Smells so fucking good.”

Yoongi’s fingers leaving your breasts, running through your red hair, the hair you dyed because he causally said you should dye it red. He got it out of you eventually, both hands in your hair as he fucked you into his bed, balls slapping into you with his force, breathing in your face.

“Your hair is so fucking sexy,” he had panted. “You dyed it red because I said you should, didn’t you?”

“No.”

He stopped suddenly, leaving you full, but unstimulated, bent in half under him. You tried to move, but Yoongi’s grip in your hair had tightened, breathing hard against your lips.

“You’re no liar,” he had whispered.

“Move.”

“Tell the truth.”

Gentle kiss. His cock twitched inside you and you moaned, needing more.

“Tell the truth,” he had commanded.

“Yes, fuck, Yoongi, yes, now fucking give it to me.”

He began to fuck you again, hard and satisfying and everything you wanted. The best fucking dick you’ve ever had, made you cum twice before him, made you gasp his name and clutch his sheets, just like how you grabbed his shirt and gasped his name right now, leaning back against him as Yoongi’s head curved around your body, attaching his lips to your nipple as Jungkook’s tongue dipped into your drenched pussy, his moan vibrating your core as Yoongi sucked, playing with your other nipple with his hand. Standing in Jungkook’s bedroom, two mouths on you. Jungkook took one of your legs and put it on his shoulder, noisily and messily eating you out, Yoongi’s whiskey breath now all over your tits.

You could have been mad, but you were too horny to be angry, too busy humping Jungkook’s face and arching your back to get more into Yoongi’s hot mouth. One hand in Yoongi’s black hair and the other in Jungkook’s blond hair, gripping them both tight, losing yourself in the pleasure, head tipped back and tongue sliding out, impossible to catch your breath. Jungkook’s tongue lapped at your clit, closing in on it, adding more force, and you whimpered, legs shaking.

“Jungkook, a-ah, fuck…”

Skirt bunched around your waist, far too short to even blanket Jungkook’s face, giving you a clear view of his intense brown eyes, one hand on your thigh and the other wrapped around your ass, shoving your hips into his face.

Yoongi flicked your hard nipple with his tongue and pinched the other. You moaned, shivers up your spine, suddenly tipping into your orgasm and spilling it all into Jungkook’s mouth, Yoongi’s name leaving your lips, rolling your body into his face, hearing him chuckle in that deep voice of his. Jungkook slurped greedily, lapping at your pussy as Yoongi released your nipple and came up, murmuring your name, feathery kisses on your lips.

“So sexy,” he breathed. “So fuckable.”

You moaned into Yoongi’s mouth as your rode Jungkook’s face, and Jungkook got the hint, licking you all over again, your clit throbbing onto his tongue, leaking more and more into his mouth.

“Fuck, noona, you taste so fucking good when you’re horny,” Jungkook growled, his Busan satoori slipping out. “Extra sweet, like candy.”

Yoongi gave you one last kiss as Jungkook lowered your leg, standing up to cup your face and kiss you, smearing your juices on your face and licking them off, a fucking mess, your own sweet-sour taste spreading everywhere. You shuddered against his lips, one hand still in his hair, the other letting go of Yoongi’s black locks and clutching Jungkook’s turtleneck as he kissed you.

“Leave the skirt on, noona,” Jungkook mumbled. “You look so cute in it. Cute little slut.”

Body so hot, so fucking hot that it felt like your skin was on fire.

“… Fine.”

Jungkook’s hands sliding back, burying in your dark red shadow root, light kisses on your cheeks. “Just playing around, noona. I know you’re not a slut.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Jungkook chuckled and grabbed your ass, grinding his crotch into yours. “You do like playing with me, don’t you?” He was so fucking hard, even through the thick fabric of his jeans.

“Mhm.” You swallowed your moan, gripping Jungkook tighter. “Don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me though.”

“I told you,” Jungkook purred, nudging you towards his bed, getting you to climb onto it, those familiar navy sheets, so soft against your skin. They smelled just like Jungkook, fresh laundry with a hint of the sea. “Sex dreams with you are too good. I need the real thing.”

He dumped you on his bed, leaning down, kissing you once more.

“I wanna see you doing the stuff you do in my dreams.”

-

“You look cold.”

You shivered. “I’m not.”

Yoongi pulled off his black hoodie and held it out to you.

You puffed out hot air. “I don’t need it.”

His voice low and husky. “Smells like me.”

You bit you lip and took it from him, slipping it over your shoulders. Smelled so fucking good, just like Yoongi with a hint of whiskey. You snuck a glance at him in your passenger’s seat. He was leaning back in the chair, sighing softly, black hair all over his closed eyes. You saw the dark circles. His face seemed paler than usual. You started the car.

“Need to drop by the pharmacy.”

“Any chain in particular?” you replied absentmindedly.

Yoongi waved a hand. “Just need hangover meds and water.”

You tapped the water bottle in your cupholder. “There’s some left.”

You kept your eyes on the road as he reached over and drank from it. You heard it being drained. You drove steadily, thinking of the closest pharmacy. Stopped at a red light, thinking you needed to turn left at the next one.

“Thanks for picking me up.”

“Mhm.”

Silence with your steady driving, ever so slightly going over the speed limit. Not enough to get caught. Just on the edge. Gliding in the darkness, surrounded by yellow headlights and red backlights. You pulled into a parking lot, right in front of the pharmacy.

“Be a sec.”

Yoongi hauled himself out of the seat, wearing only his over-sized white t-shirt and distressed blue jeans. Was it just you or his arms a little skinner than before? The silver bracelets seemed looser on his wrists.

“Want your–?”

The car door shut.

“Hoodie,” you finished, speaking to no one. You watched Yoongi stagger to the door, pulling a black face mask out and covering his face before entering. You had a brief, fleeting moment where you thought, I should have gone with him, but you frowned. Yoongi was an adult. He didn’t need you.

He didn’t need you.

You rested your arms on your steering wheel and waited. Waited. You were good at waiting. Was it still waiting if that your default state, just breezing through life, wondering if there was any meaning in it all, wondering if anything meant anything? You made a face. Why were you having an existential crisis right now? Stupid. If nothing mattered, why bother agonizing over it?

Whatever.

The car door opened and Yoongi slid in, tugging off his face mask and holding a plastic bag.

“Here.”

You jumped as Yoongi threw a small plastic packet in your lap. Gummy bears.

“You like these, right?”

You blinked at them. “Yeah… I guess.” You did like gummy bears. Why did he get gummy bears?

“That’s good.”

That was that. Yoongi cracked open a water bottle. You waited as he scowled, dumping powder into the water and shaking it up. He squinted at the directions and then resumed shaking the water bottle, turning the water a cloudy white. He reopened the bottle and took a large swig, shuddering as he removed it from his lips. He didn’t look pleased, but he accepted it.

“What are you trying to forget?”

“Hm?”

You shrugged, tilting your head at him. “I mean, you go out drinking a lot. That’s what alcoholics do.”

Yoongi snorted. “I’m never drunk.”

“What’s with the hangover meds, then?” you pointed out.

His eyes slid to you. They seemed extra dark even in the bright streetlights.

“I don’t want a headache in the morning,” he muttered. “Or a limp dick.”

You chuckled. “I can just drop you off and go home.” You reached over and started the car. He seemed tired and stressed. You figured you could let him sleep. Wasn’t like you picked him up only because you wanted a quick fuck.

He tapped the water bottle against your forearm as you started turning out of the parking lot. You spared him a glance, raising your eyebrows.

“Wanna see your face in the morning,” he said casually, taking another sip. You could barely see his eyes with his black bangs covering them. “And hear you begging for my dick to fuck you harder.”

You rolled your eyes and drove him to his apartment.

You stayed that night.

-

“Jungkook, your dreams are freaky as fuck,” Yoongi cackled, hoisting your hips up as you whined, back arched and wrists tied by Jungkook’s belt looped a few times around them and buckled closed.

Jungkook asked you to keep the skirt on. He asked you to move your arms back and stick your chest out, breasts pushed together by your upper arms, nipples sticking straight out. He asked you to press your forearms together and not move them, hands clasped together as he jacked off in front of you.

Sure, whatever.

He also asked Yoongi to rail you from behind while he was doing it, and asked his hyung to make your tits bounce.

And Yoongi told him he was freaky as fuck as he slid into you, using one of Jungkook’s condoms, mentioning that Jungkook should buy a different brand because they were thinner and better quality.

“Okay, hyung, I’ll make sure to have them next time.”

Next time, okay, yeah, sure Jungkook, it’s not like you’re the one on Yoongi’s dick, you thought wryly as Yoongi began to move, slow but hard, your breasts bouncing at the action, gasp torn from your throat.

“Why do you even have condoms?” you muttered between pants, rocking on Yoongi’s hips as he lifted you and dropped you on his hard cock, ugh, so fucking good, felt so good as Yoongi fucked you and you watched Jungkook’s right hand wrapped around his stiff length, the red head disappearing and reappearing in his tattooed fingers, his chest rippling and his lower lip in his teeth, tiny mole dancing underneath it, eyes on your bouncing tits, moaning as he watched the obscenity in front of him.

Felt good to be watched and tied up, kneeling on Jungkook’s bed, because it was wrong, so fucking wrong, but it felt so fucking good.

“In case you want to fuck me,” Jungkook gasped. “Unless you want my babies.”

You huffed. “I do not.”

Jungkook ticked his head, smirk on his lips with his lip bite. “There you go.” He scooted closer and you ticked an eyebrow, feeling Yoongi’s fingertips dig into you as he smacked his crotch into your ass. You moaned, Yoongi’s name dropping from your lips.

“You always look so fucking hot when you’re getting fucked.”

You chuckled. “This is only the second time you’ve watched me getting fucked.”

Jungkook grinned. “Nope, I’ve seen you get fucked hundreds of times in my dreams.”

You rolled your eyes and the action was cut short as Yoongi shifted and hit your favorite spot, making you cry out and lurch forward, breath in Jungkook’s face, breasts knocking together. Your hands touched the bed, squeezing your tits, gasping for breath.

“Don’t fall over, naughty girl,” Yoongi purred. “Give Jungkookie the best view.”

You lifted your head back, balancing on your fingertips, mouth open, tongue touching your lip, vision hazy with lust. Jungkook’s blond hair covered one of his brown eyes, jaw clenched and he stroked himself faster, veins popping out on his hardness, pre-cum leaking from the tip and running down.

“Wanna cum on your face and tits, noona,” Jungkook breathed. “Wanna cover you with me.”

“Where are your manners, Jungkook?” Yoongi barked behind you, the smacking between you two radiating off the walls, squeaking the bed, and probably wholeheartedly disturbing his neighbors.

Jungkook sank his teeth in his lip, suddenly apologetic. You were about to blurt out that you didn’t give a shit, but Jungkook spoke, breathless with a hint of neediness, staring into your eyes with his brown doe-like ones, and suddenly you couldn’t say anything, repeatedly jerked forward by Yoongi’s forceful thrusts, frozen by Jungkook’s whisper.

“Please, noona… Please let me cum on your tits. On your face. Please let me see you with my cum all over you.”

Once again, you were reminded that Jungkook actually liked you.

“… O-Okay, Jungkook,” you gasped. “A-Anything you want.”

You arched your back even more, tipping your head up, breathing hard. Jungkook had to stand on the bed, his thin moans indicating he was nearing his end and you stared up at him, eyes wide, mouth open, pussy clenching around Yoongi’s cock, whimpering as you felt him fill you over and over, his long fingers bruising your hips, Yoongi’s rough, raspy drawl of you name, deepened by his Daegu satoori.

“Such a sexy woman, so eager to get a faceful of cum, aren’t you?”

You whined, lust building inside you, staring into Jungkook’s glazed-over brown eyes and his thick, dark red cock ready to burst. Yoongi’s voice could make you do anything. He really could. And you wanted him to. You wanted him to make you do anything he wanted, everything he wanted. Your voice was soaked with lust, eyes half-lidded, lips wetly parted.

“Y-Yes, Yoongi… I want Jungkook’s cum all over me…”

Jungkook’s shaking left hand touched your forehead, gently holding you in place, ash blond strands brushing against his high cheekbones as he whispered your name, heavy with his Busan satoori.

“You’re so good to me, noona.”

He moaned your name again and came with hot white strings, splattering down your cheeks and neck, some of it hitting your lips and tongue, spilling onto your bouncing breasts, coating them with his salty orgasm. You moaned back, eyes rolling back as you hit your peak, painted in Jungkook’s cum, so hot, so sticky on your skin, and you tightened around Yoongi’s cock, whimpering as you came, suddenly so wet like a waterfall, slick and viscous, reminding you of the first time that you came on this bed with Yoongi’s tongue on top of Jungkook’s sleeping body, but this time Jungkook was shoving the sensitive head in between your open lips, groaning as you licked off the dripping cum, some of it dribbling into your throat.

Yoongi hissed your name, and you whimpered as his cock twitched inside you, fully sheathing himself in your burning heat before spilling into the condom, his jerking length being roughly massaged by your tight walls. Jungkook’s cum was running down your chest, clinging to your nipples, dripping onto his sheets. Jungkook pulled out of your mouth and your tongue extended, licking at the leftover cum on the outskirts of your lips before you yelped abruptly.

“A-ah, Jungkook!”

Jungkook’s hands cupped your breasts, pushing them together and running his hot tongue over your breasts, sucking off his orgasm, lapping at your nipples, making you shudder and squirm, wiggling on Yoongi’s cock and pussy throbbing with every lick.

“Holy fuck,” Yoongi groaned, obviously witnessing Jungkook’s slurping of his cum off your tits and neck, and feeling you moan and buck on his slowly softening cock. “You’re wild, Jungkook.”

Jungkook didn’t seem to notice or care, kissing up your throat, tongue flicking against your cheeks, breath hot on your face, saturated with the salty scent of his cum. His palms on your trembling jaw, pulling you down to his lips, kissing you deeply, your moan in his mouth.

“You feel good, noona?” Jungkook whispered huskily against your lips.

“Y-Yeah…”

Your heart was rattling against your ribcage, still shattered from your orgasm and the dirtiness of Jungkook’s actions. So hard to come down, trapped on cloud nine, struggling for breath. Jungkook pressed his sweaty forehead into yours, fingers sliding back to run them through your red strands, your skin tingling at his touch. His blond hair stuck to your face, his brown eyes closing.

“Don’t worry,” he breathed softly against your quivering breath. “I’m here with you.”

-

You opened your eyes, slowly.

Groggily.

Navy sheets, so soft against your bare skin. Hand splayed over your breasts, covering them, holding you close to a hard, muscular chest. Your eyes flickered down, trying to blink the sleep away. Black tattoos on tan skin. You shifted your eyes forward. Mop of black hair, messily covering what you knew were dark, cat-like eyes. Pale chest, completely bare. Your hand was around his slim waist, fingertips on his back.

Don’t you want to be bad with me?

You retreated your hand. Those dark eyes opened, just a crack.

Watching you.

Your hand reached up, tracing his jaw. Palm up. Placed two fingers on his chin, caressing it.

His name, his name, perfectly formed by your lips, your addiction, the feeling you couldn’t give up.

“Yoongi.”

His pink lips curved into a devious smirk. His hand closed around yours, fingers intertwining.

Spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Shh. Go to sleep.”

Held your hand as you closed your eyes once again, nestled in Jungkook’s arms.

-

fourth act. lucid dreams a–dick–ted au

--

masterpost

[waywardimpalawriter]

Book Boyfriend A Frankie Morales x Plus Size F! Reader fic Part 1

Book Boyfriend

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Plus Size F! Reader

Characters: Frankie Morales, Reader, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, William “Ironhead” Miller, Ben “Benny” Miller, Isabella Morales (OC)

Setting: Two years after the events in Colombia (Triple Frontier)

Rating: R, NSFW

Warnings: Smut, Soft Frankie (yes that has to be a warning), cursing, teasing, unprotected sex, oral (male and female receiving), tooth rotting fluff, mixed with a little hurt/comfort, mention of abuse,

Word count: Part 1: 10,284

Summary: You’ve been so engrossed in your currant book series its lead to Frankie feeling a little left out.  

Notes: This is my first Frankie Morales/Pedro Pascal Fic, so I’m hoping everyone loves it as much as I did writing it. Something a little fluffy I thought of while thinking of my own favorite book boyfriends. Using the translator Systran for my very bad Spanish translations. A grateful thank you to @icanbeyourjedi for helping me out with Frankie’s Dog tags.

Tag list: @manalg14​   @songbirdcannabe​ @frannyzooey

Licking your index finger to turn the page of the book in your hand, unaware you have someone staring. Watching the way, you lick that single digit, adjusting himself on the couch beside you. Callused hand coming down to brush over your plush thigh, drawing little circles over the exposed skin. Attention still firmly on the book, Frankie huffs turning back to the tv but his hand stays on your thigh. Eyes darting towards your mouth to catch you slowly lick your lips. Teeth trapping the bottom between to nibble as you read a really good part. 

Groaning softly at your actions, he leans over to nuzzle your neck, patchy beard softly tickling the skin of your neck. Making you giggle, placing a hand on his chest to gently push Frankie away, “Baby I’m reading.” 

“For the past two hours, hermosa,” slight pout in his tone, taking the hand on his chest to bring it to him mouth and kiss your fingers. Distractions that normally work seem to fall short, eyes darting between the page and his. Soft slightly chapped lips trailing a path up the inside of your arm  reaching the hem of your sleeve the same time your eyes lock. 

Pausing to look over at him, you cup his cheek patting lightly, “One more chapter then I’ll be all yours I promise handsome.” 

Rolling those expressive chocolate pools, he sits back against the couch trying to ignore the throbbing in jeans because of the little actions you’re doing. “One more chapter Mi cielito I’m going to hold you to that.” 

However, one more chapter turned into two than three and Frankie started to fall asleep beside you. Jerking awake with the soft touch of your lips against his forehead, “Come baby lets go to bed,” words whispered with a touch of regret flowing through the cadence. You hadn’t meant to get so engrossed in your book, ignoring your boyfriend beside you. 

Sweetly, you help him get up from the couch, seeing how tired he is, and a slice of remorse eats away at you for keeping him up so long and breaking your promise. “I’m sorry my love, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” 

Grunting low, draping an arm around your shoulders to pull you against him while the two of you head to your shared bedroom. Only pausing long enough to check on Isabella, seeing she’s knocked out curled around her baby doll. Sighing softly at the sight you side eye Frankie seeing a tired but sweet smile tugging at his lips. 

“How’d I get so fucking lucky?” though the question is rhetorical you answer smacking his chest first for the curse word. 

“Language Mr. Morales,” light giggles leave you, pulling him along towards your bedroom. 

Shrugging, “Bella’s asleep she can’t hear me,” eyes dropping to watch the sway of your wide hips soft groan rumbling low. 

“To answer your question,” turning to face him with a smirk on your lips having heard the groan. “We both got lucky baby especially after everything we went through to get where we are today.” Cupping his bearded cheek, brushing your thumb just under his eye. “Plus, luck had nothing to do with it but love that brought us together.” 

Soft gasp parting your lips, watching transfixed by the sigh of Frankie nuzzling his face in your palm, kissing the center and making a shiver of arousal race down your back. Unable to stop yourself from looking between those soft lips and dark eyes. Catching the smirk tugging at the corners as he leans in to press his mouth to yours in a tender kiss. Strong arms wrap around your thick waist hauling you against his firm chest, garnering a squeak to escape your lips. Heart thumping erratically behind your ribs wondering for a moment if he could feel or maybe hear the muscle working over time because of him. 

Of their own accord your arms wrap around his shoulders, pressing farther into his warmth. Low groan working its way from the depths of his chest. Hands slipping down into the back pockets of those ass hugging jeans he loves. Cupping the generous globes to pull you flush against him. Letting you feel hard evidence of his arousal, the thick ridge incased in denim presses into your thigh. On a gasp his tongue licks into the warm cavern of your mouth sliding over your teeth before mating in a sensual dance all their own.  

Eyes dropping closed at the pleasure his mouth is giving you, one hand stray’s to card through the curls at the back of his head, blunt nails scratching lightly. The other tracing little patterns over his back knowing how sensitive to your touch he is. Chuckling into his mouth, his body wiggling into yours trying to get away from your teasing fingers. Though he doesn’t want to break the kiss, nor move from having you against him. 

“Hermosa,” warning growl rumbling from his chest, as he squeezes your ass in retaliation making another mewl of pleasure leave you. Pressing yourself into his body, your eyes open to stare into his heat darken gaze. 

Biting your bottom lip, you happen to glance at the clock, red numbers staring back at you in remembrance of the time and how late it’s gotten. “Well, fuck me,” you groan with a shake of your head. 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past few hours cariño,” dropping his head  to rest on your collarbone, his own groan rumbling up. Knowing you need to break apart but not wanting to let you go. 

Running your fingers through his dark brown hair, giving the scalp a light scratch, “I’m sorry Frankie,” guilt wringing your heart. Knowing it’s not easy for the two of you to be intimate with Isabella. A blessing to you both, though to Frankie she’s his world one that you happened to step into about a few months after her birth. “I didn’t realize the hours slipped away from me.” 

“It’s all right Y/N,” soft moan leaving his lips at how good your fingers feel in his hair. “I know you haven’t had time to yourself to read in a long while.” Raising his head to look at you with heated eyes, “Just don’t forget I’d like a little attention to,” giving your ass another squeeze, pout finding its way over his mouth. “Besides how could that book be so interesting when you have me sitting right beside you?” wiggling his brow at you.

Giggling softly, “So full of yourself Morales,” reluctantly pulling from his arms to start your nightly routine. “Those book boyfriends got me through years of sexual drought and fueled a ton of fantasies.” Pulling your shirt from your body hearing the groan from your boyfriend, making another giggle leave you. Hands on hips, you stare at him, catching his pink tongue come out and lick his lips. Shifting hips to try and alleviate at least a touch of pressure on his cock. “Like what you see flyboy?” 

“God, you know I do sweetheart,” words coming out breathless though gritted teeth, trying to  hold back and using all his will power to keep from taking you. “Fucking tease,” he tosses out when you turn, pulling your bra off to slide your sleep shirt over your top half. “Besides you have me now to full fill all those fantasies of yours. Why not let me?”

“Tomorrow I’ll make it up to you Francisco I promise,” turning back to him, you step forward wrapping your arms around his neck. “If I didn’t have such an early morning, I would let you fuck me into our mattress all night and fill all my erotic idea’s.”  

Groaning, “Una princesa de burlas, vas a ser la muerte de mí.” (Translation “A princess of mockery, you’re gonna be the death of me.) Nipping at your neck, knowing that speaking Spanish never fails to turn you on with his voice dropping an octave in cadence. Only confirmed when you start to rub your thighs together, combined with the little whimpers that leaves you. “Not too fun, eh?” 

Rolling your eyes, giving Frankie a shove that barely moves him but makes his head come up so you're looking into his eyes. Seeing the mischievous glint  right before you kiss his chin, by passing his lips to kiss the tip of his nose. Placing your hands on his cheeks to bring his face down, adding a kiss between his eyebrows, the final one landing on his forehead. His face almost pressed into your breasts, which makes him groan and lick his lips. Before coming back to his lips giving them a tender kiss then pulling away to head towards the bathroom. 

Getting lost in your warmth and scent, Frankie staggers a few steps when you move away, smile sliding over his soft lips while watching you move. Knowing you’re being both sweet and temping with those kisses, Frankie pulls his own shirt from his body. Stretching his back from working all day on the boss’s helicopter, he goes to drop it in the laundry basket stepping in front of the open bathroom door. To catch you rubbing lotion into your legs, one foot on the bathtub’s ledge as you work the cream into your skin. Trying not to stare but he can’t help it, knowing what those soft legs felt like wrapped around his waist or over his shoulders. Better yet on either side of his head while he’s feasting on your cunt. 

Cursing in Spanish to turn quickly pressing the heel of his palm into his thickening shaft, breath coming out in quick pants. Reciting the proper procedure for takeoff and landing a helo trying to get himself under control and not think about bedding you all night. Frankie finishes getting undressed, sliding his lower body into a pair of red and black flannel pajama pants, smirk turning up his lips as he takes a seat on the end of the bed. You just finishing up your nightly routine, pause at the door to flick the lights off. Eyes landing on Frankie, who’s bare chest catches your attention first. Having to stop yourself from licking your lips as the soft light highlights his tawny skin. Soft in all the right places especially the little tummy you love to kiss when trailing your lips over his body. 

Dragging your eyes up to lock with his, seeing the smirk that makes you shake your head at him, “I’m guessing this is pay back?” stepping forward, one leg sliding between his thighs. Pushing them apart so you can stand closer. Hands come to rest on his shoulders, one carding through his thick curls as his own rest on your wide hips. 

Looking up at you, chin resting on your tummy still unable to fathom how he could got so lucky. “Is it working hermosa?” eyes darken when your tongue peeks out to wet your lips. 

“Nope,” popping the p while trying to keep from giggling at the crest fallen look on his handsome face. That he buries in your plush shirt covered tummy. Trying to hide that fact that yes those pajama pants work so damn will. “Next time go naked there’s a possibility for me jumping your bones then.” 

“That can be arranged sweetheart,” grin returning to his lips while standing to wrap his arms back around your shirt covered waist. Pressing you against his chest feeling your puckered nipples beneath the fabric begging for attention. He’s more than willing to give in, stripping you down and worshipping every inch he could get his mouth on.  

Soft whimper leaves you lips when his lowers to ghost over yours. The barely there touch making your knees weak but its the wide yawn that overtakes you instead of the kiss. Breaking the moment as Frankie groans walking you both to the side of the bed. Leaning over to pull the covers back, “Let’s get you in bed mi amor, tomorrow I’ll ravish you till you can’t walk.” 

Nodding you climb in moving to the middle so Frankie can get in, curling up to his side, resting a hand on his chest to draw little patterns. “Promise handsome?” whispering the words into his ear then placing a kiss to his cheek. Your touch not helping things but he wouldn’t change anything. Instead he takes your hand and intertwines your fingers, placing them over his heart. 

  “Promise cariño, you know I wouldn’t break one,” turning his head to look at you. Seeing the droop of your lids soft smile gracing his features. Leaning in, to place a kiss to each of your half-closed eyes, “Sleep Y/N we have tomorrow and many more days after that.” Adding a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“You’re too good to me Frankie,” muttering the words sleepily, snuggling against him, left arm wrapping around your waist to hold you. “Te Amo,” whispering the words, lips placing a kiss to his neck breath ghosting over his skin as you fall asleep. 

While Frankie lays there shocked, not because you spoke in Spanish but for what those simple words meant to him. Wishing that you hadn’t fallen sleep so he could say them back and show you in actions how much he truly loves you. He settles for now on holding you closer making sure the sheet and blankets are securely covering the both of you, knowing how cold you get during the night. Placing his lips against your forehead for a kiss, his own eyes starting to drift closed. Your rhythmic breathing lulling him into dreams of your life together. 

********************************

Intrusive noise brings you slowly from the warm cocoon you're wrapped in, low groan leaving your lips. Moving to turn the offending alarm off but you can’t reach as Frankie has you pushed into the mattress cuddling into your chest with his heavy arm draped over your tummy. “Frankie baby the alarm,” hearing him grunt against your skin, giggles leave your lips. 

You try one more time to reach the clock only to have him bat a hand at the offending object, hitting the snooze harder than needed and rolling back against you. Burying his lips in your throat, soft mustache tickling your skin making you giggle and try to move away. Through his strong arms hold you even closer, your head tipping back to give the access he’s wordlessly asking for. Fingers carding through his curls, tugging gently as a low moan leaves your throat. One he feels with his mouth against your pulse that picks up with each nibble and kiss given. 

“Frankie,” name comes out on a whimper when his nose brushes just south of your ear. 

“Mi amor,” sucking softly, tasting your skin with his tongue that draws little patterns. Free hand moving down to the hem of your shirt that’s ridden up while you slept. Callused fingers finding your bare waist to spread his hand over your skin, sliding it down and back to cup the generous globe of your ass. Pressing his face into your fabric covered chest, making another moan leave your lips as his own seek out the pebbled peaks of your nipples. Wetting the cloth as he suckles one into the hot cavern of his mouth. 

The hand at your ass moving lower to bring your thigh over his hip, rocking against you. Flatten your hands over his chest, pushing twice before he rolls on his back taking you with him. So that your straddling his waist, feeling the hard press of his shaft along your folds. Hands bracing yourself up over him, mouth never leaving your breast. As he switches to the other, eyes locking with yours letting you see the need and heat filling the now almost black orbs. Pupil’s crowding out the beautiful brown of his iris’s you love to drown in.  Mewling whimpers leave your parted lips, head tossed back, while your hips rock against him in slow teasing circles. 

Growling in impatience, Frankie makes quick work of pulling your shirt off to fling it to the floor, mouth reattaching to your breast. Nipping the puckered bud before trailing his lips over your skin and back up your neck. Reaching your ear, “It’s tomorrow hermosa or did you forget and want that book boyfriend of yours?” 

Turning your head to capture his lips in a deep hard kiss, one that’s all teeth and tongue, a battle for dominance. Angling your head just right so that you can take in air through your nose while tangling your tongue with Frankie’s. Though before long the need for true oxygen becomes too much as your forced to break apart both of you panting for breath. Resting your foreheads together you subtly move your hips. Just brushing your soaked panties against his flannel covered cock. Letting him feel your passion that he’s started. 

An idea pops into your head one that’s fleeting with the warmth of his large hands landing on your ass. Cupping the globes to press you against him, while he plants his feet and thrusts upward. It’s anything but teasing, more demanding with a need born from a night of dreams that has him hard as steal and wanting to bury himself deep inside your body.  

“Frankie,” his name coming out on a whimper, mouth moving to his jawline kissing the salt and pepper beard. Nosing the surprisingly soft hairs, trailing your lips to the thick cords of his neck pushing his chin backwards to get access to where you want to place kisses. Both of you shutting out the world right then and all that needs accomplished for the day in favor of indulging in carnal pleasures interrupted last night by time moving too quickly. 

“Tell me what you want hermosa and I’ll give it to you,” breath ragged with need, his cock throbbing with each movement of his hips against you. Feeling your essence soaking through to his own skin. Low growl rambling into your chest that he presses to his, loving the feel of your nipples brushing his overheated flesh. 

He goes to pull your panties off and his own pajama pants when a squeal of want makes the two of you break apart. Groaning, pushing his head back into the pillows as you rest your forehead against his collarbone unable to help the silent giggles that leave your lips. Frankie tips your chin up when he feels the shake of your body, thinking you’re upset and shaking his head when seeing the mirth in your sweet gaze. 

“Looks like a cold shower for you handsome,” trying to keep the mirth from your tone as you lean down to give him one more sweet kiss. “I’ll go take care of our princess you shower and get ready for work.” Groaning when you must move from his body, feeling his hands slide down from your thick waist, a shiver runs down your frame at the caress he gives your body. Though you try to suppress the want while searching for something to wear for right now. Spying his flannel robe, “Breakfast?” brow cocked, turning back to face him. Licking your lips as you look over your lover. Unable to hide the need blooming deeper in your eyes, finding that you can’t take your eyes off the sexy man lying in your bed. 

He turns on his side one arm propping up his head to watch you pull on his camo bath robe. “Never thought something so simple would look so sexy,” words whispered though you’ve heard them as Frankie looks you over. Feeling the places his eyes linger like a caress of those big rough hands of his, making another shiver skate over your body. 

Swallowing, knowing there’s not much time till Isabella calls/squeals for you again. “You want breakfast Frankie?” trying to get your mind off what you really want. Like jump back into bed with that man and make him growl and moan your name till he’s putty in your hands. The only man to ever make you feel sexy while naked or in this case dressed in his robe. Knowing that your not some runway model with a size two body, but it’s a body Frankie can never get enough of. One he loves to see pressed into the mattress, while he takes you in any manner of ways. Face consumed with the pleasure he’s giving you or those times when your greedy and want to show him heaven. Devouring his cock in the warmth of your mouth, teasing him, knowing just what places to lick and nibble. The wanton minx only Frankie gets to bring out and see. But most of all its that sweet smile you give him that tugs at his heart and what made him fall in love with you almost at first sight. 

An impatience huff from you has a smile tugging at his lips, breaking him from the thoughts filtering through his mind. Raising to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out to snag the ties to his robe and bring you closer. Mischief running through those soulfully deep brown eyes, hands resting on your hips, “Only if I can eat you for breakfast mi amor.” 

Voice impossibly deep, sends a spark of arousal so potentate you must rub your thighs together for friction and place your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself upright. “That’s dessert flyboy and it’s nowhere near dinner time so sadly I’m off the menu for right now.” Giving him a bright smile, as you see the disappointment flashes in his eyes. Leaning down to kiss him softly, “Shower, I’ll have breakfast ready and our little princess, before getting ready myself.” 

Stepping away you pause at the door to look over your shoulder, catching him watching your every move. “See something you like Francisco?” One shoulder of the robe sliding down to bare your skin to his eyes. 

Shaking his head, he can’t stop the smile from gracing his lips, “I see someone I love,” raising to join you at the door. Wrapping an arm around your waist, to lean down and kiss you back softly. Heart beating out of his chest at the simple words he spoke that made you gasp but return the kiss. Pulling away with a goofy smile on your lips. 

“Love huh? You going soft on me Mr. Morales?” knowing what it took for him to say that word and remembering that you had told him the same last night in Spanish. Happy tears form in the corners of your eyes as you turn fully towards him, cupping his cheeks in your hands, “I love you to Frankie.” 

Tender moment broken by the call of “Mama,” which makes you both laugh in happiness as you move away. 

Squeaking at the smack Frankie lands on your ass before you’ve stepped fully away from him. “By the way hermosa you look fucking sexy in my robe. Though I do have to say it would look so much better on the floor,” giving your wink before turning to head to the shower. 

“Same with those sinful flannel pj’s baby, they may look good riding low on that waist of yours, showing off that sexy tummy and treasure trail. But I’d look better with my legs wrapped around you,” you return giggling when you hear the low growl from him. “Don’t worry they will be on the floor tonight count on that one.” 

Heat rising over Frankie’s cheeks at your words even as another groan leaves his lips along with a soft curse feeling his cock throb from just the mire thoughts your promise conjures up. He has to lean a little on the bathroom door to steady himself before stripping and heading for a very cold shower. 

Sadly, both your days didn’t go as planned. Repairs on the helo took longer than Frankie scheduled, he drug himself in a little after 8, the scent of pizza tickling his nose as he toes off his shoes by the door. 

“Y/N,” calling out softly not wanting to wake Isabella who he knew would be fast asleep in her bed. The sight which meets his eyes makes his heart expand and tears form, both his girls fast asleep on the couch. The book you read last night dangling from your hand just shy of landing on the floor. Free hand cuddling your little girl against you, fingers spread over her small back. 

Stepping closer, he hates to wake you, looking so peaceful, beautiful eyes closed contentment making your features smooth. Frankie leans down to scoop up Isabelle, her own eyes sleepily opening to stare at him. “Dada,” small voice whispers, her head drooping to lay on his shoulder falling back asleep. Soft chuckle at her actions, Frankie runs his hand over her head gently sweeping away some of the chestnut curls. Still in aww of this little girl he never thought would be his. Movement catches his eye, turning to see you waking slowly. 

Stirring with the warmth and weight of Isabella gone, you smile up at Frankie rising slowly to place your book in your previous spot before stretching out your back. “Long day baby?” standing to wrap your arms around both of your loves. 

“Hmm,” pressing warm lips to first his little girl’s forehead before leaning down to kiss you. “I’m just happy to be home hermosa.” Not wanting to go into the crappy details of his day right then. “I’ll go put our angel to bed while you get ready yourself.” 

Shaking your head, ruffling her hair gently and adding a kiss to her soft chestnut curls, “I’ll warm you up some dinner and we can talk before bed.” Reaching up to brush your hand over his bearded cheek, cupping the side and swiping a thumb over the apple of his cheek. 

“Sure, you don’t want to return to your book boyfriend?” teasing glint making his eyes light with mirth that makes you roll your and pat his jaw. 

“Don’t tempt me Frankie baby I just might,” sending a smirk his way, turning then to head into the kitchen. Hearing the playfully annoyed huff leave him. 

Entering the kitchen bare feet silently padding over the cold tile, you busy yourself with getting a plate, trying not to think of your day. The events having led to the reason Isabella was still up, and pizza for dinner instead of the home cooked meal you had originally planned to make. Automatically placing two slices down on a plate and putting them in the microwave. Leaning back against the counter, arms crossed watching though not actually paying attention to the microwave plate spin, eyes unfocused glancing more inward than on the task at hand. You jump lightly when Frankie comes to stand in front of you, warm body soothing your horrible day, arms on either side caging you in. Wrapping your arms around his waist to rest your head on his chest. 

“Things not go as planned my love?” placing a kiss to the center of his shirt covered chest, not wanting to speak about your day yet. 

Soft grunt leaves his lips pressed into the side of your head, “Just long and a few fuck ups by the newbie’s who seem to think they know everything.” Eyes rolling through you can’t see the action with your head still pressed into his chest. Running his large hands up and down your back, pressing your soft plush body into his. “Sometimes I feel like I’m a relic in that place and no one wants to listen to me.” 

“You know more than all those assholes put together Frankie, you could put that helo back together with your eyes closed and fly it to points unknown in a blink of an eye,” looking up voice firm and strong with a note of pride in the cadence as you lean up to press your lips to his for a short kiss. 

“My little cheerleader,” grinning nuzzling his nose against yours. “If I get you that little outfit, would you wear it for me?” though seeing you in his robe turns him on more than any stupid costume. Being a man of simple wants and desires, he’d rather see you naked with just his dog tags between your breasts. 

This time you roll your eyes, “Not with all the extra padding I have it wouldn’t look right on me.” 

Low growl leaving his chest as he squeezes you tightly, “Sweetheart you would make anything look good though I do have to agree it wouldn’t look right on you.” Seeing the flash of hurt Frankie rushes to explain himself, “Not that you wouldn’t look sexy as fuck just, I’d much rather you in my robe or better yet naked.” Tracing the pattern on your scrub top with the tip of his finger till it reached your neck, resting the callused palm on your soft skin. 

Shivering at his words that fill your heart with love for this man, “Nice save stud,” resting your head back on his chest. Eyes closing, feeling his fingers brushing over your neck wondering how you got so lucky when there’s women and men out there that haven’t. Unwillingly the images from this afternoon filter through your mind making you squeeze Frankie tighter. 

Sensing the shift in your demeanor, the way you’re holding him like a life preserver wrapped around a drowning man. He pulls back just a little to tip your chin up with two fingers, “What happened mi amor?” seeing unshed tears glistening in your eyes. 

“Nothing,” single word muffled as you’ve buried your face back into his chest. Breathing in the scent of oil, lava soap and something that’s uniquely Frankie. It never fails to sooth your mind from the trouble, imagined and real. 

Squeezing you closer, he uses the hands at your waist to help boost you to sit on the counter, parting your thighs and slipping between. Cupping your cheeks in callused palms so that your looking into his eyes, “Talk to me hermosa you know you can tell me anything.” Thoughts going back to one of the many reasons he and Felicia, the mother of Isabella, didn’t make it. Both refusing to talk about what’s really bothering them. He doesn’t want a return to that kind of life not with you and not with all the work he put in to change that part of him. “Remember you said we’d talk, and I have so it’s your turn baby.”

Knowing he’s right, a soft sigh leaves your lips, “A young woman came in this afternoon to the clinic, she’d…” swallowing hard at the visions filling your mind, remembering the cuts and bruises, the tears. “Her partner messed her up pretty bad, I tried to get her to press charges, but she wouldn’t. Simply saying it’s her fault, she should’ve listened instead of disobeying.” Eyes downcast as you remember your own mother’s fight against abuse at the hands of her husband. Those memories combined with today’s events trap you in your mind till warm lips press against your forehead. Strong arms cradle you against his chest, stroking your back in soothing circles. 

“You did what you could mi alma, there wasn’t anything you could’ve said to change her mind, not till she’s ready. I know it brings the memories back and I’m so fucking sorry you and any woman or man has to go through that.” Moving just a fraction back to look into your eyes as your head raises, silent tears making little wet trails over your cheeks. 

Leaning in to kiss the salty moisture away, catching the dull glint of a necklace under your shirt. Frankie reaches up to tug the warm metal from under the fabric, breath catching at finding his dog tags dangling at the bottom. 

Bottom lip caught between your teeth, you look from the tags to Frankie, “They bring me comfort when you’re not around just like Isabella. I hadn’t meant to keep her up so late but having her lay on my chest while I read it kept the demons away.” 

“Mi amor you never have to explain, it's why I gave you these in the first place,” though the explanation tugs at his heart just as he tugs at the dog tags. The feeling of home, of you and Isabella being here and his, a plan forming in his mind. He’s been a rambling man for so long, even while dating and almost marrying Felicia, but now with you in his arms he felt at home. “As for Isabella I’m more than sure she enjoyed laying on the mama to sleep,” soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I almost didn’t move her, but then I thought you wouldn’t get much sleep on that couch and your back would blame you in the morning.” 

Melting at his words, the sweet look in his eyes makes you fall in love with Frankie all the more. “You are one amazing man you know that Francisco Morales?” Feeling the dog tags land back between your cloth covered breasts as his hands wrap around your waist to pull you closer to him. 

“I’m just a man mi amor, there’s nothing amazing about me,” soft yelp leaving his lips when you give his side a pinch under his shirt. Rubbing the bruised skin, “What’s that for?” pout forming on his mouth. 

“For thinking so little of yourself handsome, you know I don’t like it when you do that,” giving him a stern glance that turns soft under those pouting puppy dog eyes. You glance over his shoulder, seeing the microwave stopped a while ago and knowing he’s probably starved. “You need to eat but I’d warm that pizza up a little more before you do.” Moving just an inch you pull him back into a gentle kiss that’s nothing short of tooth rotten sweet and tender. Just little presses of your mouth to his, nipping a few times on his plush bottom lip before sucking lightly. 

Pulling back just a little, “It’s dinner time can I have my dessert now?” mischief sparkling in those deep brown pools as his hands rub your thighs that surround his waist. 

“I wouldn’t be much of a participant handsome,” once again guilt eats at your heart as a large yawn makes your mouth gap open and you stretch to work out the kinks in your muscles. “I know I promised…” 

Leaning in to kiss you twice, “Don’t you worry about that sweetheart, we have tomorrow.” 

“I know but you see my book boyfriend waits for me tomorrow and I can’t disappoint him,” giving Frankie a teasing smirk while slipping from the counter. His presence the salve to your wounded heart just as yours is to his. “Eat your dinner then come to bed, I wanna cuddle with my lover tonight.” 

Tugging you into his arms, lips placed on your forehead, “One of these days that book boyfriend of yours will find himself kicked out of our house.” Chuckling, he drops a possessive hand on your ass to give the plump flesh a squeeze. “Those tags mean your taken by me,” reluctantly letting you go, watching with love struck eyes as you walk away. 

“I’ll inform him of that baby,” turning you start for the bedroom, pausing at the door to look back and blow Frankie a kiss. 

Twenty minutes later, a couple of slices of pizza and half a beer, Frankie goes around the house making sure everything is locked up and lights are off. Treading sock footed to the only source left, he pauses to check first on Isabella then head to your shared bedroom. Pausing at the doorway to watch you sleep, curled around his pillow, dressed in his robe from this morning. A deep love fills his heart one he thought would never find him not after all the bad he’d done, all the marks he tallied with every mission. Yet you’ve stayed taking up room in his heart making it so that he never wants to let you go. 

With those thoughts in his mind, Frankie strips down to his boxers and slides into bed. Wrapping an arm around you, to pull you flush with his side. Soft sigh leaving your lips as you curl into him, draping a leg between his and an arm over his chest. Even in your sleep you manage to steal his breath and fall in love with you all over again. 

*********************************

Golden sunlight filtered through the partly open curtains, bathing his features in soft yellow light. Dark brows smooth with sleep, arching over closed libs hiding those deep chocolate eyes you love so much. Lightly tracing the features of his face with the tips of your fingers, not wanting to wake him just yet having turned the alarm off after waking early. On your day off no less but getting to see Frankie like this peaceful, resting and without a care in the world made losing a little extra sleep worth it. 

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, fingers tracing over his features. The tip of your index finger gliding over his defined nose that you love to kiss, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiles. Over cheeks especially the left with its dimple that appears every so often when he’s really happy normally when he’s staring at Isabella or you. That realization makes your heart hammer behind your ribs. Still wondering how you found this amazing man and more to the point how he could love someone like you. 

Those thoughts become interrupted when he mumbles words you can’t quite make out but draws your eyes to those lush lips. Ones that speak words of love and devotion, kisses away the nightmares, brushes over Isabella’s forehead or yours. Lips that could make you cry out or gasp in pleasure the likes you’ve never felt before and speak the most filthiest of things into your ear. The very thought of how wicked they could be makes you tremble as you trace over them softly. Laughing quietly when they move against those fingers almost like it tickles feeling his mustache brush your fingers small giggle leaving you. Breath catching when you feel the little unconscious kiss he places. Almost like he’s awake but the steady rise and fall of his chest shows you differently. 

Letting the breath you hold out to continue mapping his features. Brushing over the salt and pepper beard that graces his jawline in patches that you know he hates at times. Wanting it to fill in or darker in color like when he was younger. But you reassure him with kisses that you’ve grown to love his patchy facial hair and the color it’s become. Remembering the time, you told him that to you it’s a turn on and had to show him just what you meant. Smirking at that memory, your eyes trace lower for the moment over his pecs, the little slope of his tummy and down that dark trail of hair that slips under his boxers. Consciously licking your lips at the impressive morning wood he’s sporting tenting the black boxers encasing his lower body parts that aren’t covered by the thin sheet. 

  Reluctantly pulling your eyes away, knowing you’ll get to that point soon enough. Refocusing your attention’s to the strong column of his throat, tracing the veins till they disappear under his skin. Teasingly circling his nipples garnering a low moan from the man above you making a smirk appear even as your eyes dart up. Seeing he’s still asleep though his legs are starting to get a little restless, you glance down catching sight of the sheet slip a little lower. Fingers still dancing over his chest you turn back to your perusal of his body leaning in to place a soft kiss to the pebbled nipple closest to you. 

Smiling when there’s a gasp that leaves his lips this time, though you don’t look instead moving lower to nuzzle into his tummy. One of your favorite parts of him, that he hates thinking he’s going soft in his old age. You’d argued with him, musing how he could dislike a part of his body that’s soft when you were soft all over. Thick thighs and waist, arms that still flap after you stopped waving, the body of a Rubenesque angel. The last memory making your smile fondly as Frankie told you that one afternoon lying in bed naked, drawing patterns over your skin much like you do now to him. You’d scoffed that turned into a moan of pleasure when his lips started worshipping your body. Mapping the valley’s and dimples you didn’t like, sliding his big body between your thighs to kiss and bite at your skin. Marking you that afternoon as his, reminding you how beautiful and desirable he sees you. 

Only to return the favorite later that night ending the argument by reverently kissing and nipping each spot on his body, the scars, the softness, the strength he forgets that underlines his body. Even now you can’t stop yourself from placing a kiss to the center of his chest. Enjoying the sight of your lover spread out for you to devour. You don’t take your eyes off him while moving to lay between his legs. Robe parting to expose your breasts to his eyes when he wakes, and you know that’s coming soon. When you feel him twitch against your hand, the soft groan and movements of his restless body a dead giveaway. 

Leaning down to nuzzle his length with your lips and nose, breathing in the musky woodsy scent of his body that has tingles dancing over your skin. Taking the cloth covered elastic band between your fingers to peel it back. Exposing the head of his cock jutting upward against the curls of his groin making you lick your lips. Tongue peeking out to lap at the pearl drop of precum that sits perfectly over the slit. Tasting his tangy musk of his essence, savoring that first little drop while peeling his boxer briefs lower over his muscular thighs. Carefully tugging them and pushing the sheet off his body while you wiggle down. Till the under garment gets tossed to the floor along with the bedsheet, his body bare to your glaze. Catching sight of his chest starting to rise and fall a little quicker now. Expressive eyes moving a little faster behind closer lids. 

Licking your lips at the sight knowing you need to act quickly, or Frankie will wake and spoil your fun. Returning to your position, making sure the robe is still gaping open for his viewing pleasure. Leaning in to trace your lips over the underside of his thick shaft. More than average in girth and length the very thought of him inside you has your own thighs wanting to rub together for some kind of friction. But you remember this isn’t about you, it’s a repayment of pleasure he’s given you, of all the little things, the touches, kisses, the sweetness that is your Frankie. You want to repay him, no matter how many times he’s told you it’s not necessary. You want to show him heaven just as he’s done for you. 

A grunt pulls you from the musing, tugging a smirk across your lips, burying them at the base of his shaft. Nibbling little kisses till you reach the red tinged head, tongue slipping out to flatten against the slit and drag across. Wrapping one hand that barely fits around the base placing him heavily on your tongue to circle your mouth and close around the tip. Sucking softly, tongue flicking quickly a few times, before widening your jaw and taking as much of his cock in. 

Slightly gagging when he hits the back of your throat, and swallow. Full lips covering the shaft tightly while dragging your mouth up, and down hand pumps and twists the part you can’t fit. Bobbing slowly, grinning when a pair of callused hands come to cup the back of your head. Not pushing just resting trying to ground himself. 

Spanish curses fly from his lips, “Mierda hermosa que la boca tuya se siente como el cielo,” back arching off the mattress, eyes flying open to stare down at you. Darkened with passion and desire, licking his lips as your own are wrapped around his throbbing cock. “Tan bueno para mí, mi amor.” (Fucking shit beautiful that mouth of yours feels like heaven.) (So good to me, my love.) 

Head bobbing slowly, eyes locked with his, pulling up till just the head rests on your tongue, sucking lightly before letting go with a wet pop. “Morning handsome, sleep well?” smirking at the question, you drop one hand between his thighs to gently caress the slightly roughen skin of his balls. Testing the weight and giving a light squeeze before starting to massage each one in turn. Delighting when it pulls another puffing moan from his lips. 

Words unable to form in answer to your teasing question though he knows you’re not truly asking for one just torturing him with that sexy morning voice. Fingers flexing on your head, massaging the scalp, a low groan vibrating through his chest, feeling the soft pressing of your lips on his shaft, accompanying with little nibbles and licks. Making his eyes roll back at the pleasure your giving him. It’s almost too much and not enough at the same time. 

Making him sit up, reaching for you trying wrap his hands under your arms and pull you against him. But you’re a little quicker, anticipating his movements and reluctantly pulling away, letting his shaft go so you’re not in arms reach. Shaking your head and crawling back up his body, making sure to pause and place a kiss to the crown of his cock, his tummy which he tries to suck in. Straddling one thigh to let him feel how wet you’ve become from just giving him pleasure. Whimpering when that thigh flexes under you, moving up to brush against your tender dripping folds. 

Shaking your head again, placing one hand on his chest to push him back into the pillows. Seeing the slight confusion in those soft chocolate eyes giving you the sweetest puppy look. That would normally have you melting in puddle of goo but not this time. Nope you had to stand your ground, “Won’t work Francisco,” leaning in to kiss him hungrily. Slipping your tongue into his mouth on a moan as he tastes himself in the warm cavern of your mouth. Tongues tangling, fingers carding through his hair to run blunt nails over his scalp. Feeling him twitch against your thigh making you smile into the kiss. Giving him two smaller kisses, “Now be a good boy and lay back for me while I show you heaven.” 

Groaning at your words, and doing as you ask, though he gives the thigh between yours one more flex, rubbing your slick folds again just to see you pause in your movements. The way you shutter around him and gasp out. He itch’s to grab you, rolling you under him or better yet tossing that other leg over his hips and thrusting home. Filling you so sweetly, so fully to make you forget about anything and anyone but him. Itching to hear you moan his name, whimper when he hits that perfect spot inside your tight cunt. That never fails to make your eyes roll back, his name a prayer on your kiss swollen lips. 

So, lost in his little fantasy that when you’ve made your way back down to his throbbing cock, he jumps at the first touch of your lips. Grunting as his hips jut off the mattress filling your mouth with his shaft. That makes Frankie curse, eyes rolling back when you suck on the crown, flicking that talented tongue over the slit and taking him back down. Placing both hands on his hips to hold him in place. Starting to fully bob up and down, tongue slithering around his shaft as little dribbles of spit slip from your lips wetting his skin. 

Forcing himself to open his eyes and look down, to watch his angel, looking so sweet and pure devouring his cock so sinfully. Mumbled words of Spanish, and English leave his lips, eyes locking with yours. He moves one hand down to brush over your hollowed cheek, downward to sweep over your neck and wrap around the back of your sulk helping you move along his shaft. Lewd moans and whimpers escape his panting lips. Only breaking eye contact when he feels the soft fabric of his robe brushing his thighs.  

What he finds nearly makes him cum right then, your soft breasts swaying, nipples peaked and begging for his attention. The soft swell of your tummy, the sight makes him whimper and press his head back against the pillows. “Hermosa please, so fucking good.” 

When you pull off, using one hand to keep pumping his cock, twisting your wrist, giving little squeezes. Slick from your mouth and his dribbled essence, the wet sounds making his head spin in need. “Please what my love? Want me to stop?” Biting your bottom lip knowing he doesn’t but also knowing what he really wants. 

“Fuck no,” low growl leaves his lips, head snapping up to stare at you. Eyes dropping to see the robe open even more your breasts spilling out making him lick his lips. Tracing an invisible path back to your desire darken eyes. Fingers giving his shaft another squeeze as they pump slower almost to a stop, though his hips have a mind of their own and thrust up into the circle of your fingers. He knows you want an answer he can’t seem to form right now with how innocent you look sitting there on your knees. Hand wrapped around his cock, all thought and blood surging to that one organ. Feeling the fading tingles up his spine, with the slacking of your movements. 

The dissipating high he wants, needs to chase, has the words tumbling from his mouth. “Want you mi amor, want that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around my cock making me cum.” His filthy words make you whimper feeling your cunt tremble and squeeze around nothing. “Please,” last word coming out on a gasp when your hand starts to pick up pace. 

Lowering yourself back between his legs, wrapping your mouth around him, starting a hard punishing pace that has his body bowing in pleasure. Hands gripping the sheets beneath you both, head pressing into the pillows show casing the thick tendons of his neck. Bolts of pleasure shooting through his veins he tries to raise up to watch but it’s all too much. Those tingles dancing up his spine, sac drawing up against his body your tongue swiftly swirling around his shaft with each bob of your head. Pressing one hand into his hip to keep you up right while the other works the part of him you can’t fit. Making sure to brush his sac each time your wrist moves down. 

Humming at the taste flooding your buds, eyes closing in bliss with each word he mutters the way your name is flows from his parted panting lips. Like a prayer to God though this kind is something He might ignore. Knowing Frankie is getting closer to his release, seeing the sweat slick his forehead and coat his chest. Picking up the subtle change in his deep voice, hands grasping at the sheets knowing it would be you he’s holding on to if he’d been inside you. The way his body is shuttering around you, the quick throbbing of that vein you trace repeatedly wanting him to fall. 

Pulling off with a lewd wet pop, “I’ve got you baby, let go for me I wanna taste you.” Moaning the words before wrapping your lips around the crown to suck harshly. Flattening your tongue on the underside while hollowing your cheeks again determined to draw his orgasm from his body. 

Smirking up at him hearing the words falling from his sinful lips. “Shit, carajo tan bueno. I’m not gonna last cariño,” hips thrusting up as the first tangy bits of his release touches your tongue. 

Humming happily while working quicker, hands and mouth working in tandem to make him lose control. Pleasure exploding behind his closed eyes, back arching off the bed as his control snaps. His essence flowing down your throat, and you take every bit you can swallowing around his sensitive shaft. Chest heaving, gasping for air to fill his lungs, body humming from his high. Another moan escaping, little twitches on your tongue as you pull off placing a sweet kiss to the crown before gently letting him go. Feeling his hands grabbing at you, pulling your up his body and crashing his mouth against yours. 

Licking the remains of his orgasm from your lips and thrusting his tongue into the cavern of your mouth to tangle and taste. Holding your body against his, one hand goes between the two of you to start undoing the sash holding the robe only partly closed. Pulling the soft terry cloth knot free and pushing it off one of your shoulders. Fingers dancing over your heated soft skin while his mouth takes control of the kiss dragging a moan from the deepest part of your being. Your own hands clutching at the sheets under you, gasping when those callused fingers tug at a nipple. Soothing the pain with gentle circles, cupping the generous globe in his palm to give a squeeze. 

Your body having a mind of its own, rocking against his, hips on either side of his waist as you lay over him. Shaking arms barely keep you up with hot desire flowing through your veins each brush and teasing touch of those skillful hands making you lose control, making you forget the position your in. Lungs burning in the best of ways making you gasp and break away. Resting your foreheads together, breathing in shared air, his hands having pulled the robe low as it’ll go with your arms pushed into the mattress. He flattens his hands on your back pressing you closer to draw his nose over your collarbone and neck. Running stubbled cheeks into the soft skin hearing you gasp that makes him smirk. Especially when he places his lips to your pulse flicking his tongue over the thumping vein drawing a whine from deep in your chest. 

His other hand coming to join the party by cupping your breast bringing the heavy globe to his lips and nibbling on your pebbled nipple. Biting down just that side of pain he knows you love and sure enough another moan leaves your lips. Lower body rocking against his needing to find the delicious friction as you clit throbs in need, cunt clinching nothing and wanting him deep inside you. 

Shrill alarm breaking the moment, making you groan in annoyance and dropping your head to his shoulder. Body shaking with need, breath escaping in small little gasps as his hands and mouth haven’t stopped working your body over. You gather enough strength to reach over and cut the offending piece of technology off tempted to toss it out the window. In favor of keeping Frankie in bed all day. 

“Frankie,” name groaned as you raise up, pulling your chest away from his mouth, making him pout. Small giggle leaving your lips at how cute he looks, “You have to get ready for work baby.” 

“Fuck work,” wrapping his arms around your back to hold you close and rolls the pair of you over so he’s hovering over you. “I rather much stay right here and take my time.” Staring into your eyes, his are smiling with those little crinkles at the corners. Reaching up to brush your fingers over the lines, he grabs your hand to bring it to his lips and kiss each finger. “If I remember rightly, I missed dessert last night,” smirking at your gasp when his a hand slip low brushing through your slick folds. “Well, I want it now.”

There’s a war going on inside you, caught between wanting those deliciously thick fingers inside you and conscious of the fact that the both of you need to get up to start the day. Once again, the opinions are taken from you as a little girl squeals in want from her room just a bit down the hall. This time it’s Frankie who groans while you giggle, pushing him from on top of you. To drop dramatically beside you, arm slung over his face. 

“Don’t worry flyboy you’ll get your dessert,” patting his chest as you lean over to steal a quick kiss before getting up. Pausing at the bed, “Unless my book boyfriend takes up my time tonight.” Giggling, you move quickly to avoid his hands grabbing for you. 

As he’s lunged up playfulness in his eyes though he tries to make them stern and annoyed, “He won’t get in my way of having my woman, hermosa.” Low teasing growl leaves his lips, feet landing on the floor as he stands to stalk towards you. Caught in his snare you take a step back feeling the cool wall against your skin having forgot to pull the robe over you. Shivering though not to from the air-conditioned cooled room, but from the feral look in those deep chocolate eyes that makes you clinch your thighs, whimpering softly. He stalks towards you, body on display for your eyes to roam and drool over wanting to take him up on that offer. A stray slice of golden light graces his form making him look like a Golden God in your eyes. That can’t seem to tear away from him, trapped but in a really good way, one that you don’t want to run from.   

Caging you in with his hands on either side of your head, Frankie leans in, breath ghosting over your ear, “Trust me sweetheart I will make you forget all about that book boyfriend. I’ll make it so you can’t walk for a week and mark every inch of this gorgeous body that belongs to me.” Moving so that your eyes are locked, one hand dropping to wrap around your waist and pull your almost naked body against his. Draping a leg over his hip as he slides that large hand over your waist and down to cup your ass. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to remember your name then make love to you as you scream mine for the neighbors to hear.” Leaning in to brush his lips over yours with a tenderness that underscores the possessive tone, “You’re mine mi Vida, and I don’t share.” 

Swallowing hard trying to gather what moisture you can as all of it seems to have headed south, dripping from your fluttering folds and pulsing clit. Hands wrapped around the back of his neck to hold on cause you’re sure the moment he lets you go you’ll melt into a puddle of sexually frustrated goo. “That’s,” licking your dry lips seeing him watch your tongue. Smirking inside at the knowledge you have the same power over him. “That’s a tall order my love you sure you’re up to the challenge?” teasingly stated while your fingers card through his curls giving a light tug. Mischief sparking in your eyes as an idea conjures up for tonight. 

“You testing me hermosa?” seeing you nod, his eyes close another low growl this one sounding more dangerous than the last. Only serving to fuel your desire for him. 

He’s such a contradiction, caught between sweet caring gentleman that holds your hand when you’re scared and opens the door for you. Kisses your forehead and makes his famous hot chocolate on those days you’re not feeling yourself. To a sexual beast who’s single desire is to make you cum as many times on his tongue, fingers and cock that he can draw out of you. Whispering the filthiest things in your ear, some as he blushes making him all the more adorably cute and sexy at the same time. Then back to the tender, humble man you fell in love with and couldn’t see yourself without. 

Thoughts interrupted by a swat to your ass, reminding you to answer, “Yes flyboy, I wanna see if you can make good on those plans.” 

“Don’t worry mi amor I’ll remind you,” leaning in to give you the sweetest, softest kiss you’ve ever had. Making your heart flutter with love. Pulling back, “Just make sure you know what you’re getting into,” carefully letting you go, making sure that your steady on your weak legs then stepping away. Giving you a soft smile before turning to head into the bathroom. 

Licking your lips, “I hate to see you go Frankie baby but I fucking love to watch you leave.” Pushing away from the wall, retying the robe to cover your body you let your eyes linger on him for a moment longer then head to Isabella who’s jumping and fussing wanting up and breakfast. 

Missing the hardy belly laugh that Frankie lets out at hearing your remark, shaking his head while starting the shower and getting ready for another day at work.  

To Part Two

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #5: Pretty Please? -  Hawks

In which you and Keigo coin a few new petnames for one another.

Characters: Takami Keigo (Hawks) / f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), daddy kink, dom!Hawks, vaginal sex, a touch of begging, inappropriate use of gen Z social media apps

Notes: This man is getting dangerously close to the top of my simp list. It’s really becoming an issue. Today’s prompt is ‘Daddy Kink.’ Also, I didn’t come up with ‘kid’ as a nickname that Hawks uses... if u know, u know

Kinktober Masterlist

“How long have you been here?”

Keigo’s voice echoes in the hallway of his little apartment soon after you hear the jingle of his keys in the lock. While it certainly isn’t your first time coming to his place without him, you’re still not quite used to the appearance of that silvery little key dangling from your key ring.

Nor are you used to hanging around the place by yourself. You spent the morning in a coffee shop around the corner, working away- popping by the agency to see Keigo over lunch. He’d told you to come back here if you needed somewhere quiet to work- bonus points, since you’d be here waiting when he got home.

“Came straight after lunch,” you call absently. Your eyes are glued to the screen as you finish your thought, typing out your last email of the day. As soon as you hit send you snap the laptop shut, pushing it gently across the kitchen counter while climbing out of your chair.

“Hi,” you purr, catching up to him in the hallway. You grab his hand and he pauses, leaning in to peck your lips. When he pulls back, he’s got a lazy smirk drawn across his mouth.

“How you been, kid? Sure feels good comin’ home to you at the end of the day.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you tease, pushing your shoulder against his. You lean down and nuzzle his jaw, letting your cheek scrape against his scruff. “I’m a strong, independent woman.”

“Which is exactly why I love you,” he replies. He grabs your chin and pulls your mouth back to his, catching it in a kiss that would have surprised you with its tenderness, if you didn’t know him so well.

When you first met, he played the Cheshire Cat role eagerly. Smirking at you, pulling lines on you, making you think he was the laid-back hero that everybody knew him as. But the more time you spend with him, the more he opens up. The more he lets himself be vulnerable to you. And you him. You’d never meant to let him in so easily, but…

Here you are.

You flop down on the couch together, Keigo leaning against one arm while you keep your head cradled in his lap. He’s happy to fold his wings over the back of the couch and absently stroke your hair while you catch up a little. It’s only been a few hours since you’ve last seen one another, so you settle quickly into comfortable silence.

That’s when you open your phone, idly opening Tik Tok and starting to scroll. Every so often you come across a video related to Hawks. He’s got a lot of fans out there- and a lot of fangirls, too. You don’t mind, though. Sometimes they get a little too personal, however, and you like to scroll.

This time around, you don’t scroll fast enough.

You don’t catch the whole video, but it’s a clip of Keigo that somebody took on their phone. Suddenly, the audio cuts out and it’s interrupted by the sound of a female voice, moaning more obscenely than you could ever hope to.

“Daddy,” it mewls, and you scroll so fast the phone almost topples out of your fingers.

Frozen, you pull your eyes carefully up to meet the gaze of your boyfriend. He definitely heard. And while he knows that Tik Tok can pull up some random videos at times, you can see the flush spreading across his cheeks.

He shifts a little underneath you, hand paused on top of your head. He clears his throat.

“What was that?”

You consider your next words carefully.

“…A video.”

He swallows hard and licks his lips.

“What kind of video?”

Suddenly, it hits you. You have the reins. You realize exactly what’s going through his head. And the next time you look up at him, it’s with a wicked smirk stretching your lips.

“Why do you want to know?” You ask, and your voice has taken on the low sort of drawl that makes him shift again underneath you. “Don’t tell me you like the sound of that… Daddy.”

You feel the barest vibration in his chest as a tiny groan escapes him. He doesn’t move, but you can see the way his wings bristle, the joints stiffening a little as his feathers spread. Your stomach jolts excitedly.

“Don’t call me that,” he grunts, but you know he doesn’t mean it.

The two of you are far from vanilla most nights. You’re definitely up for a little experimentation. And pet names flow between you like water. But this feels… different. This feels controversial.

Oh, fuck. You’re into it, too.

“You do.” You scramble into a sitting position, swinging one knee over his thighs. He looks up at you with a pair of lidded tawny eyes, his jaw drawn slack in an expression that spells sheer arousal to you. You know that face well, and it makes your body ache.

“Do you want me to call you Daddy from now on?” You’re not letting up, and as you lean forward, his hands find your hips. They squeeze. Hard. His wings fan a gentle breeze over your face, and you love the way his breath hitches in your ear.

“Fuck, stop,” he groans. It’s more desperate this time, and as his hips keen against yours you can tell just how hard this is hitting him. He’s half-hard already, straining against the thick denim between you.

“Maybe now’s the time to tell you,” you whisper, “how bad I’ve wanted you all day, Daddy. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all afternoon. I even thought about ducking into your room before-”

That breaks him, and he snatches your hips and stands abruptly. He’s strong enough to carry you easily, and he lifts your thighs securely around his hips before beelining for the bedroom.

When you get there, instead of being spread on your back like the pillow princess he’ll normally let you pretend to be, he pushes you face-down into the pillows, letting your hips hang off the edge of his wide bed. He bends close, his chest brushing the column of your spine as his jaw brushes your ear.

“You brought this on yourself, kid,” he gruffs. He’s already working your sweater up your back. You lift your torso enough for him to wedge it off of you, but he doesn’t wait for you to do the same before he’s peeling your leggings down your thighs and taking your thong with it. The second your ass is bare he brings his palm down across it with a resounding snap.

“Kei-” you start to gasp, but he quickly silences you with another spank that draws a yelp from your throat.

“You started this,” he grunts, “you’re gonna finish it. What’s that you were gonna call me?”

You suck in a shaky breath and let your eyes flutter shut. You deserve this. You want it. All you have to do is take the plunge. The rest will follow. That breath you drew before gets held for a moment. And then you jump.

“Daddy,” you whimper, throwing an extra edge of desperation into it, “don’t tease me.”

“Shit, kid,” he grunts. His belt jingles as he gets his pants undone, and you hear them hit the floor. A breeze from his wings and another pile of fabric hitting the carpet determines that he’s naked now. He’s left your leggings partially on, though, keeping your legs pressed tightly together at the knees.

He knows what he’s doing.

When he steps up behind you again it’s with the warm presence of his bare skin on yours, and you feel the brush of his hand against the back of your thigh, gentle and rhythmic. He’s stroking his cock and you want more than anything to turn your head and sneak a peek, but you know that doesn’t fit into the game you’re playing.

“You ready for me, sweetness?”

He slips a hand between your legs, drawing his thumb along your slit and making you shiver. You could use a little more time, but you’re wet already. He drags his slick thumb down to the swell of your clit and circles it. The tender nerves are already pinched between your thighs, and the sensation is enough to make your hips buck harshly back against him.

Your ass connects with his thighs and he steps back a little, chuckling as he lays one hand in the small of your back to steady you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted something,” he drawls, continuing to circle your clit with that lazy thumb. It’s making your toes curl against the wood floor as stars explode behind your eyelids.

He leans in close. “Why don’t you tell me what it is?”

“You know what it is,” you choke, because it won’t be any fun at all if you fold right away.

“I know,” he quips, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “I just wanna hear you say it.” He draws his thumb across your clit in a sudden swipe, making your whole body jump. You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you plead, and he chuckles so low and feral it sends vibrations up your spine. He shifts forward again, hand still pushing you into the mattress. His thumb leaves your clit, but it’s soon replaced by the head of his cock, pressing flush against your slick pussy. You can feel it now that he’s touching you- you’re soaked.

“Now how am I s’posed to say no, baby, when you ask so- ah- nicely?”

His voice breaks as he pushes in, and your whine comes in sync with it. You’re always amazed at how perfectly the two of you seem to fit together. There’s a stretch, but no pain. There’s never been pain. And on top of that, the thirsty Twitter accounts are right.

Your man knows how to fuck.

He bottoms out inside you, sliding a palm to your ass, and lets out a breathy groan. But he’s grinning. You can tell. It’s been a long day for both of you.

For a man who talks so much during foreplay he’s relatively quiet- or, wordless, at least. There’s nothing quiet about the way he grunts as he draws himself back and pumps slowly into you again. He’s testing the waters, but with your thighs pressed together the way they are you’re even tighter than usual.

“Not gonna last long,” he warns headily, and that’s the last thing you hear before he starts to fuck you properly and all your senses go haywire.

When you swim back to the surface, the only sounds in the room are your mingled, laboured breathing, and the rhythmic slap slap slap of his thighs against your ass. There’s something about the angle he’s taking you from- he’s hitting you just right, and you squirm in front of him with a desperate mewl.

“Daddy,” you whine, taking the game and running with it, “daddy, please, I wanna cum.”

“Don’t you worry, sweetness,” he growls behind you, breathless and feral. “Daddy’s not gonna leave you hangin’.”

It sounds different coming out of his mouth. The appeal was already there- anything that turns him on turns you on, too, almost as a direct result. But when you hear it coming from him, it flips your stomach in a way that you could get used to.

He slides an arm beneath your waist and hauls you off the bed, pulling you back against his chest as he continues to fuck up into you. His right hand dances down your hip and between your legs, finding the swollen nub of your clit. He strums it deftly, making you squeal.

“Yeah,” you whimper, letting your head fall back against his shoulder as he holds you close. “Fuck, I’m getting there.”

“Me too, kid,” he pants into your ear. “So damned tight. Fuck, you’re suckin’ the life outta me.”

In another half-dozen thrusts you’re dangling precariously on the edge. He’s still going, hitting you just right and pushing you there one inch at a time. Suddenly he re-centers his grip on you and comes back with renewed ferocity. His rhythm doubles.

You fall.

Your orgasm is particularly spectacular this time around. Your spine goes concave as your legs go fluid. You reach back and grab at his hips as you keen and twitch and rock through the pleasure. Your pussy convulses around his cock and his hips stutter. He grabs you hard, holding you up as he explodes, warm and liquid inside you.

When it’s over, you both collapse onto the mattress. Outside, the sun is painting brilliant streaks of apricot across the sky. A gentle autumn breeze flutters the curtains. You finally catch your breath.

“So,” you sigh, turning your head where it’s cradled on his chest. His body is beautiful, and now that you’ve finally got the chance to look you don’t take it for granted. He’s all long lines and clean muscle, dusted over with tawny hair and the last kisses of the summer sun.

He’s kissing your shoulder as you speak up, one scarlet wing folded neatly at his shoulder, the other fanned out across the bed.

“It’s gonna be Daddy, then, is it?”

He snorts, smirking against your skin.

“Sure didn’t sound like you had a problem with it two minutes ago.”

“I don’t,” you quip, tracing a finger down his sternum. “I liked it. I…” You trail off, and your ears warm. “I liked it.”

He pulls back from your shoulder and rests his head against the pillow beneath him, his eyes casting over your face. Warm and loving and heartbreakingly genuine despite the… sensitive nature of your conversation.

“So did I,” he purrs, and you fall silent for another few minutes. Decompressing. Basking, he’ll say later on. Inevitably, the needs of the evening step in, and as the last rays of light fade from the city you lift your head.

“Dinner?”

His eyes were closed, but they slide slowly open again at the sound of your voice. In the dim like this, they’re the colour of almonds, always soft when they’re looking you over. You fall a little more in love with him every time he looks at you like that.

Then he shoots you a near-boyish crooked grin and your heart warms all over again.

“Whatever you want, kid.”