#but its really hot where i live so i was sweating the whole fucking time and a sweat droplet got in my eye and i had to stop drawing

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Coriolanus x commander's daughter!! I've never seen anyone writing this but that would be so hot and forbidden

Request: Getting manhandled by peacekeeper!Coryo or getting fucked while he's in uniform or both YES PLEASE

Note: Birthdays should be spent doing the things you like...so I finished this one today. Enjoy!!

Warnings: 18+, uniform kink, semi-public fingering + oral (f receiving), forbidden relationship,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Coriolanus Snow made a lot of stupid choices in his eighteen years of living, but having an affair with his commander’s daughter took the cake. The clandestine romance was risky and could, at extreme extent, get him executed for inappropriate conduct, but the fire that surged through your whole body every time you were together was addicting. 

The first time you saw him, you were searching around for your father, having a message to deliver to him in person from the head commander. You kept your head high and stayed on your guard as you walked through the heap of peacekeepers in training, not wanting to look like a lost puppy among them. 

You could usually find your way around the base, but today was scorching hot, so you decided to look for someone who would be kind enough to help you get to him. 

A row of younger soldiers caught your eye. They were doing push-ups in their singlets, beads of sweat dripping down the side of their faces. As you were trying to pick which shaved head you were going to ask help from, one of them stood out near the end of the line. 

Walking up to him, you couldn't help but silently admire the way his arms would flex as he continued the push-ups. Damn. Your stomach clenched at the sight. 

‘’Excuse me?’’ You cleared your throat and he looked up, surprising you with the prettiest pair of blue eyes. ‘’Could you help me find Commander Hoff? I have something to deliver to him from the head Commander.’’

The blond cocked an eyebrow, uncertain if he should be helping you. It was his first time seeing you on the base. ‘’And you are to him..?” he prompted, staring you down as his mind embarked a sinful roller-coaster of thoughts. 

‘’His daughter.’’

Although well aware of the dangers, Coriolanus couldn’t stop seeing you. And neither could you. You were addicted to his mouth and the way he could lift you up with ease and fuck you while standing, how his toned chest felt under your palms and attractive he looked in his blue uniform. 

After you bid your parents goodnight, you changed out of your day clothes and ventured to where you knew all peacekeepers spent their nights at. You didn’t know for sure that Coriolanus was at the Hob, but the barracks were all empty and he didn't have many friends in District 12 besides Sejanus, so it seemed likely he would be there.

It didn’t take long for him to notice you in the bar, your dress brighter in color and certainly shorter than the locals. Your eyes met across the room for a brief moment, then you disappeared through the backrooms, confident that Coriolanus would follow suit. 

You could hear his boots on the floors, slowly catching up to you. Your heart quickened its pace behind your chest, excitement building. 

It wasn’t until you made it outside that he called you out. ‘’What are you doing here, Miss. Hoff?’’ he asked, his voice echoing in the dark alley. 

Your feet came to a stop. 

Coriolanus stepped forward, slowly closing the distance between you. ‘’The Commander wouldn’t want his darling daughter in a place like this.’’ Your back was now pressed against his front, an agreeable warmth in contrast to the night air. Coriolanus’s mouth moved to your ear. ‘’A place full of men who would like nothing more than dipping it in your tight cunt.’’

His words should have disgusted you, but they were speaking the truth. These men inside were drinking more than they should and no one was really stepping up for the women they were harassing. With the skirt of your dress hitting above your knee, some could associate it as provocative or inviting. 

You turned to face him, biting your bottom lip when you noticed his uniform button up partially undone, revealing a glimpse of his white undershirt. 

‘’I shall accompany you back to the base.’’ Coriolanus grabbed you by the arm, but you protested. 

He was much stronger than you, so he easily grabbed both of your wrists with a hard squeeze and pinned you against the closest brick wall. You gasped, then quickly realized what game he was playing and you’d be damned if you didn’t play along. 

‘’Are you going to arrest me, Mr. Peacekeeper?’’  

Coriolanus’s grip on your wrists tightened, a stern command following.  ‘’No talking.’’ 

You could feel your own wetness starting to pool between your legs, aroused by the unfolding situation. The game. The play of power. 

His other hand moved from your waist to your hip, slipping underneath the fabric of your dress. He went over the curve of your ass before venturing between your legs to rub you over your panties, but he was met with a surprise. Coriolanus cocked an eyebrow. ‘’No panties tonight?’’

‘’I was hoping to run into you.’’ 

‘’Naughty girl.’’ His fingers started moving over your folds, coaxing a needy moan from you. 

Your jaw dropped as he pushed two long fingers in, making you clench around them. Coriolanus did a scissor motion, then curled them inside, eliciting another moan. ‘’Fuck me.’’  

Coriolanus shook his head. ‘’Sorry, darling. I don’t take any commands from civils.’’ 

‘’Please.’’ 

You could feel his smug smile behind your neck as the words left your tongue. ‘’What would your daddy say if he knew what his little girl was begging me to do to her?’’ Coriolanus pushed his fingers deeper, making you mewl, so needy for him. 

He withdrew his fingers, letting you assume he was going to unbuckle his pants and finally take you, but Coriolanus turned you around and sank to his knees in front of you. The dirt on the ground will dirty his uniform, but he didn’t seem to care. Coriolanus looked up at you, then hooked your leg over his shoulder, leaning forward to kiss the inside of your knee.

You slipped a groan of approval when his mouth got closer to where you wanted him. Then, his tongue ran between your folds, circling your clit slowly. A loud, desperate moan echoed around the dark alley. Coriolanus pinched your thigh, a silent reminder to be quiet. He loved when you were loud, but the Hob was full of peacekeepers. If anyone were to see you together, Coriolanus would be in trouble.

His huge hands sank into your ass, squeezing at the same time he sucked your clit into his mouth. You reached to grab onto something, to keep you from being so loud, but found nothing other than Coriolanus’s buzzed head. 

‘’Coryo…’’ you whimpered.

In the matter of minutes, he had turned you into a whimpering mess. Back arching away from the wall, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

One of his hands moved from my ass, and when you looked down, a pair of blue eyes was staring back at you. They stay burning into you, watching you closely as two of his fingers slide into you, finding that one perfect spot in less time than you need to say his name. 

His pace increased as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, perfectly coordinated with his tongue. If the wall wasn’t holding you up, you would have toppled over by now. The feeling kept building, the heel of your shoe digging into the hard muscles of his back as you desperately tried to move your hips to ride his fingers. 

You were wound so impossibly tight you couldn’t breathe. ‘’Coryo, I’m going to cu—’’ 

You didn’t even get the words out as every part of you spasmed, everything tingling and throbbing as you tightened around him. Below you, Coriolanus moaned, the taste of you welcomed on his tongue. 

When he removed his fingers and mouth, he leaned back so he could look up at you properly. He grinned like a devil, his lips glistening with your juices as he sucked his fingers into his mouth.

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully  @aerangi  @hallecarey1  @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @grxnde-dwt @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis@Shasta89 @sierraluvz @specialk6802  @CZARINERA @katherinejess  @cookielovesbooks-akie

Hunger games / BOASAS taglist: @crossyourmindrights @ziggyneedsabreak @folkloreshorts @runningfrom2am @soulessien @itzfckingreal @creedsofapollo @heart-helmet  @javden @definitelykyles @pumkinnroses @pepperonipastas  @arzua10 @upwritingallnight @cruzgrecia @evelestrange  @caitlin222 @mingukkieposts @lucygreene @mimirocha @sunnysunny133696  @10ava01 @aesthetixhoe @moonquarrel  @mus_tbe_a_weasley  @under-seasoned-pasta @nowitsmissing

[ikigaisvt]

laundry room

in which your husband is really good at cleaning - and he looks hot doing so.

pairing: seungcheol x she/her!reader, husband!seungcheol x wife!reader, somewhat dom!seungcheol x somewhat sub!reader & somewhat sub!seungcheol x somewhat dom!reader words: 2.6k content: smut, fluff (minors dni) warnings: reader uses she/her, seungcheol picks up reader twice (sorry), they're so in love with each other, sex standing up, vry horny reader tbh, seungcheol is a teasing shit, swearing, fingering, begging, multiple orgasms (for reader), unprotected sex, cum eating(?), petnames (for reader : sweetheart, darling, baby, wife, pretty wife / for seungcheol : baby) note: i had this idea after seeing a tiktok of a married couple cleaning up every night,,, MINORS DNI or you'll be blocked. anyway seungcheol is so husband material and i can see him doing the most for his partner irl (i love him sm) i hope everyone likes it, pls don't forget to reblog!

You always knew you were lucky to have such an amazing husband; in fact, all your friends asked you at least once where you found him.

Seungcheol is truly a dream come true: he is a hardworking man, he always finds energy to cook for you, clean around the house every night, but most importantly, he never fails to make time to love you but also to satisfy you. Ever since you two started going to bed – to do more than sleeping – he always found a moment to fulfill your needs, with no shaming.

It's been over three hours since your husband came home, looking as good as ever and a little over an hour since you two started cleaning up around the house after dinner; your daily cleaning time started in the kitchen with Seungcheol doing the dishes while you were wiping down the counter tops. You stole glances at your husband the whole time, noticing the way his arms bulged at every one of his movements, his white shirt hugging his body tightly, his back tattoo showing through the thin material making you drool at the view. He was truly a sight to behold with his blonde hair gently grazing at his upper cheeks as a natural smile hangs on his lips. A few times, he took you by surprise as he turned around to meet your eyes, a chuckle leaving his lips almost every time, knowing you were turning into a puddle – down to your panties – at the way he looked.

Your cleaning made its way through the living room as you were in charge of fluffing the sofa cushions and dusting the coffee table while your husband was vacuuming. The stolen glances followed you all throughout the housework, as if you were still a shy student having a crush on your senior, as if you were not looking at your husband who fucks you every night. As you keep working on the cushions, fluffing them over and over again, being too flustered at the sight of your husband, you wish for time to go by faster so you can hop in the shower and burn your skin with cold water.

But since your husband is none other than the teasing shit Choi Seungcheol is, he keeps making exaggerated noises, groaning every time he has to bend down or push out a chair. He even goes as far as to wipe the sweat on his forehead with his shirt, his torso all in the open for you to feast your eyes upon. You almost snap a few times because his antics were distracting you from your task in hands but you know that sooner than later, it will be time to go to bed and you will somehow get what you want – like you always do. Because as much as Seungcheol is a teasing shit, he is first and foremost a simp for you.

“Are we ready to take care of the laundry, sweetheart?” your husband asks you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you organize a console in your living room, “Because it is hell in there.” He pouts, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Yeah, all done here!” you say cheerfully, caressing his hands before making your way to the laundry room, “Come on, the quicker we finish this up, the quicker we can go to bed!” you tell him as you push the door open.

“Oh, you want me in bed so bad.” He teases you making your ears burn.

As soon as you enter the room, you start to unload the dryer to fold everything up as you take special care to ignore Seungcheol’s words – and the burning sensation in the pit of your stomach as your husband starts to unload the washing machine. You start to fold up clean clothes and towels, making distinct piles of everything so it is easier to put away, trying your best to ignore your husband who’s quietly working on loading the dryer behind you – his groans and huffs still present in his breath. But as nothing comes without hardships, you fail miserably at ignoring his presence – his scent almost overwhelming you, his presence enveloping you, almost feeling his hands on you. You slowly get lost in the sensation he could give you if only he was touching you right now-

“Baby?” you hear his voice whisper in your neck, giving you goosebumps all the way down to your back, desire building in your stomach, “You’re good?”

“Hm, yeah,” you say as he starts to kiss down the side of your neck, his hands rubbing at your hips, “Just had a moment.”

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks in his deep voice, his hair tickling your collarbones and his lips never once leaving your neck, making your panties wetter by the second.

“I- fuck, I’m okay,” you say, a moan threatening to spill out of your mouth.

“Yeah? You don’t sound okay, darling,” he admits, his hand slowly making its way towards your pink cherry shorts while his other one wraps around your waist pining you gently to his body, “Is that okay?” he asks in your ear, playing with the band of your short.

“Hm, yeah,” you mumble out, one of your hands finding anchor on his arm around your waist, the other one resting on the counter top in front of you, “please,” you beg lowly, already needing him to fuck you.

“My pretty wife, begging so good for me, hm?” he chuckles, his digits crossing your shorts and panties, lightly touching your clit, wetness pouring out of you, “You’re already dripping, sweetheart.” he groans, drawing circles over your clit, building up your orgasm – as if you are not so close already.

“Only for you,” you moan, the knot in your tummy getting tighter and tighter, almost snapping, “Please- need you-” you say, reaching out behind you for his belt but before you can do as much as graze him, he takes your hand and pin it to the counter, making you bend down slightly.

“Let’s not get too greedy, now, hm? You’ve been so good for me, it’d be a shame to ruin everything now, wouldn’t it?” he warns, two of his fingers sinking in your pussy, your walls stretching to welcome him, more cum dripping out of you.

“S-sorry, fuck, feels so good,” you say, almost drooling at the way his fingers feel, plunging in and out in a timed rhythm, his thumb never once stopping its movements on your clit, bringing you so close to the edge, “I- just wanted to- know,” you try to explain, your words coming out all slurred from pleasure.

“Wanted to know what? If I’m hard for you?” he snickers, pushing his pelvis to your body, his hard-on pressing over your lower back, “Feel me.” he whispers, angling his fingers differently, grazing at your sweet spot, your moans coming out in rhythm with the pounding he settled for, “Of course I’m hard for you, darling. You should see yourself right now,” he chokes out, lightly humping himself against you, moans building in his throat, “And knowing you got horny over me cleaning around the house? Here I was, trying to be a good husband while my horny little wife was eye fucking me the entire time.” He sneers before whispering “Of course I saw you.” in answer to your whines.

“Cheol, cheol- fuck, baby,” you mumble, your orgasm burning at your stomach and all the way down to your pussy, your legs almost giving out below you, “I’m so close, can I please cum, please, let me cum, please, please, please,” you babble, feeling like your body is on fire, your eyes stinging with tears.

“Cum for me baby, go ahead,” he says, his fingers never once stopping as he wraps his arms around your waist, supporting you completely, “You can let go, darling. Let it wash over you, I got you,” he whispers, kissing your hair, before you slump in his arms, your orgasm making your legs give out and your eyes roll out. Your pussy spams around his fingers as they never once stop, working through your orgasm making you drip with cum, ruining your shorts and dripping down your thighs.

“Fuck- baby, you came so much,” your husband says as he pulls out his hand from your shorts, making you wince out. It takes you all the strength in the world to open your eyes and look back at Seungcheol, seeing him suck on his two fingers, moaning at the way you taste.

“Cheol- this is so dirty, even for you,” you moan, fully turning around and hiding your head in his neck.

“I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart,” he chuckles as he takes a hold of your face, leaning in slowly to kiss you – it always feels like he says I love you when his lips are against yours, “Are you okay? That was a lot,” he adds, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m fine- I just feel clammy,” you pout, your fingers playing with the hem of his shirt and it takes everything in Seungcheol to not gasp when your fingers graze against his pants. Little does he knows you are doing it on purpose.

“Want to jump in the shower?” he asks, already parting from you before you grasp at his shirt mumbling something so softly he doesn’t even hear your words, “What was that, darling? Speak up for me, please?”

“No, I- want to keep going,” you whisper, not giving him any time to answer that you’re already kissing him, smoothly trying to get the upper hand before he grabs your jaw, setting out a rhythm that pleases him.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, beloved,” he says after breaking the kiss, letting go of your jaw, “You want me?” he whispers, his arms resting on the countertop behind you, caging you against him.

“Yes- please,” you say, looking up with doe eyes, “Need you- Need your cock,” you whimper, already grabbing at his shirt, pulling it up so he can get the clue.

“Fuck- Okay sweetheart, I’ll fuck you,” he says, grabbing at your waist, you lower back bumping against the counter, “Nice and slow, hm? Is that what you want?”

“Yeah- want you,” you whisper, kissing his neck, all the way up to his jaw, making him groan out. He gently taps at your upper thigh, wanting you up on the counter all for himself. Just like a meal.

He gently puts you down, your thighs immediately wrapping around his hips, feeling his cock pushing against your clothed pussy while you still try to get him to lose the shirt, “Get the shirt off,” you mumble, your words working just like you wanted – and even a little too well – as he takes a step back to take off his shirt and his pants – his briefs falling to the ground too, “Fuck- baby- didn’t know you were going to do a strip tease for me,” you chuckle, still not you used to the sight of your husband even after being with him for years.

“You’re so silly,” he says, coming back between your legs to kiss you, as you touch his shoulders, feeling his muscles move at the way he plays with your shirt, “Your turn,” he mumbles against your lips, pulling your shirt over your head and throwing it behind him, “Now, this needs to go,” he says as he snaps the waistband of your short against your skin making it redden before pulling it off along with your panties, “We’re so lucky we’re in the laundry room because we are about to get so dirty,” he jokes out, the mood feeling lighter than before, love taking its deserved place between you two.

“Now who’s the silly one, hm?” you chuckle, looking at him as if he holds the world in his hands – and probably some more, your words making him giggle before he works himself up again, his hand wrapping around his cock, pre-cum oozing at the tip, “You look so hot,” you whisper, your eyes transfixed on his movement and the way his cock twitches with pleasure.

“Are you ready for me, darling?” he asks, a blush on his face at the compliment, as he teases your hole with his cock, driving you more and more insane.

“Yeah- just fuck me,” you whine, your hips bucking towards him, “Like you know how to do. Only you know how to handle me.” you tell him, teasing him before he plunges into you, your walls adjusting around him, you two moaning at the pleasure to feel each other. To drown in each other.

“Baby- you feel so good- so, so good for me,” he whimpers, his hips slightly bucking towards you.

“You can move, baby,” you tell him, tapping his upper arm lightly before finding anchor on his shoulders, your hands playing with his hair at his nape. He sets a slow rhythm, trying to reach as deep as he can, his hips flush against yours, making you moan out every time he pushes back against you. You drop your head back, closing your eyes as he kisses down your chest, up to your neck and jaw. You feel him bite, suck everywhere he can reach while you can only pull at his hair, pressure building in your lower belly, your moans getting louder and louder.

“Feels good, baby? Am I handling you like you wanted me to?” he chuckles against your throat, his truths meeting your pussy harder, quicker as he chases after his own orgasm.

“Fuck- yeah, yeah, you’re the only who knows how to fuck me,” you choke out, pleasure building all the way up in your throat, feeling yourself teetering on the brink of your orgasm, “I’m so close, please, please, let me cum baby, please, Cheol,” you cry out, tears threatening to spill.

“Shit- hold it, p-please, wanna come with my wife, please,” he begs, his hips working harder to finally let go.

“Baby, fuck- Come with me, come with me,” you choke out, pulling on his hair harder, your thighs wrapping around his frame, “Fill me up, make me yours- Cum for your wife,” you moan, breaking the last thread of sanity you both were holding on, feeling Seungcheol’s cock twitch as you clutch around him, both of your orgasms washing over you, making you shudder at the strength of it all.

You slowly come back to yourself, feeling Seungcheol leave tiny kisses over your belly, your hands stroking his hair. He slowly looks up at you, his lips harboring a lovesick smile, his eyes shining with a thousand stars.

“If you were not my wife already, I’d ask you to marry me right now,” he chuckles, massaging your hips as he pulls out, his cum almost dripping on the counter top, “That was the best orgasm of my life.” He admits, adoration coming out on his features.

“You’re too silly for my own good,” you joke, slowly sitting up straighter, trying to avoid making an even bigger mess, “We really did a mess of ourselves,” you acknowledge, a smile ever still presents on your lips.

“It’s our turn to get cleaned up now,” he says lightly, picking you up bride style as you let out a little scream at the surprise of being in the air.

Seungcheol might be silly – for saying he’d marry you because you gave him a good orgasm – and much more, but you know where he is coming from. In fact, you’d marry him a hundred times more. For he takes care of you like no one ever will, for he holds your world in his hands and for he is your soulmate. (And also, for the mind-blowing orgasms).

thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed! don't forget to like, reblog, comment 🫶 (and pls send all of your good energy to seungcheol so he can get up on his feet quickly!)

[thefirsthogokage]

Very helpful thread made for those walking the picket lines by an EMT in Florida:

(screen shots from here on out. Too many images to put in one post. Sorry for the dark mode switch ahead of time)

[Image ID: a tweet thread made by @TheMaryGirls on July 18th, 2023 that reads in its entirety (though combined where appropriate and tweet numbers removed for condensing):

This is for the strikers everywhere since I'm nowhere near a picket line. This is the least I can do:

I am an EMT in Florida, one of the hottest states in the country on a regular basis. These are things you can do to protect yourself from the heat

1. Water

Water is great, your body needs it to live. You can go longer without food than you can without water. It's vital. If you become too dehydrated you can lapse into something called Hypovolemic shock which is the most dangerous form of shock because, usually, by the time you realize something is wrong, you're already in a bad position.

When you sweat, you're not just losing water. You're also losing salt, potassium, chloride, magnesium, & calcium. To combat this, you should drink something with electrolytes.

You can also eat a banana in order to avoid cramping that can occur with the loss of potassium. You don't want to be the one doing the Charley Horse Hustle on the line when people have phone cameras. You can also eat fruit and veg with high water content. They helps.

A word of caution about ice water. I know the idea of a big bottle of ice water sounds great when you're sweating your balls off on the line but NO! That can be dangerous. Your body temperature is up due to the heat. You chug a bottle of ice water like you used to do with Smirnoff Ice in college, you'll regret it. Ice water will cause your body temperature to drop which fraks up your homeostasis. You can experience stomach craps, fainting, and, on some weird occasions, cardiac arrest. Face planting on the pavement isn't cute.

One way you CAN use ice water safely is by soaking a t-shirt or towel and putting it on your head to help cool you off. Also, cold rags around the wrists can also cool you down. You've seen construction workers with the t-shirts on their heads? This is why.

2. Whole body

If you get blisters on your feet, you need to treat them. Also, don't force pop them, you're just asking for trouble. When they rupture, they need to be cleaned with soap and water (no alcohol or peroxide) and protected. Band-Aids won't really help here.

Band-Aids can easily slip off and give bacteria a chance to move in and really get gross. Liquid bandage is the better option. It's waterproof but it does sting when you put it on so be warned.

If you experience muscle cramps on the line, you need to deal with them. This is your bodies way of telling you something is wrong. Sit down, drink something. Stretching before picketing can also help prevent them. Let's be honest, as writers, we sit. A LOT.

Going from a cave dwelling hermit to bright sunlight and exercise is going to piss your entire system off. Icy Hot and hot baths will be your friend.

3. Dehydration warning signs.

Muscle cramps

light headed

headaches

feeling very thirsty

dark urine

urinating less often

feeling tired

dry mouth, lips, or tongue

skin tenting

confusion

That's all that I can think of at the moment.

GO FUCK EM UP!!!!!!!

/End ID]

Bonus:

[Image ID: Tweeted comment on the thread from @/sardoniccomment that reads:

Every word of this is good advice, but, as a former desert-dweller, there’s something I need to add: dehydration makes you stupid. It can literally prevent you from being able to figure out the source of your problems is dehydration.

/End ID]

[wolveria]

The Anomaly Archives - Reality #004

AU of The Raven's Hymn

Pairing: SCP-035 x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Dubious consent, mind sex, tentacle sex, vaginal sex, 035 being 035

AO3

You gasped in a breath and automatically reached for your face. You patted down your forehead, your cheeks, even your nose and mouth. All you felt was sweat-slicked skin, too warm, but you ran hot after waking up.

Normal. Everything was normal. There was no reason to believe otherwise, because nothing ever changed no matter how long they kept you in this room.

Or rather, how long the Site Director kept you in this room. There was really only one man responsible, but you could blame the whole damn Foundation if you liked.

Your daily routine was a simple one: drink water out of the sink, relieve yourself, stretch, eat breakfast, exercise within the limited space, shower, get dressed, and most important of all, ignore the bastard in the center of the room until it was time to take him out.

Until instructed, you refused to look at the pedestal that seemed to mock you no matter where you stood or what angle you viewed it, should you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander.

You could only drag on the morning ritual for so long before they started making demands through the intercom, but at least you had a few moments to yourself before you had to share the privacy of your innermost thoughts with someone who didn’t know the definition of decency, respect, or anything that didn’t directly involve his entertainment.

Instructions were given, and you approached the pedestal and lifted the glass. The porcelain theater mask stared up at you as it always did, greeting you in a wide, jovial smile. It had no teeth, but you imagined them under the surface, bared and eager to sink into exposed flesh.

It was fortunate you were immune to his bites. If anything, you were the muzzle.

As you slipped on the mask, all of the influence it exerted on its environment, seen in the way it leaked black ooze, and unseen in how it eventually enslaved anyone in close proximity, came to an immediate stop.

SCP-035 was now an inert piece of theater costume.

Well, at least to anyone who wasn’t you.

Morning sunshine, he purred from inside your head. Took you long enough. You’re almost thirty seconds late.

“How would you know,” you muttered. You could respond to him completely in your own head, but you hated doing that. Made everything feel more intrusive than it already was, which was a lot, and at least this way you felt a degree less crazy. And having half of the conversation out loud put a barrier of separation between you and showed 035 that he was not welcome in your head.

You would be surprised the things I know.

When you didn’t take the bait, he continued on anyway, because his own voice was reason enough to keep talking.

Take, for example, your little friend with the long hair. Kaiju? Kirby?

“Kenneth.”

Half the time he falls asleep during the overnight observation detail. Richard got a mark on his record for trying to order whale jizz from 294. And Lucy from Pathology Section 3 and Phebe from Comm Sector in Light Containment? They’re definitely fucking.

You blinked—not because interdepartmental sex was going on, or that another idiot had tried to request cum out of the anomalous vending machine, or that Kenneth was once again napping on his shift, but… because of the fact 035 bothered to pay attention.

After a few seconds of thinking, which wasn’t easy when someone sat in your brain trying to metaphorically look over your shoulder to see what you were thinking, you said, “You’re bored.”

No shit.

You slowly paced the length of the cell, looking down at the progress your feet made without truly seeing them.

“I mean, you’re really bored,” you pressed. “And it’s getting to you.”

035 said nothing. That wasn’t a good sign, the bastard always had something to say.

Finally, in a flat tone, he said, There’s only so much petty human drama I can watch. Only so many small, dull lives I can overhear before I feel the incredible urge to crush you all like the pathetic microbes you are. And then, maybe, after I’m done ripping out spinal columns and crushing all that wasted grey matter into paste, I can finally get some fucking silence where I don’t have to listen to every stupid thought that escapes every minuscule brain in this shit-parade!

You waited until he seemed done with his tantrum.

“That bad, huh?”

You sensed the mental equivalent of a sigh.

It’s like a radio receiver that’s tuned into every station and blaring all the channels at once. All 2,518 of them. And they only play shitty music on repeat.

You’d known 035 could tune into people’s thoughts, but you didn’t know he couldn’t control it. That did sound kind of bad.

It is.

“What did I say?” you growled.

Sorry, sweetheart. Old habits.

You rolled your eyes but let it pass. You tried to hold conversations verbally, but sometimes a thought slipped through, and 035 was supposed to ignore errant thoughts and respond only to spoken words.

Funnily enough, most of the time he did follow the agreement. It proved more than anything how bored he was, that he would continue this arrangement and not piss you off too badly, because wearing 035 was the only time he got to connect with senses to experience the world.

Even if it was only from the inside of a concrete cell, that seemed to mean something to him. And ever since you had been accidentally locked in with SCP-049 and the Site Director discovered you had some kind of immunity to SCPs, your life had been one nightmare after another. Test after test, SCP after SCP, and Leahy had settled on permanent residency for you and 035.

Leahy had said it was a containment measure for the mask, not a punishment for you, but it was starting to feel like punishment for you both. Because while 035 had his powers suppressed when you wore him, including no longer having to hear the thoughts of everyone in Site-20, it apparently made it harder for him to ignore them at night when you slept and didn’t wear the mask.

That was the one request Leahy had agreed to. You didn’t want to sleep with the mask on, and the Site Director didn’t seem keen on 035 having access to your body while you were unconscious.

But that was the one allowance you were given. You couldn’t leave the room, or have any visitors, and the only change in routine was when the researchers gave you new questions to ask 035. Whether or not he would answer them seemed to depend on how funny he could make his answer.

You laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling, blowing out a long breath. Without you wearing the mask, ooze would be dripping from his eyes and mouth. He seemed agitated enough that there could have even been a few tentacles sprouting around the room too. They hadn’t made an appearance yet at Site-20, but you’d seen the footage of the Site-19 breach. 035 could turn a room into an inhospitable alien landscape in under an hour.

What if you asked about the TV again? he mused, and you could practically see the finger stroking his chin.

“They won’t go for it.”

I can’t mind-control a fucking TV.

“You think this is easy for me?” you asked sharply, cutting through his bullshit. “That I don’t get bored too?”

You tried to rest your arm over your face, then stopped when you bumped into the mask. Sighing, you folded your hands over your stomach and closed your eyes, but that just made 035’s presence in your head larger, almost tangible, so you opened them again and glared up at the concrete ceiling.

I know you do, darling.

Oh, he was trying for soft and sweet today. That was always entertaining, right up until he remembered it wouldn’t work and his wry sarcasm mocked you for something trivial and petty. That was almost a routine too.

Whatever. He could suck it up and deal with the boredom. It wasn’t as if either if you could change it anyway.

A new round of tests left you hollow and aching, and when you were returned to 035’s cell, you were surprised to find the mask had begun to leak black ooze from its eyes and mouth.

You went straight to the bed, ready to curl up for a nap, but the intercom ordered you to put on the mask. It must have still been the day cycle then, and you begrudgingly lifted the glass. You’d already tested what would happen if you disobeyed orders, and the last time you’d refused to wear the mask, the floor had been electrified and shocked you straight through your thin socks.

So, you wouldn’t be doing that again. As soon as you touched the mask, the black ooze vanished as if evaporated away. Wearily, you placed the ceramic piece against your face, and once it stuck, you laid down on your meager bed and shut your eyes.

“Don’t,” you muttered, sensing 035 nudging at your thoughts.

You’ve been gone for two days, love. Can’t blame me for being worried.

Had it been so long? That explained the ooze.

Oh, yes, I wept for your return, but the cruel jailors wouldn’t return you to me.

You stayed quiet and stared blankly at the wall.

Not even going to engage me in witty banter?

“No.”

All you could see was a young girl, kept alone in isolation, crying when you were eventually ordered to leave. You couldn’t even promise her you’d come back.

You know, it’s only the two of us, so it’s quite rude to—

“Fuck off.”

035 went silent, and he stayed that way. You couldn’t remember a time when he’d actually listened to you, and you savored it, eyes fixed on the wall as you let the hollowness eat at you in a way 035’s secretions never could.

After the second round of tests, you stumbled into 035’s chamber, catching yourself on the pedestal as your knees wobbled. Your neck ached, the bandage around it old, soft linen. You guessed it had come from 049’s bag, as you’d woken up on his autopsy table, your last memory of SCP-173 staring at the corner before you’d been forced to lower a blinded helmet over your head.

049’s soft gaze was a surprise, and his concern followed you as he was forced into the inner chamber, security taking you away, back to 035’s cell. Whatever 173 had done to you, it was bad enough the Site Director had ordered 049 to medically treat you.

You hadn’t even had time to thank him before they’d dragged you away, and you felt sick, your eyes shut tight against the images. It wasn’t only 173 that haunted you. 106’s leering grin and the hunger in his eyes lingered on your flesh, and all you wanted to do was take a shower.

But 035’s mask was leaking worse than last time, and after being ordered through the intercom again, you placed the mask on your face and crawled into bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin.

The first tremble was mild, but it was followed by another, and another, until you were a shaking mess, biting the blanket so you wouldn’t whimper.

Shhhh.

You automatically balked against the presence in your head, but 035 didn’t barge in with his intruding presence as he usually did. He was being careful, almost gentle, and if you’d been in a better frame of mind you would have told him to fuck off again.

Instead, when something warmed your cheek, like a caressing hand, you closed your eyes and relented. It felt… surprisingly good.

That’s it, 035 crooned softly. You have nothing to fear now.

But you did. The staircase that led downward with no end. The crying man who wasn’t really a man. 173 with its incurable hatred, and 106 with his more calculating version of the same wish to tear you apart.

The staircase can’t move, Skinny doesn’t want to hurt you, and the other two assholes can’t. Although, it looks like Peanut gave it the old college try.

“Who?”

You’re safe here, he reaffirmed, ignoring you. Another sensation joined the warmth on your cheek—a ripple down your spine, like someone was petting a hand down your back.

You thought about shaking it off, you didn’t know how 035 was touching you like this, and it should freak you out. But it felt nice, and if he tried anything weird, you could always take off the mask. That would be the worst kind of punishment for him, being cut off from all physical sensation, so you knew he would behave.

Safe as houses, he added, his voice low and smooth. You’d been so accustomed to his over-the-top showmanship that it was strange to hear him talk like this. Almost normal.

Safe as houses. You’d never really understood that phrase.

Me neither. Houses can have termites, black mold, or explode to a natural gas leak that has already killed the entire family—

“You’re not helping,” you said out loud, and you could practically feel 035’s smugness.

You’re not shaking anymore.

It was true.

Bastard.

The third experiment—which hadn’t been a test at all but a failed execution order—left you nauseous and bleary-eyed. You thought your blurred vision was deceiving you, but as you drew closer, you realized your eyes weren’t playing tricks.

Thick black viscous liquid trailed down the pedestal to the floor, worse than any other time you’d left, and you hadn’t been gone more than a few hours.

The light was dim, indicating the night cycle, but you didn’t wait for the intercom instruction. By the advanced state of decay leaking from the mask, you figured they would break the routine of giving you a nighttime respite

That was fine. Right now, you didn’t want to be alone, even if your only company was a sarcastic disembodied voice that couldn’t take anything seriously.

Just as before, as soon as you touched the mask the ooze vanished from its polished, white surface, but the oily substance dripping down the pedestal stained its surface. They would have to send D-Class in tomorrow in biohazard suits to clean up the mess, but that wasn’t your problem.

035’s presence filled your mind, and though you would never admit it, it was better than being alone. You curled up on the bed over the covers, shivering and too hot at the same time.

Mmm, 035 hummed in your head. I always suspected they’d kept 682 alive. He’s very hard to kill.

“So I’ve heard,” you said dryly, your voice muffled by the sheets. You shuddered, and by the intensity of it you knew there would be more following. You couldn’t get it out of your head, seeing the reptile anomaly being ripped apart and stretched inside-out again and again.

He was still there, right now, endearing torture that would destroy anyone after a few seconds. Maybe you should have tried. Maybe killing him would have been the merciful thing—

None of that.

Just as before, you sensed the warmth layering over your skin, soothing an ache you didn’t understand.

“035…”

You’re wound too tight. You’re gonna snap one of these days, and trust me, that’s going to suck for both of us.

You frowned. What did that mean?

Just… let me try something. If you hate it, you can dash me against the wall and step on me.

“You’d like that.”

He laughed. It reverberated through you in a funny, tingling sensation.

Come on, he said, warmth in his voice that actually felt genuine. What’s the worst that can happen?

A shit ton, for starters.

“You’re not taking over my body.”

Nah. You’ll have full control.

The warm ripple moved up your back again, and you closed your eyes as you tried not to shiver.

Just more of that. A simple massage, that’s all. I promise.

You didn’t respond, shifting onto your back to stare at the ceiling. This was a bad idea.

That’s how you know it’ll be good.

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

035 let the silence stretch between you, and okay, maybe he had a point about being so fucking stressed you were probably going to maul the next person you laid eyes on.

“Fine,” you said in a quiet huff. “But stop when I say. And don’t get weird.”

Yes, sir. Right away, sir.

You rolled your eyes but then closed them, resting the back of your wrist at the top of your head since you couldn’t touch your face. You imagined 035 would start gradually, like any normal fucking person would when giving a massage, and that was your first mistake.

Heat flooded through your body in a wave, like a dozen vague hands were caressing your skin under your clothes, and you nearly kicked the blanket off the bed.

You hissed through your teeth, “S-slow down!” trying to keep it at a whisper so you wouldn’t draw attention from the other side of the observation glass.

They’re not paying attention, 035 said, amusement laced in his words. Was that too much for you, sweetheart?

You glared up at the ceiling. He would get your point.

He sighed, and the intense feeling floated away, replaced by something more pinpointed and focused. It was scattered at first, and then solidified into what felt like a hand on your arm. You had to looked down to make sure someone wasn’t actually touching you, but you were still physically alone in the room.

“It feels… real,” you said doubtfully.

It is, he agreed. In a way. The only reason you feel anything by touch is due to synapses in your brain. I’m simply plucking away at them. I used to be quite the harpsichord player. It’s no different than that, if one knows what they’re doing.

“Uh-huh,” you muttered under your breath. It was getting harder to pay attention when a second “hand” joined the first, both of them rubbing up and down your arms. You didn’t think playing an instrument could possibly be the same as playing with someone’s brain, and you really shouldn’t be letting him do this, but…

But…

Relax, he purred. This won’t work otherwise.

You blew out a breath and let your eyes close again. It did feel really good, and he was keeping his hands—for lack of a better word—in the safe zones.

But it didn’t feel entirely safe the way the hands wrapped around your throat, and you tensed, but his touch remained gentle. He kneaded the nape of your neck, and you melted like warm butter, tilting back your head as if he needed a better angle.

Something… changed. Like a switch being flipped. You’d thought it felt real before, but it paled in comparison as a weight settled over you, a warm body pressing you into the thin mattress. His hands traveled upward to cup your face, not letting you move as his mouth covered yours.

You froze, afraid for a moment that someone else was there, had slipped into the room when you weren’t paying attention, but you could breathe through the kiss. No one was actually there, it was only him.

Before you could panic, 035 broke the kiss, but he didn’t let you go or move off of you.

Don’t open your eyes, he whispered across your thoughts. Don’t break the illusion.

You sensed what he wasn’t saying. Once in a while, emotions would bleed through the barrier, much more easily from your side than his. But sometimes, when he was feeling particularly strong about something, you caught a glimpse of it. Normally what you felt from him was rage at being imprisoned, but this wasn’t that, and the force of it hit you like a storm.

Aching, yearning, desire always denied, it slammed into you and through you, leaving you bare and open.

This time, when he kissed you, you didn’t reject it.

Warmth settled over and around you, leaving you surrounded by sensation on all sides. It was good, really good, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more of that sensation, enough to drown out the fear and loneliness and isolation. You wanted to feel safe.

You’re safe with me, he said, reading your thoughts as fast as you could think them. No one will touch you again.

You could almost believe it. Wanted to believe it. But he had no more control over the tests than you did.

Let me worry about that, he purred, the words caressing over your mind. You really should yell at him for continually reading your thoughts, but you were preoccupied by the unseen pressure of hands on your hips.

Your clothes weren’t really a barrier, but you still wanted them off. Slipping under the covers, you yanked down your leggings and underwear, and hiked up your gown so it bunched around your waist.

035 didn’t need another invitation; pressure delved between your legs, focused and intense, and you grit your teeth to keep from making a noise. So many sensations at once, too many to parse, like there were fingers plying you apart and a mouth latched over your clit, while something else prodded at your entrance.

It was too much but you still spread your legs wide, fisting the sheets for something to hold onto.

That’s it, sweetheart, the honeyed voice whispered in your ear. Surrender to me…

Even while being fingered and eaten out and about to be fucked by something that felt like a cock, you held onto your mental defenses. He could have your body, but he couldn’t have you. 035 wasn’t like most of the other SCPs, most of which were rendered powerless at your touch.

035 was bridled when you wore him, but he wasn’t powerless, even now. He was different from the rest, and you suspected out of all of the anomalies in the facility, he was the most dangerous. Whatever he was, he wasn’t just an SCP—no matter how much he pretended he was only a sentient mask.

Your thoughts were wandering again, and you sensed his amusement at trying to keep him out even while you groaned softly at the back of your throat. You were dripping into the bedspread, so wet you could hear it as he played with you, keeping you just at the edge and not allowing you to spill over.

“035…”

That’s not my name.

You trembled as he dragged his “tongue” along your clit, the prodding pressure at your entrance unbearably teasing.

“I don’t… know your name,” you choked out.

Do you want to?

No. Maybe. You didn’t know—

You trembled as he delivered a cruel flick to your clit, and then you groaned in frustration as he pulled away almost entirely. The pressure of fingers spreading your labia kept you suspended in trembling anticipation, but the sensations on your clit and entrance were gone. So was the comforting weight on your body.

You broke out into a sweat, grinding your teeth so you wouldn’t beg him to continue, but it didn’t matter if you stayed silent with how you were broadcasting desperation in every thought.

“Fine,” you gasped aloud. “Tell me your name.”

Anything to get that feeling back, for him to stop teasing you and finish what he started, but you sensed him hovering just out of reach—you could almost see the amused smile behind the mask.

Even though your eyes were already closed, you squeezed them shut.

Please?

Your silent plea reverberated back at you with a sense of satisfaction, along with a wave of desire that was poorly disguised. At least you weren’t the only one whose emotions kept leaking through the mental barriers.

The weight on your body returned, and heat warmed the side of your face as 035 whispered in your ear.

Dýo.

Something massive pushed against your entrance, and then breached it with a determined thrust. You opened your mouth to cry out, but 035 gripped your jaw and forced it closed as you twitched against his hold. And he was holding you down, trapped against the bed as he slid further inside, stretching you open until you thought you’d go crazy.

You tried to close your legs on reflex, but your ankles were pressed firmly to the mattress, along with your wrists, by something flexible and strong. And when they touched your skin, there wasn’t just pressure, there was texture and real heat.

Panic shot through you like a jolt, and you opened your eyes, twisting your head down to look at yourself. The covers blocked your view, but you could see the shape of flexible appendages holding you down. 035 shouldn’t be able to summon them while you were wearing him, and they only appeared during advanced stages of decay.

Shhh, he hushed you in what might have been a genuine attempt to comfort except for the mockery on the edges. I said you were safe. I wouldn’t lie about that.

You opened your mouth to shout in warning to whoever was in the observation room, but a scarlet tentacle shot out from under the covers and delved between your lips, forcing its way past your teeth, too far as you choked on it.

Another tentacle slithered up your cheek and over your eyes, forcing your head back down onto the pillow and smothering you in darkness. Claustrophobic terror surged inside you as you struggled not to gag.

The tentacle in your mouth slid out immediately and you gasped for breath, tears springing in the corners of your eyes.

I didn’t want to do that. He sounded oddly irritated; how funny your roles had been reversed. But you make every damn thing so difficult, Reid.

The heavy pressure inside you began to retract, and you immediately regretted the loss and reached out, wanting to be filled again, the emptiness making everything worse.

A deep, primordial growl echoed in your mind before he thrust back inside, pressure digging into your hips as if he actually held you there. And he didn’t stop, his rhythm picking up until you were being repeatedly fucked into the mattress, or at least it felt that way even if your body didn’t move an inch.

Your eyes rolled into your head, the ecstatic sensations pulsing through you so deep you feared you might be torn apart. The tentacle that had been in your mouth now grasped you lightly around the throat, and you arched your spine, silently begging for more.

More tentacles slithered up the bed and over your skin, around your legs and stomach and arms, even across your chest to tease your nipples with the deftness of a very flexible tongue.

And then a tentacle thicker than the others slid up your thigh, pushed between your legs, and forced its way inside, its smooth surface joining 035’s thrusts along your walls, fucking you bodily as well as mentally.

035 stopped talking a while ago, but you felt him entrenched just as deeply in your thoughts, wrapped around you so completely that it was an orgasmic sensation all on its own. You were glad you hadn’t known what this was like, otherwise you might have begged for it at the start.

You sensed his need, urging you to come apart, to give yourself to him. A tiny shred of resistance remained as you tried to hold on to your self, your identity.

The tentacle pulsed and squirmed inside you, phantom teeth nipped at your throat, and you shattered, breaking apart into a million tiny shards as you silently cried his true name in a litany of pleasure and surrender. It wasn’t intentional, but it was inevitable. All you wanted was for the bliss to continue, to never end, and 035’s presence wrapped and twisted around you until you couldn’t tell the difference between your thoughts and his. All that remained was sparking heat and ecstatic sensation.

The orgasm dragged on, tugging you past your limits as you twitched with overstimulation, and the pleasure you sensed wasn’t just yours. 035 also felt sluggish and heavy, as if your climax had hit him just as hard.

The tentacles gradually retreated as did the pressure splitting you open, and you whined at the absence. You were drenched in your own slick, and you really should get up to clean yourself, but you didn’t have an ounce of energy left.

Something coiled around you, but when you blinked your eyes open, there was nothing there. 035 had wrapped around your mind like a satisfied cat—or a constricting snake.

I’ll take care of everything, he lulled with his low whispers. Sleep.

Sleep sounded like a great idea, and also a terrible one. You really should take off the mask, but instead, you closed your eyes and basked in 035’s presence. Normally intrusive and cloying, his closeness was oddly comforting. Secure.

You couldn’t trust him, not ever, but as you closed your eyes, you allowed yourself to open up to him. Just a little.

Alarms blared from a great distance, slowly becoming louder and louder until they ricocheted in your skull. Your eyes blinked open, or… were already open, and you winced at the flashing emergency lights over your head.

You were holding something heavy in one hand, and when you looked down, the blank, lifeless gaze of a guard stared back at you.

Dropping the body, you shuddered backwards, confused and panicked. You were in a corridor somewhere, Light Containment by the looks of it. You wanted to shut your eyes, not against the pulsing lights but at the bodies strewn across the tile like broken toys.

Only then did you realize you weren’t seeing the whole picture—literally, your vision partially obscured as if you were looking through something. Your hands tried to touch your face, but smooth porcelain blocked your fingers.

“035,” you whispered, horror strangling your words. “What did you do?”

Your hands jerked away from your face, clumsy and uncoordinated, and you instinctually fought against it. But the presence looming in your mind was too large, and he quickly wrested back control, his movements smooth as he used your body to pick up a guard’s rifle at your feet.

He cradled the weapon in one hand, using the other to pull a level 4 security keycard from the fallen guard. He glanced at the card before twirling it between his-your fingers and pocketed it into the lap coat you were apparently wearing.

A grin spread across your face, so wide and obscene it made your cheeks ache. You fought against his hold, but his tether within your body was too strong.

035 attempted to soothe you, like someone petting an agitated animal, and you wished you could bite. His amusement was patronizing and unnecessary; you both knew you couldn’t break free. You had surrendered to him, let your guard down, and he’d finally gotten what he desired.

“I think the question is…” He spoke using your mouth, your voice layered with another underneath, silky and sinister. “What are we doing?”

His grin spread wide.

“Whatever the hell we want.”

Next Entry

[hotluncheddie]

sorry for two asks I just love your writing and want to hear all your thoughts actually on Steve with a belly big enough that it fully sits in his lap?

steve with a belly that fullly sits in his lap?? anon ur a connoisseur, youre hitting my fucking sweet spots rn i think i need to go run a lap and settle down.

but this steve tho, who’s like, big. he lives in my head. he lives in my head and i wrote him a little here, and he lives there now. and he’s hot and he’s round. and he's big and he lives in my head.

so im gonna keep going... same Steve as linked above, a few months later. back at the buffet.

(This has been half finished in the drafts for so long omg,, we did it boys 😩 we made it 🫶 AWOOOO 🗣)

-

They always get a spread of plates, laying them out on the table between them. Eddie picking at some fries here and a chicken wing there. Dipping a slice of pizza in ranch and having a serving of collard greens. He has his fill, but mostly, he watches.

Watches Steve eat, have everything he wants, smiling at Eddie over the table. He brings Steve whatever he asks for, never pushing or teasing. Just allowing Steve to let himself be insatiable. Letting him know early on that it was okay, to want, to need, to indulge. So now Steve always has as much or as little as he wants. It just happens that Steve’s stomach is a bit of a bottomless pit. He always wants a lot.

Eddie rests his chin on his palm, sighing, enamoured. Steve licks sauce from his fingers and shifts his thighs a little wider under the table. Leaning forward so his stomach presses in, lapping over the edge, white shirt peaking through his plaid shirt buttons. ‘Pressure feel good?’ Eddie asks and Steve nods, cheeks pink, eyes glazed, reaching for the plate of fried shrimp.

Steve had been broad, then thick. His belly taking the brunt once he really started to gain. For so long it was round and firm as it swelled out before him, stretching all his t-shirts and straining all his button-ups.

Now, with the last 20lbs or so, its just started to droop. The softest bottom swell just started to hang, started to teardrop, and fall over the waistband of his jeans when he’s stood. Buttery and squishy and Eddie would often find himself giving it attention, spending an evening resting between Steve’s thighs, head on that new soft part. Mouth roaming.

But it still surges out before him, out from under his soft meaty pecs. Still round, just, getting rounder. Fighting for room between Steve’s thick thighs. sitting heavy and warm atop them, lap always full.

By the time Steve is on desert, spooning the last dregs of the banana split Eddie made him, the remnants of the various cakes they shared (since Eddie has the bigger sweet tooth of the two), all nothing but crumbs - Steve is visibly, achingly full.

And Eddie can’t help but brush his foot against Steve shin, wishing he could peek under the table at Steve’s spread thighs, watch how his belly has to dip between, see how low it sits now. Wishes he could kneel between Steve’s legs, pale and strong, squish his head between and bury his face until he can swallow steve whole. Wishes he could do it for hours, while Steve eats more, wedging himself into the booth.

But those are thoughts for later, when they’re not in public, and Steve is comfortable.

Because he almost does look wedged in, leaning on his forearms, cheeks pink and rosy from all the food. Eyes glassy and breathing a little slow, and little short, his stomach pressing on his lungs.

Eddie needs to simmer it down, Steve is finishing the last of his soda, straw slurping the last few noisy drops.

Steve’s finished. It’s time to go.

‘Ready?’ Eddie asks and Steve nods, leaning back and looking at the ceiling, there’s a light sheen of sweat in his hairline. ‘I’ll go pay, be back in a sec.’

Eddie hops up and walks to the register, paying quickly with a tip and a smile but he’s honestly glad they can go now, he wants to be home, where he can touch his love freely, call him sweet names and hold him close. He’s sick of the table being in the way.

When he gets back, Steve hasn’t moved.

He’s looking down, chin doubling and Eddie wants to bite - suck hickys into Steve’s flesh. One hand is on the top of his belly, which is still pressed against the table, full stomach bloated enough to fill up the whole booth. ‘You getting up Stevie?’ He asks, vibrating a little for the answer.

‘Don’t think, up, is really possible anymore.’ Steve huffs, looking up at Eddie through his lashes.

Eddie gulps. ‘Can I help?’ He asks, voice soft, almost too soft for public.

‘Nah I got it. Just, gonna.’ And Steve grips the table, sliding sideways out of the booth, belly running along the table and determination creasing his brows.

One he reaches the end, after a couple breaks, pauses to breath or resettle his stomach and spread his legs, he shifts one thigh out and twists so he’s more side on. Taking a second to readjust his T-shirt and flannel, so everything is covered again, a fleshy stretch marked hip just starting to peak out now safely tucked away. Steve smiles up at Eddie, wiggles his eyebrows a little, as if to say "you watching?" Before he puts his hands flat on the table and lifts himself up with an audible groan. Finally popping himself out of the booth, standing and leaning back ever so slightly to counteract the weight in his front.

And it’s a weight. Steve looks huge, distended and full, his belly round and firm, bowing out below his pecs. But Eddie’s knows that bottom part is still soft, that there’s always a layer of him now that’s soft and jiggly no matter how much he gluts himself.

Steve settles a big palm over his navel to help relieve the pressure from his back. Stop it getting to jostled as he walks slowly to the door and out to the van.

Steve whines a little, Eddie’s walking way too fast, but he’s exited, exited to get Steve home.

Eddie’s started pointing out that Steve has started to waddle now, thighs rubbing together. It makes Steve blush and shiver a little, his body still changing, getting bigger and heavier and rounder. Eddie watches him now, parking lot blissfully empty, the rubbing of his legs, the curve of his hips, the slowing of his gait. And his belly, swaying side to side with each slow step, heavy and ever-present, his most defining feature.

Eddie opens the car door for him getting there first and bowing deepy. ‘My liege.’ He says, sweetly. Steve rolling his eyes but he’s fighting down a smile as he shuffles the last few paces to the car. ‘Allow me.’ Eddie teases, hands lifting Steve’s belly slightly as he hefts himself into the van, siting heavy and slow, swinging his thick legs in. It kind of helps, Steve has said, even if Eddie know he also thinks it’s ridiculous.

Steve is too full to comment of Eddie’s antics, instead just huffs at him, sinking slowly down into the seat and lifting his belly up gently, making sure it rests out on his thighs comfortably for the ride home. Trying to catch his breath, a sheen of sweat on his brow from the walk.

Eddie always agrees to drive when Steve gluts himself in public. Steve still loves driving, loves the little flush Eddie gets if Steve rests a hand on his thigh as he does. But he just can’t get over the press of the booth as his stomach bloats, the heft of getting himself back out. Belly too big and tight and sending him too floaty to focus on driving home. It’s all too good to pass up.

So Eddie drives. Happily.

Steve reaches for Eddie’s hand, once he gets settled in the drivers seat, smiling sleepily over at him. Eddie smiles back, kissing Steve’s knuckles and dipping forward to kiss the stuffed upper curve that rounds out under Steves pecs.

Steve hums, shifting his thighs as wide as they’ll go, not the most comfortable in the now much smaller van but Eddie watches as he cranks the seat back, giving himself a little more room.

Steve chose a newish flannel and jeans for tonight, ones that would keep him decent and comfortable. The white T-shirt he chose for underneath is definitely not new ish, it’s old ish and was steadily rising over the course of the meal. Which let him tease Eddie by whining at the tightness, pouting on the way to the restaurant, shifting and teasing and flashing skin. Until Eddie couldn’t help but grope at the flesh once they got a red light, growling for Steve to ‘be good.’

The flannel buttons pull just slightly now that Steve’s a little more prone. Meaning his fleshy sides are spilling out over his waistband and the hairy happy trail below his navel is visible between the shirts bottom most V. The skin pink and stretched, revealed again from the short walk.

Steve sighs, resting his head back and blinking sleepily. His hands coming to settle on the steady rise and fall of shelf like belly.

‘Come on then big guy. Let’s head home yeah?’ Eddie asks, sticking the keys in the ignition.

But Steve turns his head, pouting and whining quietly.

Eddie smiles at him, bringing his hand up to cup Steve’s cheek, fingers on his soft pudgy jaw. ‘Ah, I know, I know. You’re my baby aren’t you?’ Eddie says softly watching Steve’s smile bloom small and soft and vulnerable and sweet.

Steve hums again, eyelashes fluttering and he kisses Eddie’s palm once, nodding softly.

‘Gonna take my baby home, take him to bed yeah? Since he ate so well.’ He coos, scratching lightly behind Steve’s ear and pulling away to start the engine and pull out of the lot.

Steve lays his head back flat and wiggles a little to get comfortable again.

His belly hangs pale and wide over the waistband of his jeans. His chubby fingers pressing lightly into the tight top curve, trying to release a little pressure in the mound of food he ate. His eyes stay shut the whole ride home, half asleep but Eddie knows that means he feels safe. And it’s exactly where Eddie wants him, close, near. So Eddie can always keep him safe, let him indulge.

-

Wg enjoyer tag (open): @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor @tangerinesteve

[pikapeppa]

Karlach/Dammon: Burning Blue

A wish fulfillment fic to answer the question: what if Dammon was the lucky guy to break Karlach's ten-year celibacy streak?

NSFW smut, ~7500 words, from Karlach's precious POV. This takes place the same night that Dammon makes Karlach very touchable again. 🥰 Read here on AO3 instead.

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

I’m nervous. Gods, I’m fucking nervous. No, no, don’t be nervous, Big K, you’ve got this. It’s nothing you haven’t done before! It’s just a good old-fashioned come-on, that’s all. Just a good old-fashioned invitation for Dammon to do the beast with two backs with you. No sweat, nothing to worry about, no reason to feel like your engine’s gonna thrum its way right out of your chest.

Ugh, fine, I’m nervous. I’ll admit it, all right? I’m nervous. But how can you blame me? It’s been a decade since I laid a finger on another living soul. One who wasn’t a hellspawn or trying to kill me, I should say. Yeah, the Avernus kind of laying-a-finger-on-someone is really not what I have in mind right now.

All right, there he is. I mean, of course he’s there, it’s his smithy setup in the barn, where the fuck else would be be? Shit, I’m so nervous. What if he says no? What if he doesn’t want to hit the bedroll with me? I might just crumble up into a pile of ash on the spot if he turns me down…

Ohhh, no you don’t. No more doubt. Not another negative word, you hear me? We’re doing this. Come on, soldier, shape up, be confident, all right? Just be your usual big beautiful bold badass self, just like Brynn said. Back straight, head high, tail-barb up: come on, girl, you can do this.

“Dammon! Hi! How’s the hammering going?” Nice, good start. Solid greeting, nothing weird about that.

“Karlach!” he says. “You’re back. I thought you were off to camp for the night.”

He’s smiling at me. Gods, does he ever have a nice smile. It’s like his whole face gets lit up with sunshine. And those eyes? Phwoar. I wonder if anyone’s ever told him how pretty his eyes are. Like two big blue jewels. Or like lightning turned into jewels. Wait, what’s all this nonsense I’m saying? I think I’ve been spending too much time with Gale. Ha, saying something would be a good idea right about now, wouldn’t it?

“Yeah, I’m back. I was wondering, do you — are you done for the day?” It looks like he’s done for the day. His forge is still hot, but it’s just coals now rather than a big old fire. Gods, I hope he’s done for the day.

“Yes, I’m just finishing up,” he says (yay!). “Did you need something repaired? I can rekindle the fire, it’s no problem—”

“No, no, all good. Everything’s tip-top, thanks to you. Listen, I was wondering: d’you want to have a drink with me?”

His whole face lights up, and my gods, I swear: if I had a heart, it would’ve done a fluttery thing like something from a romance book. “That sounds great. Let’s go on inside.” He hangs up his apron, and then we’re heading to the inn.

Yes! First step done, we’re off to a cracking good start! Here we go, inside the inn for a drink, just me and Dammon. How great is this? I mean, not that it’s not wonderful being with Brynn and Wyll and all the rest of those adorable little dumplings, but there’s something special to be said about being alone with just you and the person you’ve got mad horns for.

Here we are, at the door to the inn — and Dammon touches my shoulder. “Go ahead.”

He’s touching my shoulder. His hand, that strong callused hand on my shoulder. He’s touching me, he can touch me, and it’s all thanks to him. Gods, I want to ride him until the sun comes up.

Keep it together, Karlach. Stay cool until you find out if he wants this too. Ha, stay cool! I can sort of almost do that now! Enough for touching, at least, which is all I want in the world right now, and Dammon is touching my shoulder, and… and I should probably get inside the inn now.

I step inside — quick little rub of Darkmaw’s paw for luck. Ooh, Jaheira is still awake, I love her, she’s so damned cool!

Dammon leads me to one of the tables near the bar. “What can I get you? Wine? Beer? The beer is even cold, thanks to Jaheira—”

“Cold beer? Sign me the fuck up!”

He smiles — ugh, swoon! — and off he goes to the bar to find some beer. And here I am, sitting at this table, happier than the happiest clam that ever lived in the sandy banks of the Chionthar. Ha, that was a funny line! I mean, I think it was funny. I bet Wyll will, too. I’ll have to tell him about it — maybe he can add it to one of his stories!

Gods, this inn is nice: all candle-lit and quiet since it’s nighttime, real cozy-like. Perfect for telling a certain smith that he’s one of the kindest, warmest, most wonderful people you’ve ever met and that you fancy his pants off — literally, if he wants it that way. Ohh, I’m getting nervous again. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s going to be fine.

Dammon comes back and sets down two steins. “Are you all right?”

“I’m better than all right. I’m fantastic.” I lift my stein. “Cheers to you, Dammon. For everything. I really mean that.”

Another killer smile. “Cheers back to you, Karlach.” He taps his stein to mine, then brings it to his mouth, and I do the same — ohhh, beer. Cold beer, my gods, I’d forgotten exactly how good this was! I take another swallow and another — okay, honestly, I am so thirsty. And now I’m out of beer, and Dammon is smiling at me, and no, no, I can’t throw myself at him across the table, I can’t.

He chuckles and puts down his stein. “Can I get you another?”

“Naw, I’m good,” I laugh. “This was great, thanks.”

He nods and rests his elbows on the table (hellooo, rolled-up sleeves and forearms). “So what did you want to talk about? Do you have questions about your engine?”

“No, it’s not that.” No fucking way am I thinking about that right now. “I wanted to ask if, um…” Don’t be nervous, girl. You’ve got this. “You said before that I was — that I’m… touchable. Very touchable.”

Oh no, his smile’s fading. “Yeah, I did. I’m…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about that. Maybe I crossed a line…? This is a big — a huge deal for you, I know it must be overwhelming, the last thing you need—”

Wait wait wait! “Hang on, slow down. You think you crossed a line?”

“I… didn’t I? That’s not what you wanted to say?”

“Hells, no!” Woah, voice down, there are people sleeping in the room next door. “Are you kidding?” I say (quietly). “If that’s what you call crossing the line, I want you to cross all the lines.”

He looks gobsmacked now, which is really fucking cute. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do. I really, really do. If you want to, I mean. I don’t — I mean, I know I’m a lot of heat to handle, but I…” Fuck, my engine feels like it’s roaring. Please, gods, let him want this too. “I want to be with you, Dammon. I… It’s been so long since I was with anyone, and — and now that I can be with someone, I… I want it to be you.”

He doesn’t say anything. He’s staring at me like a fish, actually. Oh fuck, am I totally off base here? Noooo. “No pressure, though! No — I mean, if you’re not into… If I’m jumping the hatchet here, that’s totally fine, it’s not a problem—”

“No!” he blurts. “It’s not that. Believe me, Karlach, it’s not that I don’t want to. I mean — what I mean is that I…” He’s smiling again, thank all the fucking gods. “I would love to be with you, actually. I just… I can’t believe it’s me you want.”

I would love to be with you. I would love to be with you. He said that, right? Those were the words he said? Dammon the amazing smith with the amazing sinew-y hands said that to me, right? Oh shit, he’s still talking.

He gestures at me. “I mean, look at you. You’re Karlach. The Karlach, the destroyer of demons and devilspawn. You’re a hero.”

Oh my gods. Is that really what he thinks? “Wha—? Oh come on! It’s not like that.”

“It is like that,” he insists. “Haven’t you spoken to the kids? Mattis and Ide and them? I mean, I know you have, but you know they worship you, right? You’re like a goddess to them.” He looks around like he’s checking for spies, then lowers his voice. “Honestly? I think you’re better for them than a goddess, because you’re real to them. You mean something to them, Karlach. You’ve given them someone to look up to. That’s no small thing for a group of tiefling kids with no parents to look up to anymore.”

Fuck, I’m gonna cry. He doesn’t even know about Mum and Dad, and he hit the nail right on the fucking head.

He touches my hand — oh fuck, he’s not just touching my hand, but holding my hand. Turning my hand over on the table, his fingers sliding over my palm, his fingers curling into mine like he did right after he fixed me… Gods, my entire throat is full of fucking tears.

“I would love to be with you, Karlach,” he says in the softest voice. “If you’re sure this is what you want.”

Oh, hells. He’s going to make me weep. Swallow it down, soldier, gulp those tears down! “Let’s get outta here. Will you come back to my camp?”

“Actually…” Ooh, what’s this cheeky look on his face? Cute! “Would you be interested in a bed?”

What? No way! “A bed? You’ve got a claim on one of the beds here?”

“Sort of. Me and the other grown-ups have a rotation with one of the rooms upstairs. Taking turns having a little peace and privacy for a night.”

“You and the grown-ups?”

“Yeah — well, we offered to the kids, too, but they want to stay together on the main floor, where the Harpers are. Can’t really blame them, either. But anyway, um, what I was trying to say is, um.” He clears his throat. “If you’d rather use a bed than a bedroll, there’s—”

I’m already on my feet. “Bed. You and me. Now.”

He smiles — gods, that brilliant smile. And he’s on his feet too now, we’re heading for the stairs — oh my gods, he’s holding my hand again. Dammon is holding my hand, his fingers are between my fingers, how fucking nice is this? How long have I been thinking about this — no, dreaming about this? Easy, Karlach, keep those tears in your eyes.

He gives me a little smile as we walk up the stairs. “Fair warning that it was Rolan’s turn in the bed last night, so it might smell a little magical.”

What! Is that a thing? Gale and Brynn never said that was a thing! “Really? What does magic smell like?”

“Oh, no, I — I’m just joking.” Dammon smiles and rubs the back of his neck. “It was a bad joke. Sorry. Pretend you didn’t—”

I kiss him. How could I not kiss him? He’s so — oh, gods, he’s kissing me. His lips, my lips, his hands in mine, we’re — we’re kissing, we’re kissing! Dammon the smith is kissing me, and he’s… Would it be naff as all the hells if I said he was dreamy? Fuck it, who cares if it’s naff? He is gods-damned dreamy. As much as his hands are callused, his lips are so fucking soft, and I’m… I am melting. I swear, I’m melting, he’s making my lips melt apart like a hot knife in butter, he’s touching his tongue to mine… Gods, his hands though? How he uses them? This is fucking magic. His thumbs are sliding over my wrists, his palms skimming up my arms, over my shoulders, oh gods, oh gods oh gods…!

His hands cradle my neck, and his tongue slides into my mouth, and I’m — I’m… I can’t think. I can’t think, I can’t — I can just feel. I feel him: his lips his tongue his hands — how close he is, the nearness of his body to mine, I feel… fuck, I feel everything, every touch of his fingers and every stroke of his tongue, and I — he — shit, was that me? That little kitten-y sound: was that actually me? I’ve never made a sound like that in my life.

He breaks the kiss, presses his horns to mine. “Are you all right?”

I’m a puddle. I can’t talk. I just nod.

He smiles (arghhh, as if I’m not melted enough already!). “You’re burning blue,” he whispers.

Huh? “Huh?”

“You’re burning blue.” He rests his palm on my chest — oh shit, I really am burning blue. I… I’m burning blue but — but I’m not burning him!

“You’re…” My hand’s fucking shaking as I press it over his. “You don’t feel that? Not even a little singe?”

“Not even a little singe.” His eyebrows do that little mischief-quirky thing. “I told you, I’m good.”

I laugh. I can’t help it: I’m as giddy as a kid on her birthday. “Oh ho-ho, boy, you don’t know what you’re doing by saying things like that in a voice like that.” I step closer to him.

His gorgeous smile gets even bigger. “Or maybe I know exactly what I’m doing,” he says, still in that voice — oh, gods yes, his hands are on my neck again, so callused and so fucking gentle—

“Ahem.”

Fuck, Jaheira’s right behind us! “J-Jaheira! I mean, uh, ma’am!” Shit, should I bow to her? What should I do? She’s looking at me!

She smiles — the Jaheira is smiling at me! — then tilts her head. “Karlach, is it?”

She remembers my name! Snap to attention, soldier! “Yes ma’am, that’s me.”

She nods to Dammon too. “Dammon. Good evening. Let it be known that no one begrudges you your fun, but perhaps you should have it elsewhere that isn’t right at the top of the stairs. The only stairs that leads to the upper floor…?”

All right, now I’m going to melt from embarrassment. “Of course! Right! Uh, right! Uh—”

Dammon cuts me off, thank fuck. “Sorry, Jaheira,” he says. “We’ll get out of your way. Out of the way, I mean.” He takes my hand again, and I’m following him down the hall to one of the rooms: a simple little room with a nice cushy-looking double bed.

He leads me inside and closes the door. We look at each other. And we just crack up, we just totally — we’re both laughing like loons, just laughing so hard I can hardly fucking breathe. Augh, my ribs are starting to hurt, I’m laughing so hard!

“Here, sit down,” Dammon chuckles. He leads me over to the bed, and I let him guide me there.

Then I push him down and straddle him.

His gorgeous eyes get big. “Oh! Are you—”

I kiss him again — gods, he’s so delicious. Soft lips, hot tongue, strong hands: oh, I could just die for the touch of his hands. They’re circling my waist, they’re gripping my hips, they’re curling around my thighs… Fuuuck, gods, I’m sparking. Feels like everything’s sparking, like everywhere he touches is shooting with sparks, and I can’t… I can’t wait. I can’t wait anymore. I need more, I need his fucking hands, I need his hands on my skin.

I rip off my top and chuck it on the floor, and his baby-blues drop to my tits. “W-wow. I—”

I grab his collar and I shove my tongue into his mouth — fuck, his tongue tangling with mine: mm, just imagine feeling that sweet tongue in other places… Hellfire take me, I need this man more than I need air.

I climb off of him and start unbuttoning the ol’ trousers, and he grabs my hands. “Hey, hey. Easy, Karlach. Slow down. You don’t need to rush.”

Easy? Slow down? He’s kidding, right? It’s like I’ve never known the meaning of the word. “I…” Fuck, I’m breathing hard, I’m breathing so hard, and every breath feels like it’s making me hotter. Easy, Karlach, slow it down for him.

I gulp down a breath. “I hear you, soldier. But I have to tell you, I… Sometimes it feels like I’ve only got two modes: off, and on-on-on. I don’t…” Damn it, Karlach, breathe. “You might need to show me how to do this slowing-down thing.”

He smiles, and I swear, something inside of me absolutely melts. He’s got this way about him when he smiles, like his smile makes his face softer even when he’s showing his teeth, and it just… It’s such a special smile, you know? Like the way it feels when your mum watches you eating your favourite meal that she made? That’s how Dammon’s smile feels, and I swear on my life, if I still had a heart, it would be swelling up to five times its normal size.

He shifts off of the bed. “I’m happy to show you,” he says, and gods save me, he’s using that voice again. “Maybe I can start with…?” He gestures at my trousers and gives me a can-I? kind of look.

“Yes,” I say loudly. “Fuck yes.”

A big brilliant smile, and then he’s — ah, fuck yes, he’s undoing the buttons on my pants. He’s popping the buttons one by one, not even touching me as he does it, but I swear to all the gods, watching him do this is making me hotter than I’ve ever been in my life. And that includes when Zariel first put this fucking engine in my chest. No, don’t think about Zariel, forget about her.

Dammon pops the last button, then looks at me. “Can I take them off?”

“Please. Rip them off for all I care!”

He grins — gods, he’s a stupidly beautiful man. He’s pulling down my shabby trousers now, finally, pulling the damn things down over my hips and my ass and — oh. Oh my gods, oh my gods he’s kneeling in front of me this is not a drill!.

He sighs. “Karlach, you’re… really beautiful, you know that?”

He’s kneeling in front of me. Dammon is kneeling in front of me. He’s looking at me, his hand is curled around my ankle, and — oh, fuck me, his tail-barb is tracing my calf, his tail is coiling around my calf. His tail, his hand, his — even just his beautiful blue eyes on my skin: he’s seeing me, all of me, my bare fucking skin that nobody’s seen for ten fucking years.

“Are you all right?” His tail-barb strokes my knee, his hand squeezes my calf — fuck, I can’t cope with this.

I grab his shirt and pull. “Please, I — please, Dammon!”

He stands up. “What’s wrong? What can I do?”

I kiss him again. I know, I know, I keep fucking doing it, I keep sticking my tongue down his throat, but he’s so… I… Fuck, his hands are on my hips, on my back, he’s — shit, he’s stroking my shoulder blades. His fingers are tracing over my vents like it’s the most normal thing in the world to touch a woman with fucking vents in her skin, and I’m… I feel so… It’s like I’m full, my chest, my tummy, it’s like I’m so, so full — but it just reminds me of how empty I’ve been for so long. And I need him to… I need more. I have to have more. I need him to remind me of how good it is to feel this fucking full.

I grip his collar. “I need you naked. Right now.”

He laughs: argh, that laugh, how soft it is, how sweet! “I thought you wanted me to show you ‘slow’.”

“You can show me slow with your kit off.” I know what I sound like, I sound desperate as all the hells, but I do not fucking care. A river of blue heat is running through my veins, and my skin is fucking vibrating for more: more of him, more of his skin touching mine — gods, I want to slide against him like we’ve both been fucking greased.

“All right,” he chuckles. “You talked me into it.” He takes off his scarf, then starts taking off his vest, and I start working on his belt. I’m just helping, right? Just being a good old helper, that’s me. Ha, his belt is off, his vest is off, just a pesky shirt and trousers now — oh-ho, he’s a fast one with the shirt, we love a man who can strip like a fast-changer at the circus! It’s just the trousers left now. I grab for his laces —

Oh yes, he’s kissing me. His hands on my neck, his tongue so fucking sweet and slow in my mouth — gods alive, kissing is fantastic, so fucking fantastic it’s unreal. He’s pulling me close, his hands on my hips and his chest — fuuuck me Dammon, his sternal ridges are rubbing my nipples.

I can’t fucking cope. I can’t fucking cope, I can’t think, it feels so fucking good, I’m making that noise again like a hungry kitten begging for milk…

He peels his lips from mine. “See? I knew you could do it.”

“Do what?” I whimper. Yes, I whimpered like a kitten, all right? Whatever, shut up about it.

“You’re going slow,” he says in that voice. “You’re doing it right now.”

I’ve not a clue what he’s talking about. I’ve never felt less slow in my whole fucking life. “What do you mean?”

“My trousers,” he says. “You stopped trying to take them off.”

I burst out laughing. (It’s mostly hysteria, I’m fucking telling you.) “It’s not ‘cause I want to stop! I just can’t, uh…” Oh gods oh gods: his tail. His tail-barb is caressing my butt and giving me shivers — gods, what a life! When was the last time I got a shiver about anything? — oh my fucking gods, his tail is twining around my thigh.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I’m alive with desire, I’m so fucking alive, and all he’s doing is curling his tail around my upper thigh. But his tail is so close — he’s so close, the smooth heat of his tail curling so fucking close to where I’m burning so hot…

That kitten noise squeaks out of me again. “Dammon, please…” I stroke his chest — my palms on his chest, my fingers on the ridges of his ribs, I’m touching him. I’m pressed against him from thigh to chest, I’m pulling him closer with my tail, I’m petting the ridges of his back and his shoulder blades — ooh, he’s got wingtips!

“You have wingtips!” I gasp. “Aw, how lucky are you? My mum always said these were good luck!”

He laughs that precious little laugh. “My grandmother said the same. Said it means I’ll be able to fly in my next life.”

“Aww, I love that. Makes me extra-wish I had a pair myself.” I trace the sharp little hooks with my fingers, then keep running my hands over the ridges of his back. Damn, skin is amazing. It’s really an amazing, amazing thing, and nobody even bothers to think about how amazing it is. Skin and muscles, too, like these nice wiry ropes of muscles in his upper back and his arms… Phwoar, his arms are bloody fit. I mean, of course they are, he’s a fucking smith, but still: I didn’t realize just how damn fit he was under his clothes. And these veins in his forearms? The way they pop, and the burn scars on his forearms and his hands? He might even have more scars on his arms and hands than I do, which is saying a hell of a lot.

Hellfire fucking take me, he is gods-damned beautiful. The scars, the ridges of his spine and his sternum, the wiry muscle of his smithy’s bod — not just his body, either, but his jaw, his nose, that heart-melting jewel-eyed smile…

Oops. Embarrassing. I went totally silent while I was touching him. “Sorry. Went into my own little world for a minute there.”

Another soft laugh. “Don’t even think about being sorry,” he says, and he lifts his hand… Ohhh, he’s touching my cheek. He’s holding my cheek in his palm, just cradling my cheek like it’s a baby bird… How long has it been since I’ve had a hand on my cheek? A nice hand, mind you, not a blood-covered clawed hand trying to gouge my eyes out. Too fucking long, that’s how: too fucking long with no caring hands to touch me or hold me or hug me when things got fucking rough. But that’s all over now, thanks to Dammon. I can touch and be touched, I can kiss and be kissed, I can climb this rip-roaringly gorgeous man in front of me, and I swear to every god that’s listening that that’s what I’m going to do all night long.

I kiss him and pull him close with my hands and tail. I stroke his spine with my tail-barb, I lick his tongue like it’s the sweetest thing in all the realms, I rub myself against him like I’m some pent-up kid who doesn’t know what they’re doing yet, and it all feels fucking fantastic. And he’s touching me too, his claws scratching my neck so super-gently while we kiss, his hands on my back, my hips — wowee, his hands on my ass! I want that, yes more—!

He palms my backside and pulls me tight to his body — fuck, he’s hard. He’s hard he’s hard he’s hard, I can feel him rubbing against my ladybits through his trousers — augh he’s still wearing trousers, fuck my life upside down!

I break from his kiss. “Take your trousers off,” I beg. “Just take them off already, all right? I need them off, I can’t — I really really want them off!”

“I’ll take them off. It’s all right,” he says in this dreamy calm-soothing voice, and his tail starts uncurling from around my thigh—

Fuck fuck fuck oh my gods yes his tail is sliding between my legs. It’s — fuck, his tail, he’s petting my cunt with his tail, it’s sliding between my legs and stroking me as it unwinds from my thigh and oh my gods it feels so good, how am I supposed to survive—? “Mm ah fuck!”

His tail is gone. His arms are around me. “Was that okay?”

I am fucking gasping. “You tease,” I choke out.

He laughs, his lips close to mine. “Not a tease. I’m going to carry through, I promise.” Mmm, he’s kissing me again, he’s so fucking yummy, and he’s untying his trousers and I’m vibrating and I can hardly keep fucking still—

He pushes his trousers down and his cock is out. His cock, it’s hard, he’s hard — oh my god his cock. It’s gorgeous. I mean, it’s a cock, cocks are always a little funny-looking, I don’t know how folks who’ve got ‘em can cope with them, but Dammon’s is out and it’s gorgeous — fuck me yes he’s stroking it I want to do that.

I push his hand away, replace it with mine, and he gasps. “Ah—”

I kiss him. I’m stroking him, I’m walking him back toward the bed, he falls onto the bed and I’m climbing onto him and gasping into his mouth and stroking this thick pretty cock of his—

His hands are in my hair. “Karlach, slow down,” he gasps. “Slow down for a minute, all right?”

Fuuuck, fuck fuck, I can’t. No, I have to, I have to slow down for him. “Help me,” I beg. “I don’t know how.”

“It’s all right,” he pants, and he presses his horns to mine. “Just breathe with me for a second, okay?”

I nod. Breathe, I can do that, that’s totally something I can do. Just breathe. I close my eyes, I feel the sweet ridges of his horns against mine, I feel his breath tickling my lips because he’s breathing too, I feel — woah yes, that’s his tail. His tail-barb is tracing my lower spine, tracing lower still — eep he poked my bum!

I burst out a laugh. “You rotter!”

He laughs, too: fuck me, I adore his laugh. He’s laughing against my lips, his tail-barb is gliding down over my bum… oh fuck, it’s moving down to my thigh, around my thigh, drifting between my legs, is he going to—? Oh gods Dammon please yes!

“Yes!” I gasp — fuck, his tail, he’s petting my cunt with his tail oh my gods I’m going to explode.

“Easy, Karlach,” he whispers. His hands cradle my neck, perfect callused hands, fuck his tail is petting me, caressing me, touching parts of me that I’ve been dreaming of being touched for years — ah yes that’s the fucking spot right there, right there fuck right there yes!

“Dammon,” I mewl — yes, I fucking mewled like a cat, I’m mewling and my back is arching like I’m a bitch in heat, but really? That’s exactly what I am. I’m in fucking heat for this man. I’m burning for him, burning for more of this, burning alive with his tail petting that red-hot little button of love. Dammon’s breathing hard, too, his fingers gripping my hair and his hips moving under me while his tail-barb does its work between my legs. It’s like he’s getting desperate too, so desperate that he can’t keep still while his tail is petting me, and I love that he’s getting desperate. I want him to unravel just like I’m doing now. I want to hear him moaning, I want to see him bucking his hips for more, I want — I want him so badly, I want this so much, it’s happening right now and I still want it like it’s out of my reach. How does that make any sense? Why am I longing for something while it’s happening right now, right here, with this insanely beautiful man I’ve been fantasizing about since I first clapped eyes on him?

Oh fuck, why am I getting emotional?

He strokes my hair. “Hey, are you okay?”

Oh gods, there’s a moan to his voice already. He’s breathing hard like he’s the one being touched, like he’s the one who’s getting tail-fucked more perfectly than even my best fantasies — ah, fuck me, his touch, the way his tail is rubbing my clit just right, it’s so — he’s so, so fucking perfect, he feels so right, this feels so right: Dammon’s hands in my hair, his body under mine, his tail petting my cunt and his lips breathing into mine… My gods, I’m so… he’s so, this is, I’m… fuck, I’m so close, I’m getting closer, I’m going to fucking blow I’m going to—

Yes. Yes yes yesyesyesfuckmeican’tbreatheohmygods kiss me Dammon fucking kiss me—

His tongue in my mouth. Moaning, is that me or him? No idea, who cares, I’m a fucking inferno. Everything sparking, like lightning under my skin and scorching my throat in the best fucking way, all because of him.

His lips leave mine. His voice, husky and soft. “You all right?”

I whimper. Still vibrating. No words, can’t talk. Need him to fuck me.

He strokes my broken horn, strokes my cheek. “You’re burning blue, Karlach.”

I sure fucking am. Burning blue, burning alive in ways that I didn’t think I ever would again, and it’s all because of him. It’s all him, it’s Dammon — his sunshine smile, his jewel-pretty eyes the colour of a summer sky: I’m burning blue, all because of him.

I nuzzle his ear. “I’m going to ride you until you see stars, soldier.”

He laugh-moans. “Yes please. I’m all for that.”

He’d better be, because I can’t hold back now. I can’t do slow now. I am on, on-on-on like I’ve never been before, and I’m sitting upright on his lap and I’m stroking his cock while he grips my thighs — gods I want to taste him, I want his come in my mouth, no no I’ll save that for later, I need him inside of me right fucking now—

Fuck yes he’s inside me fuck yes. Dammon is inside of me, and he feels like fucking heaven.

He groans, and it’s the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard. “Gods, Karlach!”

I take it back: hearing my name like that is the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard. I stroke his chest — beautiful chest, beautiful ridges of his ribs — then I brace myself on his abs and start fucking him hard.

He groans, arches his neck in a way that makes me want to bite him (ha, don’t tell Astarion!): oh, my sweet fucking gods, he feels amazing. His cock is driving into me so hard, so sweet and hard that I’m making noise with every stroke, and he’s making noise too and gripping my thighs — ah, his tail, it’s coiling around my forearm in a way that makes my tummy flutter, and his eyelids are fluttering too like he’s really letting loose, which I love to see. I love seeing him like this, I love seeing him looking as good as he makes me feel, and fuck does he ever make me feel good. His thick fucking cock, the hot driving punch of it reaching so deep… Holy fucking hells, I missed this, I missed it so fucking much, and it’s so much better than I remembered. Dammon’s solid body under mine, his strong smithy’s hands on my hips and thighs, his tail squeezing my arm like the way he holds my hand, and those eyes: his beautiful eyes, the way he’s watching me under his half-lidded eyes while I ride him like my life hinges on his cock… Fuck me, did it ever really feel like this? Was it ever really this good?

Wait, wait a second: was sex ever this fucking good before?

I’m staring at Dammon now. Just staring at this kind and gorgeous man who’s filling me up within an inch of my life, and I… I don’t know that it’s ever been like this. I don’t know that it ever has been this good before. Sex is always great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s never… My gods, it’s never been like this. It’s never felt so… so close. So right. Fuck, it’s never felt as right as it does right now with him — how fucking weird is that? We’re in an abandoned inn in a place that’s been cursed to the shadows for a hundred years, and it’s somehow the most right that I’ve ever felt while being naked with another soul.

Wait, though: it gets even weirder. I’m with Dammon, an infernal smith who I might never have even spoken to if it wasn’t for the engine in my chest — the engine that’s slowly burning me alive. If I didn’t have this damned thing in my chest, I wouldn’t be here with him. We wouldn’t be here together doing this.

I’m having the time of my fucking life right now with the most wonderful man I’ve ever met because of something that’s going to kill me.

No, no no no, stop it brain, don’t think about it—

“Hey.” He’s sitting up on one elbow — no, he’s pushing himself upright and reaching for my cheek. “Hey, hey now, are you okay—”

I kiss him. I shove my tongue into his mouth and grip his neck, and I fuck him like there’s no tomorrow. I fuck him like this is it, like this is the only chance we’ll have and I have to show him how much this means, how good this is and how good it is because of him, because it’s him, Dammon: it’s Dammon’s body under mine, and his hand and his tail holding me, it’s all him, and I need him to know that there’s nothing I wanted more in this world than to be with him.

He breaks from my lips with the most incredible groan. “Ah, Karlach—”

I nuzzle his ear. “I want you so bad, Dammon. I want you more than anything.”

He groans again — gods, if only you could bottle a noise and keep it for later. “I’m all yours. I promise.”

My gods, what a promise. What a thing to say, what a thing to hear from someone who’s so fucking good. And now I don’t know what to say, my tongue’s a knot, my throat’s getting thick — gods, just fuck him already, just wring the pleasure out of him like he did for you.

I fuck him. I’m riding him hard. I’m bouncing on his beautiful cock and staring at his beautiful face while it crinkles up with pleasure — come for me, Dammon, I want you to. I really want him to, I want his come more than anything in the world, I want him to let it all go inside of me — oh yes, good boy, he’s getting even harder, he’s getting harder inside of me oh my gods fuck I know he’s going to come—

“A-ah, please, y-yes—!” He kisses me, Dammon is kissing me, his tongue thrusting into my mouth and his hand firm at the back of my neck, he’s shuddering and pulsing deep inside — yes, I can feel him giving me his come, and I want it all. I’m fucking hungry for it, for every last drop of him, every little bit of proof that this was me and him together: Dammon and Karlach, Karlach and Dammon, two hells-touched tieflings finding our little place of light among the shadows.

He breaks our kiss and presses his horns to mine again. “Gods,” he pants. “Gods alive. You are… incredible.” He laughs, this husky I’m-out-of-breath-because-I’ve-been-fucking kind of laugh, and I swear I’d give my unbroken horn to be able to hear that laugh every day for the rest of my life, no matter how long or short it is.

He leans away a little and strokes my hair. “How are you feeling?”

Gods, look at him: he’s perfect. He said I was burning blue, but I swear on my life, his eyes are incandescent. They’re the brightest, most electric blue I’ve ever seen in my life, and it’s like they’re scorching my soul, branding this amazing moment deep into me so that it’ll never be forgotten, no matter what comes next.

Fuck, I feel so full. I’m so… my chest, my throat, my entire fucking soul feels full. Oh no, my eyes feel full too, oh no — don’t do this, Karlach, don’t you dare.

“I—” Oh fuck, I’m sobbing. I’m sobbing? Why now, why?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Come here, it’s okay.” He’s tucking my head against his neck — oh my gods, I’m falling apart. He’s hugging me, his tail is stroking my back like he’s comforting a child, which is funny ‘cause I’m weeping like a baby. No, not weeping: I’m fucking bawling. That’s fantastic, Karlach, that’s just great, let’s just bawl all over the gorgeous smith while his cock is still in me.

Okay, that’s kind of funny, but… Fuck, I can’t stop crying. It’s all just coming out now, everything, all the stuff that’s been going on: the tadpole, my engine, the shadow curse and how fucking awful it is here, Lae’zel almost dying at the crèche and Mizora being a fucking bitch to Wyll and Astarion making his snarky little jokes like he’s not dead-scared of Cazador. I’m just fucking sobbing, I’m howling for me and them and everything, and more stuff keeps coming out: Gortash, Zariel, Avernus, Mum and Dad — everything, it’s just fucking everything, it’s all the things, so much shit I haven’t cried about for years, and it’s all coming out on poor Dammon because he’s hugging me.

Dammon is hugging me. He’s just hugging me while I cry all over him, hugging me tight like I haven’t been hugged in fucking years, and I don’t know if I can stop.

I do stop, eventually, when it feels like every tear in my body is on his neck instead of in my eyes. When I finally stop crying, he speaks. “Are you all right?”

Gods be damned, his soft voice, his hand petting my back… He’s going to make me cry again. “I’m okay,” I say. “Stuffy, but okay.” I lift my head — eurgh, yep, lots of tears and snot on his neck. Real attractive, Karlach, really sexy stuff.

“Sorry.” I wipe my face real quick and start wiping his neck. “Sorry. That’s gross. I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says. “You needed that. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Oh hells, now he’s wiping my cheeks… Did someone make this man on purpose to turn me into the world’s meltiest puddle? He’s wiping my cheeks and looking at me in that so-soft way with his beautiful soft eyes… Oh boy, I’m a goner. If I wasn’t already all fluttery for him, I’m a total loss now.

He strokes my shoulder. “Do you have to head back to your camp?”

No way. I don’t want to go back. I want to stay here with him and make this night last forever. Don’t say that, though, you’ll sound like a limpet. “I can stay for a while,” I say, all casual-like. “If you want, I mean. I — unless you have to sleep? You probably have to get up early for the forge—”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “I can get up whenever, that doesn’t matter. Either way, if you — if you don’t have to get back, maybe…” He clears his throat — aw, he’s looking shy! Why is he looking shy? “Maybe you’d like to stay the night? With me, I mean?”

He wants me to stay? He wants me to stay! “Yes! I mean—” Oh gods, I’m laughing now. “Yes. I’d love to stay with you.”

He smiles — oh gods, that killer smile. He’s going to destroy me with that smile before the night is through, I swear. “Great! That’s — that’s really great. Okay.” He laughs a little and strokes my arm. “Maybe I can take my trousers off, if that’s okay with you?”

“Your—?” I twist around on his lap to look — ha, oh shit, his trousers are down around his calves, and he’s still wearing his boots!

I laugh and climb off of him. “You didn’t take them off? Bit eager, are we?”

“Me? You didn’t give me a chance! So much for slowing down.” He’s grinning now as he pulls off his boots, and he’s so damned pretty that all I can do is smile back at him. Gods, I really am a goner.

He drops his boots on the floor. He’s totally naked now, naked and warm and perfect, and I don’t want to waste another second not touching all of that perfect naked skin.

I straddle him and wrap my arms around his neck, and he smiles and strokes my hip. “Back for a second round already? I’m game, but I’ll need a little more time.”

I press my horns to his. “Dammon, I…” No, Karlach, don’t say it. Don’t tell him what you’re feeling, it’s way too soon. It is too soon, right? It’s too soon to know if this is just lust or if it’s something more, right? Something so much more, so much bigger that it feels like it’s filling my entire damn body… I can’t know yet for sure that this is what I think it is, can I? Fuck, I’m breathing all shaky. Stop it, K, don’t cry again, just don’t.

He strokes my neck — gods, his magical hands on my skin, I can’t get enough. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “Take your time. Talk when you’re ready.”

I nod, and I kiss him. For the dozenth time tonight, I’m kissing Dammon, melting under his soft lips and tasting his tongue and feeling every inch of my skin coming to life under his hands, and I can’t be fucking bothered with talking. Who cares about words or talking or even thinking when there’s this, when there’s him? Not me, that’s for sure. All that matters is being here with Dammon, skin-to-skin with him like all my hottest dreams, and I don’t give a shit about anything else.

Tonight, I’m burning blue for him. And that’s all that fucking matters.

[lonigiri]

Hiii!!! You could write a sumin (xikers) smut please😊?!?!? Looking forward to reading your writings🙃

Best Friend

sypnosis: you get ready a little early because you’re really excited to have a movie marathon with your best friend.

warnings: making out, fingering, oral (f reciving), hair pulling, fem!reader, kinda voyeurism, masterbating (m), use of pet names pretty & pretty girl, kinda degradation if you sqiuint. the use of the name whore. body worshiping if you squint, chubby reader implied but not specified

notes: yay ofc i love sumin so so much, this is also my first writing in so so long so if its bad pls dont bust my ass im trying my best

you had finished getting all your stuff together now you just had to wait. sumin, your best friend, had invited you over for a movie marathon, he wanted to watch every single saw movie. you had no complaints seeing as saw was your favorite movie series and you could talk about it for hours. but sumin never seemed interested in it but one day he just told you he wanted to watch all of them so you offered to go over to his house to watch all of them with him.

the wait was absolutely killing you. like usual, you got ready a whole 2 hours earlier then you should’ve so you were just sitting in your living room, waiting, trying to find something to occupy your time til it was time to go over sumins place.

you being impatient decided to go over a little early ‘being a little early couldnt hurt, all we’re doing is watching movies’ you thought to yourself as you made your way to his house.

you’d arrived at his place. knocking on the door of his home, with no answer. you knew where he hid the spare key so you decided to let yourself in. “sumin! im here, i know its a little early but i kinda got ready really early again.” you called out, to no answer again. thinking he was in the shower you set your stuff down on the floor and made your way to the bathroom. the bathroom was empty, you guessed he was sleeping.

you finally made your way to his bedroom, the door was slightly cracked open. you heard noises coming from his room so you decided to stand in the blind spot to listen so you could scare him. but these noises were kinda… lewd? is the only word that could come to your mind. hot sighs leaving his throat and you swore you heard your name being chanted. “f-fuck y/n..” your eyes widening at the words falling from his mouth. you were kinda turned on though, you could just imagine your pretty best friend with his head thrown back rubbing himself thinking of you.

the mere thought made you hot, your heat starting to drip arousal. you had decided to walk in. “sumin i know its early but-“ you said innocently as if you hadnt been listening outside door. your eyes had finally landed on him and oh my god was it a sight to see. cock in hand, lips parted eyes closed, head lolling back. he sat up, quickly pulling his sweats up. “y/n! you’ve ever heard of knocking?” his cheeks red. you took a couple steps forward to him, taking a seat on his bed. “h-how much of that did you see.” stumbling over his words, “enough to know that you want me the same way i want you.” his eyes widening at the sentence, he started stumbling over his words. never did you ever think you could make your best friend with the overly confident ego go crazy over a singular sentence.

he suddenly became that man with the ego again as he grabbed your face planting a kiss on your lips. your hands making their way to his neck deepening the kiss. “fuck y/n you dont understand how bad i’ve wanted you.” he said against your lips. you took that as an opportunity to slip your tongue in his mouth. the two of you fighting over dominance, you eventually letting him win. his tongue skillfully exploring your mouth. you let out a small moan that didnt go unnoticed by sumin. one of his hands go from your face down to your waist and the other going under your shirt to squeeze your breast over your bra.

“sumin..” you moaned longingly against his lips. he pulled away from your lips, a string of saliva connecting your mouths. he instead put his lips on your neck placing wet kisses and hickies wherever he could put his mouth. “god.. always thought you were so innocent. who knew my pretty best friend was such a whore.” he said between heavy breaths. you wanted to retort back so bad but you decided it was better for the two of you to just keep your mouth shut. you did let out a cute whimper at his words though. he let out a little laugh at your whimper, proving his words to be right.

he pulled your shirt over your head and uncliped your bra, getting to work on your breasts. he kneeded one of your boobs as he took the others nipple in his mouth. you letting out soft moans and whimpers. tugging at his green strands that you’d helped him dye not too long ago. “f-fuck sumin feels s’ good.” your words slurring as his hands made their was down your body. mouth detatching from your nipple, leaving kisses down your body. “god you’re so pretty.” he said against your body whilst planting kisses. your whimper to his words driving him crazy. he layed you down from your sitting stature on his bed, yanking down your shorts and panties in one go.

he spread your legs wide just looking “hm, s’ wet for me pretty girl, i think you were watching for longer then you let on, isnt that true.” how did he know, thoughts racing through your mind at a millions miles per second but then they stopped as his finger started spreading your wet folds. your back arched slightly at the sudden sensation letting out a tiny moan. “its okay,” he said standing up to whisper in your ear “i like when you watch.” the lewd mewl you let out at his words. you swore if he kept whispering in your ear like this you could cum untouched. he returned to his place between your legs. his fingers teasing your hole as he lightly circled your clit. “sumin please.” you begged him, he secretly loved watching you twitch because of his touch, he wasnt gonna stop anytime soon but as soon as those pleads left your mouth he couldnt stop himself from giving you what you wanted.

he licked a stripe over your pussy lavishing in your wetness. he put your legs over his shoulders not caring if your crushed his head with your thighs. he secretly wanted you to. his tongue dipped into your heat. you put your hand over your mouth to hide your moans. “dont hide your noises pretty girl. i want to hear all of them.” you moaned at his words. your fingers gripping at the white sheets of sumins bed as he went down on you. thrusting his fingers in and out, sucking on your clit. your back arched against the bed, taking his hair into your hands tugging at the strands. “sumin! f-fuck m’ so close!” he started thrusting his fingers faster. he found the gummy spot of your walls making you moan out in ecstasy. loving the moans he gave you ge hit that spot every time he’d bring his fingers into your cunt. “fuck! m’ cumming! su-min ngh!” you ended up cumming all over his fingers. he pulled them out of you all covered in cum. sumin being himself licked all of it off, not missing a singular spot. “god pretty, you taste so good. couldnt stop myself.”

[viridianevergarden]

In Spite of It All (Elain x Azriel) Part II

A/N: It’s finally done lol. This is Azriel’s POV, starting off with a flashback so we can see his side of the story. Then after a certain point, we resume to the present.

Word count: 5.2K

Key: Angry Azriel and Angsty Azriel

Triggers: None really, pretty safe again.

It was midday when Azriel arrived at the House of Wind. He’d flown right into the living room, where ultimately, he’d hoped no one was at the time.

Nesta and Cassian usually finished up training at this time of day. At least, on the weekends. As much as he loved his dear siblings, Azriel just— Lacked any capacity to linger and talk. Not right now.

He was utterly exhausted. After all, enduring a day of work with no more than three hours of sleep under his belt was no easy feat. At his luckiest, he’d been able to squeeze in five hours of sleep a night. But of course, the night before was not such a night.

Before Azriel could even make way for the stairwell, the hearth in the center of the room lit ablaze. The House of Wind itself, the magical spectacle it had become, was inviting him to sit.

A cup of tea appeared on one of the tables by the warmth, right in front of the crimson chaise longue. The aroma he instantly recognized— Lavender. Near the cup sat a teaspoon, a jar of honey, and a small pitcher full of hot milk.

The corner of his lips twitched in bemusement. Even the House knew how he was feeling, knew what he needed. Azriel stood there, reluctant to make a choice. He hadn’t eaten all day, hadn’t put anything in his system. But he was still exhausted—

A small plate of fresh sugar cookies appeared by the tea. It seemed the House was trying its best to convince him, to coax him in. It was better than nothing, he supposed.

Azriel obliged, taking his time to sit down and mix his tea the way he liked it, even tasting one of the sugar cookies.

Truth be told, Azriel liked sweets quite a lot. Though he often refrained from eating them. Sometimes they were too sweet and others, he merely didn’t have a craving for them. His mood was more often than not the killer of his appetite for all things.

After a short time, Azriel had finished his tea and a number of the cookies. He stood, the assortment disappearing from the table as he’d done so.

They’re coming. His shadows tickled at his ears as they relayed their findings. They’re coming.

Nesta and Cassian had finally finished their exercises for the day, it seemed. They were making their way up from the training pit, no doubt.

As expected, the mated pair entered the living room, bantering about whatever the topic was at hand. Then they saw him, appearing to be quite unsurprised. Perhaps they sensed him before they even made their way around the corner.

“Azriel,” Nesta, dressed in training leathers and glistening in drying sweat, smiled at him in greeting. “You’re back early.”

The shadowsinger exchanged a bland smile in return, “I just flew in.” His words were short as ever.

“Are you alright Az? You look like shit.” Of course Cassian spouted his nonsense. He knew his brother was saying it out of concern, it was practically written all over his face. But if even he went through the trouble to say such a thing, Azriel really must’ve looked the part.

Nesta slapped her mate’s arm as to scold him. She then faced Azriel in question, her brows scrunched slightly. After all of that, she too was waiting for an answer.

“I’m fine.” He looked away from them, eyes cast down to the carpet. “Just tired.” Well, it wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

“Are you going upstairs?” To sleep. Yes, she must’ve known that he would. She always did, the perceptive female.

Azriel merely nodded, tucking his wings in tight. Nesta hummed and pulled a stray hair behind her ear, “So then you aren’t coming to dinner tonight? At the townhouse? Everyone will be there.”

Fuck.

He should’ve remembered— Should’ve expected the question no less. Silence filled the room amidst the crackling of the hearth’s embers.

“I don’t think so— Not tonight.” His tone was monotonous at best. He felt guilty about it. Azriel hadn’t seen the little babe in a while and admittedly missed his family but…

Nesta gave him a knowing look, the hint of sadness in her icy blue eyes had said it all. She knew exactly why he wasn’t going, aside from his obvious exhaustion.

She then gave him a comforting smile, “That’s okay. Go up and rest then. Sleep well.”

Cassian crossed his arms, “I can bring you a plate if you want.” He was serious. Perhaps he knew something was up too.

Azriel shook his head as he ascended the stairs, reassuring his brother that he’ll be just fine without one. Cassian didn’t fight with him on the matter, knowing damn well not to, he supposed. Azriel knew how stubborn he was, hated himself for it in fact. But he couldn’t stop being that way. It was just— How he was.

When he made it into his room, he took notice of the folded towel that was placed neatly on his made bed, alongside the faint sound of running water from the bathroom. The House was back at it again. This time, he didn’t hesitate.

The steam of the bath had helped to relieve his aching body at least— but not the pounding headache that had started in the middle of it. He was always prone to them, even more so now with the stress that he dealt with on a day to day basis. Of course, he had headache medicine but even then—

His hazel eyes focused onto the small glass bottle that sat on the bedside table. The purple bow tied around the bottle’s neck was virtually untouched. Unopened, judging by the fullness of the contents within it. Azriel had never opened it.

And now, beside the bottle laid the small box that was also given to him. Those earplugs. Regardless of how that night had transpired, how it spiraled so badly, he’d kept them too.

Azriel sighed as he finished tying the strings on his night pants, sauntering over to lay on his bed afterwards. He laid on his bare stomach, bracing his head in his arms atop one of his silk pillows. He sprawled his massive wings and got comfortable, turning his head to eye the glass bottle of headache powder and the thin blue box beside it.

The male couldn’t help but stare, couldn’t help the urge to reach out and brush his fingers over the lid of the box that contained the ear plugs.

His heart hurt. It hurt so much. He couldn’t help how he felt, how he missed that beautiful and utterly perfect female.

“You are to stay away from her.”

Rhys’ cruel and traitorous words echoed through the dark pits of his addled brain.

Even after his initial denial, after spitefully wishing to disobey his own High Lord outright, his own brother— Azriel ultimately fell in line. Because he was High Lord, because of the hurt that he so vividly recalled seeing in Elain’s eyes after his harsh words had struck her in the heart. Because he didn’t deserve her anyway.

No matter what, she was too good for him. Too good for that male, Lucien. Too good for anyone. No matter how much Azriel loved her and yearned for her touch, to be the subject of her smile— He couldn’t—

He barely even had the heart to see her face after that night. And family dinners… Well, Elain was always there. She was the beating heart of the family in his eyes. Soft and ever giving, ever loving. She always worked endlessly to provide the best food and desserts to the ones she cared for.

And if Lucien was there too, oh he couldn’t stand it. The overwhelming scent of that bond. The stench of it. For whatever reason, it had always made him feel ill. Gave him headaches, physically sickened him— Made his own bowels churn. It was positively revolting to his nose. To his being.

And so he could never allow himself to stay long. To stay close by. As much as he wanted to, as much as he wanted to see the adorable heir that was his nephew. As much as he wanted to see Elain herself. It was why he so often skipped those lovely dinners. Why he so often distanced himself from his own loved ones, as much as it hurt.

In the time that he allowed his thoughts to pester his mind, to agonize over everything once again, his shadows had condensed around him— Enveloped him like bees protecting their hive from the harshness of the world. Azriel ignored them, ignored their whispers and mutterings as he closed his eyes. Sleep took him soon after.

~ ~ ~

Read the rest here.

[hellonerf]

ameame is so unlucky in my mind. she would be on a hike and would step on a big rock. she'd then fall back and tumble for like half a mile. and then she'd hit her head a million times and die because she fell on a log and a branch pierced her stomach.

she's the type to get into terrible situations and die because of it. she'd trip and be like kyaaa then fall into an active volcano somehow. her being like "kyaaa" is very important for this Btw.

she'd be like "omg cana!!!" across the street and then go forward and she'd almost get hit by a car and then she'd twist her ankle and fall into a manhole.

so many stupid scenarios not enough lives😞💔

its ok though in my mind she dies infinitely.

(note: while typing the first word i got distracted. i went back to typing and restarted because i forgot i already wrote the first word. this lead to ameame. i kept it because it was cute)

HAHAHA i really love the image of ame waving at cana across a street, maybe they're about to hang out after a while of not hanging out, and a car slams right into her. this is some kind of karma... this is sooo cute anon i wanted to draw for it but i got distracted all day and had no energy, so (>_<).

i think ame is usually lucky actually(how else would you explain her stride... her fucking permanent shit eating grin...) but i think ame also deserves such random unluckiness at times. and also it's really entertaining for me the thought of it. 😊 perhaps not lucky, but she can be resourceful and pull through from these unlucky situations.(in this way she's like nagito komaeda. well no not really) like how in a stranded island... seagull takes her hot dog kind of shit. imagining her queasy after a whole day of horrible luck... sweating and annoyed as hell... not even trying to seem unbothered... so thrilling. ame gets food poisoning. ❤️ i like the thought of unlucky mundane deaths too. i've already described most of my ame suicide shit, but it's funny to think this. i've read like a fic or two where ame fucks up piloting in war. but besides that... the thought of her accidentally dying from like, someone dropping something from a window... what are the differences between a coma and death for these guys anyways? pain actually. it's okay! ame is resilient!

[katsotherworld]

My thoughts and ramblings for book 4 of HON: Untamed

(These are chronological throughout the book but are very random and I'm just posting it for fun.)

I knew that my gay friend was naturally the weakest link in the don't talk to Zoe chain. Sadly the twins answered me and not gay and therefore more sensitive and polite Damien.

Carmel colored used for Shawnee.

Aphrodite being just a place holder for humanity and Earth for Stevie Rae is really heartbreaking honestly. She may be a bitch but thats partially trauma.

"Swishy and fluttery" to describe gays, but Jack and Damien aren't that kind of gay, or Damien isn't and Jack is a little more. (Yeah, gotta love the gay writing.)

What hot guy scale. The bad boy hot guy scale.

"Kinda sexily sweating"

Stark's gift is such a mind bending and terrifying power. Like the ramifications of that kind of power is so untangible.

Humanity is different than being human.

Knowing what is to come is a little distracting because I don't remember enough to know things. Like I think Stark "dies" during this conversation but I also can't remember exactly.

"Sworn off sex, sex? I mean guys. And sex with guys." (Non direct quote)

And THERE IT IS! I fucking knew it.

"I just found you" -James Stark, thats heartbreaking. "I should have kissed more than just your hand, I thought I had more time."

Duchess is the most heartbreaking part of this whole ordeal.

Even the Nuns are feminists

"Kinda skanky" "kinda?" "I'm trying to be nice." "Ok, so am I." (Just more slut shaming.)

"I have to choose my humanity. And its not always as black and white as it may seem." -Stevie Rae to Zoey about being a Red Vampyre.

I can't remember Shekinah very well. I don't think she sticks around very long tho, I remember some characters and who dies but I can't remember exacts on most things.

"What if we outed you?" Why is the first assumption being gay and not the very obvious red marks?

Aphrodite getting so mushy about getting Maleficent is one of the cutest things ever. She is mean and hateful but not really because her own fault, she just needed the right environment.

I wish they would have acknowledged what happened to Zoey with Loren as sexual assault/rape.

God, Eric is unbearable.

I do not know this play like at all so I definitely don't understand the parallel at all. Gosh, thematic shit sometimes flies over my head, even with the AP Lit training lol.

Making out in front of the entire drama class is so dramatic and stupid lol.

Them forgetting lucifer was a fallen angel is hilarious as a Supernatural fan.

Kalona's obsession with cherokee women is probably because of Nyx's affection for the cherokee women.

The saw movies being scary is so stupid to me.

"Ok, that's majorly freaky."-Jack "It's totally queer"-Shawnee "And she doesn't mean that in the f-g sense"-Erin.

Zoey often forgets she can call upon all of the elements, like if something is attacking you call upon fire and make things burn.

Neferet is such a good actress.

Why isn't Shekinah reacting more to an adult vampire imprinting upon a fledgling?

The use of Cherokee legends, stories, and what not (idk what the correct usage of language for the use of Cherokee stuff is) is interesting, I like it cause I am Native but also having lived in Oklahoma is interesting.

Them underestimating the Ravenmockers on listening in to conversations was a huge misstep.

I love how much Aphrodite looks up to Grandma Redbird.

"Gay Tornado"

Of course Eric offered to give his blood for the cleansing ritual.

I'm waiting to see if my seething hate of Eric is justified through the whole story or not. If its just teen me remembering disliking him or if he earns it properly.

Zoey should have immediately thought of Stark when Neferet disappeared but I can see where she'd oversight that, but like, that's a GIANT mistake.

I love the descriptions of the rituals and the explanations for aspects of it, and it makes sense that Zoey would need parts of some of it explained to her.

Is this the first time Stevie Rae's tattoo was described? With the nature motifs, I can't remember.

Shekinah isn't very smart is she?

They had literally every piece of the puzzle but they never put it together.

Like they knew Stevie Rae would die at Neferets hands, that the earth would bleed, that Neferet was the Queen Tsi Sgili, that Kalona would be released, like they just didn't think anything through.

Poor Stark once again killing someone because his gift and it being someone Zoey knows and cares for. Then they just left him there.

Not me just chanting Kalona lol.

Like I'm just chanting Kalona in my mind lol.

Why would Nyx ever want them to bow to a man? Like its very matriarchal in the whole thing so why would Nyx send Erebus to be worshipped.

I know why I didn't remember Shekinah, she didn't last past a book.

All hell breaking loose in Tulsa on New Years isn't too out of normal lol.

[gothicyblack]

Consonance

Chapter Three: Stretto

There were days when Lucy really hated being right. Normally, Lucy would feel vindicated when something she said would happen...well..happened. When she told her ex that the girl he had destroyed their five year long relationship for would dump him the same way, he had laughed at her "bitter ass". Then called her sobbing once the blonde bimbo left him for his financially stable older brother. That tear filled phone call had filled her with righteous exoneration.

This was NOT that same feeling.

Lucy tore down the tight shaft, away from that...that...thing! She felt it's hot breathe down her neck as it used its long, spindly blue furred limbs to clamor after her in a blood-lust induced rage. Hot, burning drool dripped from the needle like teeth in its crimson mouth, panting heavily as it screamed and snarled after her. It's glassy eyes filled with rage, staring blankly at her and only her, as if to say "you only have yourself to blame. I'm going to rip your flesh off, bit by delicious bit". It's claws grabbed at her, as the giant creature slammed into the conveyor belt system that she had desperately crawled into in a fevered attempt to get away from him.

Less than two hours earlier, Lucy had returned to the main lobby after she had succeeded in turning the main power back on with a key she had gotten from the Huggy Wuggy statue. It seemed that, while the reception still had power, the rest of the facility was connected to different generators and needed a bit of a boost. "Why the fuck did they make these damn things so complex?" Lucy's irritation knew no bounds. She swore that she'd figure out whoever designed this damn factory's wiring and feel them to the nearest giant dog she could find.

After a ridiculous amount of time maneuvering her Grabpack arms to power three conductor poles in order to power battery outlets that were across the room...on opposite corners, she had returned to the main lobby to find something chilling.

There is a certain type of fear on feels when it comes to large monuments and figures. It's not immediately apparent, of course. Some will feel fear if they stare at a large motionless figure, like a statue, that is in a random area alone. However, often, that fear subsides once a person realizes its just an inanimate object. An artistic or natural identifying landmark and nothing more. One might scoff at themselves or chuckle, thinking about how they could be so silly to get spooked over a giant statue when its not going to harm them...

It's when that person leaves for a short while and comes back to find that same room, now sans Huggy Wuggy statue, that the fear comes back in droves.

Lucy had froze in place, staring at the now empty pedestal. She was a lot of things, sure...but she wasn't so forgetful that she'd forget that there was definitely a GIGANTIC statue right there. Her heart dropped to her stomach and she felt her skin break out in a cold sweat as Lucy tried to rationalize. Did...Did I take a wrong turn? She didn't get that lost. She knew that she had gone right back from where she came from. The electric room was literally right there. Lucy turned back to the door and then back to where that damn statue surely was...

Still not there...

Alarm bells screamed in her mind as she paled, blankly staring ahead. Maybe it wasn't too late...she could just walk right back out of this factory and its disappearing statues and just forget this whole thing. Who needed to get answers to a decade old mystery with personal connections to you, anyway? She gathered. Its not impossible to live with no closure. Hell, maybe Dad was right, and Mom just up and abandoned me...Maybe she did skip the country?

Please, Dear God, let Mom have skipped the country and left this heinous, moving statue factory behind. But, Lucy's burning curiosity...or, as she calls it, her "Anti-Regard for My Well being" part of her brain, pushed her to move to the electronically locked door behind the woefully empty pedestal that mocked her with every step.

Maybe Dad was right and I am a mentally ill dumb ass...It was a sad day for Lucy to think her father might be right twice in one hour. As she wandered down the hallway, Lucy could have swore for two reasons. One, the hallway was blocked by various boxes and debris. The second reason was because, for just a moment, she thought she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. That twisting, gnawing feeling in her stomach grew as she turned towards where she saw it, only to see a slightly open door that led into a pitch black hallway.

Old childhood fears of the dark seem so much more plausible to Lucy now. She could almost feel the hallway holding its breath as something within the dark stalked her. Her pace quickened and the now less confident woman practically burst into the other door, throwing it open. Her blood surged through her veins, as if screaming at her to move, hide, do something!

But there was nowhere TO hide or run. Instead, there were just more toy boxes and debris littered about the room she had now entered. The more industrial look and the rusted metal staircase was a cold comfort. As she stepped forward, her boot clattered against something hard.

Her eyes darted down and she spotted, covered in dust and dirt, an old dingy VHS tape by her feet. The color of a banana, it stood out in the dark like a spark of light. Her mind immediately clicked out of its fearful haze.

Security cameras.

Security logs.

Potential clues!

As if the slowly increasing horror of the past few hours hadn't occurred, Lucy snatched it from the ground like a kid snatching candy from a pinata. "Why didn't I think to look for security cameras?" With how old this place was, there had to still be some form of security logs still around. Suddenly, Lucy was grateful for all the random junk always around as she soon spotted a VHS player and adjacent TV. Deciding to throw no thought to why those things were just left everywhere, Lucy took her newfound treasure to it and slipped it in before waiting.

???: "Ugh, Rich, where are they keeping the Huggy boxes?"

Rich: "I don't know, I couldn't tell you! Remember when Maintenance last did a sweep of this place?"

???: "No."

Rich: "Exactly! Nobody in this stupid company knows what they're doing. I swear, I haven't seen a single box in its place since they started flooding the storehouse with orphanage junk."

???: "Right..."

Rich: "I get it, it's a nice program and all, on-brand, but" *sigh* "It's just hard to be happy when Manufacturing is on OUR NECKS about it, 'cause we can't find stupid Huggy boxes!"

???: "Rich..."

Rich: *sigh* "You're right... You're right... It's.. It's for the orphans... I just wish there were less boxes. Anything less would be more abidable. - I-is that even a word? Abidable."

"Well, that's a whole...53 seconds of my life I'll never get back," she huffed, crossing her arms. Still, the random "clue" had helped calm her nerves and remind her of why she was here. To get answers to what happened to everyone here. Hearing human voices after being in this tomb of a place was what she needed. A reminder that there were victims in this, like this Rich guy and his coworker...and weirdly, she could have sworn she's heard his voice somewhere.

Renewed with vigor, Lucy began to climb the stairs with purpose...only to come face to face with...another DAMN electronic battery that needed recharge.

-----/--/---------------------/-/------------------/-/---------------/-/------

It all happened so fast.

One minute, she's finally gotten the power to this Make-A-Friend machine on. Lucy had remembered being brought up to this area on her birthday or when she did particularly well on an important test, in order to make her very own toy. She was even a little excited, holding a nice "new" Candy Cat doll again. Lucy had put her new little friend in the container to be scanned so the automatic doors would open and she and her new buddy could head out of this area and investigate more.

Only for the lumbering beast, who Lucy was now very sure was not a statue, to come skulking out of the shadows like a demon from the darkest pit of Toy Story Hell.

His slow, deliberate steps thundered against her skull. His glassy eyes holding a malice she had only seen in one man's eyes before. And, like the eight year old girl she once was, Lucy could only do one thing.

She ran like Hell.

The drumming of her heart was in her stomach, screams were jammed in her throat as the eighteen year old's old instincts to survive bayed at her. The creature, Huggy Wuggy, screamed after her. It's footsteps grew closer as she dove into the now open ventilation/toy conveyor belt. It was a new kind of torture, navigating this hellscape's conveyor maze with the Satan's imaginary friend breathing down her neck. The darkness swallowed her up like ink, she could barely make out words scrawled out on the sides of the tunnel. Were they written in blood? Did she care?

All Lucy could think was "oh god! Oh god! I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die to a rejected blue Muppet! Fuck fuck fuck!!" She slammed past turns and under into new paths, all while the chilling roars of that demonic Cookie Monster rip-off tore after her like a wolf after a stupid, trespassing lamb.

I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die! Just as Lucy was about to collapse and accept her fate, tears staining her eyes, she dropped. Screaming down the shaft, she slid and the conveyor belt of Horror spat her out. As she slammed down onto the hanging walkway with a thud, Lucy looked around. She was in a...cavernous warehouse? It was hard to describe.

Around her, metal grated walkways hung in the air, some above, clearly used to cart materials during the factory's heyday. Above her head, ravaged toys hung by their necks. Now that she was aware that Huggy Wuggy was not inanimate, she shuddered as she noticed the dried red that covered them. No...no...this is...its not what I think. That's crazy...In this labyrinth of metal pipes and paths, boxes were above her head, as if left in a hurry. But, Lucy had no time to really look at things, if the skin curling roar nearby was anything to go by. Jumping up, she turned to continue running, only for her heart to stop.

Blocked.

The fucking walkway was blocked! Of all the places for her to land. Don't panic! Don't panic! Lucy was no stranger to climbing. For once, she thanked her dad for forcing her to have such a fucked up childhood. Working in a circus may not have helped find her many jobs before, but God, was it coming in clutch now. Just, as she was about to start scaling the boxes, Lucy heard the horrifying sound of something large and fast hitting the walkway behind her.

Spinning around, she saw Huggy Wuggy sprinting towards her, his claws outstretched as his disturbingly large grin showcased his jagged teeth. She could practically feel them piercing her skin from there. Lucy had no time to climb. He would catch her in a second. Before she could even think, Lucy aimed the Grabpack at the boxes above and prayed to whoever was listening that they were heavy before releasing the machine's hands and pulling the boxes onto the walkway.

Luck is a fickle thing and Lucy had found she was usually quite unlucky. But today, it seems fate decided to throw her a bone. Because whatever was in those boxes was heavy enough to crash into Huggy Wuggy, and the path he was on. As the metal bent and snapped, a sharp scream-this time of fear- echoed from the beast as it hurtled into the dark depths below, slamming its head onto the pipe.

As Lucy stared down, a sinking feeling came over her. She knew he wasn't a statue...

But she didn't think toys were supposed to bleed.

[dorito-pedrito]

em first of all i love you so much, second of all i am now reading it and documenting my thoughts live under the cut with stream of consciousness and word vomit, thirdly i love you so much em! ❤️‍🩹❤️

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

this is so fuzzy and fluffy and soft!frankie needs to be wrapped up in cotton wool and tucked tight into a burrito!frankie with his curls peeking out and his cheeks squished and so so so huggable. 😭

His and Lucia’s curls, the books under your arm, the oversized caterpillar in the grass.

👨🏻‍🦱👩🏻👧🏻📚🐛🌿🌱 oh how i love this (and i want to draw like luc, with papi!frankie as my subject)!

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

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

He’s warm, and he’s so sweet.

words cannot describe how cured i am because of this, i am made a little bit more whole and feel a little bit better... 🥹

T-shirt clinging to his body, arms and neck shining with sweat. Cap on to keep the sun from his eyes, the curls at the base of his neck damp and dripping. He’s a sight.

yeah i am salivating, and his competence, oh frankie, the man that you are, the man that i love...

[redacted]

[redacted] 😶‍🌫️

i might just need to be put down after squealing at handyman!neighborly!lawn-mowing!frankie, and then——

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

i swooned then died.

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

resurrected just to die again.

The flush that reddens Frankie’s face is almost immediate

and the tips of his ears are glowing

aaaaaahh blushing and flushed and bashful frankieeeeeeee——

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

oh fucking fuck!!! EM, YOU CANT JUST DO THIS, AS IN, SHARP TURN AND SWIRL IN THE HORNIEST DIRECTION WITH NO NOTICE, AAAAAAHHHH OH NOW I AM HOT AND BOTHERED ALL OVER!!!!!!!!! oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck, this frankie has me SO FERAL i will have him do anything he wants to me right the fuck now, yes frankie a good hard fuck from you could fix me for sure please.

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

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 its moments like this that remind me of why i enjoy fan fiction so so so much, and how much of my emotional fulfillment and gratification is owing to masterpieces like on call and amazing writers like em......oh i am healed a lil bit more. 🥹

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

‘Love you too, bug.’

my heart is filled to bursting...oh em, this is so special, these two really are the kindest and best people ever, and they are perfect for each other. their friendship, or relationship in general, is just the most wholesome and idealistic thing imaginable for me, they deserve each other and all the best things.

[redacted]

[redacted] 🤬

Something in his chest goes gooey.

em, for your information, i am indeed gooey, in fact, to be precise, i am now a blob of goo on the floor in the corner because of your writing.

It’s obvious in how he talks about him now, in how he talks about Lucia's mother. Love that lingers, that still sees the light.

He squeezes your hand with his free one, and turns to look at you. So soft, so warm, eyes so kind and yet so sad sometimes it takes your breath away.

oh, frankie frankie frankie frankie——this is exactly how i see frankie, the way he loves and never really stops loving, and em, you captured it so well i have no words...

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

He can’t ever imagine breaking your heart.

these two are gonna figure it all out, they so are. the amount of faith i have in them (and in you, em) is astounding, honestly.

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

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

aaaaaaaaaaannnnnd, CUT——

oh, em! 😭 (i will come scream my afterthoughts to you for sure)

On Call | On Call

part ii

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

pairing: neighbour!frankie x f!babysitter!reader

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

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

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

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

dividers from the glorious @saradika-graphics

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

- on call, kings of leon

series masterlist | main masterlist

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

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

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

‘Hey, buddy.’

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

‘How’d it go?’

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

‘Good,’ he says, ‘Glad to be home.’

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

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

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

‘Second?’

Mhm.

‘I usually have to do at least four.’

You giggle, fluttering your fingers at him.

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

He shakes his head at you.

‘That’s not true.’

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

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

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

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

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

‘She hold you up, doing this?’

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff at him.

‘Put Luc’s on the fridge.’

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

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

You suck your teeth, grinning.

‘Deal.’

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

‘Perfect.’ He says. You giggle.

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

He laughs, turning back to face you. 

‘Don’t tell anyone.’

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

‘Promise.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heat stirs in your cunt.

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

Idle thoughts. 

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

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

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

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

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

‘Gotcha something.’

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

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

‘Sure is.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Nice piss.’

Your mouth pops open, feigning disgust.

‘I said next time, freak.’

He laughs, flashing you a cheesy wink.

‘You love it really.’

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

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

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

He shrugs.

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

You chuckle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He flips you off, hands on his knees.

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

You throw his cap to him, waggling your eyebrows.

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

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

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

‘Good game.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort at the bottom of your porch steps.

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

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

‘See you later, Bug.’

‘If you’re lucky, Morales!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I said, were you making bread?’

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

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

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

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

‘Edible? You feeding my daughter playdough?’

You roll your eyes.

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

He chuckles into his coffee, blowing at the steam.

‘Did she eat it anyway?’

‘Not while I was looking.’

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

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

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

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

‘What?’

‘Nothin’.’

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

‘What’s the deal with the monkey?’

You jiggle your legs in his lap in excitement.

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

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

‘Shh, you’ll wake Luc up.’

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

You gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

He drops his jaw, staring at you.

‘Just a few?’

You snort.

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

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

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

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

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

‘My - fuckin’ - balls.’ He gasps.

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

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

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

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

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

He groans anew.

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

You giggle and pout at him.

‘Aw. Want me to kiss it better?’

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

‘Keep dreamin’, bug.’

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

He’s not thinking about it. He’s not.

And neither are you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Hey, baby bean!’

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

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

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

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

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

You choke on a laugh.

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

Miss Lopez claps a hand to her forehead, grimacing.

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

You chuckle, feeling Luc link her fingers with yours.

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

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

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

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

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

‘Missed you too, bean.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Night night, little love.’

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

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

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

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

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

‘How’d it go?’ You ask, throat tight.

He shrugs. 

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

You take a deep breath. 

‘I’m sorry, Fish.’

‘Why? You didn’t set fire to it.’

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

‘Are you okay?’

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

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

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

‘Sorry I was gone so long.’

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

‘You were at work. ‘S not a problem.’

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

‘Whatcha reading?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I’m sorry for snapping at you.’

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

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

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

‘Bug,’ he says, softly, ‘Talk to me.’

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

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing - just. A bad day, is all.’

Too fast. He can feel his eyebrows lift.

‘Because of the tests?’

You shake your head.

‘All of it. The whole day was wrong.’

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

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

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

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

You shake your head.

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

‘So no one was upset? No one yelled?’

You shake your head again.

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

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

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

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

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

You breathe out, shoulders sagging.

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

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

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

You suck air through your teeth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You twist your fingers.

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

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

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

You quirk your head.

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

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

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

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

‘What else?’ he says.

You shake your head, retreating back into yourself again.

‘Bug?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You okay?’ He asks. 

You nod. 

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

He shakes his head at you. 

‘You’re never gross.’

You roll your eyes at him, and he chuckles. 

‘There she is.’ 

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

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

‘Nope. Take your time.’

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

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

‘Thanks, dad.’

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

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

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

‘Thank you.’

He’s quiet for a moment. 

‘You don’t need to thank me, bug.’

You make a noise of dissent. 

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

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

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

‘Love you too, bug.’

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

‘Fuck.’ You hiss. 

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

‘Does that hurt?’

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

‘No,’ you say quietly, ‘Not really.’

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

‘That good?’ He asks. 

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

Mhm. 

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

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

‘Jesus Christ, Frankie.’

‘Relax,’ he says, ‘You’re fine.’

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

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

You wince, flexing your foot against the carpet. 

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

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

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

‘Bug -’

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

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

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

‘I’m sorry.’ He whispers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frankie can taste blood.

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

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

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

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

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

And he’s weak. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. Her lunch. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucia grins at you with all her teeth. 

‘Thank you, bug.’

You giggle. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I’d love to.’ You say. 

The beach is a raging success. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Mexico,’ he says, ‘2016.’

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

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

‘Does it hurt?’

‘No,’ he reassures, ‘Just - tickles.’

It’s a half truth. 

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

‘Was it bad?’

He smiles slightly.

‘Just a scratch.’

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

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

A woman flashes you and Frankie an apologetic smile.

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

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

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

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

‘You are literally no better than a man.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘How you doing, bean?’ You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Thought you’d never ask.’

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

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

‘Whose?’

‘The woman. On the beach.’

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

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

You nudge him back, a little harder.

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

He snorts.

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

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

He laughs. 

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

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

You roll your head on your shoulders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Are you?’ He asks.

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

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

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

‘I’m sorry.’ He says into your hair.

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

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

He can’t ever imagine breaking your heart.

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

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

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

You frown, slowing your pulling.

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

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

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

Fuck.

He swallows, closes his eyes.

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

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

His mouth is dry, but he speaks.

‘You are,’ he says, ‘You are enough.’

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

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

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

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

‘Whaddya want, mija?’

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

‘Strawberry laces, what?’

‘Strawberry laces, please, Papi.’

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

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

‘How’s it going, mini Morales?’

She beams up at you.

‘Good. The bugs are winning.’

‘Winning? Against who?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Why not?’

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

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

Lucia frowns.

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

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

‘How do you get married?’

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

‘Have you been married?’

You wince. How is she doing it?

‘No, bean. I haven’t.’

She nods, thoughtful.

‘Neither has Papi. He could ask you.’ 

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

Idle thoughts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Hm?’

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

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

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

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

[rancidiva]

YEEHAWWW

[haikyuu-boys-headcanons]

𝙷𝙰𝙸𝙺𝚈𝚄𝚄 𝙱𝙾𝚈𝚂 - 𝚃𝚈𝙿𝙴𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝙿𝙾𝚁𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈'𝙳 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷

hello everyone! yes this is a weird topic but i know we’re all just secretly wondering it so i’m gonna write about it. AND plus y’all this is super long, so the rest of the boys are just under the cut :)

ᴛᴡ:... ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛʜɪɴɢ’ꜱ ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ꜱᴏ ʏᴇᴀʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ɪᴛ :)

𝙳𝙰𝙸𝙲𝙷𝙸 » pretty vanilla, might watch low-key classic kinky videos with the iconic fluffy handcuffs and velvet blindfold. secretly really into the daddy kink videos, but he’ll never admit that out loud

𝚂𝚄𝙶𝙰𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙰 » homemade videos are his go to. he hates all that fake, company generated bullshit (e.g; brazzers) he loves the rawness and passion of the homemade videos, videos where you can tell that the people involved love each other

𝙰𝚂𝙰𝙷𝙸 » boy probably has a panic attack every time he opens up pornhub. really into the sensual blowjob videos where there’s like a calming river sound in the background, no dirty talk. just a blowjob in nature :)

𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙰𝙺𝙰 » everything. there is nothing he hasn’t watched out of pure boredom. everything’s hot. lesbian threesome? check. mature adults pissing? check. it’s actually a little worrying how much he’s watched

𝙽𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚈𝙰 » anything with a uniform, please this boy’s so thirsty to see someone in a school girl uniform getting off. he probably gets in his old school uniform to enhance the whole experience

𝙺𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚈𝙰𝙼𝙰 » oh god, the ‘jerk off with me’ videos that are usually promoted in the porn ads. he probably has like 30 virus’s attacking his laptop while he’s jerking off to some chick jerking off on a loop

𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙰 » anything with tig ol biddies. probably the most likely out of all the boys to just search up ‘boobies’ on pornhub. his taste is just... tiddies? probably into the riding POVs where you can see the girl’s tiddies bounce

𝚃𝚂𝚄𝙺𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙼𝙰 » likes the ones where the girls get all twitchy and shaky before they cum, like the innocent masturbation ones with the weirdly realistic dildos. he imitates the pace they go at and everything + edging videos 

𝚈𝙰𝙼𝙰𝙶𝚄𝙲𝙷𝙸 » you know the casting couch videos? where the girl’s just sitting there, answering questions and she’s like super shy?? and then she starts stripping and probably ends up fucking the casting person??? yeah, tadashi’s super into that

𝙾𝙸𝙺𝙰𝚆𝙰 » the first time videos of like, anything. first time squirter? first time anal? first time having sex in general? he thinks it’s actually quite beautiful to see their raw reactions

𝙸𝚆𝙰𝚉𝚄𝙼𝙸 » twitter porn. do i really have to explain this one? the shit you’ll find on twitter is rawer and more realistic then any other porn you’ll find. probably follows thousands of those dom/sub accounts

𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚂𝚄𝙺𝙰𝚆𝙰 » anything with a girl getting destroyed by a huge cock. real cock or fake cock, doesn’t matter. anal or vaginal, doesn’t matter. hits even harder when it’s the girl’s first time, now that shit’s really hot to him

𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙸 » the risky public sex videos are his go to. like the ones where the guy/girl are in a public bathroom or something, and they have to cover their mouths so no one will hear them. he probably tried to recreate one of them and ended up getting arrested

𝙺𝚄𝙽𝙸𝙼𝙸 » JOI (jerk off instructions) vids turn him on the most. it truly breaks the 4th wall barrier and makes it feel more... intimate in a way. likes it even more when the girls masturbating while she’s instructing him

𝙺𝚈𝙾𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙸 » painals. this one’s just self explanatory, loves the way the girl just gets destroyed.

𝙺𝚄𝚁𝙾𝙾 » those fancy ass, 4K quality sensual videos with like top quality mics and 80 difference close up angles. probably pays for pornhub premium. also those office/business negotiations that turn sexual make him nut in like 0.4 seconds

𝙺𝙴𝙽𝙼𝙰 » the classic cam girl vids. he probably donates to heaps of cam girls, but he has his favorites. especially the live ones with the vibrator that works off donations. in one hand, his cock and in the other, his credit card

𝙻𝙴𝚅 »...i’m not even gonna lie, this boy is probably into the tacky fake ass company shit where the girl’s gorilla screaming over a finger in her ass. even the compilations with shitty music in the back turn him on.

𝙱𝙾𝙺𝚄𝚃𝙾 » gangbangs. there’s just so much going on, it’s so exciting !! it’s never boring + it’s messy. he really likes the fact that there’s just bodily fluids everywhere, covering everything and everyone

𝙰𝙺𝙰���𝚂𝙷𝙸 » doesn’t even watch porn, he reads hardcore smut. probably reads porn with a plot because he’s classy like that, “her juicy core pulsated around his thick, juicy member” let’s all pray he never actually says that during sex 

𝙺𝙾𝙽𝙾𝙷𝙰 » watches those really mean videos with spitting and hardcore degrading. preferably, he chooses one couple to subscribe to and watch. it just makes it way more sensual!

𝚄𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙹𝙸𝙼𝙰 » probably doesn’t watch porn, who wants to bet he just stares at the ceiling and beats his meat? okay, but if he did watch porn, he’d just click any of the random ass videos on the recommended like the himbo he is

𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙾𝚄 » okay, y’all already knew this was coming. kinky ass mf watches anything, but mainly watersports and squirting. likes watching the ‘accidental’ squirting/watersports ones

𝚂𝙴𝙼𝙸 » the retro 70s/90s shit that was most definitely filmed on cassette tapes. he claims that they’re so passionate and raw, and something about how the purity of the older times being destroyed is... really hot

𝙶𝙾𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙺𝙸 » really loves the diversity and individuality of the dom/sub dynamic. watches plenty of couples that do homemade dom/sub shit. he probably also always subscribes to their sfw vlogging channel bc why not

𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚄𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙼𝙰 » i feel like this is really obvious but definitely the girl-on-girl shit. he probably watches the company lesbian shit with the horrible acting and again the gorilla screaming

𝚂𝙰𝚂𝚄𝙺𝙰 » shower sex? shower sex. for obvious reasons, it’s just much more sanitary and pleasurable to watch. no disgusting sweat, no cum stains on their clothes. it just gives him a headache thinking about how long it’ll take to get the stains out

𝙰𝚃𝚂𝚄𝙼𝚄 » just watches the iconic porn stars on repeat. abella danger, diamond jackson, lela star, ect... but seceretly, he loves movie sex scenes the most. like he would most definitely watch them on repeat. it’s just so much more realistic!

𝙾𝚂𝙰𝙼𝚄 » loves the ones with the nasty, heavy audio; clapping, dirty talk, squelching. the sound of two sweaty bodies humping each other gets him off so easily. oh and + food porn

𝚂𝚄𝙽𝙰 » cumshot compilations. any site, it doesn’t matter. especially when its on the girl’s back or just over her pussy, that shit’s hot HOT. he’s also subscribed to a certain someone’s only fans

 the end :p

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

The Office

Pairing; CEO+Dad’s Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary; You and Bucky fuck for the very first time in his office at the company’s building.

Word Count; 4574

Warnings; NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, undefined age-gap, “cheating”, language, cursing, Sir!kink, dirty talk, pet names, slight degradation, hair pulling, oral (male receiving), face-fucking, spitting, fingering, teasing, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids.

Authors Note; I can’t get enough of CEO+DBF!Bucky so this will be the first of many fics like this! I hope people will like it and be interested in more! Jesus I need to bathe in holy water now. Hope you all enjoy <3

Main Masterlist || CEO+DBF Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Sign up HERE to join my taglist!

Bucky had begun texting you while sitting in a meeting with your dad and some of the company's other employees. You weren't doing anything important, just at home reading a book, so you were more than happy to text back and forth with him. The meeting was relatively standard and straightforward, it wasn't too much of an importance, so it allowed Bucky to talk with you without feeling guilty while the rest of them sorted out the details. Once in a while, he would chime in with his views and opinions. The text messages were pretty innocent, to begin with. The standard “hello” and “what you are up to” was exchanged between the two of you before more of the dirtier stuff ensued.

You thought about it for a second before you sent him an answer. You and Bucky had started fucking around a few weeks ago. You had met him when your parents had friends and colleagues over for a grand party like they had most of the time. You had just moved back home after living on your own in another city for three years, so this was your first time seeing Bucky in person. You had heard a lot about him and seen pictures when he started working with your dad, and they had formed a tight friendship, but you had never met him in person. He was even more handsome than what the pictures could show when you got introduced to him, and you had started to take a liking to him instantly. He had done as well because not even a week after you met, you and he had started a relationship. To begin with, it was only fucking around, but as the weeks went by, you felt like there may be more to it; sparks were felt between the two of you. None of you had done anything about it yet, mainly because it wouldn’t be received well by the public, your family most likely would disapprove and because of his wife Natalie and her whole family.

Which you didn’t find wrong at all that he was “cheating” on her with you. They both hated each other’s guts and would more than anything like getting a divorce. Bucky had told you that she had cheated on him multiple times, and he had done as well with her, but they played the happy couple when they were out in public because of their families. They got married at a very young age because their families are rich and powerful and wanted their kids to get together, so they are now stuck in this toxic relationship together. But soon, you and Bucky would have to decide where the next step of the relationship would go. Would you continue to sneak around, or would you form a proper relationship and come out for the whole wide world? It was only a matter of time before you needed to decide.

You and he would primarily meet up on neutral grounds. In his car or a hotel but on a few occasions, you had fucked in his or your parent's house in your room. This would be the first time you had done it where he worked; you assumed it would be in his office. It would be risky, but the thought about him taking you hard against every surface had your thighs clenching in need of him.

A soft whimper escaped your parted lips at his promise to fuck your brains out. He was never afraid to be direct with you about his needs and feelings. He always meant what he said, and that was one of your favorite things about him. You could always trust that he would be true to his words.

It would take you about 30 minutes to get over there, so you needed to leave right now. You did a quick freshen up before you called a taxi to get you over to the company’s building. Being in the car gave you time to think this through. You weren't sure how you and he would pull this off. Everyone would see if you entered his office and then wonder what was taking so long and what in the hell you guys were doing in there. In their eyes, you and Bucky weren't even friends. You barely spoke with one another when other people were around, as not to raise any suspicion. For them, you were the boss's daughter while Bucky was his partner, and nothing was going on between you two; besides, Bucky had his “loving” wife, Natalie.

The building stood tall as you arrived. Clouds were teasing rain, and it was a bit cold. The skirt you were wearing made your body chilly, but you kept it on for Bucky's sake. You looked up at the structure before you went through the main entrance. The security guards and the workers at the reception greeted you as everyone was well aware of who you were. You all greeted them with a smile as you walked towards the elevators. Entering the elevator, you became impatient as it took its time to travel up the floors to the main offices in the building. Your legs were uneasy as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. A thin layer of sweat formed on your hairline as you came up with scenarios with how you and Bucky could get caught. You shook your head, trying to get those thoughts down. You trusted Bucky, and besides, this was something you wanted to try out.

When you arrived at the floor, and the door slid open, you saw your dad, Bucky, and some of the employees coming out of one of the conference rooms. The meeting must have just finished. As you walked over, you tried to put on a smile to mask your nervousness. None of them had seen you yet, except for Bucky. He had you in his sight out of the corner of his eye, a slight smirk on his face as he saw you strutting over. You came to stand between him and your dad.

Bucky couldn’t have been more subtle with staring you up and down; your dad was standing right there after all. His tongue darting out between his lips to wet them, clearly having an image on his head about you bent over at his mercy.

“Hi, dad! Mr. Barnes, it's nice to see you again.”

Bucky gave you a simple nod of his head, acting like he isn't just about to have his way with you in his office with your dad not having a clue about what a whore his sweet and innocent daughter is, “pleasure seeing you again.”

“Sweetheart,” your dad gave you a one-arm hug as he had a smile on his face at his daughter visiting him at work, “what are you doing here?”

“I was in the area and thought I could drop by before moving on with my day.”

“Aw, honey. I wish I could spend some time with you, but we have a meeting again in 30 minutes.”

“It's alright, dad. I'm on my way out again anyways. Have some errands to run,” you lied.

“Excuse me, sweetheart.” He turned to say something to the others. While everyone had their attention on your dad, you turned slightly towards Bucky to give him a “chill out” look. The outfit you were wearing had him on edge and excited to have you in his office as soon as possible. Since the crowd was paying attention to your dad, it allowed Bucky to give you some instructions. He leaned in a little closer to you, but not too close in case someone saw.

“Here,” he slipped you his card, the card for the private elevator he had that went from the parking lot and up to his office, “take the elevator. No one is going to see you. Also, I want you to have your panties off before you come upstairs. You got it?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. Your body felt hot and warm. The palms of your hands had a thin layer of sweat on them as you took the card from him. Your heart was hammering against your chest. This was really about to happen.

“Y-yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

Like clockwork, your dad turned around towards you again just as Bucky leaned away from your body. “Well, I'll see you when I get home later, sweetheart.” He went to hug you again, and you returned the action.

“Bye, dad. Bye, Mr. Barnes, I'll see you around.”

Everyone said their goodbyes to you before you left. You went out of the building and around it to where the cars went down into the parking lot. Once down there, you made sure that no one was around to see you before you scanned the card for the elevator. The journey up to his office gave you the opportunity to take your panties off. You held them in your hand as you almost bounced up and down in fear and excitement for what was in store for you when you reached his floor.

When the elevator reached the office, and the doors opened, you saw that Bucky was waiting for you, his back facing you. He was staring out the big windows that decorated almost his entire office room.

“Did you take your panties off as I told you to do?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He turned around so he could be met with you. His tongue wetting his lips as he beckoned with his finger for you to come over to him, “get over here now.” Not even thinking for another second, you were quick to stand by his side by the window, waiting for further instructions he had to give you.

“Give them to me,” the palm of his hand was held out for you to hand them over to him. With shaking hands, you handed them over, and he opened his suit jacket to put them in the inside pocket so he could keep a hold of them.

“Is someone going to come in?”

“Shh,” his hand came to caress the side of your face—his thumb stroking your cheek. The simple action had you relax a tiny bit. “Don't worry. I locked the door, and besides, I told them not to disturb me. Do you trust me?”

“I do, Bucky. With my life.”

“Well then,” his finger pointed down to the floor, and you knew immediately what he was getting at, “get down on your knees for me.”

In front of the window of all things?! For everyone to see? But frankly, you didn't care. Let them see it all. You would give them all a good show. Besides, they wouldn't be able to know that it's you because the next building over was some distance away. All you cared about was to have his dick in your mouth right now and nothing else.

Like second nature, you quickly sank on your knees where you had spent more than once worshiping his cock, and this wouldn't be the last one either. He looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire at you being so easily submissive to him. His tongue peeked out from his mouth at you on your knees for him.

His thumb traced your lips as his other hand was palming the bulge in his pants. You granted him access into your mouth as you sucked and swirled your tongue on his digit.

“I can't wait to have your lips wrapped around me, kitten. Do you want me to fuck your mouth?”

You nodded your head and released his thumb from your mouth, “please, Bucky, I want it so bad.”

Your eyes followed his hands, your lips parted, as he undid his belt and pulled down his suit pants along with his underwear. Coming face to face with his dick, ready to be sucked by you. You wrapped your hand around his shaft and looked up at him through your lashes, waiting so that he could give your permission at proceeding, knowing how much he loved it when you waited for him to provide you with a green light.

“Suck it, baby girl.”

You opened your mouth to swirl your tongue around his head before you wrapped your lips around him so you could suck on his mushroom tip, your tongue teasing him. You could see that he was becoming impatient, so you engulfed him halfway through while massaging his balls in your hand. The action had his hand fist in your hair, making a gasp being sounded against him by you, as an exhale of satisfaction escaped him.

He needed more, so with the help of his hand in your hair, he pushed his dick further into your mouth till the tip of him reached the back of your throat, making you gag around him. The vibrations from your mouth had him shiver all over. Your eyes were watering as saliva started coming out the side of your mouth. Looking directly up into his eyes as you took whatever was left of him the best you could and bobbed your head on him, watching as his eyes struggled to stay open to watch how good you were taking him down your throat.

“F-fuck. That's so good, baby. You love sucking my cock don't you, pretty girl, hm? Such a good girl for me, aren't you?”

His dirty talk turned you on, and all you wanted to do was touch yourself at his words. You released him from your hold. Saliva was hanging from your mouth, and his dick was glistening all in it. Your hand jerked him off so you could answer his question, your voice almost like honey as you spoke. The wetness from you made it easy to glide your hand effortlessly on him.

“Yes, Sir.”

A deep groan was sounded from within his chest at the nickname he loved to be called by you. You on your knees so pretty and messy for him had his dick twitch in your grasp.

“Good, baby. Look at you. Such a beautiful mess for me, kitten.”

“Only for you, Sir.”

His head leaned back some as you took him in your mouth again. Your mouth is an expert at taking the whole of him. “Fuck, I'm gonna cum. Do you want me to cum in your mouth, baby girl?” He asked while slowly thrusting his length in and out of it. All you could do was moan, letting him know that you wanted to taste him.

He picked up his speed and fucked your mouth, making you gag around him each time his tip tickled the back of your throat, and you loved every second of it. His hands came at the side of your face so he could hold you steady as he used your warm and wet hole as he pleased. The sloppy sounds of your mouth, your gags, and moans around him only enticed him even more to reach his end.

His thrusts became uneven, and not a second later, he came deep in your throat. Sounds of pleasure dissolved in the office space as your mouth took all that he had to offer. You swallowed around him, milking him for all that he was worth, as you moaned at his delicious taste. You didn't pull away from him until he had spilled every drop in you.

“Show me your mouth.”

Pulling away from him, you opened it to show him all of the cum. He learned down till his face was inches from you and proceeded to spit in your opening. The action had your desperate clit pulsating.

“Can you swallow all of that for me?”

Closing your mouth, you swallowed all of him, his cum and spit, and opened up once more to show him what a good girl you had been at drinking all that he gave you. His hand was petting your hair as a sign of appreciation for you being so amazing for him.

“Such a dirty girl. Was that good? You love the taste of me, don't you, doll?”

“Mhm, yes,” you responded while licking your lips. Your hand was jerking him off again as you couldn't get enough of the feel of him. Your words and actions had him lean back some.

“You've been such a good girl, and I want to give you a treat. Do you want it?”

His words went directly to your tingling clit, and you needed to push your thighs together to get some form of friction down there.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Get on all fours on the couch, with your ass facing the desk.”

You got up and walked over the few meters to the couch, taking off your skirt and sweater until you were only in your bra, and then got in the position as he had wanted from you. He went over to his desk to have a better view of you—leaning on it as his hands held the edge of it. You supported yourself on your elbows as you pushed your ass up and out, earning a groan from Bucky.

“Like this?”

“Just like that. Now touch yourself for me.”

Pushing two of your fingers inside your mouth to get them wet before your hand went underneath you to circle your aching and needy clit, letting out a sigh of relief at being able to feel something finally. You pushed the two fingers inside of you, letting out a low moan and they stretched and penetrated your tightness, closing your legs some at the feeling. It was nothing like Bucky's fingers or dick, but it would have to do for now. You started to move them in and out of your tight pussy, going at a slow pace, to begin with.

Bucky hadn't said anything yet, so he must be enjoying the show you were putting on for him. He let out a moan just as you turned your head to find him pumping his shaft while watching you intensely as you pleasured yourself. Your teeth captured your bottom lip at the sight of him.

“Fuck, kitten.”

You pulled your fingers out and started circling your clit again, whimpering as you were close to your orgasm. The two of you held eye contact as you watched each other.

“So good, Bucky.”

“You're such a good girl, baby. Showing me how you touch yourself. Is this how you look when you're in your room late at night? Touching yourself like this while thinking of me?”

“Mhm, yes.” His words made your fingers move rapidly into your tightness again, wanting to get to that sweet release you were craving desperately.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum; please can I cum, Sir?” You pleaded, needing to get some form of relief. Tears were teasing to spill out of your eyes if you didn't get your way soon.

“No! Stop!” He didn't want you to cum just yet. Whining at his words but complying anyway, you knew you needed to listen to him, so you brought your fingers out of your hole and into your mouth to suck your juices off. You tried as best as possible to hold eye contact with him as you sucked and swirled your tongue around your digits, moaning at your own taste, as you swayed your ass from side to side for him.

“Fuck me, Sir, please.” He didn't hesitate for one second in getting behind your bent-down form at the speed of lightning. One of his hands caressed and grabbed one of your ass cheeks before it landed on your hip to hold a tight grip on it while the other held his shaft as he teased your fold with the tip of him.

“Please, Bucky, don't tease.”

“I'll give you what you want, doll.”

He slowly pushed himself in your warmth, wanting you to feel all of him. The feeling of fullness almost had you cumming right then and there. He filled you up to the brim, wanting you to feel all that he had to give, and you weren't one bit disappointed. He pulled out till only his tip was inside you before he slowly pushed himself into you again, doing this a few times to get you familiar with the feeling. He just wanted to cum right then and there at the tightness of your walls clenching around his throbbing dick.

“Bucky, please go faster. Fuck me, please,” you whimpered out, wanting him to fuck you completely senseless.

His thrusts were hard and fast as he fucked you into the couch, hips slapping against your backside, making you jolt forwards with each move of him. Your mouth hung open as silent screams came out of it.

“This pussy feels so incredible. Fuck, so tight.”

His hands held your sides while his fingernails dug in your skin, creating dents. He moaned out as he watched his dick disappear into your hole with every move of his hips. Your head was buzzing, and your face was buried deep in the cushions at the intense pleasure Bucky was giving you. “Oh god, please don't stop, babe,” you pleaded of him.

Bucky took a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back, making your back arch. You bit your lip at his rough and dominants actions. The hand in your hair and his abusive thrusts was too much and so intense, but you loved it to the fullest. Tears came out of your eyes as he was taking you so good from behind.

“You like this? Don't you, baby? You like when I fuck your tight and pretty pussy?” Take what belongs to me? Hm? Letting me fuck you like a whore while your dad is just down the hall?”

Your head was foggy from the incredible fucking he was giving you. The lack of answer from you had him unsatisfied, so he smacked your ass cheek hard, making you squeal out at the pain.

“Answer me!”

“Y-yes… I love your cock fucking my tight little pussy. Please don't stop, baby.”

“Such a good whore for me. I'm not gonna stop, kitten, I promise.”

The thought that your dad and everyone else that worked in the building was just out the door, not having a clue as to what was going on in Buckys office, was so intoxicating—not knowing that Bucky was having at it with the boss's daughter.

You turned your head, at the best of your abilities, to look at him. His eyes were shut tight, and his face in pure concentration as he moved his body against yours. He met your gaze, both of you looking at each other as you neared your orgasm. One of your hands grabbed onto his forearm that had a tight grip on your hip. His other went underneath you to play and tease your clit.

“Please, Bucky, I need to cum. I need you to fill me up, please.” The pathetic pleas for him to fill up your pussy was what brought forward his release and made him finish deep inside of you.

His seed filling you up was what brought forth your own release. The way your walls became tighter around him had his hips snap rapidly against you as he gave you all of his cum. Moans and soft whimpers on a loop by the both of you as the pleasure overtook all your senses. Bucky thrust through both of your orgasms, not stopping until you were both satisfied.

Your face was in the cushions as you tried to slow down your breathing. Bucky caressed your sides and peppered kisses all over your lower back. Praises being given to you for being such a good girl to him.

“You're so good to me, beautiful.”

He pulled out of your hole. The two of you hissing out as you both felt overly sensitive. Bucky helped to clean both of you up with a few wipes he kept on his desk. He made sure you were ok before he went over to the windows to grab his underwear and pants, pulling them on where he stood.

You put your skirt and sweater on and fixed yourself up as you sat and watched him get ready. God, he looked so handsome that it had your stomach burst out in butterflies. Now all you wanted was for him to hoist you up on his desk and take you hard against it. But you saw him have a look at his watch, his eyebrows furrowed together.

“The meetings in five.”

He came over to you just as you were getting up. You hissed out as your body felt sore and spent up, but good regardless.

“Are you ok? Did I do too much?”

That was Bucky for you. Always worried that he had gone overboard, but you always reassured him that you had enjoyed yourself.

His hands came to rest at the side of your face, looking you up and down to make sure you were all good. Your own hands went over his ones.

“Hey, I'm alright. Just a little sore, but you know I loved it, and I can handle it, Bucky.”

“I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I'm all good, babe, I swear.”

You took his face in your hands now as his ones traveled down to the small of your back so he could pull you flush against his body. His face leaned down some so he could capture your lips with his, giving you one of his sweetest kisses. His face moved down to suck and lick at the side of your neck in the most loving way.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he reached into the pocket of his jacket to retrieve your panties, ”I believe these belong to you.” That cocky smile of his decorated his face as the panties dangled from his finger. Right. You had almost forgotten about those. “Thanks.” You took them and slid them up your legs.

“I wish you could stay longer. There are more surfaces in this office I would love to take you against.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he held you close. You would love nothing more than to stay here and let him have his way with you, but you knew that he needed to attend the meeting because if not, people would come knocking on his door, wondering where he is.

“I know, me too, but you know my dad is going to come knocking on the door and wonder where you are if you don't show up.”

“Yeah, I know. C'mon, I'll walk you out,”

He followed you to the elevator so he could say goodbye to you. A kiss and a hug were shared amongst you before the elevator dinged that it had arrived.

“We can meet later tonight if you want? Natalie is going out; God knows where, so we can stay at my place this time.” He asked you. “Whatever you want, just let me know, ok?” “I would like that, Bucky. I’ll let you know when.”

You stepped inside of it and pressed the button to go down. A smile on both of your faces as you gazed at each other the few seconds you had before the doors slid shut.

“I’ll miss you, doll.”

“I'll miss you more, Sir.”

Thank you for reading <3 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated if you liked it! As well as a reblog to share it with others!

If you are going to join the taglist please show support in following my blog as well! Thank you :)

Marvel Taglist: @whothehellisbuckybarnes @x-goddess-of-nature-x @trulysuccubus @skyesthebomb @whoreforsamwilson @natashadeservedbetter @beth-winchester21 @capxwinter @missswritings @sariche @claudiaatje @myakai13 @paintballkid711 @ttalisa @teti-menchon0604 @J-e-nster @-im-fantastic- @donut-crazs @tatestripedsweater @uraesthete @mae-black @midnightdragonzero @julia2000love @yvngzxx @midnightzonzz @kaystacks17 @missroro @living-that-best-life @alwaysclassyeagle @gaudy-butterfly @thisgirlisonfayeeer @amelia-song-pond @kaitieskidmore1 @keithseabrook27 @acciosiriusblack @purpleelfwizard @bloodrosefruy @angelhairpastauwu @turnerlvt1999 @cigarettesonmars @stardust-galaxies @aayaissaa @laurentrvn @itzstacie-blog @axen-gers @i-love-scott-mccall @waywardwifey

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @sirrwritesalots @academiawhore @feescher @doyoumindifislytherin-1 @yippikaiyaymotherfucker @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @hemsbucky @lokiscollar

Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

If your name is in bold and crossed out it means I can’t tag you for some reason. My apologies!

[owlswritingcafe]

Blue Ramune Kakigori (Summertime Saddness Collab)

Warnings: MINORS AND AGELESS DNI. TIMESKIP SOUYA IS USED.

Reader: Gender Neutral + AFAB Sub/Brat Reader

Word count: 3k

Genre: Smut, Oneshot

Content Warning + Trigger Warnings: implied poly Smiley+Angry x Reader, Full nelson, public sex, theft (just one thing), oral (male receiving) after vaginal penetration, pussy slapping, recording, vaginal penetration, Reader is called baby (not in a kink way), implied tits on reader sorta

Summary: You two finally arrived at the little beach shop. You really wished the shop was air conditioned while you browsed the inventory. As you browsed, Souya was looking away, too embarrassed to even look your way, practically acting as if you were changing in front of him.

Well… That did give you an idea.

“Do I really need to be in here with you while you change?”

This is my Souya contribution to the “Summertime Saddness” Collab hosted by @mitsuyaa​ ! I am honored to be a part of this collab!

It was damn hot out and you and Souya were melting in this heat. It got to the point the three of you had to close the shop for the day, and it wasn’t even a Tuesday. 

God knows what kind of mix a summer heated kitchen with Smiley would be for the annoying customers… 

You and Souya were laying on the living room floor, fanning each other and suffering in the summer heat as the television played in the background, acting as white noise while you two tried to help the other in this melting heat. You even helped Souya tie his hair back. 

It didn’t really do much for him.

For you though, it only made you hotter.

The two of you really should have gone with Nahoya when he said he was going to visit Mikey and Emma’s little bakery to help the two out with customers. That cute little shop at least had some air conditioning there… 

Sitting back up, you face the tv that’s been occupying the silence. On screen you are met with a beach scene. You dunno if it was an ad or a movie, either way you were convinced. You scooched yourself over to where Souya laid, shaking him and pointing at the beach scene on tv. With a pained groan he agreed to go to the beach with you. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t have a swimsuit on hand so you and Souya decided to buy the swimsuit once you two were at the beach. 

God, you could go for something cold right now…

                                              ─── ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ───

You two finally arrived at the little beach shop. You really wished the shop was air conditioned while you browsed the inventory. As you browsed, Souya was looking away, too embarrassed to even look your way, practically acting as if you were changing in front of him.

Well… That did give you an idea.

Folding your chosen swimsuits over one arm, you hook your free arm with Souya’s and drag him to the changing room with you. All the while, the blue haired man starts sputtering in confusion as you bring him to the changing room near the end of the hall. You gently pushed him down on the chair, urging him to sit down.

“Do I really need to be in here with you while you change?” Souya was already hiding his face with his hands, peeking at you through the gaps of his fingers

“Well, I do need a second opinion on these outfits.” You dangle the swimsuits in his face only for him to close the gaps between his fingers once more, as if he was hiding from the swimsuits.

“Couldn’t you have sent me pictures?” 

“Oh~? Souya, I didn’t know you were into that kinda stuff, you should’ve told me earlier~!” You giggled as the man started stumbling over his words again, looking at you with taken aback eyes.

“No! That’s n-not what I meant and you know it!” You giggled, starting to strip your clothes to change, causing Souya to let out a squeak and hide behind his hands once more.

“Souya… My little cotton candy babe… It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve seen me naked you know.”

“I know! But still-” You gently place your hand on his, slowly pushing them down to his lap. The sight of you only in your undergarments made the man’s face flush a dark red, you could practically see the steam come out his ears. 

“I need you to look at all of me… How’re you gunna judge properly if you’re not looking?” You smooched his hot cheek before stripping the last of the clothes that separated his eyes from your naked body. This time, Souya’s eyes never left once from your body as you stripped. 

Taking off the last of your clothing, you were finally bare as the day you were born in front of your boyfriend. He looked at your body with such intensity, as if any moment could be his last day before he could fully memorize your body. You chuckled, giving him a 360 spin of your bare body.

“It would be interesting if it was a nudist beach, but unfortunately it’s not that kinda beach. Maybe next time?” He perked at up at the thought of a nudist beach but started vehemently shaking his head at the suggestion. 

“I… I don’t want anyone else staring at your naked body like that!” He looked away, embarrassed about his slightly possessive thought. You only chuckled as you held him by the chin and turned his head to face you once more.

“I’m just teasing, sweetie. Now then, remember to keep your eyes on me.” You grabbed the first swimsuit from the pile and put it on. The intense stare Souya had on previously returned once more. Once you got the swimsuit on, you did your 360 spin like before. You catch him doing a quick glance to the mirror behind you so he could try to get a longer view of your ass.

“So… What do you think of this one so far?” 

“U-Uhm, I… Uh, can… Can you turn around again?” You smiled and happily showed off the other side of the swimsuit, watching Souya’s intense stare through the mirror. 

A little plan to rile up your boyfriend popped into your head, a mischievous little smirk twisted its way onto your face.

You start to move backwards, surprising the man and only making him flush an even deeper red once you sat on his lap. You could already feel his hard-on through his shorts, he must have been like this for a while.

“Just looking wouldn’t do. We need to test all parts of this swimsuit.” You licked your lips as you grind yourself on his lap, you could feel your boyfriend get even harder as you kept moving. “How’s that feel? You think it’s good?” You teased him with questions when he’s currently way too focused on trying to not break you in this tiny changing room. A public area for goodness sake!

But to be quite honest, that’s what you’re praying for. 

You just want him to let loose and push you against the mirror, move the swimsuit bottoms to the side and punish your pussy right there. You want him to pound your pussy so hard that you can’t sit down for days. 

His hands were gripping on the bench so hard that it was starting to crack. You placed a hand over his, bringing his hand to your chest, waiting a bit for him to realize what you’ve done. You turned your head to face him properly, at this point, there was steam coming out of his whole head.

“How’s the material? Isn’t it soft?” Souya couldn’t even process what you said and just stared at your lips, nodding his head like he was paying attention. His dick on the other hand was paying attention to every word, twitching at your sultry tone. You guided his hand downwards to your thighs, urging him to give them a little squeeze by squeezing his hand. It was like you were controlling every little move he made.

God…

He can’t take it anymore!

Souya called out your name as he suddenly wrapped his arms around you, his head resting in the crook of your neck, soft and bouncy curls tickled your face. The feeling of his lips on your neck sent shivers up your spine. His hand you had guided started to travel downwards, finding its way in your underwear. Souya’s fingers slowly started rubbing circles on your little clit, he moved his legs so that you could spread your legs for him while his other hand released your chest from its prison and started to grope and grab at your chest, firm but gentle. You were fully spread out for him in the mirror, you were already looking fucked out of your mind, sweat glistened and clung to your body as an occasional shiver rocked through your body from your boyfriend’s touches. 

You bit your lip, trying to not let any moans escape your throat. The tears already started to form in your eyes as you felt two fingers enter your cunt and reach all the places you could never reach with your own fingers. You felt sharp teeth graze the side of your neck, not enough to make a scratch, but the feeling alone made your little cunt throb. The feeling was so good yet agonizing, you just wanted him inside you already. Looking back in the mirror, you saw Souya’s piercing gaze. Even now, he was trying to memorize every little twitch your body made from his touch.

You brought a shaky hand to his hair, gently playing and twirling a lone curl with your pointer finger. You were mesmerized with the way it wrapped itself around your finger like a predator trapping its prey. As you continued to play with his light blue hair, his fingers only started to move faster and deeper inside you as his pad of his thumb played with your sensitive clit. Releasing the single curl from your finger, you comb your hand through his bangs, revealing his mostly hidden face and making his already striking eyes pop out even more. A moan finally escaped your lips when he hit the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you. The moan only encouraged him further to rub the nerves inside you.

“Right there baby? There? God, you’re so wet for me right now…” You can already feel yourself close to cumming on his fingers, you place your free hand over his hand that was practically drenched in your pussy juices. His movements halted immediately when he felt your hand over his, making you whine a bit.

“Souya please… I wanna cum on your big cock…” Souya gulped at the sound of your voice, fuck, that voice alone could make him cum in his shorts. 

“Alright… I’ll give it to you babe.” Souya pushed down his shorts and briefs, hissing as the air reached his throbbing cock, he moved the hand drenched in your pussy juices all over his cock. Afterwards, he took out his phone and handed it to you.

See, there was a rule you and the twins had set up before you had officially gotten in a relationship with those two. If either twin is alone with you then they need to record the sessions they had with you so the other isn’t left out. The other twin makes it up with you after.

With a shaky hand, you unlock Souya’s phone and start recording the mirror where the two of you were fully visible. Your blue haired boyfriend lifts you up a bit and hooks his arms around your legs, putting you in a full nelson position. With one hand holding the phone, your free hand traveled downwards to his weeping cock. With how much his dick was throbbing, even his cock lived up to his old little nickname. You gave his cock a few more pumps before pushing him inside your tight cunt.

The feeling of being filled to the brim made you so full, you almost came on the spot. Souya shifted to spread his legs out more, starting at a slow pace. You gripped the phone tightly, with two shaky fingers, you zoomed in where you and Souya were connected. The closer view of the disgustingly lewd sight of your dripping wet pussy and his cock inside you only burned you up inside even more. Your free hand snaked down your body and your fingers found its way to your sensitive clit, rubbing little circles that matched the pace your boyfriend fucked you with. The sight of you playing with yourself as he fucked you gave Souya a little idea, he bit his lip at the image of what he wanted you to do.

“Babe, babe… Could you… Spank your pussy for me?” The question caught you off guard a bit. Souya usually wasn’t for spanking in fear of accidentally hurting you, unlike his brother who was all for manhandling you anyway he saw fit, with your consent of course.

 “You need- ah, a punishment f-for teasing me this whole trip.” And with that you spanked yourself, landing right on your clit. It’s not as good as how ‘Hoya spanks you, but it being a command from Souya is what made it feel so good.

“Harder. It’s supposed t-to be a punishment.” You spanked yourself harder, biting your lip this time to keep yourself from screaming. Souya started to pound your tight little cunt even faster, the tip of his cock repeatedly hit your cervix. The harsh thrusting from your boyfriend mixed with his balls slapping your ass and the spanks you were giving yourself was sending you over the edge. 

You threw your head back onto Souya as you creamed on his big cock. Even as you came, he only continued to thrust. You were trying to catch your breath until he suddenly released your legs and pushed you up against the mirror. You still (somehow) had the phone in your grip, you flip the camera to selfie mode before pointing it downwards to give it a better view of your pussy.

Your poor little cunt was getting abused by your boyfriend’s harsh thrusting. The hard grip on your ass only added to the overstimulating pleasure you felt in this moment, the shame you felt as your breath fogged up the mirror looking at yourself didn’t help either. You had just came but you could feel a second one coming already.

Before Souya could cum, he pulled out, leaving your poor pussy empty and desperate to grip on something. He moved back a bit, the loss of stability made you fall onto your knees. You turned back, only to be face to face with your boyfriend’s dripping wet cock. 

“Give me the phone.” Souya was flushed and out of breath, you handed him the phone and he turned the camera towards you.

“Suck.” Like a dog with a bone, you happily pounced on his cock. You could taste yourself on his wet cock and that only made you even more wet. Your hands gripped his legs as you bobbed your head up and down his dick, then you moved your mouth off his cock with a small ‘pop!’ You started to suck his shaft while one of your free hands played with the tip, all the while you looked up at Souya and the camera with the biggest pleading eyes you can muster.

“God, you really gotta make yourself so cute even while sucking my dick?” The blue haired man used a free hand to gently move you off his cock then moved his hand to the back of your head. He did a quick pause so you could mentally prepare yourself for what happened next.

The hand firmly gripped you and thrusted his dick inside your mouth. Souya moved your head up and down his thick cock. The filling of it going down your throat made you feel like a personalized fleshlight whenever your boys did this to you and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

With one final thrust, Souya was balls deep down your throat. The hot feeling of his cum sent shivers up your spine. Truthfully, sucking his dick made you cum too, all while not being touched. Souya pulled his softening member from your throat, with some left over cum lingering on your tongue.

You looked at the camera with your open mouth and closed your mouth to swallow the last bit of cum then reopened your mouth revealing you did, indeed, swallow the cum. The sight of you so lewd and thoroughly fucked makes him almost makes him wanna go again.

… Almost.

After stopping the recording and sending it to his brother, Souya started to stagger a bit from everything.

“Oh god, are you okay baby?” You quickly stood up, reaching out in case he faints, ignoring the dull pain from all the fucking he did your your pussy.

“Y-yeah, it’s just really hot right now.” Souya properly put his shorts back on and sat back down. He doesn’t remember when his hair got untied but he re-tied his hair back to cool down a bit more.

You on the other hand found out you and Souya just ruined the swim suit you had just tried on. Shamefully, you put your previous clothes back on.

… Well, it looks like you’re going to have to put the swimsuit in your bag.

“Babe. Babe, what are you doing? Are you stealing it?”

“Look, if you wanna be the one to slap this wet thing on the counter and explain why it's wet without any water in this damn place then be my guest.” That quickly shut your boyfriend up and made him blush a deep red. Well, since that swimsuit is out of the question, it looks like you’re gunna have to buy one of the other swimsuits you chose.

After the slightly awkward, but quick exchange at the register, you two decided to buy some shaved ice and water so Souya doesn’t faint in this heat. You could feel the dull pain as you sat down in front of Souya with the blue shaved ice.

As you fed Souya some sweet shaved ice, you were greeted with a text from Nahoya.

‘If you needed someone to spank you like that, you should have invited me. Next time, I’ll make sure the hits aren’t some pussy weak slaps like that.’

Fuck.

Looks like today is going to be a long day for your poor pussy.