#dont mind the rip on his bed he likes to dig

[whispers-of-lilith]

WAIT IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT:

My boy Loki got a bath because his lemon pepper steppers were stanky. Here is the most precious lil man

And here is him super excited for his "toothbrush" treat after that I couldn't get a clear picture of him

That is all, you may return to your regularly scheduled content

[bunny-1111]

Eyes dont miss - Theo Nott x reader

Description: When you try to hide your anxiety from your observant boyfriend Theodore, it comes in crashing on you in the middle of the night, and you can't run from it any longer.

TW: anxiety attack

Word count: 1.3k

Fluff, unedited

...

There was little that Theodore missed.

In his eyes, he carried a loaded gun.

Ammo full of meticulous attention to detail.

He had you studied, fluent in you as if you were a language, the twitches in your eyes a verb, the tone in your voice an adjective.

You thought you hid yourself well, well enough to go unnoticed.

But he watched, even when you insisted on being ok.

He was demanding, a trait both good and bad, his stern demeanour insisting on answers, meeting your same stubborn answer, you were okay. Liar.

When it came to you, Theodore wouldn't allow himself to leave the slightest detail unscathed.

He watched and observed as you drew on your arms during class.

How you picked at the skin around your nails under the table of the great hall during dinner, your twitching hands fiddling as if your fingers depended on it.

How would you chew the gums at the side of your mouth

How he felt your fingers claw a little deeper into his shoulder when he suggested you both turn in for bed.

To Theodore, these things were concerning, though, when he would approach and accuse you of being undeniably going through it, you would deny, deny, deny.

Until you both hit the worst of it, in a cold winter night when you couldn't run away from it anymore. In the still and quiet hour of three am, you pant, in a hot sweat, string in a nightmare until Theo woke, immediately halting you up much to your fright.

As you sat up, the heavy rise and fall of your chest began to set him off too, his own breath hitched watching you fall apart for reasons above him.

His heavy hand polished up and down your back, he meant to be gentle, but he couldn't stop his mind to remember to be tender.

"What's going on" his voice echos through your ears

"Why are you yelling?!" you scream, your hands glued to your head, you wanted to rip your hair out there and then.

"What? Darling, talk to me," he quietly softly. He wasn't yelling, though to you. To you, his voice boomed with volume; just focus, you reminded yourself, come on idiot, stop this, stop it, focus, focus, focus.

Your hands fall in front of your face as you dig your nails into your skin time and time over.

When Theodore's hands take hold of your own, realise the almost bloody palms spread out, lacing his palms into yours.

"Feel my hand, hear my voice, c'mon" he whispered out.

His words cut through the fog like a lifeline, grounding you in their gentleness. Your head spun, reality blurred at the edges, but the steady warmth of his hands kept you tethered.

"Look at me," Theo urged softly, voice barely a murmur, as if afraid to startle you. He didn’t pull you out of the moment harshly, didn’t demand you shake it off. No, he anchored you, the pad of his thumb brushing along the back of your knuckles, each slow pass soothing, steadying.

He kept as much distance as he could, as if you were roadkill like he was gently aiding you off the road.

"Feel that, love?" he whispered, his dark eyes locked on yours with an intensity that was grounding in its calmness. "That’s me. I’m right here. I’ve got you."

You nodded, though the tremor in your hands betrayed you. Theo’s gaze remained unwavering, watching every flicker in your expression, the tiny cracks forming in your armour. You felt his hand drift to your cheek, warm and solid, the weight of it reassuring.

"I—" you started, words tangling in your throat, the shame of it making you flinch. The anxiety had been building for days, creeping up on you like a shadow. You'd convinced yourself you could manage, that you didn't need anyone, but Teddy wouldn't have that.

You weren't clueless. You brushed off his attempts of interrogation, but at this point, you were defenceless.

“You don’t have to explain it all, you know,” he murmured, his voice carrying the hint of a smile, as if he already understood without needing your words. "Just breathe. With me."

He guided you, slow and rhythmic, his own breathing soft and even. You mirrored him, matching his inhales and exhales, feeling the wild storm inside begin to quiet.

“Better?” he asked after a moment, not rushing, just waiting for you. His hand didn’t leave yours, fingers laced like he wouldn’t dare let go. And somehow, that small gesture made you feel safer than you’d felt in days.

You nodded again, feeling your heartbeat slow, the panic that had gripped you loosening, dissolving under his patient watch.

“Theo…” your voice broke a little, shaky and raw, but he just shook his head, his lips quirking up in that way that made you feel seen. Not judged. Not pitied. Just seen.

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with the back of his hand. “I’ll always be here, yeah? I've got eyes on you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

And in that moment, you knew he meant it.

Theo's gaze softened even further, though his grip on your hand remained firm, grounding. The quiet between you both was filled with his silent assurances, a warmth that felt like a promise of safety. Your heart felt exposed, raw, but under Theo’s watchful eyes, vulnerability didn’t feel like a weakness. It felt like trust.

He shifted closer, closing the small gap between you, his knees brushing against yours as he sat across from you on the bed. “This… whatever it is you’re carrying,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “you don’t have to carry it alone.”

You hesitated, your mind flickering back to the countless times you’d brushed off his concern with a casual smile or a quick change of subject. You’d thought you were sparing him, protecting him from the weight of it all. But Theo was persistent, as if each little gesture you’d thought went unnoticed only made him more determined to understand.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, bringing you back from the haze of your thoughts. “You don’t have to be okay all the time, you know?” His voice was calm, unwavering. “Not with me. I’d rather have your truth than your silence.”

A shiver ran down your spine, the walls you’d built up crumbling in the quiet of his words. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you nodded, feeling a strange sort of relief wash over you, like a weight finally lifted.

"I… I didn’t want you to worry,” you whispered, your voice so soft it almost felt like a confession. “Didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle it.”

Theo tilted his head, an understanding smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Love, if handling it means suffering alone, I’d rather you not handle it at all.” His tone was gentle, but the conviction in his words was unyielding. "You’re not alone in this. Not anymore.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a sense of warmth through your chest, leaving you feeling exposed yet comforted in a way you hadn’t felt in so long. Slowly, he reached up, his hand brushing the hair back from your face, his touch feather-light but grounding.

You took a shaky breath, letting yourself lean into his touch, allowing the weight of the moment to settle. For the first time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, it was okay to not be okay. Because Theo wasn’t going anywhere. And for him, your honesty mattered more than anything you could hide.

The panic and the anxiety might not be going anytime soon, but you knew neither was Theo.

“Thank you,” you breathed, the words barely audible, but Theo heard. He always did. He listened, and watched and understood, he loved with all his senses. He never missed.

...

A/N, my darlings, I'm back writing again. Requests are open, and if any of you suffer from anxiety, my inbox is always a safe place for you to come and talk about it, or anything in general.

Peace and love,

B.

[fallingdownhell]

Hii, Can you write an Overstimulated, Teased Neuvillette x Fem!Dom reader? And if you dont mind can you make Overstimulated! Wriothesley Dom to sub x Fem!Dom reader

Absolutetly love this. The Wriothesley one is gonna be in a separate post sometime else. Pairing: Neuvillette x fem!Reader Content: Fem!Reader; Dom!Reader; Sub!Neuvillette; established relationship; begging; handjob; Overstimulation; Teasing; unprotected sex; vaginal penetration; creampie; Praise; multiple orgasms; not proofread yet Word count: 1,5k words Requested by: @seipaws Hope you enjoy!<3

It was a privilege, being the only person in the world that was able to see the face of the Iudex morph and twist in pleasure. Hearing the sounds that are currently leaving him sent shivers down your spine and a smile to your face.

"You look so beautiful, Neuvi~", you coo at him, keeping the strokes of your hand on his cock nice and slow. The pace was killing him, a frustrated groan escaping him as he tried to buck his hips into your hand. But that only made your grip on him tighten more, not allowing him the added friction.

"Noo! P-Please!", Neuvillette's back arched, desperately thrusting his hips into the air repeatedly. He needed more.. needed to feel you. He could feel his climax approaching, yet you were so cruel to rip it away from him. A single tear ran down his cheek as desperation was starting to take over him.

"Aww, my poor darling.", your free hand reaches out to gently wipe away the tear that had escaped him. Your other hand was still tightly gripping his hard cock, drops of precum running down his shaft and over your hand.

You couldn't help but admire the image displayed in front of you. The Iudex of Fontaine, the most beautiful man you've ever laid your eyes upon, splayed out on your bed, his face half burried into the pillow underneath him, expression morphed into one of pure pleasure. It was the most obscene and simultaniously the prettiest thing you've ever laid your eyes upon.

"Tell me what you want, darling.", you coax him along, getting him to use his words, to tell you what he desires so that you could fulfill that for him.

Neuvillette groans more, but when you still show no signs of moving your hand, he frees his face from the pillow, facing you again, his expression showing just how desperate he truly was.

"P-Please.. touch me... more! I want more!", he cried out, not at all above begging for it anymore. If that's what you wanted in order to pleasure him, then he would gladly give it to you.

"Good job.", you smile at his words, then begin to stroke his cock again, nice and slow. Instantly, pleasure began to burn inside him, like a fire running through his entire body.

His sharp nails digging into the bedsheets as he thrusts his hips into your grip again, and this time, you let it happen. His moans continue to grow louder and louder as he humps your hand, his pace increasing with every thrust. Neuvillette's eyes are closed at this point, so focused on chasing his high, that your next words caught him off guard.

"You're so beautiful like this, Neuvi. I love seeing you get so desperate.", you whisper to him, his eyes snapping open and his hips stilling for a moment as he looks at you in shock, like he doesn't or couldn't believe the words that left your lips.

But you just smile at him and pick up the pace of your hand, stroking him at the exact same pace that his hips were humping your hand just moments ago.

"Aaghn! Yes..Yes! P-Please.. s-so c-close! Ahh!", he moaned again, the arch of his back almost looking painful at this point, but you kept going. Your strokes now quick and fast on his throbbing dick.

Moments later, his eyes snapped open again, his breathing coming out in short, erratic breaths. "C-cumming... 'm cumming!", he warned you, but already, as the words were spoken, his cock throbbed in your hand, shooting out ropes of cum onto your hand and his stomach.

You kept stroking him through his orgams, Neuvillette's moans reaching new hights in sound. It really was like music to your ears. All the while, you kept praising him through his climax until his cock was spent, and the last of his cum covered your hand.

As he was laying there on his back, breathing heavily, his eyes glaced over with lust and pleasure, you couldn't hold back your own desires any longer.

Quickly standing up, you undressed yourself completely before climbing on top of Neuvillette. He was still absent minded, only subconsciously realising that you were there, as his hands placed themselves on your thighs like they had a mind of their own.

With a smile, you lean down to press a gentle kiss on his neck, your bare breasts grazing over his chest in the process, your nipples brushing over his skin which sent a course of pleasure through your own veins.

When Neuvillette seemed to slowly come back into reality, that was when you began to grind your bare pussy against his cock, which quickly snapped his eyes open again, turning his head to you in a shocked expression.

"A-Again? But.. but I just-!", you shut him up with a passionate kiss as you continue to grind yourself against him, already feeling how he was growing hard again. A small whimper left Neuvillette, still so sensitive from the orgasm he just had.

"You can cum again for me, right?", you ask as you break the kiss. You looked so serene above him, grinding your pussy on him, that Neuvillette could only nod. Whatever it is you wanted, he would do it. And if you wanted him to cum again, then he would.

"Good~", you smile as you reach down to wrap your hand around his now hard cock, keeping it in place as you began to sink down on it. Neuvillette whimpered as the tip of his dick slipped into you, feeling how wet you already are. His hands gripped at your thighs, his nails digging into the skin, leaving marks, but you didn't mind that at all.

In one long motion, you managed to take his entire lenght, moaning out as you sat down on him, feeling his dick throb inside of you. Neuvillette on the other hand was thrashing around underneath you. Your walls clamping around him so tight felt so good, he wanted to just thrust into you repeatedly, never stopping until you both were incoherent messes. Tears were now running down his cheeks freely, he felt so good that he couldn't hold them back any longer, as well as the moans and whimpers that left him. Not that he cared for that anymore.

"You doing okay, darling?", he heard your voice from above.

"Yes, yes!", he nodded his head along to his words. "Please, move! I.. I can't.. Please, (Name)!"

How could you ever refuse him?

With a smile, you place one hand on his chest to help you balance yourself, as you then slowly raise your hips again. His cock pulling out of you, until only the tip remained inside, then you sank down on him again, soft and slow. It was just like before when you were pleasuring him with your hand, the slow pace was killing him, breaking his mind completely.

Neuvillette threw his head back, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he absentmindedly began to beg even more. "Please, faster! Please, please! I need more!"

And you complied, picking up the pace of your hips as you were riding him, getting faster and also a bit sloppier with every bounce you made on top of him. His cock was hitting all the good parts inside you, stretching you out so good that moan after silent moan was escaping you now as well as the waves of your building orgasm approaching you.

"Mhm, Neuvi.. You feel so good inside of me~", you moan out as you lean over him, once again attacking his neck with kisses. All the while, you never once stopped bouncing on his cock.

"Agh! AHH! Yes, Yes! Ohhh, oh no.. I-I'm already... AGH, so close!", Neuvillette moaned, his own hips now meeting your thrusts, making his dick hit even deeper parts inside of you, which in turn caused you to moan against his neck.

"Agghnn... c-cumming! cummigcummingcumming!", he screamed and with one final thrust up into you, his hips stilled as he came inisde you, his nails digging even deeper into the flesh of your thighs as he released his load. You felt rope after rope of his cum fill you up, and the throbbing of his cock. Quickly, you slip a hand between your bodies to rub against your sensitive clit. The extra stimulation was all that you needed and a few moments later, you felt your own orgasm crashing in over you.

You cried out as you rode the waves of euphoria, your walls clamping down on his cock even harder, rhythmically, and the feeling caused Neuvillette to groan, burrying himself even deeper within you.

It took a while for the both of you to come down from your climax again, you were both breathing heavily. Your legs were shaking from the intensity of your orgasm, and so, you simply collapsed on top of Neuvillette, his arms instantly wrapping around your figure.

His now limp dick was still inside you, but neither of you cared for that right now. Now, the only important thing was to cuddle and bask in the afterglow together...

[heartelysia]

hello ! im not sure if u take requests but if u do, pls do a choso x f reader where he breeds them... n makes them a mommy.. :3 choso brainrot im sorry 😭

this is super similar to a fic im getting ready to publish so im going to turn this into a thirst! if u dont mind .. °=° UGHHH I LOVE CHOSO!!

cw ; cum-stuffing, breeding, creampie, body praise/praise

choso is the type of partner to be so fucking whiny in bed, his cheeks dusted with a rosy pink as he sloppily slams his pelvis against yours in a desperate attempt at smacking your sensitive g-spot.

choso who ruts his hips into yours uncontrollably, whiny moans escaping his lips mixed with his soft praises, "g-god.. fuck! you're... youre so pretty baby.. god you're so fucking gorgeous", he slurs out, drunkenly thrusting into your sloppy cunt.

hes so pussy drunk his hands randomly wander all over your body, digging his blunt fingertips into whatever curves he finds whilst hammering his hips into yours. everything blurs together in the heat of the moment, the sloppy sounds of your sweet cunny hungrily swallowing his cock makes his mushroom tip throb against your g-spot. "so- so happy to be with y-you! 'm so luck.. lucky!"

choso pulls out almost entirely before slamming back in, hitting your bruising cervix with every stroke. each time he bottomed out, he felt your walls deliciously rippling around him, sending electric shocks straight to his veiny cock. his pace quickened, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his words come out in broken sentences. "i... i love yo- you...! shit- shit, go- god why are y.. you so ah.. perfect?," he growled, pulling out and pushing back in harder.

hes breathless each time his cock rips another whiny moan from your drooling lips. his hands hopelessly stuttering in its wake of dragging your soft flesh into calloused palms. choso's eyes are blown wide as they seem to only fixate onto your pretty face covered in a thin layer of sweat whilst his pupils catch a glimpse of your bouncing tits teasing him.

his hair loosely fell from his buns, framing his vision to only stare down at you - his beloved. a low, almost animalistic groan rumbles in his throat as his movements became faster and harder, his hips snapping against yours in tight rhythm. his fingers dig into your plush thighs, massaging them as he drove deeper into you as if he was lost in a deep trance.

god, choso thinks he hit the jackpot with you. sometimes he cant help but get nervous around you, you were just so perfect for him and possibly better in his mind, words just come out like vomit. "p-please- please baby.. please- please let me breed your pretty ah! p-pussy! w-wanna cum inside...!", choso pleads, uncontrollably rutting his throbbing cock till it smudges your cervix.

your hands immediately grasp onto the sheets behind your head, knuckles turning white as your body still registers the deliciously painful thrust of your partner grazing your cervix. a guttural groan escapes chosos lips when he feels your thighs tense up, his eyes desperately searched your glazed over pupils for any sort of conformation. whiny so prettily when your only response was a broken moan.

the sound of your moans filled the room, echoing off the walls. they were music to his ears, fuel to his fire. he picked up the pace, slamming into you rougher, faster, his cock carving its shape inside of you.

his hand releases its bruising grip on your soft hips, a cool burning sensation was left behind as his hand stumbles over to your breast, massaging and pinching your hard nipple between his calloused fingertips. "please... please b-baby! ngh- fuck! let me c-cum in you... b-beggin' to knock you up..!", he pleaded, angling his hips a little differently so his angry mushroom tip constantly grazes your sensitive cervix.

he loved the way you arched your back and cried out in pleasure when he did that. it turned him on even more, knowing he could make you feel this way. chosos eyes glimmer in delight when a high-pitched 'yes' made it past your drooling mouth. something in his brain clicked when your head did the weakest nod known to man.

choso grabbed your leg, lifting it up and hooking it over his broad shoulder, giving him better access to your weeping pussy. he plunged into you again and again, hitting your g-spot ruthlessly. you moaned and cried out in ecstasy, body shuddering and trembling underneath him.

"y- g'nna cum prett- pretty girl?", he bites back a moan when your sweet cunt ripples around his cock, "cmon.. shit- cum for me princess...", choso mumbles, reaching down to lightly press his thumb onto your nub. perhaps that was all you need.

the simple action of his calloused fingertip pressing up against your clit instead of his pelvis teasing it made the unbearable coil in your stomach to snap almost instantly. tears flow freely down your cheeks as your entire body freezes up, choso groans at the sight, the happiest smile on his lips.

and then, he felt it - the familiar rush of release coursing through his veins. even for himself, it was rather embarrassing at the broken moan he let out as his hips stuttered violently against your hole. your partner emptied himself into you, his hot, sticky cum filled you up, coating your insides with him.

for a moment, you both just rested there, hearts racing in unison. even in the afterglow, choso doesnt pull out, his cock still hard despite having just cum inside you. he smiled down at you, seeing the fucked-out expression on your face.

"mmm.. gonna plug you up so you will be carrying a miniature us around."

[sommerregenjuniluft]

Evan and regulus lying side by side on the bed with barty taking turns going down on each of them, sucking Evan off slow and good and eating regulus out till his thighs are shaking and evan and regulus can’t keep their hands off of each other

oooohhhh hell yeah nonny and actually dont ask me why but my mind immediately went to like verbal humiliation/degradation sorta vibe where

hold on (NSFW)

Evan pulls Barty off by the hair, grip harsh and Barty whines openly, mouth dripping with spit and cum. Both his and Regulus’.

The air of their bedroom is harsh and cool against Evan’s slick and exposed erection but Regulus had started to hump his hand helplessly so Evan guides Barty’s face back down and buries it between Regulus’ legs.

The moan from Regulus is immediate, his back bowing, and Evan wastes no time mouthing along his exposed throat where his head is thrown back, usually neat curls mussed by the pillow. He takes himself back in hand, stroking slowly, just enough to keep the stimulation up but not enough to get himself somewhere close to the edge.

“Fuck,” Regulus explaims and Barty groans hungily in response, chasing after where Regulus’ hips are jerking away from the intense onslaught of stimulation.

Evan hums, kissing his way down along Regulus’ clavicles, his chest, as he watched Barty try to dig deeper into Regulus’ wet and puffy cunt. When his eyes snap up and meet Evan’s, he moans pitifully, hips rutting down into the mattress.

“Look at how desperate you are for it,” Evan comments between kisses to Regulus’ skin, “Gagging for it, panting like a fucking dog—some dirty mutt.”

Barty’s brows furrow, eyes squeezing shut, and he makes another needy groan against Regulus’ slick folds. The wet noises are obscene.

Evan drives his fingers through Barty’s sweaty hair again and tugs him back off, detaching his mouth from Regulus with a wet smacking noise and a whine from both of them.

“Aren’t we generous to let you get us off, huh?”

A vehement hum, frantic nodding, and Barty strains to lower his face back down. Hissing in pain when Evan keeps him suspended, grip iron.

“Words, stupid.” Next to Evan, Regulus lazily props up on his elbows, watching the spectacle with a glimmer in his eyes.

“Yes,” Barty rasps, throat raw from having Evan’s cock down there again and again for the past half hour. His jaw must be aching. “Yeah, you are.”

Evan hums and the corners of Regulus lips lift devilishly, “What do we say then?”

Barty blinks stupidly for a second, then his eyes clear a bit and a feral grin spreads across his face where he’s still glistening wet with the both of them. “I dunno, what do we say?”

Before Evan has time to reply Regulus’ moves, arm snapping out and palm slapping Barty right across his cheek, sending his head flying and the cocky smirk right with it.

When he turns back his face is flushed but Evan thinks it must be equal parts aroused blush and Regulus’ lovely hand print.

“Manners,” Regulus admonishes in his high and mighty and poised tone, like he didn’t just hit Barty right across his face.

A sound rips from deep within Barty’s throat and then his tongue is lolling out, eyes glazed again, and he whimpers, “Thank you.”

[just-some-random-blogger]

*pulls up into this drive thru* a morpheus x reader smut to go please! newly crowned queen of the dreaming is so close to going crazy for how INSANELY GENTLE Morpheus can be so she lowkey asks him to smack her ass like once, maybe twice, or like ᵐᵃʸᵇᵉ ᶜʰᵒᵏᵉ ʰᵉʳ ᵈᵘʳᶦⁿᵍ ˢᵐᵉˣʸ ᵗᶦᵐᵉ, pssh i dont know, possibly overstim them both aha ᵐᵘˡᵗᶦᵖˡᵉ ᵗᶦᵐᵉˢˀˀˀˀˀ thank you!! *drives to the next window*

As You Command

Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: Yeah RIP that badussy -me

Word Count: shits prolly gon be 2k (lol nearly there) 1k+

Warnings: literally PWP, fem!reader, smut (bondage, edging, over stim, choking, fingering, vaginal penetration, praise kink), typos, etc.

A/N: OK PULLUP HO MINORS DNI Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

"Dream," I trail off, rolling from where I laid next to him to straddle his thighs. Dream looks up at me, hands instinctively falling to my hips, eyes raking in my figure.

He calls out my name in response. I nibble my lower lip as I feel my skin prick with goosebumps.

"I have a confession to make."

"Hmm," his pouty lips curve upward, "confess to me."

I lick my lips and take in the sight of his toned body beneath me, still bare from our previous love making. I bite at my lip as I grind my core on his hardening length.

His hands that make their way up to knead my soft breasts freeze when I ungraciously admit, "I want you to choke me."

Dream is as still as a statue.

"No, wait, I didn't mean it like that-" I cut myself off when one of his hands grab at my neck. There was no pressure to it, in fact his thumb sweetly rubbed my skin, and yet it was enough to make my stomach roll.

I whimper when his clutch begins to slowly constrict. His other hand goes down to my hip, kneading the flesh there firmly.

"Is this good?" he asks.

I nod as I he readjusts his hand. He brings one of his fingers up to my lips and I lean into him when he does so.

He guides my movements as I grow wetter while rutting against him. He notes, "you seem to have meant you wanted me to choke you very literally."

I grunt, "I- I..."

He withdraws his hand from my neck to allow me to gather my thoughts. I sigh at the lack of contact and grab his hand with my own, placing it back where it was, "I meant..." I start, "you treat me like I'm so precious, and I love that, but..." I press down on his hand, "I won't break if you get a bit rough with me."

My stomach drops when Dream pulls away so he could bring himself to sit down and adjust me while he atop him along the way. I let out a sigh when he brushes my hair back and digs his fingers in the roots of my hair, making me tilt my head up to him as he leans in to breathe against my neck, "do you mean to tell me you do not enjoy my attentiveness to your needs, wife?"

My stomach breaks into butterflies at the recently unlocked pet name.

I don't have the mind to answer, and he makes me yelp when I am pushed back on the bed with him hovering above me.

I let out groan when he grabs my hands and pins it over my head with one hand, his other lands on the base of my neck. I call out his name when he enters me slowly, his hips roll into mine so deliciously.

"For someone so sweet, you think of things so naughty, my dear," he mutters with a ghost of a smile.

I am a mess of breath and lewd noises beneath him when he picks up his pace. He gives me exactly what I want. This is why it was so jarring when he pulled away.

The next thing I know, I am in a dark room, standing on my feet with my wrists dangling over head, bound by something, I did not know what.

I feel my core throbbing at the sudden lack of contact. I could barely stand properly with the ache between my legs.

A shiver runs down my spine when my thigh is grabbed and propped down on a shoulder. I feel him kiss me from my knee, all the way up my anticipating heat, but then he stops.

"Do you want me to continue, my love?"

"Yes," I breathily reply.

I let out a confused whimper when my leg is released and suddenly I feel like I'm alone. It's too damn dark that I open and close my eyes to check if I could tell a difference. There wasn't any.

"Perhaps," he whispers, suddenly behind me. I shudder when his hands land on my hips, one slowly moves between my dripping wetness, "I should take you with my fingers."

I call out his name when he does just that, stroking me slowly. I lean against him, head finding its place against his shoulder. I arch my back against him, yearning for more.

Dream, knowing well the measures of my body, indulges me with a quicker pace while his other hand cups my breast. He then does the cruel thing of slowing down and pulling away.

I whine at the lack of contact, "please, Dream, don't stop."

The feeling of him behind me disappears. His deep humming reverberates through my entire body, "I thought you wanted to be less attentive, more rough."

"I never said less attentive!"

He laughs.

All of a sudden, my bounds are released and I topple forward, hands finding themselves on a surface in front of me I wasn't aware was even there. I bet there wasn't a while ago.

I try to pull away, but I find myself bound again. A panic shoots up my stomach.

All at once, Dream grabs my chin face and asks, "would you like me to stop?"

I shake my head in his hands, "no, no, please, don't stop."

"Are you certain? I felt my your agita-"

"FUCK ME DREAM!"

"..."

"..."

"... please?"

I let out a guttural cry when all at once, he is behind me, "well, since my desperate queen asked so nicely."

He begins ramming into me like it was his life's purpose, his only use. I am a mess against him. I relish the feel of his fingers digging into my hips, the feel of his roughness against my ready core.

At the rate he was going, I would embarrassingly come undone in a few minutes.

"Please," I whine, "don't stop!"

My head drops as he grips me tighter. I am forced to my toes when he angles me up against him. My nails dig into the surface where my hands are propped on.

"That's it, sweet girl," Dream grunts, "come around me like the good girl you are."

My arms begin to give out against his pace. My stomach begins to tighten. I don't even realize I'm unbound until I nearly slip from my place while chasing my high.

I'm calling out his name when I come undone against him. Dream's grip is what keeps me from crumpling down.

My breath his heavy, my throat is stuffed with deeply pleasured groans.

The next thing I know, we're in a different position, and yet he is still milking my reaction for all he's got. My legs and arms are wrapped around him. My bum is supported by a hard surface, and my head was dangling behind me like my neck had no strength left to keep it up.

He has me sealed against him, his hand even carries my heavy head as I continue to groan and spasm because of my high.

The ecstasy slowly begins to fade. I let out a discomforted whine when he does not stop.

Dream makes me lean against him as his hands trail down to my thighs, "I want you to come around me again, my pretty girl."

"Dream-"

"I think you can take it," he mutters against me, hips still snapping in the same pace still.

I whine his name out as I bring my face near his, reeling back with sharp breathes in a mix of pleasure and pain.

"Do you think you can take it, beloved?"

I bite down on his neck as I pull him close to me, unsure of what else to do at the feel of his harsh ministrations.

I feel myself calm down when he pulls out. He leans back, giving himself the opportunity to grab my face.

"My love?"

I don't even realize my eyes were closed when suddenly I see his face as light slowly shines around us.

I pant as I take in my form, his form. I grab at him when I see his hardened length, taunt against his stomach. I pull him towards me as I turn my gaze back to his face, "I can take it," I say rather desperately.

He calls my name out, but hisses when I grab him and guide him back into me.

"You do n-"

"I can take it!" I whine, closing my eyes at the feel of him. I pull him closer, sealing my arms around him, "I want to make you feel good too."

Dream releases a sigh, kissing my cheeks repeatedly as he adjusts me by my thighs again, "I feel good knowing I made you feel good."

I whimper, rocking my hips against him when he still does not move, "I'll feel good once you've come inside me."

My breath begins to hike up again when Dream meets my movements with much quicker ones. He takes my lips into his, only releasing me when he feels my need for air.

"You are so good to me, my queen," he mutters in praise, "so good, so sweet, and all mine."

"Yes, Dream," I groan, "you can do whatever you want- I'm all yours."

That seems to be the exact push he needs.

I fall to my back. My eyes break open at the softness suddenly beneath me. I realize we're back where we started, in our bed, making it creak with our strenuous activity.

The sight of his delirious face makes my stomach coil in telltale anticipation. I screw my eyes shut and arch against him when repositions himself above me, hitting that sensitive spot that has me screaming.

"So good to me," Dream says.

I whine out similar words, "fuck, yes, so, so good."

Dream sinks down against my neck, readying himself for his impending undoing.

We continue like this, closely taking in our incoherence while Dream made the bed quake. He really is so good at what he does that I feel my stomach build again.

"Is my queen going to come now?"

"Yes, yes, yes, Dream, I'm so close."

He kisses my cheek as he rises slightly to allow himself a more secured position.

I feels like I died and came back to life when I come around him. The feeling is much more intense this second time around because of how hot and thick Dream's own orgasm feels inside of me. I'm as tense as rocks beneath him, then I'm softer than putty. My pulse is loud in my ears, and yet it is drowned out by the sound of me calling out to my husband.

He breaks into me until there's nothing left of the both of us. We're both spent and breathless by the end of it

He allows me to gain but a semblance of consciousness when he kisses me and rolls to my side.

I can't think when he pulls me close.

I have no idea why he even asks me anything after that.

"Are you alright, my love?"

I only answer him with my pants.

Dream presses a kiss on my cheek, hand rubbing my belly, "I did not want to do this, but I think I must attend to some business in the Dreaming for a moment, lest my concerns with one of the nightmares worsen."

I turn to him, eyes wide and questioning.

"I will not be long, I swear it."

When I finally get that he meant to leave, I nod my head slowly, "yeah... I'll... stay here."

Dream offers me a soft smile and kisses me one last time. I make myself whimper when I readjust on my spot.

[treetownconfessions]

I dont see people writing stories about fliqpy liking weighted blankets because its such an obscure and stupid thing to headcanon,

because if its important as you say then why arent people making fics and art and stuff about it?

Fuck you.

-

The nice thing about being able to do whatever he wanted, figuratively and literally, extended itself to transactional purposes. Nobody had the courage to stop him from making irresponsible purchases aside from his own host, lest they dig their grave ahead of time. They had the money, and he had the time, so it wasn't like it was going to waste.

His most recent purchase was not actually their first. Flippy had cheerfully presented him a weighted blanket he bought before, assuring him the extra pressure was cozy and nice. He had to experience it to believe it— it sounded restricting and uncomfortable, even wildly unnecessary given their regular blanket worked as intended. How nice it was, discovering Flippy was right! Yet equally surprising. He nearly felt betrayed he wasn’t introduced to it earlier, as if weighted blankets were some big secret Flippy withheld from him this whole time.

The issue did not derive from the fact Fliqpy liked it. The issue was he liked it too much, and one was simply not enough. He swiftly bought a second, expecting it to satiate this deep-rooted desire. It wasn’t until he got a third that Flippy kindly asked him to sleep on the couch, as he was the only one sleeping with these extra additions on his side of the bed, and was giving the mattress an uneven slant. He obliged.

He slept with three weighted blankets, stacked on top of each other as neatly as pages in a book. He took an odd amount of comfort in knowing he could push it all off by his own hand whenever he wanted, when such an amount of external pressure would normally make him panic. Fliqpy didn't know of the origin—not yet, anyway, but he did know he wanted more, and shook Flippy awake in the middle of the night to request he sleep on top of Fliqpy. The other bear groggily (and a little confusedly) accepted, much to Fliqpy's delight. The situation was becoming more of an experiment to find out when he'd cross the line between comfortable-and-uncomfortable rather than napping purposes, but he was okay with that.

Before they settled down in their silly log house, in their comfy bed, where Fliqpy had the luxury of sleeping with multiple weighted blankets atop him and the time to waste with it, the blankets given to them at camps and fronts were, at best, uncomfortable. They captured the stark difference between being heavy and awkward to put around yourself, or the thickness that could rival a napkin; there was no middleground. It wasn't the coziest, but it got the job done. That was all he knew for a while, and it came as a shock when discovering they could have blankets for comfort, and not just efficiency. But laying under the extra weight like this when it was achingly similar to the blankets back in the military was making him wonder if he genuinely liked it, or if it was out of nostalgia.

He wanted to try sleeping on the floor with the blankets, to really capture the uncomfortable-cot feeling and heavy blanket combination to test his theory. Flippy shut that down fast, telling him he wanted him to sleep restfully while they had the privilege of doing so.

Fliqpy couldn’t argue with that.

Though, nostalgia for a time he hadn’t even liked in hindsight sounded, and was, ridiculous. Perhaps the simplicity of his understanding back then was what drove this feeling— but even he knew that was a lie. The thought both relaxed him further into the cushions and made him want to impulsively rip it all off. He hated when his mind was torn between two things; it'd be simpler if he had one feeling and stuck to it. That was too convenient for him.

"I didn't ask to like it this much. I don’t even know why." he flopped down on the couch, frustrated, and gave his host a mild glare to go with it. "You make it sound like I'm doing it deliberately."

Flippy popped a melatonin: he did everynight, it was routine. He slept better than Fliqpy; he didn't stir at every sound like he did and he was satisfied as long as he had something cozy to press up to. He met Fliqpy's eyes with an exasperated look, but it was nothing malicious. "You wanted three of them."

He bought a fourth the next night, and tucked it over both of them. Four weighted blankets and Flippy on top of him. Like laying under rubble, and he reminded himself he could undo all of it anytime he wanted to avoid creeping panic. He could feel Flippy's lazy purring on him even through all the thick fabric, and he listened keenly to every creak and settle in the house. He wasn't laying on the floor, but it was reminiscent of how he used to sleep in the military anyway, and Fliqpy found himself hating it. A profound sense of disappointment washed over him when the fourth addition had not kept him yearning for more: it subdued it. It angered him when he didn’t like it, and then he was angry over his anger of not liking it. He felt empty knowing he was satisfied with this amount, that anymore would cross the line of comfortable like he wanted initially.

Had he liked the chase more than the end result? It wouldn't be the first time it happened to him, but it sounded stupid to compare that to his weighted blanket dilemma. He slept with the regular blanket that night. The weight was gone—though he was tempted to ask Flippy to lay on him again because the feeling was nice—and that earlier dread was replaced with fulfillment. It was airier and easy to snooze in; he just couldn't shake his changing sleeping habits.

It was cut short when he tried to buy a coverlet, with Flippy’s quiet intervention. "I'll knit you something cozy," he'd said with a sigh, "so you don't have to switch between blankets all the time, okay?"

anon you have watered my fucking crops and healed me

[ohsomightypeaches]

*gasp* it's here 🔥

But he can’t do his fucking hair.

Same. I felt that deeply.

Don’t be gentle, Francisco. C’mon, harder, deeper - don’t hold back.

That's what she said 😃

Meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror, Frankie rips into him mercilessly. ‘You know your small ass condoms don’t fit me, Benjamin.’ 

💀💀💀💀

Will joins in the banter. ‘You better watch out, little bro. Big Dick Morales came out swinging tonight.’

Screaming 💀💀💀💀WILLIAM

Frankie shrugs in mock nonchalance and quips, ‘I mean, I can use the cash. Shampoo ain’t cheap.’

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Frankie clears his throat and stutters. ‘Um. I - I don’t know.’

His brain short circuited and he panicked 💀💀💀

‘Pipe down, Morales, we’re just messing with you,’ you shush him, tugging on his slightly skewed shirt collar to set it straight. ‘Can’t believe you own a tie.’

💀💀💀💀 WAIT WHY WOULDNT HE OWN AT LEAST THE ONE TIE I HAVE QUESTIONS FRANCISCO. IS MY MANS A FERAL CAT?! 3 IN 1 AND NOW NOT EVEN A SINGLE TIE?!?!? 😌 I'd still take him

‘Borrowed it from Pope,’ he grunts without making eye contact.

Oh sweetie.

‘I see you haven’t dyed my son’s hair like I requested,’ she says by way of a greeting, drawing you into an embrace.

😃 but the grays are 🔥🔥 maam

‘In my professional opinion, he does,’ you retort pointedly.

👏👏👏👏

‘If he looks so good, why is he still single?’

😃 damn. You did not need to dig in like that ma.

Mrs. Morales scoffs. ‘They’re men, what do they know! I don’t see him catching any girls’ attention.’

Mama Morales is ruthless.

You raise your drink. ‘Don’t you worry, Mrs M. I promise you - he’ll be leaving with his future wife tonight!’

LOL

‘You can’t marry her, Fish.’

😤 excuse me santiago garcia why not WHY NOT COME BACK HERE AND EXPLAIN YOURSELF

‘Why aren’t you dancing, my little debutante?’ you ask when you come within earshot.

My little debutante 🤣

Except in your mind, it’s not water that he’s wiping from his mouth.

👀🔥

‘Hi! You must be Frankie, I’m Jan.’

NO SHOO GO AWAY LEAVE HIM ALONE

He scoffs. ‘No, thank you.’

😤 he said what he said

‘That never gets old,’ you smirk. ‘Although, I promised your mother you’d leave with your future wife tonight - so that’s a bust.’

🤭

Instead, you blurt out, ‘Why?’

GIRL NO WHY

Your poor second-hand Ikea bed that Benny helped set up when you moved in was not made for this.

🤷‍♀️ I mean if it gets broken you get a new one easy peasy

With an insolent grin, you tease, ‘You’re a big boy, aren’t you, Morales?’

🔥🔥🔥🔥 that sza snl skit song immediately started playing in my head help

‘Eyes on me,’

😳🫣🥵

For a second, Frankie lies on his side, watching you quietly. You watch him back, casting your gaze over the curls stuck to his sweaty forehead and his broad outline backlit by your nightstand light. Before self-consciousness can settle into the small distance between you, he cracks a smile and quips, ‘You did say I’d get laid even if it killed you.’

Ha

‘The door’s thin, Shiv, I can hear him. And we put two and two together when you guys disappeared last night. We're pretty, but we ain't dumb!’

They ARE pretty 😌

‘Damn, that good, huh?’ he laughs. ‘I mean, Fish does have a rep, but I've never had insider confirmation.’

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀BENJAMIN

‘Morning, stud,’ sing-songs Benny, which earns him a slap on the head. ‘Ow! What the fuck, Shiv!’

💀💀💀

Benny, being the shithead that he is, interjects loudly. ‘Hey lovebirds, I’m kind of on the clock here, if you don’t mind -’

BENNY DONT BE RUDE

Swiping the bill from Benny, Frankie winks at you before pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth - chaste, but charged with meaning. ‘Looks like you paid for your own dinner, Shiv.’

SCREAMING 💀💀💀💀💀

‘Yeah right - as if you would now that you know what you’ll be missing.’

💀 FRANCISCO he's not wrong tho lol

‘It’s exactly what it looks like,’ interrupts Benny as he starts singing. ‘Shiv and Frankie sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-’

💀💀💀💀💀💀 fucking in a tree doesn't sound pleasant tho. I know that's not the point but man no thank you

‘He even drives sexy,’ sighs Ashton dreamily. Nudging you in the side, he adds slyly, ‘You’re in so much trouble, Shiv.’

💯 nothing but facts

🥺 I love them. That's all.

Grays II

Frankie Morales x f!reader

{ Grays - Part I | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Leaning in close, you hiss in his ear, ‘You’re getting laid tonight if it kills me, Morales.’

Warnings: Insecure Frankie in need of self-love comes with his own warning, Reader is a hairstylist and has a related nickname, matchmaking elements, meddlesome mother, lots of teasing, not-quite-friends to lovers dynamics, mentions of hair, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, oral sex (F and M receiving), protected sex, dirty talk.

Word count: 8.5k

Notes: It's here - 4 months later! First of all, thank you so much for the love for Grays Part I. I still can't quite believe the reaction to Frankie and Shiv, you guys sure know how to make a writer feel special 🥰 This one was so much fun to write, and nervous as I am posting this follow-up, I'm telling myself to let go of my insecurities and just enjoy it because that's what it's all about. I hope y'all will have a good time at this wedding with the gang 😘

Francisco Morales likes to think of himself as a reasonably competent man. 

He can pilot a helicopter under intense enemy fire. He can take out a target from miles away in the tightest of spots. 

But he can’t do his fucking hair.

He glares at himself in the mirror. He can’t put his finger on it, it just doesn’t look like how you did it. He’s already washed it out and started over twice, and for a second, he considers driving to your salon. A quick glance at his watch tells him it’s far too late for that now.

Leaning over the sink, he says to his reflection, ‘Focus, pendejo. You can do it.’

He’s a pilot for fuck’s sake. He’s a man of procedure, he can follow steps. He just needs to break it down.

Hair half-dry - check.

Hair mousse applied - check.

Now he just needs to dry his hair all the way and style it - but the how is where it gets hazy. 

Frankie closes his eyes and casts his mind back to your salon. He’s sitting in the chair and you’re standing behind him. He wills himself to recall what you were doing with your hands, but all he remembers is the scrape of your of your fingertips on his scalp, the ghost of your breath on the back of his neck, and then -

Don’t be gentle, Francisco. C’mon, harder, deeper - don’t hold back.

He scrubs a frustrated palm down his face when his cock twitches in his haphazardly ironed dress pants, not for the first time… hell, not even the fourth time since he left your salon on Wednesday afternoon.

‘Goddamnit,’ he bites out, dropping the hairdryer with a clunk and grips the porcelain sink. He needs to calm the fuck down. 

He didn’t ask for - this, whatever this is. You’re you. You’re Shiv. The loudmouth with the wild hair he’s known since fifth grade. The fourth wheel at guys’ drinks when Will can’t make it. A relentless tease on a good day, and downright insufferable when you get enough tequila in you.

And quite possibly, the only person who’s ever driven him to the brink of unconsciousness with just the touch of their bare hands.

Frankie pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe you’re right. It has been a while since he’s been with a woman. He just needs to get laid at the wedding, get this weird tension out of his system. And then hopefully, he’ll be able to go to sleep without being kept up by you telling him to go harder, deeper -

By the time he gets his head out of his ass, it’s too late for second-guessing. He rakes his fingers through his hair, sets it with hairspray, and quickly rubs the beard oil he bought in town yesterday into his whiskers. He takes a moment to look himself over while he clumsily does up the tie he borrowed from Pope.

This is as good as it’s gonna get.

He’s the designated driver tonight. By some miracle, he’s only five minutes late when he cruises into Pope’s driveway, where all three of the boys are waiting and sipping on beers.

‘Damn Fish, you look good,’ crows Santi as he climbs into the passenger seat, patting him on the shoulder. ‘You should get your hair cut at Shiv’s from now on.’

‘Only if you keep paying for it,’ retorts Frankie while he backs out of the driveway. He pauses as he changes gears, and adds in a grumble. ‘She’s making me use shampoo and conditioner.’

Pope barks in laughter, twisting in his seat to give Benny a knowing grin. ‘Someone had to, you caveman.’

The younger Miller brother ribs good-naturedly, ‘You ready for some action tonight, Fish? I brought some extra rubbers just in case.’

Meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror, Frankie rips into him mercilessly. ‘You know your small ass condoms don’t fit me, Benjamin.’ 

The car erupts with playful jeers, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a crooked smile as he palms the steering wheel.

‘That’s some fighting talk, Fish!’ goads Santi, punching him on the arm.

Will joins in the banter. ‘You better watch out, little bro. Big Dick Morales came out swinging tonight.’

Benny grins. ‘Ok, I see how it is. Let’s make it interesting, Fish. Whoever picks up a one night stand first wins a hundred bucks.’

Frankie shrugs in mock nonchalance and quips, ‘I mean, I can use the cash. Shampoo ain’t cheap.’

Benny chuckles and clasps his shoulder. ‘You’re on, man.’

It’s eight on the dot when you lock up the salon. While you did RSVP for wedding drinks - opting out of the sit-down dinner earlier in the evening - you hadn’t planned on actually going. But it seems like the whole town did, you’ve barely had two customers walk through the door all afternoon. 

So you let Ashton go home early, and after a quick snack, you take your time getting ready. Might as well have a Saturday night out - your first in many months.

The hotel is just a short Uber ride away. When you climb out of the car, you bite your bottom lip at the unfamiliar tension humming under your skin.

Nerves.

You’re nervous.

And worse, you know exactly what you’re nervous about. 

Or more precisely - who.

‘Pull it together, Shiv,’ you mutter under your breath. Steeling yourself, you stride into the hotel.

From his vantage point at the bar, Benny watches in amusement as Frankie glances towards the doors of the reception hall yet again. He doubts the pilot even knows he’s doing it, or at the very least, he doesn’t think that anyone would notice.

Grabbing his beer, Benny sidles up to his friend. ‘Looking for something, Fish?’

Frankie takes a sip of his Coke and feigns nonchalance. ‘Yeah, looking to win that hundred bucks from you.’

‘Dunno ‘bout that. I don’t see you trying very hard.’

‘Biding my time, Miller. Just make sure you have enough cash to -’ 

When Frankie breaks off in the middle of his sentence, Benny doesn’t need to look to wager a guess what caught his attention.

Turning around as you approach, he flings his arms out to give you a hug, eyeing you up and down appreciatively. ‘Babe, look at you all dressed up! Doesn’t she look nice, Fish?’

In lieu of an answer, Frankie stares intently at some invisible spot over your shoulder until Benny elbows him right in his stomach, jerking him out of his trance. ‘Fish?’

Frankie clears his throat and stutters. ‘Um. I - I don’t know.’

You arch an eyebrow at him. ‘You don’t know if I look nice?’

Benny has to stopper his mouth with beer so he doesn’t laugh out loud at the panic on Frankie’s face as he fumbles for a response. ‘I mean. Um, nice… pants?’

‘It’s a jumpsuit, Morales. Try to keep up,’ you reply and take two steps towards him, which has him backpedalling so fast that he upsets the table behind him, sending half-empty glasses spilling wine all over the white tablecloth.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he growls at you like a cornered stray.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you pull him upright by his tie. ‘Is he ok, Ben? He’s even jumpier than usual.’

‘Well, it’s a funny night for him. Watching his ex get married and all.’

‘I swear to God, Benjamin Miller, if you don’t shut the fuck up -’ 

‘Pipe down, Morales, we’re just messing with you,’ you shush him, tugging on his slightly skewed shirt collar to set it straight. ‘Can’t believe you own a tie.’

‘Borrowed it from Pope,’ he grunts without making eye contact.

Smoothing the lapels of his slightly crumpled suit jacket, you probe, ‘You’ve been using shampoo and conditioner like I asked?’

Frankie huffs a dry laugh. ‘I don’t remember you asking.’

‘Someone’s mouthy tonight,’ you tease. ‘And the beard oil?’

He concedes with a sigh. ‘Yes, Shiv.’

‘You look good, Francisco,’ you grin and reach up to push his curls back from his eyes.

He looks away as he admits, ‘Took three fucking tries.’

At least he holds still when you make small adjustments to his hair, shoulders stiff with hands stuffed deep into his pockets. You catch yourself missing the way he leaned into your touch in your salon, and you have to forcefully push that thought away as you push your fingers through the roots to boost the volume. His curls feel softer already than you remember them, with a noticeably healthier sheen. 

After a final rustle to loosen up his fringe, you wink at him. ‘Mark my words, the bride will rue the day she dumped your ass when she sees you.’

A voice from behind you interrupts. ‘It’s a bit too late for that now, isn’t it?’

Trading a look with Frankie, who gives you a sarcastic thumbs up, you put on a smile and turn on your heels. ‘Mrs. Morales, it’s been too long!’

‘I see you haven’t dyed my son’s hair like I requested,’ she says by way of a greeting, drawing you into an embrace.

Frankie’s taunt is so quiet that you nearly miss it. ‘Told you she’d come after you.’

Without skipping a beat, you elbow him in the ribs, ignoring his pained oomph from behind you. ‘You look wonderful tonight, ma’am.’ 

‘You can’t sweet talk your way out of my question, young lady.’

You cross your arms with a sigh. ‘I didn’t dye it because he looks good with the grays.’ 

‘Well, I don’t think so.’

‘In my professional opinion, he does,’ you retort pointedly.

‘If he looks so good, why is he still single?’

Frankie throws his hands up in exasperation. ‘Gee, thanks a lot ma.’

You turn to Benny, who has been silently watching you two spar. ‘What do you think, Miller?’

He dithers, eyes darting around in desperation until he spots Santi and his older brother coming back from the bar. ‘Look! Here are the guys, let’s ask them!’

‘Ask us what?’ asks Santi, giving you a kiss on the cheek and a glass of bubbly.

‘Do you think my son looks good with the grays?’

Your eyebrow twitches when Mrs. Morales carelessly ruffles his hair to emphasise her point. To your surprise, Frankie bats her away with an irritated ma!, before hastily rearranging it.

‘Your honest opinion, if you please,’ you add.

The boys hum and haw, sipping their beers and shooting uncertain looks between you and Mrs. Morales, clearly uncomfortable being caught in the middle. Upping the heat, you narrow your eyes at them, and Will folds first. 

‘Yeah, I mean - he looks good,’ he mumbles, avoiding the Morales matriarch's glare.

‘Pope?’ you prompt.

‘Cabrón rocking those grays,’ he nods supportively.

‘Ben?’

‘Uh huh,’ he replies vaguely, but at your menacing glare, clarifies, ‘Yes, I meant - yes, ma’am.’

Mrs. Morales scoffs. ‘They’re men, what do they know! I don’t see him catching any girls’ attention.’

Ah, that’s the easy part. You look around, scanning the crowds - and bingo, you see a brunette staring openly from across the dance floor. You hold up a finger for dramatic effect. ‘Excuse me for one second.’

Frankie looks ready for the earth to swallow him whole by the time you return with the said woman in tow. Pointing straight at him, you ask, ‘Lucy, this is Frankie. Do you think he’s hot with the grays?’

To her credit, she’s a good sport, and plays along with a cheeky wink. ‘Yeah, he is. You wanna dance, handsome?’

‘Yes, he absolutely does!’ you answer quickly before he can get a word in.

‘What the fuck, Shiv?’ Frankie seethes through clenched teeth, literally digging his heels in, but to his despair, his shoes skid uselessly on the tiled surface as you push him towards the dancefloor with this complete stranger. 

Leaning in close, you hiss in his ear, ‘You’re getting laid tonight if it kills me, Morales.’

‘Have fun, Fish!’ calls out Pope impishly, which earns him an emphatic middle finger. 

You beam at Mrs. Morales smugly. ‘And that’s how it’s done.’

‘You better keep it up, young lady,’ she says over her shoulder as she turns to leave.

You raise your drink. ‘Don’t you worry, Mrs M. I promise you - he’ll be leaving with his future wife tonight!’

Santi is minding his own business, sipping on his beer as he stakes out the ladies, when a hand shoots out from nowhere and snatches the bottle from him.

‘What the fuck, man?!’ he bristles indignantly.

Frankie polishes off the drink in one mouthful, before slamming it onto the table and demanding, ‘Where’s Shiv? I’m done. I’m not fucking dancing with anyone else.’

Pope jerks his thumb to the other side of the room. ‘She’s arguing with your mother.’

Frankie flops into a chair, the dress shoes that he never wears are pinching his feet and he fights the urge to kick them off. He folds his arms across his chest petulantly, one palm over his mouth as his eyes wander across the hall to you, where you’re gesturing madly at his ma, embroiled in an impassioned discussion, probably still about his damn hair.

You’re all dressed up tonight, which is new to him - he’s only ever seen you in jeans when you go out drinking with them, and he’s certainly never seen so much of you. The ‘jumpsuit’ (he learns something new every day) is black and cut low both front and back, and fuck, all he sees is soft skin and the dip of your curves and red lipstick -

Pope must have nipped to the bar while he wasn’t looking, and a fresh bottle of beer appears under his nose. Glancing up at his best friend, Frankie mutters, ‘Thanks.’

‘You can’t marry her, Fish.’

He chokes violently at the casual non-sequitur, spraying beer everywhere. ‘What the fuck, Pope.’

Santi beams. ‘You got that look on your face, man. I’ve seen that look before.’

‘I don’t have a look on my face.’

He chuckles, mostly to himself. 'Damn, I really should've seen this coming.'

‘What are you even on about -’ Looking up, Frankie spots you making your way over and panics. ‘Shut the fuck up, pendejo.’

‘Why aren’t you dancing, my little debutante?’ you ask when you come within earshot.

Santi chortles and takes his leave, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Good luck, Fish.’

You sink into the empty seat next to him and he deliberately twists his body away from you, drinking deeply from his bottle to drown out Santi’s words ringing in his ears. 

‘So, I heard you have a bet going on with Benny. I want splitsies if you win.’

Frankie rolls his eyes, staring resolutely anywhere but at the swell of your cleavage. ‘No.’

‘40/60.’

‘Fuck off, Shiv.’

‘30/70?’ you counter-offer.

He sighs. ‘You’re impossible.’

Ignoring him, you jump up with a happy squeak when someone Frankie vaguely recognises as a girl who used to be in your class approaches with a shy smile. You pull her close by the crook of her arm and ask, ‘Morales, you remember Sadie?’

He tries not to scowl too openly as he too gets on his feet. ‘Sure, hi Sadie.’

Herding them towards the dancefloor, you grin, ‘Go dance, get reacquainted.’

As he passes by you, Frankie grits his teeth and curls his fingers into the meat of his palms to crush the urge to reach out and touch you. 

But it’s easier to fall into your well-rehearsed roles, to toe the line that has been drawn in the sand since you were teenagers. And easier is certainly the safer option when it comes to you.

So he throws you a deliberate glare over his shoulder, with a deadpanned, ‘I hate you.’

You blow him a kiss and grin wider.

Frankie can’t hold back a relieved sigh when the interminably long song finally ends, and the woman he’s dancing with - he won’t even pretend he remembers her name - tucks his phone back into the pocket of his jacket after tapping in her number. ‘Call me, gorgeous.’

He stopped counting after the eighth woman you shepherded his way. This is it. He’s not above hiding in the toilets if that’s what it takes to make this stop.

Except he’s not quick enough. He spots you out of the corner of his eye, marching straight towards him with a fresh glass of water and a look of purpose on your face.

He doesn’t exactly know what came over him. He could probably blame it on the one and a half beers that he downed, or being pushed to the end of his tether. Whatever it is, there’s something he has to say to you, and it can’t wait.

You push the glass into his grasp. ‘Here, hydrate.’

‘Shiv -’

You’ve already swivelled around, your focus somewhere else. ‘Where is she? She was literally just behind me -’

‘Shiv -’

‘Mind you, she’s a sweet girl, but clearly not the brightest tool in the -’

His patience snaps, and he barks, ‘Shiv!’

You spin around, brow furrowed in confusion, and snarl back, ‘What?’

Frankie pauses, and you blink as his warm eyes hold yours. On an exhale, he says, ‘You look nice tonight.’

You’re vaguely aware that your jaw has gone slack, but only because his eyes follow the movement, dropping to your mouth. He considers you for a moment, head tipping just slightly to the side as he watches you. Then, satisfied that he has your attention, he brings the glass of water to his lips, throwing his head back as he drinks. 

Your breath catches in your throat when his Adam’s apple bobs with his swallow, before he leisurely swipes his lips with the back of his hand.

Except in your mind, it’s not water that he’s wiping from his mouth.

In a perfectly mirrored imitation of what transpired between you earlier in the evening, he takes two measured steps forward, prompting you to back up against the table behind you. The tinkle of glasses falling over hardly registers in the back of your mind. 

The fabric of his suit is cool on your skin, brushing your bare arm as he looms over you, so broad and warm. Though his front barely makes contact, your peripheral vision gives and all you can see is him.

‘What are you doing?’ you croak the same words back at him, hating the way your voice shakes.

Frankie smiles - really smiles at you, with no colour of the usual irony or sarcasm. Warmth settles into the creases in the corners of his eyes as he holds up the empty glass. ‘Just putting my glass away,’ he says coolly, an edge of cockiness at your tragically obvious reaction to him.

You feel your cheeks heat up as he does just that - the back of his hand bumping into your forearm as he moves, the breadth of him pinning you against the table. He doesn’t pull away, clearly basking in the way the tables have well and truly turned -

‘Hi! You must be Frankie, I’m Jan.’

Frankie squeezes his eyes shut in irritation at the voice behind him, nostrils flaring as he collects himself. A resigned smile tugs at his lips, and he tips forward, his words grazing your ear. ‘Catch you later, Shiv.’

You only let your knees buckle when he’s safely out of sight.

You’ve barely stepped back into the reception hall from a much needed bathroom break to clear your head when someone grabs you by the arm, tugging you onto the dancefloor.

‘Benny!’ You reprimand, stumbling over your feet. ‘I’m busy.’

‘Relax, Shiv. Frankie can survive on his own for a second.’

‘You’re just jealous that he’s hogging all the ladies’ attention.’

He scoffs, palms on your waist as he sways to the music. ‘He has an unfair advantage, ok? How do I compete with the bride’s ex?’

Clasping your hands around Benny’s neck, you catch Frankie’s eye over his shoulder. You wink at him casually, having somewhat recovered your bravado - it’s easier to pretend from a distance anyway. He rolls his eyes at you over Jan’s head, but he doesn’t look away, watching you with a hint of something you can’t quite make out.

Glancing up at Benny, you ask a tad bashfully, ‘I know we give Frankie a hard time about all this, but is he - ok?’

‘Why don’t you ask him yourself?’

You hesitate. ‘Well, we’re not exactly that kind of friends.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know, the kind who sit around having heart-to-hearts and painting their nails.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘What kind of friends are you, then?’ 

‘I don’t know, he probably doesn’t even count me as one,’ you admit. ‘He barely tolerates me on a good day.’

Benny shoots you a cryptic look, but before you can quiz him on it, he changes the subject abruptly. ‘Can I swing by the salon tomorrow morning? I have a promotional shoot at half past eleven.’

‘As long as you bring donuts and coffee.’

He twirls you around. ‘Deal.’

Frankie slinks out of the hotel, somehow managing to dodge both you and his mother on his way out, which he takes as a win.

It’s cold outside. He inhales deeply and feels it burn down his throat. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he watches his breath mist in front of his face, savouring the quiet.

‘Hey.’

His shoulders stiffen. He knows he should’ve been the bigger man. Should’ve sought her out first, to congratulate her.

Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve.

When he turns around eventually, she smiles brightly at him, her engagement ring catching the lights.

Closing the space between them, he presses a kiss to her cheek. ‘Congratulations. You look beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ she replies. ‘I’m glad you came. Your mum too - it was a long way to travel.’

His gaze falls to his shoes. ‘Yeah, well. You know she loves you.’

‘How are you?’ she presses on, always one for polite conversation. ‘Are you seeing anyone?’

Frankie shrugs but doesn’t answer.

‘Just because it didn’t work between us doesn’t mean I want you to be happy.’

He nods slowly. ‘I appreciate that.’

She points behind her. ‘Well, I should go back inside.’

‘Of course. I’m happy for you,’ he says. And he means it.

The hotel doors swing open, and Frankie looks up at the sharp clack of heels on the concrete. You pause at the sight of them by the curb.

‘Are you leaving, Shiv?’ the bride laments as you walk over to give her a hug.

‘I am, I’m afraid, gotta open up shop early tomorrow,’ you pull back. ‘Come by the salon any time, my treat.’

Once the bride is out of earshot, you turn to Frankie, hands on hips. ‘Alright, no more shirking, Morales. Get your ass back in there, your mother is on my case again.’

He folds his arms across his chest. ‘Oh no, I’m not going back in there without you.’

You sigh dramatically. ‘Am I the only one in this town who’s not scared of your mother?’

‘You should be,’ he snorts, then nods towards the parking lot. ‘C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.’

Taken aback by his offer, you hesitate. ‘Um - I thought you were the designated driver for the guys tonight.’

He brushes off your concerns with an easy shrug. ‘I’ll come back to get them after I drop you off.’ 

Typical Frankie - he walks off without even glancing back to see if you’re coming with him.

You smile to yourself and follow.

You must be drunker than you realised, because you’re staring. Again. For what must be the fifth time in the ten-minute drive.

It’s a lot of staring, even for you.

His jacket lies abandoned in the backseat, his tie jostled loose and the top two buttons of his shirt unfastened, sleeves bunched up to his elbows. You watch from the corner of your eye as his left hand grips the top of the steering wheel steady, fingers flexing every now and then on straight stretches of road.

As if you’re not already discreetly squeezing your thighs together, he’s also rubbing his right palm idly on his leg, the innocent rustle of fabric against skin getting you far too hot and bothered under the metaphorical collar. 

And then - your eyes trail higher - settling on the heavy bulge at the top of his spread thighs.

Fuck. You’re definitely drunk.

You mull silently to yourself that you actually prefer him in his beat-up jeans and threadbare t-shirts before catching yourself. You weren’t aware you had any preferences when it comes to Frankie Morales. And you have no business doing so.

Clearing your throat, you break the tense silence. Well, tense for you, anyway. He seems completely oblivious to your inner strife.

‘I’m sorry you didn’t win the bet.’

His lips quirk, but he keeps his eyes on the road.

‘I had another five girls lined up for you, you know.’

He scoffs. ‘No, thank you.’

You reach over to punch him on the arm playfully. ‘C’mon, you know you enjoyed the attention, Morales.’

‘You don’t know me very well, do you?’ he peers at you.

You make a face of disbelief. ‘If you hated it that much, why did you go along with it?’

Cruising into your street, his truck rolls to a smooth stop outside your salon. Frankie kills the ignition, then turns towards you. His answer is simple, and hits you right between the ribs. 

‘Because you wanted me to.’

You force a chuckle in a weak attempt to lighten the mood. ‘Since when did you care about what I wanted?’

He smooths his palm over the steering wheel and holds your gaze. ‘Sometime when I wasn’t looking.’

It would be simpler to pretend you didn’t understand what he means. To brush off this pull between you as a champagne-induced episode that you could sleep off. If you did, you could still show up at Tuesday nights drinks next week as if nothing has changed, and carry on.

It would be simpler. So you ask -

‘Do you want to come in for a nightcap?’

Frankie follows two steps behind you as you grapple with the keys on the doorstep. Once inside, the salon is quiet, and you strategically turn on the lights by the backwash, the semi-darkness making it more homey than it would have been if fully lit up. 

‘I would invite you upstairs -’ you pause and add hastily, ‘I don’t mean upstairs like, upstairs in that way - it’s just that my apartment is tiny, and the backwash is the closest thing I have to a couch. Are you okay with beer?’

‘Beer’s good, thanks,’ he answers. ‘Need a hand?’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘Oh god, please no - it’s a disaster upstairs. I’ll be right back.’

The rickety stairs creak loudly under your heels, and once you let yourself into your studio, you fall back heavily on the door, taking a second to catch your breath.

You invited him inside. 

He said yes.

You leap into action, shoving all your dirty laundry into the already full hamper. You try not to think too hard about why you’re cleaning up, you just hope you’re not making too much of a ruckus while you’re at it - because you have a boy waiting for you downstairs. 

Francisco Morales, of all people.

Despite having been in each other’s lives since high school, you’re pretty sure you’ve never been alone with him. Not even once. There’s always a buffer with Pope on his side, Benny on yours, and Will in the middle. And while some find Frankie hard to read, you’ve always known exactly how to act around him. You have an unwritten playbook - you bait him with cheap jokes, more often than not joining forces with Benny to gang up on him. He rolls his eyes and snaps at you to shut up. It’s the longest running show in town.

But this? Alone, after his ex’s wedding, in your salon? You’re going off-script and off-piste. Dangerous enough on a good day; outright stupid after a night of drinking.

Frankie is quick to help when you reappear, armed with beer and a bag of ice, using the backwash sink as a makeshift cooler. Your shoes clatter onto the floor as you settle in the chair next to his. Hugging your knees, you hold out your bottle, which he clinks with his.

‘Did you have fun tonight?’ you ask, rather mundanely.

‘As much fun as one is expected to have at an ex’s wedding,’ he answers with a sardonic smile. Taking a sip of beer, he adds, ‘Gotta admit, you winding up my ma pretty much made up for it.’

‘That never gets old,’ you smirk. ‘Although, I promised your mother you’d leave with your future wife tonight - so that’s a bust.’

You startle when Frankie chokes on his beer, his eyes visibly watering as he thumps a fist on his chest. When you ask if he’s ok, he won’t meet your gaze, downing more of his beer.

Not thinking anything of it, you move on. ‘You know, she sent a bunch of customers my way when I first opened up the salon.’

His voice is still a bit tight from his coughing fit. ‘And I’m sure she’ll deny it till the day she dies.’

‘I can’t figure her out,’ you admit. ‘I can’t decide if she hates me or not.’

‘She doesn’t hate you. She just doesn’t understand you.’

You hum, unconvinced.

He nudges your knee with his. ‘She was really proud of you when you opened the salon, you know.’

You toss him a sidelong glance. ‘You talk to your mum about me?’

He’s ambiguous in his answer. ‘She asks after you sometimes.’

‘And how would you have anything to say to her? We’re not exactly bosom buddies.’

Frankie concedes with a wry smile, ‘Benny talks.’

‘Ha!’ you laugh, echoing his words from a few days ago back at him. ‘Benjamin fucking Miller.’

He goes quiet for a second, looking around your salon as if taking stock. ‘It’s pretty amazing that you’ve built all this.’

The unexpected compliment catches you blindsided. You reply diplomatically, ‘Ashton helps me loads.’

Frankie’s eyes widen in feigned surprise. ‘Are you going humble on me now? What have you done to Shiv?’

‘Shut up,’ you grumble good-naturedly, adding, ‘Ben tells me you’re doing really well yourself.’

‘Yeah. I got promoted at work last month, and I’m saving up for a house,’ he replies, a hint of pride in his voice. ‘Things are looking up.’

‘You’re actually acknowledging your achievements?’ you gasp in mock outrage. ‘What have you done to Francisco Morales?’

With a shrug, he leans forward to put his empty beer bottle in the sink, but he doesn’t sit back. Instead, he sways even closer, one palm landing on the leather of your seat next to your knee, eyes darting to your lips. His voice is deep as he rasps, ‘Can I kiss you?’

It would be so easy to say yes, but when have you ever made things easy for yourself? 

Instead, you blurt out, ‘Why?’

Frankie looks amused, like he expected this from you. Slowly, not wanting to spook you, he gently plucks the beer that you’ve barely drunk from your grasp.

‘Because all fucking night, while you were throwing woman after woman at me, I just wanted to have a drink with you.’

He leans in close. 

You stop breathing.

‘Because since Wednesday, every time I wash my hair, I get hard thinking of you touching me.’

Closer still.

Your lungs ache.

‘And because when you told me to go harder, deeper - I nearly lost my fucking mind.’

He’s hovering over you now, and you can almost taste the bitter sweetness of the beer on his breath. He smirks at you, but there’s only warmth and mischief in it when he teases, ‘Speechless for once?’

‘Shut up, Morales,’ you breathe and grab him by the collar of his shirt.

And then you’re kissing him. You’re kissing Frankie, and he’s kissing you back.

It’s messy, and disorientating, and you clumsily fumble over each other until he’s sitting up in one of the chairs, with your thighs on either side of his narrow hips as you straddle him. He’s licking up into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip, his hands gripping your sides almost painfully hard.

‘Is this really happening?’ you garble into his lips, ripping off his tie and undoing his shirt buttons as fast as your shaking fingers allow you to.

‘If you want it,’ he mumbles back, loath to pull back from you even for a second to shuck off his shirt. ‘If you want me.’

He kisses you wet and insistent, but he doesn’t push you, waiting for you to make up your mind. Reaching behind you, you tug on the tie that holds your jumpsuit together with a decisive pull, letting the fabric ripple down your bare front and pool around your waist.

Frankie bites his bottom lip so hard it goes white. ‘Fuck,’ he cusses, his grip on your hips twitching as he stares at your tits. ‘Can I, please -?’

‘Touch me, Francisco.’

Your poor second-hand Ikea bed that Benny helped set up when you moved in was not made for this.

This being the way Frankie effortlessly tosses you onto the mattress, his arms flexing with an easy strength that goes straight to your head, as you stare giddily up at him.

His hair - your handiwork - has been well and truly undone, errant strands falling over his eyes as he watches you, his broad frame looming over the foot of the bed. He pulls at his belt, which falls open with a careless clink, and he makes quick work of his now crumpled trousers, kicking them off impatiently.

Your head is swimming, yet somehow, you muster the strength to shuffle towards the edge of the bed, rearranging yourself to sit on your haunches, knees folded neatly beneath you. Boldly, you reach out to slide his dark boxers down his hips, and they fall around his knees and onto the floor. His cock springs free, half-hard and heavy, and Frankie swallows thickly as you tilt your face towards him.

‘I want to suck your cock.’

His eyes close as if he’s in pain, nostrils flaring at your words. Taking advantage of his distraction, you wrap one careful hand around his length, and he jerks violently at the first velvety slide of your palm against him. 

‘Fuck, Shiv -’ he chokes, eyes flying open at the contact, pupils completely blown. He protests weakly, ‘No, stop, need to get you off first -’

You shoot him a lopsided smile, pumping him slowly, your pulse racing at the way you feel him swell in your grasp. ‘Can we not argue this one time?’

You lean forward and, holding his gaze, flatten your tongue and lick your way up the underside of his cock. His breath stutters, one big hand moving to cradle the back of your head, his eyes wide and almost frantic as you press open-mouthed kisses on his sensitive flesh.

With an insolent grin, you tease, ‘You’re a big boy, aren’t you, Morales?’

He whimpers, and you know you have him.

His size is obvious by sight, but you really feel it in the pressure bearing down on the hinge of your jaw as you sink down on his cock, fighting to squeeze the girth of him into your mouth. The guttural groan from Frankie makes your pussy clench, and he tastes like he looks - clean, and all man. 

There’s no way you can take all of him, but you’ll be damned if you don’t try. He’s hot under your touch, muscles pulled taut with tension that you can feel thrumming under his skin as you take your time with him. Focusing on your breathing and relaxing your throat, you bob patiently up and down on him, slicking up his length with your spit, working him slightly deeper with every stroke - until you’re so full of him that you gag, hard.

Frankie is slack-jawed when you release him with an obscenely wet pop, spit trailing from your lips to the swollen tip of his cock, eyes wild as swipes his thumb across your puffy bottom lip. 

‘You’re beautiful,’ he declares, almost solemnly.

Slinking down his front, one hand securely around the base of his cock, you take him between your lips again, moaning at the salty taste of his precum, which makes him quake above you. As you swallow his length and pump your fist in tandem, your spit wetting your fingers, you peer up at him through your lashes - nothing could’ve prepared you for the utter wreckage that you find on his face. 

His lips are pulled back, baring his tidy teeth into a snarl as he very clearly struggles to hold himself back from fucking your mouth. You feel every bump and vein in his cock with each descent, the wet squelches filling in the gaps of his low grunts and moans. His grip in your hair stings as he starts panting in earnest above you, and somehow he gets even harder on your tongue, making it harder to breathe - 

‘Stop, stop,’ he wheezes suddenly, pulling back in a hasty retreat that has you whining at the sudden loss of him. ‘C’mere.’

He practically hauls you up against him, kissing you deeply, delving into your mouth to taste the bitterness of himself on your tongue. The world tilts on its axis when he tips you back onto the bed, and holding himself above you, he peels the jumpsuit off, leaving you in just your panties.

‘Gonna eat you out, baby,’ he drawls by your ear, trailing one palm up your body, which stops at your tits and squeezes. ‘Get you good and ready to take my big cock. How does that sound?’

‘Fuck, yes, Frankie, please,’ you beg.

There’s no shyness when he pushes your legs up and apart, and instead of taking your panties off, he hooks a finger under the thin fabric and pulls it to the side, his eyes darkening as he stares down at you.

‘So pretty,’ he praises you lowly. Holding your breath as he sinks onto his front, you breathe heavily in anticipation as his shoulders slot neatly underneath your legs. ‘Look at how wet you are for me. All this from sucking my cock?’

You nod frantically. ‘Frankie -’

Straight to the point as always, he ducks his dark head and drags the broad of his tongue over your clit - and you’re gone.

Admittedly, you have not had the best experiences with your exes. There was always too much gratuitous moaning and too little finesse, and afterwards, they always act like they deserve a medal for failing to get you off. But even if your past lovers had been more adequate in the field, you’re sure it still wouldn’t have prepared you for this. 

Frankie goes about it with a quiet focus that veers on reverential, the intensity in his dark eyes watching you makes your knees weak. He’s obviously picking up signs and reactions from you and adjusting his game plan accordingly, the pilot in him clearly in the driver’s seat. 

Not that he’s silent - far from it, you feel the reverberation in your core with every satisfied  hum deep in his chest, and the occasional, muttered fuck, so wet, want more in between licks and groans. But there’s nothing performative or showy about it, just a forthright competency that has you hurtling towards a toe-curling orgasm.

‘Frankie,’ you whine when you feel it about to hit. ‘Frankie Frankie Frankie -’

‘Eyes on me,’ he slurs against your sopping folds, and you listen - for once - watching him watch you fall apart on his tongue, thrashing in his hold as he grips you harder to keep you in place while he laps you up, until the burn of his patchy beard on your inner thighs makes you arch away from him from overstimulation.

Your pussy is still fluttering when he sinks two thick fingers into you, and he hisses at the way it clenches around him as he fucks you, leaving his digits slicked and slippery.

‘So tight, baby,’ he declares through gritted teeth, working you open for him. ‘Gonna feel so fucking good on my cock.’

You point towards the nightstand. ‘First drawer,’ you pant.

Needing no further prompting, Frankie yanks your panties off and flings the soaked scrap of fabric over his shoulder, then lunges at the cupboard where the condoms are. You scrape your nails over his thighs as he kneels over you, his usually steady hands visibly trembling as he tears into the wrapper and rolls the rubber over his heavy cock. He watches you with hooded eyes and settles between your legs, kissing you desperately as the swollen tip of him nudges at your entrance.

‘Ready?’ he asks, nose skimming yours sweetly.

You wind your arms around his neck, holding him close. ‘Fuck me, Frankie.’

The first push is a tight squeeze, and you can’t help the wince at the slight pinch as he sinks into you slowly. With a grunt of effort, he buries face into the slope of your neck and breathes, ‘Fuuuuck. You ok?’

‘Give me a second,’ you gasp, feeling your walls throb tightly around his length. ‘You’re so big, Frankie.’

He tangles his tongue with yours lazily in a deep kiss, before brushing his way down your throat and sucking on one nipple, making you cry out. He murmurs against your skin, ‘I know, but you’re doing so well for me, baby.’

Shifting your hips, Frankie groans when you slide him in deeper, the friction making you quiver beneath him. ‘Move, Frankie, please.’

He starts carefully, his strokes measured and deliberate, making sure you feel every inch of him as he draws back then sinks back in, exhaling shakily. ‘You feel so fucking good.’

‘Harder,’ you demand when you feel your pussy relax around him. ‘Fuck me harder.’

‘Shit,’ he growls and snaps his hips, drawing a squeal from you as he hits somewhere deep inside. You wrap your legs around his waist, bracing yourself as he drives into you again and again and again, the bedframe hitting the wall with each thrust.

‘So good, Frankie,’ you plead in between hard pants. ‘Keep going. Don’t stop -’

Looking up at him, you admire the way his hair falls over his eyes, swaying with his movement. Absent-mindedly, your fingers wander into his curls and his reaction is instant - he cries out, arching into your touch, his hips faltering as he seems to lose his rhythm. ‘Oh fuck, baby, been thinking about those hands all fucking week, just wanted to feel you touch me again -’

As wrecked as you are on his cock, you smile at his confession and slide your hands languidly in his locks, dragging your nails on his scalp, your chest swelling with pride when you watch his face - dazed and completely wrecked - fucking you so hard that you’re sure the bed is about to break.

When he finds his voice again, it’s your real name that slips past his lips. ‘Gonna cum so hard, oh fuck - I’m gonna -’

Frankie’s thrusting frantically into you, eyes screwed shut until his hips stutter and then - after one perfect moment of stillness suspended in time - shudder after shudder thunder through his body, your name a broken record as he spills into the condom, his scratchy baritone moaning into your neck as the frenzied energy bleeds out of him.

His weight pins you to the bed as he catches his breath, and you play with his curls gently, basking in the rumbling purr in his chest as you run the strands between your fingers. Eventually, gathering himself, he rolls off you to let you breathe, tying the condom neatly and tossing it into the trash can.

For a second, Frankie lies on his side, watching you quietly. You watch him back, casting your gaze over the curls stuck to his sweaty forehead and his broad outline backlit by your nightstand light. Before self-consciousness can settle into the small distance between you, he cracks a smile and quips, ‘You did say I’d get laid even if it killed you.’

You laugh, which makes him grin. One strong arm reaches out to tuck you into his side, securely beneath the duvet. You hum at the tickle of his beard on the back of your neck and the steady rise and fall of his chest behind you.

Right on the cusp of sleep, you sass, ‘Guess you’ll have to split the winnings with me after all.’

Any other day, you would’ve woken up if you heard someone on the stairwell. Hell, you’d hear if they were knocking on the salon door downstairs.

When you’re rudely shaken awake by frantic knocking on the studio door, you realise it’s because your hearing has been impaired by the side of a very warm body smooshed into your ear.

‘Shiv! Open up! I need to leave in fifteen minutes for my photoshoot!’

‘Shit,’ you croak, throat dry, limbs flailing as you try to sit up. ‘I forgot about Benny.’

‘Fuck him’, grouses Frankie, pulling you back into his arms, eyes still closed.

‘I can’t, I promised to help him with his hair. Fuck, do we need to hide you, or -’

‘The door’s thin, Shiv, I can hear him. And we put two and two together when you guys disappeared last night. We're pretty, but we ain't dumb!’

Frankie lets you go with a grumbled Benjamin fucking Miller under his breath, but he visibly perks up when you stumble out of bed naked.

You half-jokingly shield your boobs from his view. ‘Are you perving on me, Morales?’

He smirks, leaning back into the pillows with his hands folded behind his head while he eyes you appreciatively. It’s not fair how his triceps flex deliciously with the movement. ‘Why bother covering up? I’ve seen everything already.’

Trying - and failing - to shoot him a stern scowl, you pull on a robe and yank the door open, nearly careening backwards at the sight of Benny’s grinning face right in the doorway. 

‘Since when did you bang paying customers?’ he demands in lieu of a good morning.

You roll your eyes and usher him downstairs. ‘He’s not a paying customer. He’s on Pope’s tab.’

Benny flops into his usual chair, making it squeak, one eyebrow up as he does the air quotes. ‘Well, I guess we now know what kind of friends you guys are.’

‘Shut up, Miller,’ you gripe, but your mouth twists into a grin, giving you away as you set up.

‘Damn, that good, huh?’ he laughs. ‘I mean, Fish does have a rep, but I've never had insider confirmation.’

You point your styling scissors at him menacingly. ‘Shut up, or I won’t be held responsible if my hands slip by accident.’

Benny feeds you a sugar donut while you work quickly, trimming the ends before styling it, going for a tousled bed head look. You hear the water pipes run upstairs and the carpeted floors creak when Frankie gets up. Trying to play it cool, you only briefly glance up, catching a glimpse of him in the mirror as he makes his way down the stairs in his rumpled shirt and trousers, zipping up the fly when he reaches the bottom.

‘Morning, stud,’ sing-songs Benny, which earns him a slap on the head. ‘Ow! What the fuck, Shiv!’

Frankie loiters behind you for a second, scratching the back of his neck, before pulling you to one side. Not that it affords you much privacy anyway, with Benny wriggling his eyebrows impertinently at the two of you in the mirror.

‘I - uh -,’ he starts haltingly, one hand rubbing at the silver patch in his beard sheepishly. ‘I had a really good time last night.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ you smile.

His voice dipping lower, he asks, ‘Can I take you out to dinner sometime?’

Benny, being the shithead that he is, interjects loudly. ‘Hey lovebirds, I’m kind of on the clock here, if you don’t mind -’

‘She’ll get to you when she gets to you, Benjamin,’ snaps Frankie, one hand on his hip and the other pointing a stern finger at him.

Something about him being so assertive sends heat running up and down your spine. Stepping into his space - beaming when he doesn’t back away - you smooth a palm over the front of his shirt, unintentionally catching the rabbiting of his heart underneath.

‘I don’t know,’ you shrug nonchalantly. ‘Do you intend to come back as a cash-paying customer?’

His eyes flash with want, one hand closing around your hip and he leans down to let his heated words brush by your ear. ‘Not if I can keep paying in other ways.’

Reaching up, you run a hand through his curls, preening at the way he closes his eyes at your touch. ‘Alright then, take me to dinner, Francisco.’

Peering around you, Frankie barks, ‘Miller, I’m cashing in on our bet.’

‘Fuck’s sake. I was hoping you’d forgotten about that,’ he gripes, digging into his wallet reluctantly.

Swiping the bill from Benny, Frankie winks at you before pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth - chaste, but charged with meaning. ‘Looks like you paid for your own dinner, Shiv.’

With a roll of your eyes, you shake your head and playfully push him towards the door. ‘Get outta here before I change my mind!’

‘Yeah right - as if you would now that you know what you’ll be missing.’

You’re not sure which makes your jaw drop - his cocksure declaration or the roguish confidence with which he walks out the door. In either case, Benny howls with laughter as you struggle to stay on your feet, your kneecaps having been rendered completely useless.

Just as Frankie climbs into his truck, Ashton whistles to a stop outside the salon on his wheels. Jaw dropping at the sight of the disheveled pilot nodding at him through the windscreen, he abandons his bike right on the curb and dashes into the salon, the door banging against the wall as he rushes in.

‘Excuse me - what the fuck did I just miss?’ he demands frantically.

You roll your eyes. ‘Calm down, Ashton, it’s not what it looks like -’

‘It’s exactly what it looks like,’ interrupts Benny as he starts singing. ‘Shiv and Frankie sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-’

He breaks off with a yelp when you stuff a donut into his mouth to shut him up, sugar flying everywhere as Ashton picks you up and spins you around, squealing like a banshee the entire time.

‘You guys are the fucking worst,’ you laugh, out of breath by the time Ashton lets you go.

Glancing outside, where Frankie is still parked watching the whole embarrassing episode, he gives you one last wink and an amused grin before he pulls away from the curb.

In an almost exact repeat of the scene from a few days ago, Ashton joins you at the window, and the two of you watch, shoulder to shoulder, as Frankie smoothly steers his truck out of your street.

‘He even drives sexy,’ sighs Ashton dreamily. Nudging you in the side, he adds slyly, ‘You’re in so much trouble, Shiv.’

You grin. You know you are - and luckily, it’s not a spot of bother that you’ll be in a hurry getting out of anytime soon.

Notes: I'm so excited to have finally completed this little two-shot. The two of them have been hanging out in my head all these months, it feels amazing to finally yeet this part into the world! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you had as much fun as I did with these two 🥰 Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated ❤️

Now that I've got you here, if you want more of Shiv, I wrote some silly little drabbles of her hair appointments with our handsome Pedro boys for a recent milestone celebration. There are also some fun thoughts that came out of an impromptu Grays sleepover we had last week 🤍

I'm sure we'll see more of Shiv and Frankie somewhere down the line. For now, thank you again, I love you all so much ❤️

[swagging-back-to]

whump idea thats super messy and trash

cw ableism and canon typical sadness.

the usual seventh wheel asshole team behavior

something happens and everyone but lance is severely injured or altered in some way

pidge has vocal atrophy, hunk has Hyperesthesia making it impossible for him to touch other people or smell and taste things with too much flavor. Shiro is like normal but x10000. Keith develops seizures, muscle tremors, and hallucinations. coran has severe amnesia and hostile delusions, similar to dementia. Allura displays symptoms of conduct disorder.

hunk and pidge are the only ones who can act somewhat normal, keith is sane most of the time.

obviously being the only able bodied and able minded person on the ship, lance has to be resident nurse to 4 traumatized humans and 2 extremely overpowered toddlers. at first he can handle it, his abuelo had dementia, and he practically raised all his nieces and nephews. But of course, after time, the edges start to fray.

it started with hunk, Lance letting it slip more than once that he wishes he could taste hunks cooking and feel his strong arms wrapped in a tight hug.

it progressed to pidge, with Lance snapping during a particularly slow evening for the teen to "just say something, anything! i dont care if you say how much you hate me, or how stupid i am, or how im the weakest link and cant do anything to help anyone---just please say something." all pidge could do was stare in shock at the outburst until an eternity had passed and Lance stormed from the lab with bloodshot eyes.

Next, it was Shiro. It had been during a collective outburst by both Allura and Coran, with both of them screaming and wailing and throwing their (entirely too strong) fists at Lance's face. The violence caused Shiro to start wheezing to the point he turned blue, digging his fingers into his throat like he was being strangled. It was anything but brag worthy, but Lance was unable to do anything but hiss "Shiro i cant deal with your bullshit right now! Get the fuck out of here instead of strangling yourself" by the time he had managed to get Allura and Coran calmed down he was too busy sewing his split eyebrow to realize what had slipped from his mouth.

Unsurprisingly, Allura was the next target. She had been acting particularly defiant all day, purposely sabotaging all the preparations Lance had made in order for everyone to get what they needed (food, sleep, showers, meds, physical therapy, training, etc.) It wasnt until she had purposely started spraying purfume in Hunk's quarters did he truly rip into her, slamming her wrist against the wall halfway through her dumping an entire bottle on hunks bed to the point it left a bruise for a month. There were too many harsh words and insults to be remembered by either of them, but allura couldnt ignore the way her wrist clicked everytime she rolled it now.

Coran's berating didnt come until much later during the peak of a galran ambush. The ginger was completely unable to help, standing around mindlessly while Lance ran from the bridge to the controls. Halfway through inputting coordinates for an impromtu wormhole, Coran suddenly went back to a specific point in time and recognized nothing else besides *random alien using control hub, ship alarms blaring* and went on the offense. Lance had to dislocate one of corans shoulders in order to get him to stop long enough to create a wormhole--with another severe concussion.

Keith had been given most of lance's patience, able to provide Lance with some normalcy half of the time and keep him sane...until the hallucinations started up. Keith's own frustration over not being able to help, not being able to train, not being able to exert himself even a little bit before he ended up on the floor convulsing, how he couldnt keep his hands steady enough to hold his blade did not help matters at all. He started snapping at Lance everytime he awoke to Lance's hovering and concerned questions. Eventually Lance stopped waiting around for the seizures to stop--he had 5 other people depending on him. Eventually, he stopped trying to break Keith from his delusions, leaving him to be stuck in them for days or weeks. it wasnt until Keith hallucinated him as Zarkon did Lance have a problem with it again, snapping about how Keith was more like Zarkon than he, a full human, ever could be. How Keith was a bloodthirsty alien, and if he couldnt pull himself together and stop being "fucking delusional" then he might as well die, "that's your people's motto, isnt it? at least then i wont have another problem to clean up."

what lance failed to remember over time was that the team wasnt mentally gone, they werent deaf or blind, they didnt just forget. They had moments of lucidity, some more than others, and watched his spiraling descent into raged insanity.

[lalunanymph]

imagine you tease rindou during a night out with the executives and think hes too shy to do anything about it besides take your home but instead he surprises by you taking you right in front of everyone and showing everyone what a slut you are anyways have a nice day KSNDKNDKKEJNSNDK barking

(S)CREAMING RINDOU DOES SO MANY THINGS TO ME ILHSM HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY BELOVED <3

tw. alcohol, voyeurism, mean!rin rin, fucking in public, names (bitch, slut, whore—the good stuff), degradation, edging, cigarettes, brief touches on breeding, shotgunning w/ smoke, don’t like don’t read, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS + AGELESS BLOGS DONT INTERACT

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 — haitani rindou

“One more time you start moving…” he lets the threat hang in mid-air.

Lingering. Festering.

Your slow mind doesn’t catch onto the malice marinating in between his words, drunk off his body heat and champagne.

Rindou’s birthday party was a lavish affair. Every executive and underling worth his salt is invited and almost everyone who respects your boyfriend—sees him on the daily—is there.

There to watch you giggle as you nuzzle your face into his neck playfully. You sense more than see the small twitch of his lip that indicates he’s bemused at your antics. “Menace,” he murmurs and kisses your temple.

Ran wolf whistles from the other end of the room, nasty motherfucker he is, and Rindou tries his best to ignore his drunken cajoling.

Y’gonna make me an uncle tonight, Rin?

The rest of Bonten laugh, though Rindou’s chuckle is half-hearted.

He may just take Ran up on his words—with the way how you were subtly grinding circles against his half-hard cock, the night would only go down in one direction: you on the bed, pretty heels in the air, your ankles to his ears, back arched, pussy stuffed full of his length and hips tilted all the way up so he could rock your shit till you screamed, sobbed and squirted all over his abdomen.

Or… It could go down a different path.

He took a sip of Imperial Blue, smirking inwardly.

You were sensually undulating your hips, putting on a show for his men, trying to get him to leave for home. Pretty bitch with not a thought in between those eyes. God—if only you would know the sick things he wanted to do to you tonight.

Your antics kick up a notch when you press your lips to his throat, kissing down the tattooed column; curling your tongue across the geometrical design over his Adam’s apple. Rindou swallows a groan when you start to really be a brat and turn on his lap, straddling him with your legs spread and skirt slowly rising up.

The rest of Bonten and their whores try not to watch—to give the couple some semblance of privacy. But, it was impossible to when you were slowly circling your hips, goading him on. Those large, warm palms clasp your hips and his growl is soft yet commanding.

“Stop this shit right now.”

“Stop what shit?” you taunt, peeling your half-mast gaze onto his own. “M’just sitting on my handsome boyfriend’s lap.” Your words slur and trip, echoing the sloppy circles you’re tracing with your dampening panties onto his clothed cock.

Rindou Jr. twitches in anticipation when you tilt your head back, tits pressed prettily against the stretchy fabric of your dress. He swears he’s close enough to ripping the front of your sparkling number down and suckling on those swollen nips.

“Stop. Now.” Despite the warning glare, his tone lacks steel, and you don’t listen.

Your thighs clench, and your heels dig into the leather seat. “Hmm?” You must have a death wish or be completely insane because who the hell tells a Haitani brother, with seduction in their tone and a smirk on their lips to—

“Make me.”

Rindou is on you faster than you can squeal out his name, holding you open with one hand, ripping down your panties with another. Your poor, pretty little brain can’t comprehend how your genial yet aloof boyfriend was now bullying his cock into your tight heat.

The music still goes on, people still drink, but there you are in the corner—getting fucked silly by Rindou Haitani all because you made the grave mistake of taunting him in public.

Your back arches, the fire pooling in your belly even as it hits you that people could see; could judge. He doesn’t care for one bit, using you to get off, licking and sucking on your neck until the skin stings with love bites that would develop in a few hours.

The way how you’re moaning is almost reaching fever pitch, and the room has their eyes on you. Fumes of your numerous kamikaze shots burn the last of your self-restraint and shame, and the idea that people were looking at you bouncing on Rindou’s cock with wild abandonment made more cream splutter down his length, staining both your thighs white.

You want it s’bad huh gonna be such a whore for me precious baby so fucking tight what if I came in you and made you suck me off huh you like that you like being a little bitch in heat for me fuck yeah you do you do that’s why you need me to fuck you real good, fuck—fuck!

Rindou slams you down onto his hips, stills and your whine gets lost in his smothering kiss as hot ropes fill you up right into your womb.

“Rin,” you pant. “I-I didn’t cum—“

He’s not hearing any of it, tucking himself back into his pants and shifting the hem of your dress so your bare asscheeks are covered. Just plain courtesy now that he had his fill.

“Yeah? And?” he slots a cig in between his teeth, gesturing towards his lighter. Rindou thinks it’s cute how you’re all fucked out and pouty yet you still grab his vintage Dupont and flick it open to light the end of his stick.

He sucks in one deep breath of nicotine and grasps your chin in his palm. Bringing you closer, he exhales right into your parted mouth where you breathe in the smoke deeply. Good girl, he nearly praises.

Nearly. You did just try to brat on him earlier.

“Later,” he kisses you on your full lips, ignores how your bare pussy flush against his tightening slacks was making a mess. Rindou means it; he does. He’s never one to break a promise. You just knew his punishment was not yet over. “You can be patient, hmm?”

Your pout deepens, but you nod, relaxing against his chest as he smokes, waiting for his word to go home because you trust him to keep you safe—to bring you home and then, to the edge of your sanity later.

Twisted as it was, Rindou Haitani was the one person you trusted wholeheartedly. Even when he’s being a dick and shoots you a smirk, muttering:

“Mark my words, baby, m’not done with you yet. I’m going to make you pay for trying to steal my birthday spotlight, princess.”

don’t ask for part 2’s, im not gonna continue this. rbs and feedback are appreciated though, thanks! <3

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[toiletwipes]

simpbur's college roommate

tw: obsession, possessiveness? not really tbh, simpbur is caught, overstim, vibrator, afab body, vaginal penetration, pretty boy is thrown around and so is good boy, praise, maybe a tiny bit degrading, im just a little bit scared to look through this to check for anything else. its not bad but im just scared i'll delete this if i dont post it now.

1.7k words, so not that long but I promised you guys content so here it is!

-----

it was the smaller things, really.

you wouldn’t notice them, if you weren’t looking for them, type of deal. a shirt that fits you just a little bit too snug so it sits in the back of your closet, or did. an old polaroid with an older friend, faces smiling into the flash of light, it had sat in the bottom of your old memory box, said box gone untouched by you for months. an oversized, raggedy hoodie that you had ditched for a newer, softer coat.

you didn’t want to believe it but at the moment you had bigger fish to fry with schoolwork.

the coat from before sat in your lap at the moment, you parked yourself in the library as you studied with a close friend for some government essay, and you were just nearly finished with the second to last page, when your friend spoke up.

she taps on your arm, pulling out your earbud, “hey, your roommate is will, er, wilbur, right?” you stopped in the middle of a word, lifting your head to meet her eyesight.

“yeah, why? he being creepy or something?” you ask, hoping for a no, he wasn’t bad, but you knew that if anybody else had been his roommate, he would've found himself in trouble during the first week alone.

“no, actually, it’s just- it’s just that, um, are you guys dating?” you snorted, really? you and him? dating?

“he’s cute, but no, why d’ya ask?” you laugh to yourself as you look into your notes as you start typing again.

“well, he’s just been wearing your hoodie, like a lot.” you still, eyebrows furrowing. your hoodie?

“how do you know it's my hoodie?” you look her in her eyes, folding your arms together as you lean back.

“i know for sure its your hoodie because it has that one bleach stain on the front and on the shoulder from when you said you could wear a hoodie and bleach your hair, and the time that you spilt bleach directly onto your hoodie and panicked for five minutes before doing something about it. i know it's yours so why is he wearing it?” your mind is blank as you stuff your things back into your backpack, her sputtering with questions and your lack of answers leaving much to be desired.

but as you exit the building, you shrug your coat as it starts to pour and the dark sky flashes for a moment. you rush in your walking to get to the dorms as soon as possible. just your luck that your dorm is on the other side of the campus. its still about five minutes before you bang on your dorm room. the music blasting on the other side silences as your roommate opens the door, his mouth drops into a round circle and you stare at his chest as you push past him.

“where the hell have you been? it’s barely been pouring!” he sounds off like a rattled hen but you head straight to your room, dumping your backpack and coat on your bed. without an answer, he follows you but any questions he has dries in his mouth as he watches you dig in your closet. pulling a ratty tee shirt and shorts you shrug your soaked shirt over your head.

will has to force himself out of the room but it's not a second later when you come out, hair wet and skin damp when you grab onto his head of hair and pull as you drag him to his room.

throwing him onto the bed, you barely glanced at his face, seeing it already being covered in tears, hands grasping for yours as it leaves him.

you glance around his room before you see the one clean area, his nightstand and dig through that. you found not only items you knew were missing but more, underwear you thought you'd thrown away, a vibrator that you'd thought had gotten stolen by a petty friend, not an obsessive roommate.

and then throwing his closet open, you saw it balled up and thrown in the corner, your hoodie.

taking it out, you push it into will's chest. "dude, literally, what the fuck?" you go to shout at him more but he moves onto his knees, tears dripping and pouring down his cheeks, begging for you to not leave.

"i know i'm a creep, a disgusting one at that, but please don't- please don't leave me, no one's been this nice and stayed with me for this long," he begs and continues to beg as you stand at the foot of his bed, watching as he took a hold of your forearms, rubbing circles into them.

you clasp a hand over his mouth as you coo, shushing him and smoothing over his hair with your other hand.

"my dirty, little stalker doesn't want me to go, but who said i was going to let you leave?" you then pull back on his hair, relishing in the guttural moan that is ripped from his throat, attaching your lips to his neck and climbing into lap, grinding down into the growing bulge in his sweats.

he moans out your name, hands finding purchase wherever he can, gripping your hip and your shoulder, trying to thrust up and meet your hips but you move your hands to hold his hips down.

"no, no, no, good boys take what they're given, that much you've proven, will," you murmur in his ear, slowing the rolls in your hips and watching him writhe beneath you.

"be a good boy for me, huh? are you my pretty boy?" he sobs out a yes as you grind down hard on his cock, the praise going straight to his dick as you mouth bruises into his neck. sucking particularly hard his hands come and circle around your waist, his head hanging onto your shoulder.

"please, please let me-"

"oh no, baby, tonight, it's all about you," you pause, standing up and hearing that beautiful whine pulled from his throat, "your punishment for being a dirty, little whore who wanted all my things for yourself, all of me without me." he shook his head, eyes barely opening as he reaches for you, but you've gone to his nightstand and pulled out the vibrator, turning it on and off and finding it surprisingly still working. well, not that surprising.

"now, you're gonna be a good boy and let me take care of you, or you can be alone," he reaches for you, begging you not to leave him and you can't say you weren't that affected.

something about this tall, greasy simp of a man, who stole your things and wears your old hoodie, begging for you not to go, it just settled nicely in the bottom of your stomach.

you weren't denying you were absolutely soaked by now, shoving your shorts off.

"please, i'll- your good boy, be so good for you-" he cuts himself off as you climb back to straddle his lap, this time rolling your hips once before you turn your vibrator on.

"good, so good for me," you hum as you place the vibrator between your panty-clad folds and his sweatpants-covered-cock. the vibrations sent you to a different plane as you grind into him, listening to the way he cried and the way his legs trembled.

you could tell the next moment, he was about to cum and well, you can't have that, not so soon. "ah, ah, ah," you breathe out, taking the vibe away as you lean back and away from his dick.

he lurched forward and his legs shake again as he's denied an orgasm, he cries out and into your neck.

"is my baby ready for ten more of these?" you ask him and his eyes snap wide open, meeting yours and when a moment passes and you press the vibe back against his dick, he whines.

you weren't kidding about before, it's been about an hour, you think, and he's buried his face in a pillow, crying from the over-stimulation and from not cumming.

you, yourself, have occupied your time with stretching yourself out, three fingers buried deep into your pussy and the sounds coming from it has will peeking out from the pillow, eyes sparkling with that crying glow.

taking your fingers out, and sticking them into his mouth, you move yourself over his lap, taking his cock in your hand as you rub it in between your folds. moaning, you move away as his hips jerk upwards, him biting and crying into his fist.

"my pretty baby, doing so well for me, gonna let me make you feel good? you gonna let me make you cum?" will nods his head and lets out the loudest moan you heard that day when you sink down on his cock.

buried to the hilt, he twitches inside you, and he's begging to cum, "'m gonna, 'm gonna cum, please, plea- need to, i need to cum in you," he begs and who are you to deny your pretty boy that?

"cum for me baby," you say, out of breath as you bounce on his cock, reveling in the slick sounds coming from between y'all. he does cum, hips thrusting upwards to bury himself in you, and you let him. but when you know he's all spent, you start to bounce on his cock, him crying from the over-sensitivity.

"just- just let me cum," you breathe out, balancing yourself with his shoulder and one hand rubbing circles into your clit, moans coming from your mouth as sobs leaves will's.

"oh- oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" you cry out, squeezing around will and falling on top of his chest.

breathing together, you let yourself have this moment before you get up and moves towards the bathroom. you hear him calling out for you as you grab a damp towel, some water, and a dry towel.

"did you think i was going to leave you, baby?" you ask, mostly not expecting an answer but turning to him as you run the damp cloth over his face and neck, he bit his lip.

"a little bit, yeah."

"well, don't think about that again, because as much as you're weird and steal my shit, you're still important to me," you tell me, "you're my pretty boy and you're going to stay that way."

when you finished cleaning him up and then cleaned yourself, you take the spot next to him and pull the covers over you two.

he leans into your side, pulling you into him, trying to get closer than close.

"you promise?"

you smile to yourself, thinking about having him all to yourself, "i promise."

[the-iceni-bitch]

OKAY YOU DONT WANT MY FIRSTBORN SO HOW DO I BRIBE FOR THIS?!?!

WHATEVER YOU WANT IT’S YOURS JUST PLSSSSS MORE RANSOM JAKE

Literally the only bribe I require is screaming in my inbox. So here ya go!

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (protected anal sex, dirty talk, power bottom Jake, slightly rough sex), alcohol consumption, established relationship, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!

“C’mon, Gem.” Jake purred into Ransom’s mouth as he pulled him towards the bedroom, feeling needy and practically humping Ransom’s hip as he clutched desperately at him. “Need it.”

“Yeah? Tell me what you need, blondie.” Ransom grinned against Jake’s lips as the man growled at him. “Not a mind reader, J.”

“God, you tease.” Jake snarled once he finally got the bedroom door open, turning and shoving Ransom onto the bed before he started ripping off his clothes. “You’re gonna fuck me.”

“Am I?” Ransom grinned when he pulled his shirt over his head, biting his lip when Jake stepped out of his jeans and climbed on top of him.

“Yeah.” Jake bit Ransom’s lip as he started to undo his fly, pressing his body into the bed and groaning as he rolled into him. “Wanna feel you for a week.”

“You want me to wreck you, blondie?” Ransom purred when Jake grabbed his hair at the roots and yanked his head back so he could sink his teeth into his jaw.

“Yes.” Jake sat up and whined as Ransom pulled out a condom and tore open the wrapper with his teeth. “Need that big cock. Wan’ you to blow my fucking back out.”

“Christ, three shots of tequila and you turn into a little slut, huh?” Ransom grabbed the lube from the bedside table and slicked himself up, wrapping a hand around Jake’s throat and pulling his face to his as he rolled the two of them and lined himself up. “You want me to prep you, J?”

“Just get inside me!” Jake practically howled when Ransom finally speared into him, winding his legs around his waist as he started slamming his hips into his ass. “Yes, that’s it, tear my ass up.”

“Oh, filthy boy.” Ransom gave Jake’s ass a firm smack that had the man arching into him and moaning wantonly, his fingers digging bruises into Jake’s hips as he pounded into him. “You like that, huh?”

“Fucking love it. God… fuck me. Fuck this ass so good.” Jake reached his arms over his head and arched his back in one of the prettiest damn displays Ransom had ever seen as he let out a happy whine. “Love being full of that big fucking dick… mmm.”

Jake was whining and moaning each time Ransom’s hips met his ass, his slutty little noises making Ransom almost feral. He couldn’t take his eyes fr the way the blonde’s pretty cock was bouncing with each thrust, a thin ribbon of precum leaking all over his abs as he gave a tiny wiggle and clenched hard around Ransom’s dick.

“God… shit, you’re so fucking tight.” Ransom growled as he leaned over Jake and bit at his throat, groaning when he felt his fingers dig into the small of his back. “You gonna come blondie?”

“Mmhm, gonna come so fucking hard.” Jake whimpered when Ransom rolled into him in a filthy grind. “That’s it, fill this ass up, want all a’ that fucking cum.”

“Oh fuck, baby.” Ransom groaned against Jake’s throat as his hips started to stutter. “I’m gonna give it you.”

“Yeah? Please, need it.” Jake whined when Ransom slotted his lips over his and slid his tongue into his mouth. “Oh, fuck, I’m coming.”

“Good, that’s a good boy.” Ransom purred as he nibbled on Jake’s lips, holding him close as his body shook and he let out a thin wail, his cum shooting all over their stomach and chests as Ransom throbbed and filled the condom.

The two of them collapsed into each other once they were finished, their limbs tangled together as they breathed heavily and gazed at each other. Jake chuckled when Ransom nuzzled at his cheek, his hands squeezing his ass and keeping him close as they came down.

“No condom next time.” Jake bit Ransom’s ear and the brunette let out a rich laugh, sucking a bruise against his throat and humming softly. “Want you to fill me up until I’m leaking you for a week.”

[wh6res]

one more time | markhyuck

"if i'm going to teach you how to fuck her right, you’re gonna need the best seat in the house, markie!" — lhc 

warnings. dubious content, swearing, bondage, voyeurism, masturbation, exhibitionism, mentions of stalking, fingering, oral (f receiving), degradation, there’s a knife (but no knifeplay), a threesome, implied kidnapping 

disclaimer. i dont condone anything. this isnt a normal relationship. this aint love.

note. prolly going to hell for this but who cares. markhyuck for @nakamotocore​ i wuv ya ie please get better soon! TT and dom hyuck for my napaka kalat na mami @donghyukcore​

against all rational thinking, haechan is getting bored from seeing the pathetic five feet distance between you and mark when he comes home. he tries to understand the other male in the relationship. truly, he does, even if he highly doubts that celibate little mark lee can pleasure you the way he can but everything's practically past that line now. donghyuck just wants to have some fun with you two, is that too much to ask for? at this point, he's blatantly ignoring the fact that you and mark don't even like each other.

but haechan cares for mark just as much as he cares about you and he won't just let his best friend miss out on all the fun things he can do to their little doll, right? what kind of a friend would he be? once haechan shoves him into a world of temptation and sin and pleasure, mark would kiss his self-induced celibacy goodbye.

plus, you've been awfully naughty these days.

talks about wanting to come home or getting at least a few rights to have gadgets were the only thing you said whenever you see him. it went as far as practically growling and running away from haechan when he tries to initiate something with you, screeching your lungs out and saying, "don't fucking touch me, you creepy little psycho!"

deflowering mark.

punishing you.

he'd be killing two birds with one stone.

he's fucked your stubborn little self into submission once, but all that overprivileged tv sessions might've put silly little ideas into your dumb little head again. alas, no worries, he'll just have to do it one more time. and maybe, now with the aid of his good 'ol buddy mark, they'll both be able to screw you up so good you'll never want to leave their clutches.

"gumdrop, can you come here for a second?"

haechan isn't deaf to the exaggerated groan you let out from the living room and it grates on his nerves how utterly brave you are for being passive aggressive. you reminded him of a little girl in a temper tantrum because they weren't given any candy - and when you show up in the master bedroom clad in your little pink dress, eyes upturned and sharp, a pathetic little girl was all he can think of when he saw you.

only now did he notice that you had even detangled your hair from the intricate braids haechan spent at least twenty minutes doing earlier this morning. where was mark all this time? why wasn’t he there to stop you? geez, you both are so going to get it, this time!

"what do you want?"

"can you give me a hug? i felt awfully stressed at work today. i need my little gumdrop."

this was obviously a test. don't get him wrong, he'll still punish you but if just this one time you learned to swallow that bitchy attitude and come crawling to him as the perfect lover should, maybe he won't be too harsh.

but he gave you too much credit, he thinks. of course his dumb cockwhore doesn't know shit. of fucking course, you wouldn't know it was a test. not when you scoffed, rolled your eyes at him, and spun in your heels to walk back to the living room.

"beat your meat with your own hands, creep."

haechan's reaction is immediate, his long legs allowing no delay in crossing the room to mercilessly fist your hair. he had pulled your hair so bad you thought it was going to rip right at the roots, all of his pent up anger due to your poor behavior channeling into that one grip.

you feel his scoff of disbelief against the curve of your neck as haechan pulls you flush against his body. "what the fuck did you just say to me?" he laughs patronizingly. "beat my meat with my own hands – aw, baby! that has got to be the best one yet!"

it truly was, though. he's not going to lie. out of every vicious snarl and hate-induced words you said to him, that particular offhand comment takes the cake. seriously, sometimes haechan thinks you're deliberately trying to make him furious – gumdrop, if you wanted to be fucked silly, all you had to do was ask.

he hurls you to the mattress, breath knocking right out of your lungs. before you can even sit back up and crawl away from haechan, he's already crawling over your body to sit directly on your stomach, fiddling with something on the headboard. you nearly scream in frustration, no matter what you do, you just can't throw him off of you!

"i don't know why the fuck you're behaving this way but it's gone too far. one more time. do i need to fuck some respect into you, one more time?”

a new wave of motivation surges through you when you hear the familiar click clacking of metal. your eyes widened just a fraction, the only thing that gave away the unease quickly seeping under your skin. if not for haechan's perceptive eyes, he would have missed it.

he merely used one hand to grip both your wrists in a vice. "no!" you squirmed, tossing and turning and trying with all your might to get him off of you. "no! i don't want that – not the cuffs!"

he loops the respective bands around your wrists with practiced ease. the last handcuffs he used had torn and marked your skin, something haechan wasn't fond of. only he can paint your bare skin with colors.

thus, he bought newer ones. the bands were a bright shade of red, connected to each other using a medium sized chain that loops around one of the steel wires of the bed, and the little bells attached to the bands ring with your every movement.

haechan knows the bells drove you crazy. its incessant ringing driving you up the wall as you couldn't keep your hands still whenever he fucked you to oblivion – he knew how much you loathed the sound of the bells, all the more reason for him to enjoy.

and mark, too. speaking of which…

you stubbornly pull at your bounded hands, glaring at the man before you as he studies your state. the corners of his lips curl up at the sight of you struggling. "you always look so good in red, gumdrop."

before you were given a chance to reply, he stormed out of the room with a sense of purpose bounding his steps. "lee donghyuck!" you screamed. "fucking come back and get me out of these, you pervert!"

he can hear you thrashing in your chains and yelling profanities from a room away. where was the demure girl he turned you into after only a week living in the apartment? though funny enough, the blood in haechan's sadistic side rushes in excitement at the prospect of wiping that glare off your face. it wasn't the fear, nor your submission that gets him off. it was the idea that he can and he will break you down no matter how many times you try to build yourself back up again.

he's not too sure whether he's going to eliminate that dirty mouth you've developed, though. because you did make him snort in the most unattractive way when you told him he can fucking jack himself off when he had been merely asking for a hug. this aggressive side you developed is… nice. he can work with it.

"can you ask your play thing to keep it down?" mark hisses, flinching and making an offkey sound with his guitar when a certain screech from you caught him off-guard.

haechan smiles.

"why don't you shut her up?"

it took a good few minutes trying to talk mark into stepping into the bedroom where he's got you chained to the headboard, but alas, haechan can be persuasive if he wants to be.

frankly, the younger man is sick and tired of hearing both of you bicker – it's no wonder you've developed a sharp tongue! it's all mark's fault and yet it's haechan that has to do the dirty work of setting you straight all over again. you're a tough cookie to crack, someone hauntingly immune to the violence and chaos.

and yet…

"you don't – don't seriously plan on doing this, do you?" your eyes go back and forth between the two males, primarily addressing the younger, devil-spawned male. haechan, ever observant, picks up the light tremor in your voice.

haechan had uttered a playful "if i'm going to teach you how to fuck her right, you're gonna need the best seat in the house, markie!" before forcing the older boy to sit by your side, mark's thighs grazing the temples of your head as your eyes awkwardly flutter up to the spectator.

mark couldn't deny he was intrigued by the emotion reflecting in your orbs. when your eyes met, it was a silent plea, he just knew it was. and unlike vulnerable and helpless you, mark, to some extent, still had at least some sense of freedom to him. he can choose to walk away, to stop haechan from trying to get him laid, maybe even talk the other boy into postponing your punishment.

but he'll do no such thing.

not because he has a moral compass (he doesn't, really) but because mark knew firsthand, there's no stopping haechan once he sets his mind into something – and right now, if that boy wants to punish you and use mark to fulfil his exhibitionistic fantasies then that's what'll happen.

your bottoms were the first to go, haechan's blunt nails digging into your skin as he pulled it down slowly, patronizingly, while watching bemused at your squirming. "this is how you know she needs a reminder," he says, addressing mark. "a good princess should take whatever's given to her like a good girl but if she's being an ungrateful brat –"

you flinch when he harshly smacks your thigh.

"– she gets what’s coming for her, right?"

there's a second's delay with mark's reply. haechan didn't mean for the question to be rhetorical, he wanted an answer from the other boy.

"right, mark?"

"r – right…"

haechan laughs, flipping the skirt of your dress up. "what, are you that excited for pussy that you're stuttering? that's cute."

you hear mark intake a sharp breath when haechan dives in to give you feathery kisses in your inner thigh. he always starts off this way, after figuring out this gets you wet way faster than simply kissing you.

as haechan starts talking, lips lazily grazing over your skin, you fight hard not to utter a single sound as you pull on your chains. "listen carefully, markie. do you hear those whimpers? she likes it," you feel the prickles of his sharp stare. "she's just too much of a fucking brat to admit it. go on gumdrop, your fighting spirit makes this all the more interesting."

you hate the patronizing tone he used as his hands trail higher, and higher until it's pinching at the bud of your clit. and against your whole being trying to keep your lips sealed, alas, it parts and creates a soft whimper that has mark stiffening next to you.

haechan lays his tongue flat against your folds. you weren't in the least bit wet yet to accommodate his size, but that's easy. he merely circles the bud with the tip of his tongue before pushing two fingers in. months of standing in the shadows outside your window had made him memorize the movement of your fingers whenever you pleasured yourself.

he felt the jolts of the bed as you shook your head side to side, trying with everything you can to hold your moans in. a corner of his lips can’t help but curl up. "what, gumdrop? too shy to lose yourself because we have an audience? don't worry our celibate little friend over here seems to like it. go on, give him a show."

too lost in the ministrations of his lips and fingers, you don't see haechan meeting eyes with mark, nodding at an object lying on the bed side table. you can only shudder when the cool tip of a knife presses against the base of your throat, hooking under the collar of your dress as mark slowly rips it off.

but haechan doesn't have the patience. "dude, give that to me. at your phase you'll get her naked tomorrow. let the tip cut her skin, the bitch deserves it anyway."

you scream when he drags it unceremoniously down your front, narrowly missed tearing at your navel. there are a few pricks of pain here and there for when the knife accidentally nicked your skin. he sure was ruthless as can be. why did you even bother acting like a brat, cursed him out, when it gave you no benefits whatsoever? did he unknowingly transform you into this sick little masochist that thrived on his sadism?

"no."

it was a defeated whisper. the last of your resolve turning into dust as the breath escapes your lungs. why did losing feel so heavy in your chest? you don't notice your arms slumping, nor your head nodding off to one side, the weight of your horrible reality sinking into you once again as if you had only been kidnapped yesterday.

but it had not been yesterday. it's been days. weeks. months. and the last time you sneakily got ahold of mark's phone and searched for your name, the last news clip or article published about your disappearance had been three months ago. that only meant one thing.

they weren't looking for you anymore.

just like that the world continued, other people's lives continued. all the while you're stuck here, rotting in the arms of your captors.

haechan's face emerged in front of you. he smiles and you would've believed he felt an ounce of guilt if not for that wicked stare in his eyes. "you've always been most beautiful like this, gumdrop. the hope disappearing in your eyes upon the realization that no one's coming for you anymore – i love it. i love you, my pretty girl."

he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead but he might as well have shot you straight in the heart.

there was no warning, nothing to ready you for the sudden intrusion happening on your bottom half and it was so bad, that it made you shut your eyes, hands wrapping around the chains as tears started falling across your cheeks.

rough fingers reached out and wiped them away.

something felt off.

the fingers were too calloused, opposed to the softness of haechan's nimble fingers. and while the aforementioned male had more length than girth, the person who's thrusting himself inside you is the complete opposite. he's stretching you out too much, not even bothering to give you time to adjust when he's already bucking his hips like an animal.

"shh, it's okay. i'll take care of you…"

this wasn't haechan.

and when you fluttered your eyes open to see mark's boyish little face, you can't help that look of betrayal painting your features. at least you only had to deal with one obsessive, sex-deprived freak. now, you're not so sure if you can handle both of them.

how foolish of you to think that mark's self-induced celibacy stretched far and wide when in reality, he was also just a boy with his own needs. a slave to his own temptations.

how cruel. so, so cruel.

in the back of your mind, you were thankful haechan cared enough to properly get you in the mood or else you would've been staining the bed sheets red by how deep and frantic mark’s thrusts were. it felt like he wanted to tear you in half.

"if i didn't know better i'd say you're experienced, markie! i wouldn't fucking know you're a virgin by how much you're humping her like a dog.”

curse him and his dirty mouth. his constant degradation is making it easier for mark to slide in and out of you, and a proof for that is the lewd slick sounds echoing in the room partnered with the older male's deep grunts – a complete opposite of the pitched, whiny sounds haechan makes.

'gumdrop, come on! be noisy with our first-timer here just how you're always noisy with me, yeah? don't be such a killjoy." the pout in his voice is evident, coming from the side of your ear.

you wish you had never turned your head, otherwise you wouldn't have to see him pumping his own dick in his hands right in front of you. the glare you shot probably looked pathetic, what with all the tears streaming down your face and your little theory proves true when you see his mouth quirk up to the side.

"i fucking hate you."

"mark, fuck her harder, wouldja? until she learns her fucking lesson."

the disturbed stare you gave him does not slip his notice, his hand's pace turning erratic, spurred by the slick sound of your walls, skin clapping, and mark's broken whines.

make him stop, your eyes said. please.

but haechan only shoots you an innocent smile before shaking his head. "didn't you tell me to beat my meat with my own hands?"

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[oneprompt]

hello there! may i request one portgas d. ace x fem reader with prompt 4 (trying to concentrate on a task, but your lover is kissing your neck, making your head spin) ace being the pest he is. pls & ty <3

authors note : hello ! my apologies for the delay … oh my. but yes ! I can do that for you, yes , yes <333 please enjoy !

Ace x F! Reader , Lover Distracting You Via Neck Kisses

Slightly Suggestive Content Below ! Beware

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You had been up for how long no? You had no idea, truly. You stood upon the top of the hefty ship deck of Whitebeards boat, looking through the vast star dotted sky for any signs of land. Being a navigator wasn’t easy, you had to work day and night. It didn’t matter what condition the weather was in, you had to stand out there all night and you devoted yourself to it. Even if nobody told you to do such a thing, you had to. It was the principle, the least you could do as not only a navigator, but as a friend.

You were so invested in your focused search, you hadn’t even heard the creaking of wooden planks and foot steps from a certain someone. To not notice your own beloved Ace… you were really dedicated to finding land, weren’t you?

“What’re you still doing awake?” Ace asked, hands stuffed in the depth of his pant pockets. He was topless as always, the moon light making his toned muscles appear as lovely as ever, highlighting every inch of his bare skin.

You gave Ace the basic courtesy of a side glance before your eyes returned to the dark scenery before your eyes. “I could ask you the same,” you said softly, not wanting to wake anybody. That was a mixture of both a comeback and a genuine question.

Your eyebrows knitted together in worry as you finally turned to the young man, giving him a sudden sliver of attention. “You should rest, you had a rough day today.” Your voice was full of sincerity, not holding back on any affections. If you acted cute, he was sure to listen. Right…?

Ace chuckled, making his way closer to you. You stared at his arm as it swung around your waist, locking your body in place.

“Why should I when you’re all the way out here?” Ace cooed, delivering a delicate kiss to the nude nape of your neck, left exposed thanks to the v neck shirt you wore. You couldn’t hold back as your cheeks went a rosey colour, resembling the most pretty shade of pink.

“Ace… I’ll be out here until sundown.. just go to bed. I’m looking for land to dock at..” you mumbled, shivering as your lover didn’t remove his warm lips from your neck. Why must he be so stubborn? Ace was never one to give up. Sure, you admired that about him for the most part but when it was in situations like this, it grew a bit aggravating..

You tried to wriggle out of Ace’s clutches but failed, his ripped arm keeping you snug close to him, mouth still exploring the surface of your skin. Part of you wanted to send him off, shouting at him to let you do your job. But you couldn’t. The kisses Ace left on your neck made you feel floaty, leaving a throb in your heart and the slow tightening of a knot within your stomach, a feeling that made your knees weak.

“Cant you take a break?“ Ace asked, murmuring against your neck. You gasped as a sudden warm and wet appendage grazed your neck, warming the cold surface with his scorching drool. “I miss you.” He licked a stripe against your neck before kissing at the line he left behind, watching your face turn redder by the second. He loved seeing you try your hardest to deny him, it was cute.

You wanted to abandon your duties, letting your lover take the long night out of your possession. But you had to find an island to dock at… there were some repairs that had to be done to the ship and lord knew you couldn’t do that upon the harsh oceans. And who knew what Whitebeard would say if you didn’t have the ship docked and fixed in time? He was a yonko… and nobody could go against one, not even their own crew mates. You greatly respected him and the thought of disappointing Whitebeard was one that you didn’t want to have cross your mind.

“I can’t, Ace….I-I’m being serious,” you huffed, trying to shrug away the pleasures sighs that threatened to pour from your succulent lips. “I need to find somewhere to stop, the ship needs to be…-“

The sudden digging of something sharp washed over you, a pinch of pressure applied to your neck. Ace really wasn’t going easy on you, clouding your mind with endless thoughts of sexual pleasure, something that could easily be fulfilled by him. How bad did he want such a thing…?

“Stop playing dirty…!“ You hissed at the man, teeth clenched to stop any of your high pitched breaths to be released. “I’m being serious… step off..!”

Your words clearly held no weight, as Ace’s gestures only worsened. You could feel one of his large hands slither into the back pocket of your jeans, pushed against the ripeness of your butt. Where did he think he was touching!? “Cmon… can’t you let me take care of you?” Ace purred into your ear, his burning tongue dancing along the fold of your ear lobe. He had no mercy, did he? As expected of a pirate…

That offer was too tempting, so painfully tantalizing. You looked down at the darkness of your shoes, your boyfriend still all over you, leaving his manly musk upon you already. This was all so intoxicating. Just Ace’s presence alone was enough to make your head run in endless loops.

You knew how important this task was, how mandatory it was to assist not just yourself and Whitebeard, but the entire crew. You wanted to keep your brain fixated on the surroundings upon the dark and cold ocean but your boyfriend made it entirely impossible. From the way Ace’s hands roamed your form to the way his tongue and lips plagued your mind with lewd thoughts. It was all far too much.

“F-fine…. But not for long.. this is important.” The sound of you finally giving in and submitting was music to Ace’s ears. He knew he could persuade you, even with such minor touches and movements. It was adorable how high your sensitivity levels were. One would never assume so, a pirate is supposed to be tough against anything. But your weakness was your lover himself. Ace was the one thing you couldn’t overpower. ”Dont worry, you’re in my care. I’m certain you’ll enjoy yourself~.”

[levworship]

cw: dom!reader, fem reader, mommy kink, degrading, dirty talk, oral (fem rec), slight mind break, reader is a lil manipulative. just a bit. probably had errors

summary: you find out while on another blind date with one of mina’s friends that kirishima is just the man for you. he wants to be used, and you’re more than willing to use him.

word count: approx 2.9k

“fuckin’ mina. i’m gonna beat her ass.”

this wasn’t the first time your best friend has tried to set you up with one of her friends. and honestly, knowing her, it more than likely wouldn’t be the last time, either. “but he’s so nice” she’d promise, or “she’s just a little shy,” and perhaps the most common line of “you just have to be a little patient with them”

patient my ass.

your damn patience was beginning to run thinner and thinner the longer you sat waiting at the table for your date to arrive. you’re used to mina’s friends not being the most punctual, but to not show up at all? it was almost insulting. here you were, taking the time out of your busy day to spare some of your sweet time with some rando and—

“hey there, beautiful.” your eyes quickly tore away from the spot you’d been staring at for the past few minutes during your internal rant. part of you wished you hadn’t, because you damn near stopped breathing. typically, you’d never allow a man the satisfaction of hindering you speechless, but fuck. the man before you stood tall and strong, the white fabric of his dress shirt clinging onto his muscles in the most delicious way possible. his hair was slicked up in a style that you could only describe as goofy, and his smile? it was so contagious that you couldn’t help but to toss away the piping hot insults you’d been preparing to shoot his way.

“sorry i’m late. was searching all over town to find these for ya. i know mina said they were your favorite, and well—“ pulling his arms from behind his back, the red-haired man handed you a comically large bouquet of flowers. were they your favorite? no, not at all. but you couldn’t help but to be flattered anyway. “had to look all over town for them. turns out they’re actually pretty hard to find around here. can you believe that?” he chuckled to himself as he scratched at the back of his neck. an unfittingly cute gesture for a man of his build.

you grin sweetly as you grab the bouquet from his large hands, setting them down on the table in front of you and batting your lashes. “these are very beautiful! thank you so much, ...um?”

mina always purposely hid the names of her friends away before setting you up, mostly in fears that you’ll end up googling them and find some not so pretty things, just as you had that time when she tried to set you up with katsuki bakugou. (you noted to yourself that day, stay away from him at all costs.)

“ah- eijirou kirishima!” he filled in for you and held a hand out for you to shake. your eyebrows shot up in realization, leaning forward a bit on the table to shake his hand. you don’t miss the way his eyes shamelessly drift down to your cleavage when you do so. the sight made you laugh.

now you saw why he seemed so familiar at first glance. you’d heard mina talk to you about him on numerous occasions. big, handsome, and dumb. that’s how you’ve always perceived him from listening to her stories and descriptions. and if there was one thing you actually enjoyed about a man, it was how simple they could be. perfect for a woman with your desires.

you open your mouth to return his introduction, but he’s already cutting you off with perhaps a little too much eagerness. “and you’re y/n? did i say that right?” he quirks an eyebrow. “uh- i may have asked mina about you already. a lot.” he flashed you a sheepish smile.

talking to him felt like being a kid in a loaded candy shop. he’d be in the palm of your hand in no time.

the rest of dinner went on moderately better than your previous experiences with these stupid dates. kirishima was a bit of a talker, but you didn’t mind listening if it meant you got to watch the way those puppy dog eyes lit up a little more every time he’d begin telling you a story from his hero work (turns out you were just really behind on the latest hero news), only to quickly become side tracked by one details of his story and trail his way to another mini rant.

finally, you figure you’ve had enough of him rambling. it was time to cut to the point. “does it get lonely?” you asked him suddenly, trying your best to hold in a smile at the way he looked at you confusedly. “i mean- not really? i’m a hero so i’m with people all of the time-“ “that’s not what i meant, red.” hearing you refer to him by his hero name sent visible chills down his spine. just the effect you were wishing to have on him. something about your change in tone knocked him from a highly energetic and charismatic sweetheart, to a blushing and stuttering mess who suddenly couldn’t sit still in his seat. and from just one question, too?

he was almost too good to be true.

“no? i-i mean, yes but... i dunno. i’m busy a lot, a-and i don’t really have time for... yaknow.” “what kind of women do you like? in bed, i mean.” you managed to knock his brain around for a second time as he fumbled around his head for an answer.

“i-i guess it depends?” “hm? what do y’mean?” the way he continued to respond to your nasty questions had you licking your lips. you wanted him. badly. in the most selfish ways possible.

“depends on what the chick is into. i mean- they usually like when i’m on top. but..” you don’t respond this time. instead you look at him expectantly and wait for him to continue his previous statement. something about seeing such a grown man grow so embarrassed that quickly does something to you.

“i guess i wouldn’t mind... having someone take control for once?”

everything from that point felt like a blurred flash. you quickly abandoned the bouquet and called for the bill (which he so generously covered for the two of you) and were stumbling out of the door in no time, speedily walking all the way to your humble apartment. the door had just swung open when you were already shoving him inside.

kirishima spent nearly the entirety of the walk psyching himself up for this. did you know he wanted to experiment with this? had mina told you? how would mina even know? did he even really want this? because by the way he was struggling to catch his breath and connect dots in his mind, maybe he’d gotten too far ahead of himself.

but it was too late for that now. you’d already shoved him all the way down the hall, into your bedroom, and onto your bed before he knew it. you were fierce and impatient. and honestly? he found it quite intriguing.

“red...” you drew him back from falling into his thoughts once again, dragging your knuckles across the rough skin of his cheek. “i said, are you sure you want this?” and he swears he’s never nodded faster in his life, already grabbing onto your waist and hoisting you onto his lap. “yes! yes, i’m sure. please y/n?” and with that, a thread in you snapped.

you pushed him roughly until his head rested comfortably against the pillows, muttering a quick ‘stay’ as you began to fumble with his belt. you’d barely even touched him, yet he still lied staring at you with those same big adoring eyes. he was just too cute for his own good.

it made you want to wreck him.

you practically ripped away his pants and boxers before gently palming at his cock. you had expected him to be big, but not this big. he was long and thick, your hand barely managing to wrap completely around it. wordlessly you crouched down and pressed a gentle peck to his swollen tip, the precum that’d gathered there now sticking deliciously to your lips.

kirishima was getting so restless above you that you could’ve mistaken him for a virgin, hands fisting at your sheets with countless pleas tumbling from his lips. “so impatient, cutie. dont you want to be taken care of?” “i do! i do!” it seemed as if he was completely unashamed of how desperate he must’ve looked right now.

but rather than provide the sweet sweet release you knew he was craving, you tsked and backed away from his cock. much to his disappointment. “you know something, red? i didn’t take you for the selfish type. want me to make you feel good when you haven’t even touched me yet? and i thought you were a gentleman...”

kirishima thrashed below you, fingers digging hard into your hips. “i’m a gentleman! i’ll be a gentleman! i promise!” his lip wobbled cutely. you almost felt bad for having to deny such a pretty face.

almost.

he observed closely as you leaned back on your knees, sliding down the straps of your dress and tugging until your lacy bra was revealed to him. you were going to be the fucking death of him. you couldn’t help but giggle a bit at the way he eyed your chest. “i’ll tell you what.” you said as you reached out and pressed a finger under his chin, forcing him to meet your intense eyes.

“be a good boy for me and maybe, maybe, i’ll let you touch. deal?” and kirishima nodded giddily. truly an obedient little thing, he was.

you gave him a large smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes before patting him on the cheek, moving up to straddle his face and... shit. you weren’t wearing any panties under your dress. the smell of your arousal right in front of his face nearly made him overload, wanting nothing more but to bury his face between your legs until you’re heaving and begging for a break. but he had to be good for you. wanted you to rake your fingers through his hair and call him your good boy while he plays with your pretty tits.

“well? dont you want a tas—” you gasp when his mouth is suddenly on you, every sense of restraint abandoned as his tongue slid across and pressed against your poor clit. it was messy, no real technique behind his frantic movements, but he still had your eyes crossing and your thighs squeezing the sides of his head as ear muffs, his fingers squeezing and prodding at the flesh to keep himself grounded.

the sounds that came from your cunt and his mouth were embarrassingly lewd, the sound of his slurping making your entire body go hot. you were so close to losing your composure and letting him have you the way he wants, but you couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this. not when you’ve been craving this for this long.

“kiri..” you couldnt tell if you were whispering or yelling at this point, brain all scrambled from the amount of pleasure you were receiving. you nearly doubled over from the vibrations of the small ‘hmm’ of acknowledgment he gave you. your fingers tangle themselves in his stiff red locks, holding his face still to allow you to grind yourself on his mouth just the way you wanted.

your breath hitched in your throat each time his nose bumped against your clit, his tongue buried deep in your hole as he was desperate to taste all of your juices. you could already feel your orgasm creeping up on you..

“oh, shit! just like that. good- fuck! such a good boy” the praise sends him into a frenzy, now using the pad of his thumb to rub viciously at your clit as his tongue fucked into you so nicely.

“‘m cumming, cumming, oh my god!” you’re hunched over now, eyes screwed shut when your orgasm suddenly rips through you. kirishima’s tongue continued its assault on your spasming pussy, the overstimulation becoming almost unbearable. you tried everything to get him off of you to make it stop. tugging his hair, lifting yourself up- but nothing seemed to be able to separate him from you until you literally shouted his name.

he released you in an instant and allowed you to back away to fully take in his form. everything about the sight was downright sinful. your juices covered the entire lower half of his face, and his hair remained matted with sweat against his forehead. and most delicious of all? he still looked hungry. you nearly said ‘fuck it’ and climbed back on top of him again...

but he needed to be punished.

and it seemed that he knew this too, because the moment your eyes met he was already begging for mercy. “‘m sorry! p-“ “i thought you promised you’d be a good boy? yaknow, i’m not exactly a big fan of liars, red. how could i let you have me when you can’t even follow simple instructions?” he’s silent at this point, eyes glued to the ground with an unreadable emotion splayed across his face.

you huffed as you climbed off of the bed, standing on wobbly legs with your back turned to him. you shook your head as you quickly slid your dress back into place. you originally planned on leaving it at this and sending him home, and perhaps you’d consider giving him a second shot if he begged you pretty enough. but kiri had other plans.

he wasn’t quite sure what came over him, but when he realized that you were planning on leaving him like that he couldn’t help but to jump up, gripping onto your waist once again. “kiri! what are you doing?” “please.” he whimpered into your ear, hard chest pressing into your back and his painfully hard cock rutting against your ass.

you probably would’ve collapsed right there if it weren’t for his tight grasp. “please don’t leave! ‘m so hard for you. want you so fucking bad. i’ll do anything, just- please let me cum. mommy.” the word rolled off of his tongue so sweetly, so heavenly, you couldn’t stop yourself from shoving him back onto the bed and tearing off his shirt.

you licked your lips when he was left completely bare to you finally, hand already working at pumping his cock. “suck a dirty boy. men like you are scum, you know that? getting so upset that you didn’t get your way after being so disobedient? i should tie you up and edge you for the rest of the night just for that” he began to mindlessly shake his head, muttering quiet a ‘no, no..’

“however,” you began to drag your fingernail across his chest, playing with the hairs that rested there, “think i’m gonna let it slide this time. well, only if you thank me properly..”

“thank you mommy!” the way there wasn’t even an ounce of hesitation or shame in his voice had you clenching around nothing. denying him any longer was beginning to be just as much torture to yourself as it was to him. biting down on your lip, you grabbed his cock and started pressing the tip to your entrance.

you began to feel as though you’ve managed to completely break him, watching as he continued to sputter out ‘thank you’s even as you struggled to take his cock in your dripping cunt. the stretch was nearly unbearable at first, but you were never one to back down from a challenge.

you weren’t going to stop until you knew you’ve completely broken him down into a blubbering mess for you. until you were the only thing he could think of. until you had him quivering and begging just for you. the thought of making him into your slave had you bouncing on his dick with energetic vigor.

kirishima was a sight to behold, too. eyes crossed and occasionally fluttering shut, panting like a dog as every bit of his stamina oozed out of him and he had to hold himself back from cumming too quickly.

at one point you caught his eyes glued on to the way your covered tits bounced while you rode him, still clad in your tight dress. you smirked devilishly before reaching behind your back and unclasping your bra, tugging it down with the dress once again and toying with your puffy nipples for his viewing pleasure.

that seemed to be the final straw for kiri, as he was now bucking up into you like a horny mutt. “gonna cum so hard, mommy. please let me cum in you. g’nna fill you up so good. wanna make you a mommy. i want it- i want it- i want it...” with all of his babbling you weren’t quite sure if he was aware of what he was saying right now, but the lewd words still had you spiraling closer and closer.

“cum in me, baby. be a good boy for mommy and give her your babies, okay?” you told him as you gripped his face in your hands.

and like the obedient little thing he is,, he did exactly that.

thirsts and requests for haikyuu and bnha are open.

[jangofctts]

mama keida, your hungry bitches now humbly beg for your Thots© on these men and their eating out habits 🥵

oNCE again I have no CLUE which boys ya want but here, tiS under the cut

boba: since I wrote about this I hope YALL WOULD UNDERSTAND thAt when this bitch eats you out he’s gonna EAT YOU OUT. Boba likes to tease a lot before actually putting his mouth on you and so expect a lot of “aw, princess, what's got you so worked up?” or like “I haven't even touched you, little one, and you’re already dripping.” maybe he’ll coat his fingers in your arousal and then suck it off while you just have to watch. SHIT LIKE THAT, HE’S A SMUG MF bc if he’s putting his mouth on you he’S GONNA DO IT HIS WAY. when he actually DOES taste you, he just sucks your clit until youre shaking or begging aND THEN puts his entire mouth over you, isn't afraid of it getting a little messy, esp when Boba wraps his arms around your thighs and just locks you in place so you cant wiggle away. he’s a bit of a biter, so he’ll nip your thighs and very lightly scrape his teeth over your clit. when he FINALLY gives you what you want and lets you cum he just smirks and doesn't stop. he’s a fan of overstimulation and just, pushing you over the edge as many times as it takes for you to start sobbing a bit or just incoherent babbles. once he’s satisfied, his lips and chin soaked with your arousal, he’ll flash you a cocky smile and drag you into a lONG, open mouthed kiss   

din: baby boy. angel man. sweetheart who can do no wrong. since he's a virgin or very inexperienced, he’s very CURIOUS. he’ll be laying between your legs, head resting on your thigh as he run his fingers through your folds. he asks what feels good, sees what makes you twitch/moan or grab at his hair (pssst he likes his hair PULLED). din is a quick learner and so he jumps right in, licks a long line from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit and sucks for a little. he lOVES when you yank his head closer or arch your hips to get more of his tongue inside of you. din's not afraid of being loud and so, expect to hear little moans/curses/praise--whatever comes into his mind he just says it. imo I dont think he intentionally means to overstimulate you BUT he just cant get enOUGH--addicted to your taste when you cum on his tongue so he just doesn't stop. you have to force his head away and TELL him to stop or else yall gonna be there for hours ngl. he’s lived under armor for so long that every flavor, scent and touch is so fuckiN CRISP for din and so he wants to savor everything before he has to put the helmet back on. (also pLEase CaLL him a good boy--might bust a phat nut in his pants tho so wekejh)    

paz: a fuckin horndog. sit on his face--do IT, in fact he asKS YOU TO. he wants to drOWN in that wap. paz is an ass man and so he loves it when you let him eat you out from behind, or you ride his face reverse cowboy. if you’re into it he’ll stick a couple fingers in your ass while he sucks your clit or has his tongue buried in your cunt. his lips are very wARM and plush so it just feels like HEAVEN. he’s a talker too, wants to tell you how pretty you are or how well youre doing for him, yknow? he ALSO likes when you pull his hair or tell HIM how good he’s doing. paz is a big boy but he’s also a big teddy bear and he just wants to make you feel good. hoWEVER he does have a tendency to edge and or overstimulate you so watch out kekjhrekw  

rex: he jUST wants to treat his baBY--wants to show how good you make him feel by eating you out. I think rex is a bit reserved with telling people how he feels so he likes to show a lot of his love through action. he’ll sit you down on a couch and be on his knees for you while you stroke his face and maybe steal a kiss before Rex gets started. he definitely wants to hold your hand while he does it, scratch that HE NEEDS to hold your hand, needs to feel grounded and loved bc he adores you. it’s very slow and gentle--he’s worshiping every inch of skin his tongue laves over and savors each moan and gasp of his name. his favorite thing to do is suck/lick your clit while he fingers you--rex just likes to feel everything and give you his absolute best. since imo he’s a bit shy with these sorta things you need to encourage him and tell hm what he’s doing right and what you like, yknow? but after a couple times eating you out he’s AN EXPERT. he’s memorized you and uses it to his advantage. after you cum make sure to give him a sweet kiss, soft praise and ofc CUDDLES   

cody: lmfao gOOD LUCK YOU AINT WALKING STRAIGHT AFTER HE’s DONE WITH YOU. nine times outta ten cody will eat you out after he’s fucked you. he literally gives zero shits if his cum is all over you, he just wants his mouth on you IMMEDIATELY. it’s very sloppy and needy, lots of cursing on his part and rumbly groans. he’s a biter too, youre not leaving without his teethmarks or big ol hickeys over your thighs and hips. he you to remember for days (lmfao like you could forget). if you’re a Jedi/senator/whatever, and youre on a mission with him, he’ll 100% pull you into a supplies closet or behind a gunship and eat you out there. he doesn't care if you get caught, he actually thinks it’s funny if one of his brothers walks by and sees you cumming over his tongue and crying his name. he’s DEFINITELY a talker in bed and it mostly consists of him teasing you, that rumbly voice feels like heaven when hums around your clit or asks if you’ll be good for him and cum in his mouth. I also have nO doubt in my mind if you’re being a brat, cody will edge you for hours and then just fuckin leave. he likes to see you squirm..just a bit :)

wolffe: aGGRESSIVE--idk how to explain that other than aggressive but kjrkjehr wolffe bites and digs his nails into your thighs when he eats you out. I feel like he’s a blend between cody and boba with the teasing--he likes to edge you, maybe he’ll eat you out and then leave you at the brink of orgasm, leave for hours, and then come back and overstimulate the fuck outta you until you cry a bit. if you agree, he’ll want to definitely want to wake you up by putting his mouth on you with lazy licks and quiet groans. you should pull his hair too :) he Definitely wont Get Grumpy or Bite Your Thigh. I feel like wolffe could be a spitter, like he’ll spit on your pussy, rub it over your clit and then drag his tongue from the base of your cunt and then all the way up. yknow? he also likes it when you ride his face, doesn't care if he literally cant breath from how hard you’re grinding into him, all that matters is your taste on his tongue and you screaming his name. I feel like when he asks to eat you out it’s another way of showing how much he cares for you, bc like rex, he’s shy with feelings and so wolffe will do little acts of service like this or anything else you wanna try. but anyway, he likes to rip your panties off and just go ham