#duck pull along toy

[goobersplat]

1987 Yellow Mom Duck Pull Along toy with Three Babies

[buckyalpine]

Chicken nuggies.

Crack thought with all the fluff. ALL the fluff. Maybe a tiny dash of angst at the start but it's to set the plot.

Everything that could have possibly gone wrong went sideways as soon as the mission started. The team was ambushed. Bucky was separated from everyone else. His trigger words blared through the speakers and there was nothing anyone could do to stop the soldier from awakening.

Worst of all, you were badly injured. Steve groaned in pain, struggling to pull himself up when he saw the solider lock his eyes on your limp form, taking long strides towards you with purpose.

That wasn't good.

"Tony-I-I need back up, y/n is-what the hell"

Steve blinked watching his friend pick you up with the utmost care, holding you securely in his arms. A hydra agent attempted to order him, only to be silenced with a knife thrown to the throat. The soldier made his way towards the exit with you along with a limping Steve trailing behind him.

"Buck-

"Быстрее" [move] he ordered, carrying you close to his chest and sitting in his designated on the spot on the jet. He didn't say a word as the others filed in, growling when Tony didn't start the engine up fast enough. No one dared look in your direction, not wanting to make the wrong move and happy that Bucky had busied himself with looking over your injuries, mumbling in Russian while letting his hand brush over your cheek.

As soon as the jet touched the ground, he was on his feet and carrying you over to the medbay, refusing to set you down until he saw a doctor ready to help. While it wasn't exactly protocol to have him in the operating room while the doctors worked, no one was interested in arguing back with him when he placed himself in a corner, watching intently. His blue eyes which were normally filled with warmth and softness were now stone cold, eyeing every single movement of what was being done to you, his gaze relaxing when the surgeon gave him a shaky thumbs up.

He sat by your side the entire time, gear still strapped to his body, watching the steady beep of your heart monitor while you slept, the rest of the team quietly waiting outside. Sam peered in, quickly retreating back when Bucky glowered at him, getting up and closing the door so you could rest. He and Steve continued to peep through the little glass window, immediately ducking when they could feel steel blue eyes watching him.

"Do we try and help or-

"I don't want to die yet, also based on what I'm seeing, y/n in the safest place she could be"

You sighed happily as you blinked awake, feeling hazy as if you were floating upon the softest of clouds. The room was bright and clean, you could have been in heaven for all you knew.

Or you were just high as a kite from all the pain killers.

Then you saw him beside you.

Such a gorgeous man.

Handsome.

One who gave you butterflies with shy smiles.

"Soldat" You giggled, reaching over to stroke his scruffy cheek, brushing your thumb over the scowl on his lips, "Hi" You admired his sharp jaw, idly tracing over his features while his mouth twitched into something of a smile, all his muscles finally relaxing seeing you awake.

You yawned, stretching yourself out like a kitten out before rolling over with a flop to face the very pretty man who was sitting at your bedside. Your admiration was cut short with the rumble of your tummy.

There was only one thing you wanted now.

"Soldat, I want chicken nuggies" You demanded, the growl of your stomach solidifying your request. He simply nodded, getting up and out of his seat, making his way over to the one place he knew you'd want your "nuggies" from.

"H-how may I h-help you" The Mc Donald's cashier stared at the numerous guns and knifes strapped to the infamous soldier, his metal arm pointing to a kids meal combo that came with a 6 piece nugget.

A little red box was placed in front of him at lightening speed but that wasn't good enough. He peered into the bag, frowning when he saw a toy that you already had. He grabbed it and placed it back onto the counter, staring at the trembling employee while they rummaged to find a new one, grabbing fistfuls and stuffing into the bag instead. The soldier nodded when he was given one you didn't have before, making his way back to ensure you were fed.

It didn't take long for the news outlets to catch on that the Winter Soldier was out buying Happy Meals.

*Tony's suit, Thors hammer, Steve's now broken shield and some gentle deprogramming later*

"Still want more nuggies" You murmured against Bucky's chest, still a little hazy while he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I'll always get you chicken nuggies, doll"

[starshideurfics]

Little Steve who gets lost on a shopping trip in Chicago once. He’s bored and wanders towards a window display while his mommy is at the perfume counter, everything is so neat and perfectly in place. By the time he turns around, he can’t see his mommy anywhere.

Steve takes a deep breath and starts walking, ready to go looking for her, only to realize just how big the department store is. He’s overwhelmed and ducks into the middle of a clothing rack, curling up into a little ball, his lip wobbling as he makes peace with the fact he will have to live at the department store. He knows there’s food there because they already had lunch, and they walked past a whole department full of candy. There are little beds in the home department that will be just the right size for him, even if Mommy always says he shouldn’t climb on them and not to embarrass her. There’s even a giant teddy bear in the toy department, so really, living here won’t be so bad!

“Steve! Stevie! Oh my god! Steven!”

Steve perks up. That’s his mommy. He crawls out from under the rack, through a curtain of suit coats.

“Mommy!” He runs to her and she crouches down to pull him into her arms.

She cries as she holds him and apologizes, words more for herself than for Steve. “I’m sorry, Stevie. I thought you were right next to me. Oh god! What if something had happened to you?”

He gets a new toy truck, a nice one with working doors, and Mommy holds his hand the rest of the trip. They get ice cream. It’s the best day ever, and Steve was only scared for a minute.

A month later, Steve is bored at home. Daddy is in his office and Mommy is on the phone.

Every time he tries to talk to Mommy she says, “Not now, Steve. Mommy’s busy.” Daddy’s office door is locked.

So, Steve decides to run away. If he’s missing, Mommy will want to find him and hold him close. He puts on his shoes, carefully tying the bows on his laces, and leaves.

The sliding door into the backyard is quiet as he closes it behind himself, and he sets off with a determined gait.

Steve makes it far enough into the woods that he can’t see his house anymore. Then far enough that he comes out on a field that he doesn’t recognize. Another little boy is in the field, very focused as he stares at a patch of clover. “What are you doing?” Steve asks as he approaches.

“Catching moths!” The boy points to an open mason jar with leaves and twigs inside, then to the clover, a handful of white and yellow moths among the plants. He smiles at Steve, a gap where one of his baby teeth has already fallen out, then turns back to the clover, taking slow steps and crouching, trapping a moth between his cupped hands. “Can you grab the jar?”

Steve does, holding it carefully as the older boy places the moth inside, holding a hand over the jar’s mouth. “Thanks! My name’s Eddie, what’s yours?”

“Steve.”

“Wanna help me catch some more?”

“Yeah!”

Together, the boys catch a few more moths (Eddie catches all of them, Steve keeps scaring them by moving too fast). Eddie puts them in the jar, closing the lid, holes already punched in the metal, and they watch the little insects walk along the twigs and languidly flap their wings. Then Eddie unscrews the lid, giggling as the moths fly away.

“Why’d you do that? We worked so hard!”

“Moths can’t live in jars. Mama always says I can look but I can’t keep ‘em,” Eddie answers with a smile. Then Steve’s stomach growls loudly, and Eddie looks up to see how low the sun already is in the sky. “I’m hungry too. It’s almost dinner time, so we should head home.”

“I don’t know how to get home,” Steve says softly, suddenly realizing he got pretty turned around in the woods and home could be anywhere.

Eddie takes Steve’s hand. “That’s okay, you can come with me!” Eddie knows exactly what to do, leading Steve with all the confidence of a six-year-old, ready to start 1st grade next month. They quickly arrive at the trailer park, Eddie knocking at a door before walking straight inside, tugging Steve after him. “Uncle Wayne!”

“Hey there, Bug, who’s your friend?” Eddie’s uncle is tall, with kind eyes. Even if Eddie hadn’t brought him there, Steve’s pretty sure he would like Uncle Wayne.

“This is Steve.”

“Steve’s folks know where he is?”

“He doesn’t know how to get home.”

“Ah, shhh—�� Wayne winces, cuts himself short, and Steve’s pretty sure he was gonna say a bad word. “Steve, do ya know your phone number?” Wayne asks, crouching down to be eye-level with the boys.

“No…” That’s a lie. But he needs to make sure Mommy and Daddy are worried about him. If he gets sent home too soon, they’ll just be mad.

“Your address?”

“No.”

“How about your last name?”

Steve just shakes his head, tears welling in his eyes. He had so much fun with Eddie, and now everything is falling apart. He should have stayed home…

Wayne ruffles his hair. “It’ll be okay, kiddo. We’ll get you home.” Steve’s stomach growls again. “How about we have a snack? Everything looks better on a full stomach.”

Eddie is still holding Steve’s hand, and brings him over to the little table, letting go so they can climb onto chairs. Wayne gives them chocolate-covered mini donuts and orange soda, asking them about their afternoon, Eddie doing most of the talking.

Then the phone rings, and Wayne answers. “No, he’s here, Bets, Eddie’s with me. — What?” He turns to look at the boys, staring at Steve, before continuing, “Nope, you saved me some trouble. You know Eddie, he picked up a stray. — Pretty sure it is. Yep, I’ll drop Eddie off after.” He hangs up, smiling again. “Hey, Steve, I think I know how to get you home now, so don’t you worry.”

Wayne loads the boys into his truck. He drives the backroads, quickly arriving outside Steve’s house, his mommy throwing open the door when she notices their arrival. “Thank you,” Steve says quickly, scrambling out of the truck and running to his mother.

She holds him close and cries, yells her thanks. Steve waves goodbye to Eddie as he is carried inside. Mommy kisses his hair and tells him he isn’t allowed to go outside without telling her, that he scared her half to death.

Steve just hides his face against her shoulder, snuggling close.

When Daddy gets home he yells, scolds Steve for causing so much trouble, for scaring Mommy and making them call the police. He gets a spanking before be sent to his room for the night.

Steve never runs away again.

[talesofsonicasura]

To Save A DogDay

I couldn't help but write this after seeing the constant dedication of saving the giant toy doggo. So here's something to assist you guys in the effort. I've done some research(even though Google was being an ass) and took a look at this particular post by @dafloof

First off, DogDay is surprisingly big despite being cut in half. If I have to compare his size then think of those giant plushies you win from a theme park or carnival game. Thus the only possible carry for the average person to safely escort him is bridal or hanging off like a koala on the side due to the grab pack. He might be able to shrink himself to a more manageable size if DogDay is similar to CatNap in body structure.

Although that doesn't mean the task is impossible outside of adrenaline. DogDay may be big you got to think about his possible weight. Bigger Bodies are still toys with the Smiling Critters being plushies. How much of him is stuffing and not organs?

The necessary body parts for him to still be alive are the lungs, heart, brain, stomach, and some sort of skeletal structure. Here's a weight chart for the average human. (Although these might be smaller if harvested back as a child than an adult.)

Stomach: 2-4 pounds/lbs

Brain- 2.5 pounds/lbs

Heart- 0.25 pounds/lbs

Lungs- 1.8 pounds/lbs

Human Skeleton- 15-25 pounds/lbs

Average weight here 21.05 - 31.05 lbs. His arm bones might be reinforced similar to the Prototype but they still wouldn't be that heavy. For carrying in your arms, 35- 55 lbs is what the the untrained person can hold. Body weight contributes to how much someone can carry with a 139 lbs untrained woman being able to deadlift around 74 lbs. For men it is 125 lbs for 148 lbs.

Adrenaline can help contribute to this as there have been feats done by people in dangerous situations. One example being a human mother fighting off a polar bear to protect her kids or someone moving a car by themselves to get free. We can do insane things when it comes to survival.

There's also the mental side to this. Our brains actually diminish the perception of how strong we are by 40%. If you carry something you love or cherish like a person, then they can weigh less just from that viewpoint. Sometimes thinking like the Little Engine That Could will make a difference.

Now I am not forgetting the dangerous little critters. There are ways to deal with them and have enough time to bring DogDay along. In his cell, there are two ports they can crawl out of. Blocking these whether by flares or stuffing them with nearby items can do the trick.

Second is bribery. We aren't restricted to the environment like in the game and throughout the facility there are intact vending machines. The toys obviously need to eat but seem unable get into the machines. YOU CAN.

Break the glass and stockpile as much snacks as possible. Finding bags or boxes to carry them wouldn't be hard. Offer these to the little Critters in exchange for DogDay. You can open one bag for further incentive as the chance to get a special treat is something no one will be able to resist.

DogDay might be able to drag himself so breaking the chains with the Grab Pack or a different tool is possible. They are probably rusty thus easier to break. It will obviously hurt for DogDay to drag his body so stealing something like a cushion from CatNap's hideyhole could ease the pain.

Should that not be the case then other options are available. Considering Playcare is a fun house, you might be able to find scooterboards or a platform cart to carry him. If not then a makeshift sled to pull DogDay about is the next best move.

Now there's actually another escape route. A duck ride that you couldn't access in the game due to bugs. I think Mob was planning for a chase down there as it is fully fleshed out with puzzles and an environment.

DogDay can hold onto the boat while you solve the puzzles to get out. For those who hadn't chosen bribery then flares will keep pursuing Little Critters away. Maybe set a fire as you escape since there's plenty of items to make a molotov cocktail if crafty enough.

I suggest finding some walkie talkies as someone needs to look after DogDay. The area under the statue can be a possible safe spot but being able to contact Kissy Missy and Poppy will better the chances of his recovery than just survival. Both know the factory's inner works enough to remain hidden so they might know where to find supplies. A possible ally with valuable info can sway them to help.

There is also the option of coming back to Playcare. DogDay might still be alive as you can hear his muffled cries during the chase. He might be worse for wear due to the little menaces piloting him like a bootleg Megazord. Walkie talkies can help you page Kissy Missy to help with escorting the Bigger Body safely.

It is possible to save DogDay if you are smart or crafty enough to use the environment. The factory offers a lot of potential options to help with that. Do know that you can turn a simple water gun into a flamethrower.

Why follow the rules of the game when there are ways to break them?

[devoutekuna]

Nighttime routine

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

He hates nighttime routines when you were already asleep, having to put his little brat to bed, especially after a long day of her messing about outside. Throwing her a towel as he poured the bucket of water onto her head, watching all the dirt come off her and flush down the drain, scrubbing against her scalp as she played with the duck on front of her, paying no mind to hoe rough he was being. As soon as she was out the bathroom he was already trying to fit her in some clothes.

"Your doing it wrong daddy" throwing off the shirt which was already back to front. He didn't understand why shirts were necessary to her, they clearly weren't to him, he found them restrictive and a waste of material, he'd walk around naked if he could. Fast asleep in his arms as they sat outside, staring at the moon and stars, you in the room behind them. The way she was bundled up in blankets as she slept in the palm of his hand, snoring gently away.

Nanami-

Nanami loves nighttime routine, always opting to take over the shift so that you could rest, the first thing he did was giving them a bath, making sure that the water was the perfect temperature and filled with their favourite bath toys. Hair pulled back as he already knew how messy it would get. "Look dad!" Throwing the poor toy into the water, soaking him from head to toe, a grin still plastered on his face as he tried to ignore the mess.He despises putting his daughter to bed, she was always a hassle when it came to her bed. Always crawling out or finding some excuse to not to sleep, may it be she's not tired or you didn't read her a story despite it being the 2nd one he read.

"The end" closing the book as he cradled his offspring in his arms, her little head resting along his rising and falling chest, hand holding some of his fingers. Feeling peaceful with her father around.

Toji-

He hates nighttime, he is always eating his dinner when his son gets put to bed, hearing the fuss he created as he messed up your stress. Allowing you to get some well deserved rest. "Get in the bath" shaking his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "NO!" He hated bath time with anyone other than his mother, no wonder he never helped you when it came to the bedtime routine. Soon after forcing him to take a bath, he was pouting and crying, trying to justify how much he wanted his mother. Scared he'd wake you up, he stuffed his favourite toy into his hands and tucked him into bed, if the crying didn't stop he'd sometimes have to sit beside his bed and draw circles with his finger in the palm of his hand till he fell asleep.

Geto-

He's used to all her activities, throwing tantrums before bed, tiring herself out before he looked her into bed, that was his go to. "Not fair!" Stomping her tiny feet on the ground, it didn't cause much noise as she wasn't that big. "I don't wanna sleep!" Crying and pleading for a chance to play some more games. Sat on the floor behind her as he laid on the wall, arms crossed over and he just nodded to everything he said, he didn't care, she would still be going to bed it was as simple as that. Soon after her one sided argument ended she was tucked in bed, surrounded by her favourite toys as she laid peacefully there.

Gojo-

He doesn't know anything about kids, having been a spoiled kid and raised by nannies his whole life, he didn't find the need to learn about kids. That was till he had to put one to bed, his little 2 year old. He was as mischievous as him, running around knocking stuff down for his own amusement. "Got ya!" He had just been in a chasing match with his son, running around the house naked as he didn't want to get in the bathtub. Dunking the boy into the water, making sure he couldn't escape since it was so hard to get him in there. "Get off" kicking and screaming as he felt himself touch the water. Water splashing everywhere, soaking his blindfold and hair, but you did have to admit that he did look pretty good with his wet hair and transparent blindfold.

"I hate baths! I'm a big boy so I take showers" folding his arms as he tried to lean back into the water, too busy to release that they were in water.

[1800titz]

Another pornstar!Harry TEASER

“Just—“ Y/N manages between searing kisses as his fingers work the seams of her shirt apart through button-work, “—-jumping right into it, huh?” It’s probably not the sexiest thing to say from the get go of the camera rolling, but she’s honestly still got bits of nerves coiling up in her. This is RideTheTiger. This is happening. She’s going to fuck RideTheTiger. 

Another short kiss, this one she can feel the cushiony pink of his mouth curving up into. 

“Sorry,” Harry amends against her mouth, lips ghosting wetly against her cupid's bow, and the word sounds sort of amused.

And then he’s manually spinning her and marching her over to the dresser, where the camera is set up, her stumbling, rushed gait steadied by the firm press of his thighs from behind as he walks her, colossal hands cupped over her arms. 

“This—” he starts, an introduction blatantly made for the lens, and her pulse stutters when his palm slides up and across and cups over her throat warmly — not quite squeezing, but just there. His other hand explores the expanse of her silhouette from the waist down, pads of his fingers roaming over her tummy, “—is the infamously naughty Birdie.” 

Her veins thrum with something, something hot when the ringed digits traipse to the button of her jeans, just looming over. 

“Can I take these off?” Harry murmurs against the shell of her ear. The tips of his curls tickle at her temple, and she knows he asks it low enough that it’s meant for her. She knows the camera will pick up on it anyways, too. 

“Yeah,” the agreement falls out meshed with an exhale, and her head tips back against his shoulder as his fingers do deft, impressively one-handed work at quick discarding. 

The other hand fondles at one of her tits, only covered with fabric for so long before he takes advantage of the opening he’d made along the line of buttons, pulling at one side for the pink polka-dotted cup of her bra to come out on display. This is all very pro-level disrobing. Y/N decides that when Harry multi-tasks, popping the button of her denim through, pinching at the zipper and tugging down, all still with his other hand caressing over padded flesh at her chest. Ultimately, though, both hands make their way to her hips, and his digits wriggle under either side of her waist band to strip her jeans off, until they rest at about an immobilizing mid-thigh, with an unceremonious yank. 

“I’m Tiger,” Harry talks again, finally, after what’d been a silent moment of apparent concentration, his chin ducked into the nook where her shoulder and her neck meet. 

The man’s fingers toy up under the hem of Y/N’s shirt, wandering over a bare sliver of skin between the top and the line of her panties before they climb the buttoned suture and make work there. 

A chill rolls down her spinal cord, stemming all the way from the nape of her neck, the back and underside of her skull, when Harry declares, almost like she’s not even there, his voice a low and heady baritone, “But, she’s going to call me Sir, and we’re gonna play a little rough with her today, because that’s what she asked for.” 

[endlessthxxghts]

Need You

Husband!Frankie Morales x wife!afab!reader || W/C: ≈5k

Summary: Tío Santi comes to the rescue when Frankie confides in him about how the two of you have been way too busy for one another.

Warnings: Crazy events of Triple Frontier don't happen; let's just give these guys some happiness. Instead of coke, Frankie’s drug is you (LMAOOO). No “y/n.” No physical descriptions of reader (besides clothing choices), she looks like you😏 and big strong man Frankie can carry you <333. Reader knows a bit of Spanish. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Oral sex (f receiving). Unprotected P in V sex. Slow and sloppy😵‍💫. Breeding kink. Domestic kink (they get really spurred on calling each other husband and wife/esposo y esposa). Possessive kink. Daddy kink (but in the sense that reader just loves seeing Frankie as a Dad and wants to give more babies to parent!!!). Pussy slapping... Cum play/eating. Vaginal fingering/fucking. Squirting. Slight Dom!Frankie (he just really wants to hear his wife beg for his cum!!). Mentions of shower ✨activities✨. A lot of love basically — physically and emotionally. Extra warning for the parents who can’t leave their child with other people — Tío Santi takes their baby out to eat and get treats; she’s in good hands, I promise!!!

A/N: Husband Frankie is rotting my brain bad. Especially girl dad!Frankie. My ovaries are screaming. So here's this little 5k bad boy I whipped up. This is very much a porn with a bit of (yummy domestic) plot. Hope y’all enjoy. Thank you to my sweet sweet bae @javierpena-inatacvest for proof-reading this and hyping me up since it’s my first Frankie story to be posted! I love you so much 🥹🥹💚 (edit: someone had a comment about why Isa is amorcito instead of amorcita, so in case you had that question as well, read my explanation here!)

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

“Querida, I’m home!” Frankie called out. 

“In Isa’s room, baby!” you responded. 

Santi tagged along on his treck home today, offering to take Isa out for lunch and sweets after Frankie told him how both of you have been crazy busy lately. He helps himself to the kitchen while Frankie makes his way to you.

Frankie lightly knocks on the door before entering, gasping out in delight to earn a bubbly reaction from his three year old daughter. “Ay, mi esposa (my wife),” he exclaims, giving you a soft kiss to your lips. He looks to his daughter and grabs her from you, “y mi amorcito (and my little love),” he says, throwing her up in the air, coaxing a few more giggles out of her. 

He sets her back down to play with her toys, and Frankie turns to you, pulling you in for a proper hello. Your lips slot against each other in a needy embrace, still as reserved as you two can be with your child in the room. He pulls away first, arms not leaving your waist. “Hi, mama,” he says with an adoring smile. “Hi, honey,” you respond, heart still skipping a few beats as if it’s your first time meeting him. He guides you to outside the doorway, closing Isa’s room ajar, so you both are out of her view.

“Santi’s here,” he tells you. “He offered to, uh, take Isa out to get food and some dessert,” he adds nonchalantly, trying to gauge your reaction. It’s been three years since your baby was born, and still you’re always reluctant to leave her with others. It’s not that you don’t trust the people you leave her with, it’s the fact that if anything were to happen — Gods forbid — you wouldn’t be able to be there, to comfort and protect her. 

Your eyebrow raises in response. He squeezes you tighter into him, ducking closer to your ear. “And I was thinking,” he kisses the sweet spot near your pulse point, “we could take some time for ourselves?” He continues kissing and nipping at your neck, uttering a small please baby as he makes his way back to your lips. 

Little did Frankie know, you didn’t need any convincing at all. You were just about ready to drop her off at your parents as soon as he got home from work today. You don’t tell him though. You like hearing him be a little desperate for you. 

His hand skates lower to your ass, the other hand making its way to cup your front. “It’s been weeks, baby, I need to taste her,” he says, damn near a whine. 

You grab both sides of his face and pull him into a searing kiss. “Go pack her bag,” you whisper as you pull away from his grasp, making your way to Santi to give him the rundown. 

In record time, Frankie packs Isa’s go bag in under five minutes: diapers, extra change of clothes, baby wipes, baby Benadryl, and some of her comfort snacks just in case she’s extra picky today. He picks up his baby, assessing if she needs a diaper change — she’s dry — and heads to the kitchen. “Wanna hang with Tío Santi today, mi amor?”

Her face lights up, and she squeals, “yes, daddy, pleeeeaaase!” 

He chuckles, his heart warming at how much she loves his best friend, his brother. 

He and Isa enter the kitchen to you giving Santi the rundown on her allergies. 

��We exposed her to all the major allergens already and no reactions, except for peanuts — she gets a little red, so just watch out for that. There’ll be Benadryl in her pack just in case.”

Santi gives you a salute, “Sir, yes, sir.” 

You playfully roll your eyes at his antics. “One more thing,” you say as you go to kiss your baby goodbye. “Usually I’d ask if you could send pictures throughout the time you’re gone…” you look at Frankie. 

Santi smirks, knowing where this is headed. 

“But you don’t have to. At least for today,” your face remains composed, but the heat spreading across your cheeks exposes you. 

“Got it. No peanuts,” Santi says, reaching for the bag off Frankie’s shoulder and the keys from his pocket, “and no interruptions,” he winks at you both. “Let me know when you guys are ready for us to come back,” he looks to his beautiful niece in her mother’s arms, peppering her with goodbye kisses. 

“Vamanos (let’s go), mija!” Santi says, prying her out of your arms. Frankie reaches to give her one last kiss on her forehead, and they’re out the door. 

As soon as the front door clicks shut, Frankie is on you in an instant, too riled up to wait until you’re in the bedroom. He needs you badly, and he needs you now. He’s caging you in between his body and the kitchen counter, lips on you like he’ll die tonight if he doesn’t touch you. Your lungs are burning for air, yet you don’t pull away. You can’t. He’s too addicting. Too much time has passed without the pleasure you two bring one another, so you’ll sacrifice one survival need for another. 

Before you know it, his hands are at the base of your ass, lifting you to the kitchen counter, and his lips are dragging down your jaw, your neck, and into your cleavage, nipping every little exposed place your cropped tank allows him. His hands are at the waistband of your sweats, pulling them down as he brings himself to his knees. 

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he takes a deep breath in. His eyes are impossibly darker, demeanor turning animalistic as he feels just your sweats alone and no underwear. He gets a view of your already glistening pussy, and he can’t help the growl that leaves his throat. 

He settles his hands under the globe of your ass and scoots you to the edge, your thighs finding solace on his shoulders. You immediately lean back on your elbows, knowing the moment his mouth is on you, your body will go weak at his touch. 

Without any warning, his tongue licks the entirety of your leaking seam, hands automatically gripping you tighter as the taste of you hits his tongue. The sound that leaves you sends shivers down his spine, his cock painfully hard and leaking in his jeans. He licks you a few more times, letting his drool drip down his tongue and spread all over you, making you a soaking mess of your arousal and his spit. 

Once you’re drenched to his liking, he dives right in, face completely flushed against your sex, sloppily sucking and licking into you, hitting all the right buttons to make you see fucking stars. By his hands or his tongue, he still knows how to steer you in the direction of the most beautiful constellations, even if they are behind your eyelids. 

“Frankie, fuck-!” you yell out, your inhibitions automatically down with the fact that the house is left to the two of you. Frankie’s hips involuntarily buck into nothing at your moans, missing the sounds you always made for him. Ever since Isa was born, both of you made a conscious effort to work on your noise levels — especially you. You were the most vocal he’s ever been with, and fuck if it didn’t make him all the more whipped. He almost forgot what your sounds do to him. Almost. But now that you’ve given him a taste again after so long, he needs more. 

He circles your clit a few times and sucks it, hard. He pulls off with a lewd pop, his dominant hand leaving your ass and making its way to your entrance. You’re such a fucking mess that his two fingers slide right in, giving you the extra push Frankie needed to pull more heavenly moans and whimpers out of you. “Let me hear you, mama,” he says, tongue circling your clit as his fingers work you to the edge. “Sing for me, baby,” and with what little strength you have, you force your head forward to watch his ministrations, and the sight is what sends you falling first. Frankie’s mouth is wrapped around the entirety of you, eyes dark and on yours, his hooked nose rubbing against all the right places while his arm muscles ripple as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. 

“Shit- oh, fuck-” you whine out, your head like a bobble head, too heavy to maintain upright. Frankie curls his fingers just right, and-

 “Oh my God, Francisco, oh my God!” Your hips are bucking into his face, his own strength unable to keep your hips down with how hard your orgasm is hitting you. He lets you ride out your wave on his face, drinking every last drop coming out of you. 

His fingers are out of you now, Frankie immediately cleaning them in his mouth, not wanting to Iet any of your sweet syrup go to waste. Your chest is heaving, eyes clamped shut, and your body is entirely limp. Frankie stands to his full height, and he’s pulling you up to sit up straight, his hands guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. He chuckles a little. “Still with me?” 

Your torso loses its strength momentarily, and you almost fall back. His arms immediately wrap around you, supporting you to maintain your upright position. You laugh at yourself, a blissed out smile gracing your face. He feels his heart flutter, just as strong as when he first met you. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here, you monster,” you lightly laugh, resting your head on him. “God, I love you,” your voice slightly muffled from burrowing yourself into his chest. 

His one hand leaves your back and wraps itself around your jaw, bringing your lips up to his. You can taste yourself on him, and you can already feel another fire being lit deep in your core, your arousal dripping onto the kitchen counter as your lips continue with his. 

You pull away, breathless, ready for more. “Take me to bed, baby.” 

“You sure you’re ready now?” He smirks. 

“Keep teasing, and I won’t let you cum inside of me, big boy.” 

His lips find yours again in a bruising manner, a growl leaves him as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. “Last I checked, you were the one begging for me to fuck my cum so deep inside you that it had no other option but to latch on. If that’s what you want again, baby, all you gotta do is ask.” 

You whimper in response, your spurt of dominance dissipating immediately. 

“That what you want, baby? Come on, tell me. I wanna hear it.” 

Your eyes are glossing over, too pent up with a fertile need to get your brain to come up with any kind of response. His grasp on your jaw tightens, his lips ghosting yours as he talks. “Tell me you want my cum, baby. Tell me you want me to fill you up so fucking full of me.” 

“Yes, baby, fuck, I need you. I need you inside of me, I need you to fill me. Please, you’re such a good daddy, I wanna give you more, please,” you ramble on. His mouth is on you again in a sloppy embrace as he picks you up and guides you two to your bedroom. 

He sets you down at the edge of the bed. He guides your shirt off, then his. He pulls back for a second and shucks his bottoms off, giving you a complete view of his tanned and toned naked body, his little tummy a little soft around the edges. Your pussy is crying at the sight. 

You don’t waste anymore time as you settle yourself to the center of your bed, your legs already falling open with muscle memory. Frankie licks his lips at the sight. Part of him just wants to go down on you again, but the way his cock is screaming at him for release and your pussy is clenching on nothing—yeah, his oral fixation can wait. 

He settles himself in between your legs. His hands are grounded into the pillow beside your head as your legs automatically hook around his waist. He rubs his length across your wetness, you mewl for him as he lets his tip drag across your clit. 

“Baby, please,” you whine. 

“I’ve got you, baby.” 

His tip breaches your entrance. God, you’ve missed him so much, and you tell him exactly that. 

His lips are on yours, never really satiated with the amount of kisses he takes from you, “I fuckin’ missed you so much.” He pushes deeper in. “God, my beautiful wife, I love you so much,” he breathes out as his lips graze your temple. 

His hips are flushed with yours, your hands secure themselves around his neck. “Please, baby, let’s never go this long again, I need you so bad,” he rasps. He’s pulling out again, his head kissing your core. “Need you always,” he says as he pushes back in, maintaining a slow but hard rhythm.

You pull him impossibly closer into you, your hands grasping and feeling him anywhere you can reach. You rock your hips to meet every push and pull of his own, lips ghosting each other with each movement, your eyes threatening to roll back at how entirely full you feel. 

He’s taking his fucking time with you tonight, fucking you slowly into the mattress, harder with each thrust, reveling in sound of your pussy each time he pushes in, and he can’t help the way he smiles into the sloppy kisses and shared breaths. 

You’re a complete mess, tears falling from your eyes at how addicting he feels mixed with the pure love you have for this man. You really don’t even register what you’re babbling about, but that doesn’t matter. Frankie’s in heaven listening to a mixture of your drawn out moans, the occasional Lord’s name in vain, and the repeated I love you, baby, I love you so much.

One of his hands drag down to your clit, rubbing clumsy yet perfect circles, forcing your dam to finally break. He’s completely soaked in you and so are your thighs and the bedsheets. Your fall is slow but all-consuming. Your back arches into him, your nipples rubbing deliciously against his chest, and the feeling is the final push that sends him painting your walls white. 

His hand leaves your swollen clit and wraps itself around your lower back, helping you maintain your arch form as he continues rocking himself into you well into his softened state. He can feel your body start to tense out of overstimulation, so he finally pulls out of you, leaving you a leaking mess of both your and his cum. He sits back on his hunches, his fingers drawing circles on your inner thighs, just admiring the sight until his cock begins to stir again. 

“Jesus, Morales,” you giggle breathily as you clocked the jump of his length.

He leans over you again, giving you a sweet, lengthy kiss as he begins to slide himself off the bed. “What can I say, baby? I’m insatiable with you,” he gives you a mischievous smirk. 

He heads to the kitchen, returning to the bedroom with a chilled glass of water for you. “Drink up,” he says.

Before he makes it to the en suite bathroom, he adds, “I’m not done with you yet, mama.”

Despite the sensitivity down there, your pussy flutters at his words, craving him down there in any way shape or form.

He returns with a warm cloth, cleaning you up as best as he can with your second round of slick and his endless load of cum pouring from you. He sets the cloth down somewhere on the floor and situates himself up against the headboard. He wordlessly guides you to lay between his legs, your chest resting against his. 

“Wanna check on Isa?” Frankie asks, albeit a little shy. You smirk a little, knowing you’re usually the one to cave first. You make grabby hands at your phone on the nightstand, nudging Frankie to grab it since his wingspan is much larger than yours. He hands it to you, and you immediately dial Santi, hitting the speaker button as it rings.

“Hey, Santi.” 

“Hey, Mrs. Fish,” you can hear him laugh at his name for you. Frankie also gives a little laugh. He thought it was the funniest thing he’s ever said during your guys’ wedding reception. He calls you that more than your own name now. 

“How’s it going?” you try to ask in an unconcerned fashion. Santi knows you both all too well to know that isn’t the case. 

“You know you two didn’t have to quit just to check on her, right? Tío Santi knows how to distract! Also, tío Santi knows how to put her down for a nap!” He says proudly.

“I believe you, Santi, don’t worry. Just checking. Frankie just kept bugging-” 

Before you could continue your sentence, Frankie’s hands immediately go to your sides, hitting all your ticklish spots. You scream out, a loud stream of giggles leaving you. 

“Coño, por favor, not while I’m on the phone!” You hear Santi say. “Sorry, Sorry,” you say, still out of breath from Frankie’s merciless attack. 

“Actually, Santi, can I ask another favor?” 

Frankie looks at you confused. You smirk at him. “Is tío Santi prepared for his first sleepover?” His confusion fades and immediately his eyes are consumed with pure lust, his soft brown eyes turning black. 

Santi is silent for a moment. “You two are downright feral, you know that, right?”

You stifle a laugh. “Ay Dios mío (oh my God),” Frankie mutters. 

“As long as I get another niece — or nephew, I really have no preference — in nine months time…” Santi trails off in thought. “Then I’d dedicate every damn weekend to her,” he says. 

You turn your head around and up to meet Frankie’s eyes, both of you in shock at Santi’s silent invitation, silence fills the air for a moment before you finally bring yourself to speak. 

“Oh? Alright, then,” you softly say. “Thank you, Santi, you’re the best. We’ll text you, okay? Bye,” you hang up, not giving Santi any chances to return the call-ending formalities. You and Frankie are still looking at each other, eyes wild at the proposition before you. 

“Every weekend, huh?” Frankie says, breaking the tension first. His head dips down to place a kiss where your neck and shoulder meet. 

You suck in a breath, arousal forming faster than a strike of lightning. “Mhm,” you barely get out. His hands are roaming your body now, your phone thrown haphazardly somewhere in the room, long forgotten. He places his hands on the insides of your thighs, spreading you open and keeping them atop his own legs, so he can hold you open. His one hand is spread largely over your lower belly while his other hand is already teasing your core. 

His finger circles directly on your clit, you yelp in response, your body twitching. “Every weekend, I’m gonna get to fuck my wife, huh?” Frankie says into your ear. “Gonna fill her full of me?” Your hips buck at the huskiness of his voice, of his possessiveness over you. Your response is incoherent, more of a moan than anything. Next thing you know, your room reverberates with the noise of a wet slap. 

He spanked your pussy. The sound that escapes your throat is beyond arousing, Frankie’s cock back to life, dripping on your lower back. “Answer me properly, baby,” he says again, softly. His fingers are circling your clit again, forcing more of your wetness out of you, his cum from earlier still seeking its place on your bedsheets.

“Mmm, fuck-” you breathe, “Yes, yes, every weekend, baby,” you’re nodding your head frantically as you try to keep your eyes trained on his actions down below. “Every weekend you’re gonna make me so full,” you whimper, “Gonna fuck a baby into me, daddy, I need you so bad.”

He slides two of his fingers into you at your words, his hips grind into your back at the feel of your warmth, of his spend keeping you nice and wet. His fingers pump in and out of you at a languid pace, his fingers arching in a come-here motion to beckon more of his cum onto his fingers. He pulls out of you momentarily, analyzing the mess he’s made. “Open, querida,” he whispers, likely in a trance at the sight. 

You open your mouth, tongue out and ready. He sticks his fingers into your mouth, and you lap up his salty spend greedily, as if it were the sweetest of syrups. You taste a distinct tanginess on his fingers, most likely the product of your own arousal. Your eyes fall shut at your taste, eyes feeling heavy and too blissed out to stay open. He pulls out of your mouth with a pop and grabs your chin, turning your face to his. He pulls you in for an open-mouthed kiss, wet and hot. His hand leaves your face and returns to your core. His fingers are back inside you, pushing in and out as his palm grinds perfectly into your clit. Your hips are moving in tandem, providing you with the perfect rhythm to soak him all over again. His lips never break from your own, tongues dancing in a way only you two get to know. 

Your hand seeks purchase at the back of his neck, tugging at the base of his curls, taking away his opportunity to break away from you. He moans into your mouth at the sharp sensation, your lower back a sticky mess from how much he’s leaking onto you. 

Finally, you break away, lips still connected by the thinnest of spit lines. “Baby, I- I’m gonna cum, shit-”

Frankie lets out a growl, desperate to have you fall apart on him. He maintains his same pace, adding a bit more pressure of his palm to your clit, his other hand pushing harder down into your belly, knowing how crazy the stimulation drives you. “Give it to me,” he mumbles in your ear, his heavy breathing fanning across your cheek. “Need it, baby. Need you,” he whines. 

“Fuck-!” you yell out, head pushing harder into his shoulder, eyes clamping shut and forming white, blinding fireworks beneath your eyelids. He fucks his fingers in you as you ride out your high, tears letting loose as your pussy squirts into his hand and all over both your bottom halves. 

The sight transforms him into a cumming mess, the only stimulation being the friction from your backside as he rutted into you. You don’t notice the warm wetness between your bodies until your body falls completely limp against him, breathing still heavy but slowly returning to normal. Frankie bejewels your face with sweet kisses — from your temples to the edge of your shoulder that he can reach — as you slowly come back to Earth. 

You look up at him now, a soft smile spread across your face. His heart stutters at the sight. You shift your back a little. “Did you…?”

“Yes, I did,” Frankie admits way too quickly, embarrassment flooding his face. 

You pull him into one more kiss before you start to get up. “Come on. Shower and then we eat,” you tell him. “You didn’t get to settle yourself down after work,” you add, slightly scolding him for his impatience yet also silently thanking him. 

“I can always eat in the shower,” Frankie adds suggestively, his eyes giving your body a once over as you stand beside the bed, waiting for him to get a move on. 

“Morales!” you gasp out. “Bad,” you say, shaking your head from side to side. 

“You know it’s gonna happen, mi amor (my love),” he says as he stands, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into him, seeking your warmth. 

And it does happen. He makes you fall apart on his tongue twice, and you pay him back by reducing him down to jelly legs as you fuck his cum down your throat. By the time you two actually start your shower, the water is completely cold, not one drop of hot water available. 

Post-shower, you two cook a fast, simple meal, too eager to be on each other again, but too aware of how important it is to give your body sustenance in order to continue with your feral behavior. You only get a few hours of sleep that night. Falling asleep after each round only to wake back up a horny, dripping mess just to fuck again. You don’t remember the last time you two did something like this, but damn were you two needing it. You made a mental note to thank Santi for his much needed offer.

The next morning you wake up at seven, the first sensation you feel for the day is your sore pussy, red and puffy as she begs you to give her a break. You look at the knocked out man beside you, give him a kiss on the forehead and break away from his hold, bringing yourself to the bathroom. You take your phone with you. 

[07:13] Just woke up. Drop Isabela off whenever you’re ready. 

[07:15] God, no wonder she’s up already. She’s got your early ass schedule. 

You laugh to yourself, picturing Santi a half asleep man child as your daughter crawls all over him, forcing him to get up, too. What Santi didn’t know was that it was actually Isa’s schedule that you were on. 

[07:16] Pobrecito (poor thing). :( 

[07:16] She’ll probably be asking for Frankie soon. She always cuddles him in the morning. 

[07:17] Yep, she just did. I’ll feed her some breakfast now, then we’ll be on our way. That good, Mrs. Fish?

[07:18] If it’s good with little Fish, then it’s good with me. 

He sends you a thumbs up, and you set your phone down. You wash up and get ready for the day. 

After you brush your teeth and wash your face, you head to Frankie’s side of the closet and grab one of his soft, cotton tees to throw on. 

You head to the kitchen, your first course of action being to fire up the espresso machine. Espresso is the only form of coffee you drink, and soon enough, Frankie followed in your footsteps. Just as you suspected, as soon as the smell of the beans filled the air, Frankie appeared in the kitchen. His sleepy eyes and sexed out hair on display nearly cause your knees to buckle, your aching pussy betraying your want for a lazy morning. 

He makes his way to you and kisses you, soft and slow, probably needing a lazy morning just as much as you. “Good morning, mi esposa (my wife),” he says, voice still raspy from sleep. 

“Mmm, good morning, mi esposo (my husband),” you smile up at him. “Sleep well?”

“With the sleep that I did get, I’d say yeah,” he says. “You really tired me out, hermosa (beautiful),” he adds.

You pull him down for another kiss. You’ll never tire of the feeling. “Waffles?”

His eyes light up, a boyish grin on his face. “Yes, please.”

Around 8:30 as you and Frankie finish your waffles, the front door is unlocking. A little girl with crazy hair comes busting in, running straight for the both of you to pull you guys into a tight group hug. 

“Mommy! Daddy!” she screams.

“Mi amorcito,” Frankie responds, matching her energy. “Mi niña loca (my crazy girl),” you squeal. “I missed you so much!” you add. 

You and Frankie kiss each of her cheeks, sandwiching her little face. 

“Did you have fun with tío Santi?” you ask.

“So much fun, mommy! We had ice cream for break-”

Before she could finish, Santi chimes in. “O-o-okayyyyy, Isa!” he claps his hand once. “Why don’t you bring this to your room,” he hands her a tiny gift bag — probably the product of some shopping they did — “while I talk to mommy and daddy?”

“Okay, tío Santi!” She takes the bag and makes her way to her room. 

Your eyebrows are raised in mock scolding as you wait for Santi to explain himself. “Hey! In my defense, those puppy dog eyes are a killer. I couldn’t say no.”

The three of you break out into laughter, Frankie going in for a hug, clapping Santi on the back as he releases him. 

“Waffles?” you offer Santi. He graciously accepts, making his way to the other side of the kitchen counter, helping himself. 

“So-” you and Frankie say at the same time. Santi pauses his actions mid-bite. 

Frankie nudges you to speak first. You clear your throat to ease the awkwardness in the room. 

“So,” you start again. “Were you, uh… were you serious about watching Isa?” you ask?

“Every weekend?” Frankie adds. 

You giggle, nodding an affirmative at your husband. “Yes, every weekend?” 

Santi finishes the bite he paused on, and sets his waffle down. “You dirty dogs!” he says. 

“Pope, come on,” Frankie’s palms go over his cheeks that are currently turning red at Santi’s teasing. 

He lets out a laugh. “Sí, cabrón (yes, asshole),” Santi says, slapping Frankie’s shoulder.  “Of course I’m serious. I’d do anything for both of you, and especially that demon of a little girl.” 

Your heart warms at Santi’s sentiment. You’re beyond grateful Frankie has a best friend like him. 

“On one condition,” Santi adds, his eyebrow quirked up.

“Anything,” you say eagerly. Frankie nods his head in agreement with you.

“I also wasn’t kidding when I said I’d need another sobrino (niece/nephew).”

You and Frankie look at each other, your stares saying everything they needed to. Yeah, Santi didn’t need to worry about that. 

And you were right when the next Saturday morning, a month and four tío Santi sleepovers later, you and Frankie presented Santi with your pregnancy test displaying two pink lines.

End note: Thank you all so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, etc, — all your support means the absolute world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do this without all of you. Thank you so so so much. There are genuinely not enough words to express my gratitude. As always feedback for my stories (at a technical sense) is also super super helpful whether it is constructive or positive! Anything helps me to be the best writer that I can be. All my love! Xo

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[chestharrington]

🌝 hi im back hehehehe a steve harrington fic where you’re teasing him (grinding at a bar????????? mayhaps?????) and then you turn around to him just 🤠 bc he 100% came in his pants thank u mamas

Heyyyy sexy <3 This is short (sozz) and I took liberties pls forgive me. But the heart of the matter is the same: Steve Harrington WILL bust in his pants. AMEN!

Rating: E (18+) Kinda

Warnings: Drinking (which shouldn’t be a warning. GROW UP!), making out, premature ejaculation

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve had been clinging to your side like a baby duck the entire night, never wandering farther than arm's length. A warm hand on the small of your back as you made your way through the crowded frat house, a warm lap to sit on when your feet started aching and the ugly leather couch started calling your name.

“You don’t have to babysit tonight,” you murmured after you sat down in the , pressing a soft kiss on his jaw.

“I know,” he replied. His hand was warm on your inner thigh, protective and comfortable. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on the plush skin as he looked at you. “I trust you, I just don’t trust these college guys.”

“You’re so adorable when you’re all protective,” you teased, poking his side. “Are you even having a little fun?” His guilty expression and lack of response said all you needed to know.

You stood and pulled him off the couch with a scheming grin. “We’re going to go slam a beer, and then you’re going to dance with me to whatever shitty music they have playing. Then we’re going to try the jungle juice, dance a little more, and after that we’ll bail and go make out in your car.” You raised a brow. “Any questions?”

“No questions. But you’re really sexy when you boss me around,” he said, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on your lips. You grinned at his words and guided him through the packed house to find the nearest cooler.

Things were going pretty well until your first cup of jungle juice. There was definitely some sort of mixer there, but, by taste alone, you would’ve guessed it was just food coloring to turn all the liquor red.

“We’re gonna have to call Robin to drive us home,” Steve shouted over the music as he downed the last swill in his red solo cup. You nodded and poured a little more in your cup, which you easily chugged down.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and stood on tiptoes to press a messy kiss to Steve’s lips. As soon as you pulled away, a smile spread across your lips. “Let’s go dance! I love this song!”

Despite the crowd, you managed to pull him through the crowd on clumsy footing. Everyone was in similar states of carefree and giddy drunkenness, so no one really cared if you bumped into them. You guided him until you were practically back to back with the sound system and started dancing.

You really didn’t love this song. You didn’t even think you’d heard it before. But there was a good beat, and Steve’s hands were warm on your exposed skin, pulling your back right against him.

He was planting clumsy kisses along your jaw and throat as he held you tight, letting you move and sway against him. You relished in the feeling of his fingertips toying with the hem of your shirt just itching to slip beneath.

Your hands settled atop his, guiding them to your hips as you moved. You spared a glance back and felt your heart flutter at the sight of him— hair plastered to his forehead, cheeks flushed.

A few songs later, his hands were back under your shirt and you were itching to escape the crowd. Which is how you wound up down the block in the backseat of the Beamer.

Warm hands splayed across your ass as you straddled his lap, lips barely leaving his except for very necessary gasps for breath. He tasted like jungle juice, but you didn’t care.

“See?” You gasped between kisses. He held you firm on his lap, guiding you as you ground against him. “Told you that we needed to get out for once.”

“Mhmm.” He nodded, chasing your lips, tongue licking into your mouth with a needy desperation. Occasionally, passing cars would light up the interior, but you were both too drunk on each other to care.

Distantly, you could hear the bass shaking the frat house off the foundations, and cheers as someone broke the keg stand record for the night. But after a while, the sounds of Steve’s lips smacking against yours, and soft moans slipping past his lips when you moved against him took over your entire brain.

It could’ve been fifteen minutes or an hour. Time got a little fuzzy when you both got drunk and touchy. His hands were so tight on your hips that it might have actually left bruises, which would’ve been a problem for tomorrow.

You had only just started toying with his hair when he pulled back from the kiss with a muffled whimper, panting softly.

“Did I pull your hair too hard?” You asked sheepishly, giving his scalp a soothing scratch.

“No! No it felt nice,” he insisted. His cheeks were a burning pink, which matched his kiss-swollen lips. You leaned in and gave one chaste kiss, before leaning in to start up the make-out session again. You rolled your hips against his briefly before he grabbed your hips in his hands, keeping them still. “Can we just take a… I dunno… five minute breather?”

You raised a brow and moved your hands between the two of you, only to find a wet patch on his jeans. You bit your lip in an attempt to hide your grin, but it was too late. “Aww… you came from a bit of kissing?” His cheeks flushed impossibly deeper, as you pecked kisses along his cheek. “That is… surprisingly sexy.”

“It’s so not my fault,” he insisted, practically pouting until your words registered. “Wait— it is?”

“Mhmm…” You replied as you began stroking him teasingly over his denim. “Actually… I kind of want to make you do it again.”

[theemporium]

Frenemies with benefits, jealous remus lupin x reader please🙏🙏🙏🙏

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

Your relationship with Remus Lupin was complicated, to say the least.

You were friends in the sense that you belonged to the same friendship group. You hung out together as a group. You ate meals together as a group. You went out on trips to Hogsmeade together and had drinks at the Three Broomsticks together. 

In the eyes of the Hogwarts’ student body, you and Remus Lupin friends. 

But you were anything but. 

Despite sharing a mutual friend group, Remus just so happened to be the one you never seemed to click with. You would try to be polite, he would be snarky in response. You would try asking about his life, he would shut you down. You would try and make an effort, and he wouldn’t be interested. 

You had given up trying at one point, seeing there be no use in you being anything beyond civil when it came to the wizard. 

Until you were paired up together for prefect rounds every Wednesday night after curfew—that was when things changed between you.

“Fuck, somebody is gonna see us!” 

“That’s never stopped you before.”

You rolled your eyes at his witty retort, opening your mouth to reply with your own snarky comment, but you were quickly distracted by the way his hands gripped your thighs, holding your legs open as his tongue lapped at your cunt. 

It turned out that fucking around was a much healthier way of taking your anger out on each other. Who would have thought?

“Always moaning like such a slut,” he groaned against you, his warm breath tickling as you squirmed against the wall. You had barely made it past the first three corridors before he was pressing you up against an alcove, his hands pawing at you. He had slid your panties down your legs, tucked them into his back pocket and ducked his head under your skirt to be where he wanted to be. 

“Shut up, Lupin,” you moaned, your fingers roughly tugging on the strands of his hair which only made the boy groan against your clit. 

“You’re fucking soaked,” he muttered, kissing along your thighs as he licked the mess you had made. He fucking loved how responsive you were to him, the way you whined and mewled as he marked up your inner thighs. 

“Just fuck me,” you whined, pulling at his shirt until the boy caught the hint and quickly stood up, his fingers working quick to unbutton his trousers and push them down his thighs. 

“Needy for my cock?” he teased, the smile on his face far too smug for your liking. 

You reached down, the heel of your palm pressed against his hardening bulge and you grinned when he let out a whiny noise from the back of his throat. You dipped your hand beyond the waistband of his boxers, slowly stroking the length of him until he was bucking into your hand. 

“Just as needy as you are to be inside me,” you retorted, watching the way his eyes fought to stay open. 

“Bitch,” he grumbled under his breath.

“Prick,” you muttered back before gripping the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. 

Your bodies worked together like a well-played song, moving in harmony as he gripped the back of your legs and lifted you up. Your legs wound around him as he pressed you against the wall, your lips moving feverishly as he squeezed the base of his dick before slowly sliding in you. 

“Shit, baby,” he groaned, the sound was sinful and guttural and it made you clench around him. 

“Please,” you whined, your head falling back against the wall as he pulled out before thrusting his length back in.

“I got you, baby, I got you,” he murmured into the crook of your neck, open-mouthed kisses and soft licks pressed against your skin. “That’s it, squeeze around me like a good girl. Wanna feel you come around my cock.” 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you repeated like a mantra, your lips parting with a silent scream as he lifted you up and down his cock, like you were nothing but a toy. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as he felt your nails digging into his shoulders, listening to the way you whimpered his name as the walls of your cunt clenched around him as you finally came. He followed a few thrusts later, spilling inside of you as you pressed chaste kisses along his jaw and neck. 

You both took a few moments, letting yourselves catch your breath before you began to fix yourselves up. You made sure you looked presentable before you returned to your rounds, pretending that you hated each other once again as you walked through the corridors of the hallways. 

“Ever gonna give me my knickers back?” you asked him when you noticed the way his eyes lingered on your thighs, the way they clenched together as you walked. 

His lips only twitched with a smirk as he squeezed the material in his pocket. “Nah, they’re mine now, love,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Maybe I should wave them around that poor Ravenclaw fucker’s face, show him what he can’t get.”

“You’re a pervert, Lupin. A jealous pervert.” 

“I don’t see you complaining, darling.”

.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hi, I was wondering if ypu could do a bucky barnes x fem reader fic, where reader is insecure because she has a bigger chest and because past relationships have complained about her chest, so when her and bucky start to see each other she tells him this and that's the reason why she wears bigger shirts/hoodie all the time, and so bucky boosts up her confidence and it allows her to wear tighter shirts and tops she always wanted to wear, and bucky could be joking about beating up her ex, but more than likely it's true

.⋆｡Absolutely Perfect｡⋆.

Bucky Barnes x busty!plus size reader

You find an old shirt in your closet and Bucky discovers why you refuse to wear it

Warnings: self-deprecation, past bad relationships, past verbal abuse, fluff, implied smut, insecurity, reader has large boobs, mention of stretch marks

WC: 1.7k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Since the moment Bucky met you, he knew you had a particular style that you never strayed from. You liked big shirts- big shirts with shorts or skirts in the summer, big shirts and sweaters with jeans in winter, you even slept in a rotating collection of his shirts that you continuously stole from him.

Now Bucky didn’t mind this, he loved that you were comfortable and knew what you liked to wear. But he had seen the way you longingly looked at the more form-fitting outfits when you went shopping with him. He had even caught you perusing clothes in a style more similar to Natasha’s. He thought you would look great in those clothes (he thought you would look great in no clothes either but you two hadn’t gotten to the sex part yet) so he was left wondering why you didn’t.

The apartment was a mess- clothes and trinkets strewn everywhere, boxes scattered around on every available flat surface, and tape, so much fucking tape. Sam warned him that helping someone move was a shit ton of work, but Bucky figured they could get it done in 12 hours, tops. Obviously he was very very wrong.

You were two days into it and you had only just reached the point where you could go through your seemingly endless stash of clothes. Bucky had ducked out for just a second to call back the electrician that was currently working on your new house but when he came back, the mood in your small apartment had shifted considerably.

He found you lost in thought, sitting in the middle of several piles of clothes, holding a shirt. “I’ve never seen you wear that one, it’s cute.” You jumped at the sound of his voice and quickly shoved the shirt into your ‘donate’ pile.

“It’s not my style.” You brushed off but he caught the way you hesitated as you pulled your hand away.

“What if I wanted to see you in it?” With two strides, he had crossed the room and was now in front of you. Before you could stop him, Bucky had ducked down and fished the shirt out. It was about 3 times smaller than all your other shirts and looked like it would fit the contours of your body like a second skin. The cut-out that sliced through the members of AC-DC would allow for a huge amount of cleavage to be shown while the cut along the bottom of the shirt gave it that cropped look that was so popular now.

“Cause I think you’d look drop dead gorgeous in this, doll.” He purred, holding the shirt up to the sunlight as if he could already see you wearing it in his mind. Your face burned with embarrassment.

“Well I don’t so can you please put it back?” You dismissed it like your stomach wasn’t in your throat and tears weren’t building behind your eyes. You reached for the offending piece of clothing but he tucked it to his chest like a toddler would do with a toy.

His gaze seared into you, making you squirm from your place on the floor. “Just once, please!” He begged.

“No.” 

“I’ll do laundry for a month.” He shot back, inching closer to you with the shirt still held against his chest.

“You’re already doing laundry for the next 3 months because of the Jam Incident.” You raised an eyebrow at him. Bucky actually had the decency to blush at this, recalling the event that occurred a month ago which landed him doing extra chores.

“But you would look so pretty.” He actually whined, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “Pleeeeeeease.” It was getting pathetic now but your own determination was beginning to waver as his only ramped up in intensity. With a trembling hand, you snatched the shirt away from him as you stood.

“I’ll try it on once but when it doesn’t look good- you aren’t allowed to say anything.” As you stomped off to the bathroom, you missed the way his face fell, obviously regretting teasing you.

You kept your back to the mirror as you changed, even squeezing your eyes shut so you didn’t have to see the curve of your body from your peripheral. You hear his voice in your mind, reminding you exactly why you wanted to burn most of your clothes to ash.

The cotton was soft but it still felt like it was slicing into your skin. You held onto your large shirt like it was a lifeline and with a deep breath, you walked back into the bedroom.

Bucky sat on the bed, elbows on his knees as he waited for you. As soon as you crossed the threshold, his head snapped up and his eyes went wide. 

A breath caught in his throat and he slowly stood. “See I told you. Now can you let me throw it away like I wanted in the first place.” Self-consciously, you crossed your arms over your chest, pressing your heavy breasts down. He reached out for you, his chill metal hand grabbing your wide hip as his other gently pulled your arms away from your chest, making you drop the other shirt.

“Buck, let me go change.” He just shook his head. Your heart pounded loudly in your ears.

“Doll you look-“

“Disgusting, I know.” You snapped, trying to pull away from him. He held you tighter.

“No. You look beautiful. Why would you ever think otherwise?” His voice was strained but firm, leaving you no opportunity to backtrack. You looked away from your boyfriend, unable to meet his eyes.

“My boobs.” You murmured. The lump in your throat got bigger by the second as you waited for him to agree with you, to reinforce that voice in your head that told you how ugly you are, how your chest was unnatural and wrong.

But he didn’t. Instead, your wonderful, caring boyfriend let go of your hip and your arm in order to cup your face, guiding you back to him. The look in his eyes was devastating, only making you feel even worse. “Doll, you are perfect.” 

And you broke. 

Hot tears rolled down your full cheeks as you broke down in his arms. “But they’re too big and they’re covered in stretch marks and my nipples are a weird shape.” The words flowed from your lips just like your tears, a never-ending stream that had built up behind the dam of your mind since the first time your ex had told you exactly what he thought off your body. Bucky listened to each and every syllable, taking in everything you were saying.

You didn’t notice the way his blue eyes darkened with rage until he finally interrupted you. “Who the fuck told you that?” His snarl finally broke you from your spiralling thoughts and then it was your turn to lose your breath.

A darkness had grown over his face, the same one he got when he came home from particularly rough missions. Rage rolled off of him in waves, drowning you in it. “M-my ex.” A growl rumbled through his strong chest.

“Well he’s wrong. You’re fucking beautiful, you’re perfect. And I mean all of you, including these.” You gasped as he suddenly let go of your face to cup the massive heft of your tits. Heat shamefully exploded through your body as he held up their weight. “These are just as sexy, just as fucking stunning as you. And would you look at that, they fit perfectly in my hands, like they were made for your tits.” 

“Bucky.” You tried to stop him but he had enough apparently. He squeezed your tits gently as he groaned.

“Fuck doll, you don’t know what you do to me do you? Even when you’re wearing a big shirt and your baggiest jeans you get me so hard it hurts. But now-“ He stepped closer to you, pushing his hips into your soft stomach. A moan slipped from your lips as you felt the hard bulge of his cock against you for the first time. “-Now, when you’re wearing this tiny fucking shirt, letting me see these gorgeous tits and your perfect stomach, I feel like I’m losing my mind, doll.” 

He groaned as he ground his hips into you. “Really?” You timidly asked, hooking your fingers into his belt loops to keep your hands from trembling. Bucky raised a dark eyebrow at you.

“Doll, if it were up to me, I would be inside you 24/7 from the moment we met.” Heat crawled up your cheeks and you giggled.

“That’s a long time Bucky.” He finally smiled, quickly pecking your nose. The sadness was draining from your expression, though the flakes of insecurity still remained. He forced down his own fury, tamping it down as far as he could. He wasn’t mad at you, he could never be mad at you for this. You were beaten down by a pathetic excuse for a man and you believed him. 

Bucky would help you, he would worship you, and then he would hunt the fucker down for ever making you think that you were anything less than divine. “Exactly 5 months, 2 weeks and 1 day.” 

You beamed at him. “Maybe I’ll keep the shirt, if you like it so much.” You looked away bashfully, making your boyfriend groan and his cock twitch within his stiff jeans.

“Oh doll you are spoiling me.” He dipped down to nip at your neck, forcing a whimper from your lips. Your nipples stiffened against his palms as wetness pooled in your already ruined panties. “And now I think I need to spoil you in return.”

You yelped as you were suddenly thrown onto your bed, Bucky quickly joining you as he crawled between your plush thighs. He hovered over you with a smile. “Absolutely perfect.” He murmured before kissing you tenderly, pressing as much of his body against yours as he could. You melted into him, tangling your fingers in his short hair.

Bucky would make sure you knew how beautiful you are and maybe, once all the bad thoughts were gone from your mind, he would leave the apartment under the premise of picking up some dinner. And if he came home with bruised knuckles and a self-satisfied smile on his face, you wouldn’t ask any questions.

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[macfrog]

what are joel, sarah, ellie, and reader doing on a typical day like today?

i had an ickle answer for you, non, but then @mrsmando sent me a tiktok and said it was scom coded, and - well. here's what my babies were up to today.

the whole world 1.8k words | series masterlist warnings: lots of sickly-sweet family love, couple teeny mentions of ellie throwing up, joel's a flirt at the end

“…beautiful blue skies all day today with highs of eighty in some parts, cooling down into the sixties as we head into the evening…”

Your skin still smells like the pool.

Chlorine, chemical summer – and the sweet spritz of sunscreen. It’s still glistening, still shiny and tacky on your arms.

The girls were bathed the second you got back inside. Sleeves rolled to your elbows; suds slipping down swollen, sun-kissed cheeks.

One hand at Ellie’s back, the other swishing water at her tummy to make her giggle. Joel knelt at your side, wrestling with Sarah over a soaked sponge the entire time.

He kept wringing it over her head, cracking up at the look on her face – water dripping from the tip of her nose and her pouted bottom lip.

Mama, she announced – with a twang even sweeter than her dad’s – I ain’t talkin’ to Daddy no more.

You scoffed, nudging a rubber duck along the water to Ellie’s open hands. I’ll believe that when I see it, Duck.

As the water drained from the tub, Sarah let Joel bundle her in a towel and follow her – a trail of damp footprints along the hall carpet – into her bedroom to grab her pajamas.

Lasted long, didn’t it? you muttered to Ellie, swaddling her in a dino bathrobe.

It’s May. Everything is alive and bursting with color. The birds and the bugs and the static from the radio. The windchimes and the orange slices and the tickticktick of the neighbor’s kid’s bicycle, whirring past the house.

Your daughters giggle, sharing secrets through nuzzling noses and flashing toothless grins. Nearly seven and just turned one. All their mom’s beauty with their dad’s old soul, so you’ve been told.

You figure it’s just a flowery way of saying perfect. Everything about them is perfect.

Everything about this is perfect. The slow-setting sun, needling between the trees as she slips from the sky. The cool shade under the porch, the soft tinkle of ice in your glass. The scrape of the dog’s claws on the wood as she slumps down.

This life you’ve dreamt up, held together by string lights and hanging plants; made real by the trike parked over in the corner, the teething toy wetting the tablecloth.

It’s all so fucking perf–

A clatter echoes from the kitchen.

“Shit – Jesus –” Joel hisses, another crashing sound swallowing the rest.

Sarah peers up at you, eyes wide. Knees tucked under her chin, tiny in the chair beside you.

“Did you hear that?” you ask her, lifting your eyebrows. Doing your best not to break into a grin.

The corners of her mouth twitch. She looks just like you, in this light. Same cheeky smirk. You never really noticed it until you saw it on her.

“No,” she mumbles, pressing her lips into her knee. She giggles.

Your eyes thin. “Mhm.”

“Mhm,” she mimics, reaching for her Barbie.

You lean back in your chair, arms wrapping a little tighter around the toddler in your lap. “You sure you’re okay in there?” you call through the house.

Joel’s arm swats around the kitchen doorframe. “Fine,” he says. “Fine. It’s just – goddamn it – it’s fine.”

“Heard that,” Sarah says. She stares at the doll’s hair, combing it flat.

“Shh,” you whisper, hearing the creak of the floorboards.

Joel materializes on the porch, balancing three plates in his arms. A stained towel slung over his shoulder, his shirt loose and chest dappled with sweat.

“Alright,” he pants, bending to set yours down first.

Ellie twists in your arms, her green terrycloth spikes flapping as she turns. The hood slips over her eyes and you pull her free.

You grab her hands before she can slam two tiny fists into the ravioli. “Jesus, Nel,” you snort.

She pulls herself to her feet, swaying from side to side on your thighs. Watching Joel intently as he sets Sarah’s plate down, then his own.

He straightens, running the towel between his hands. “Can I sit next to Mama?” he asks his daughter.

She shakes her head. “I’m showin’ her my Barbies.”

“Can you show her them from your own chair, Duck?”

Another head shake. “How is she s’posed to see ‘em?”

His eyes flash up to yours. His expression sets like stone.

All these years, all that time you spent desperately trying to crack him. Chiseling away with tools made from jokes, from teasing. From frisbeeing his newspaper and aiming for his plant pots.

A little smile; a quiet, “How am I s’posed to see ‘em, Joel?” – and you melt him instantly.

He breathes a laugh, shaking his head as he wanders around the table. This huge, broad man, squeezing into the space by the windowsill. Dotted with toy animals and scattered miniature accessories.

He pulls the chair out and settles back into it.

You nudge his calf beneath the table.

Joel’s hands find your knees, slipping around them. He pulls your ankles into his lap, thumb trailing circles on your skin, and picks up his fork.

“Alright, Duckie,” you elbow her gently, “Barbies down. Look what Daddy made us.”

She fixes the pink pumps back onto the doll’s feet, straightens her spacesuit, and sits her carefully on the edge of the table.

Ellie blows a raspberry and collapses again into your lap. She yawns, turning to snuggle into your chest.

“You wanna try a little?” you whisper, blowing on a piece of ravioli.

She steals it from your fork and suckles on it. Her long lashes blink slower and slower until her eyes are closed, full cheeks still chewing.

Joel scoffs. “That’s her mom. Right there, that’s all you.”

“Fallin’ asleep with food in her mouth?” you chuckle, kissing her head. “Glad I’m leavin’ some legacy.”

“Uhuh,” he replies, tongue in his cheek. His eyes flash golden when they meet yours, brighter than the sun.

Ellie’s warm under your cheek; her skin still as soft and plushy as the day you met her. She quietens, stills as she drifts off. She’s solid in your arms – sturdier than her sister ever was at her age.

Or, as her uncle Tommy said, the first time he held her: She weighs a goddamn ton, don’t she?

She weighs nothing to you. Your arms were made for cradling her. Hips were designed to hold her. She’s the perfect size to fit in the crook of her dad’s arm. Her favorite game is being tossed in the air by him until she throws up.

“Ah-ah, Duck. Not right now,” Joel says, shaking his head. “Wait ‘til we’re done, or she’ll just beg.”

Sarah huffs, lifting her fork from the dog’s mouth. “Sorry, Shim.”

The shepherd trots around to Joel’s side, settling her chin on his thigh. She breathes a pleading sigh.

“I know, girl,” he ruffles her ears, “I ain’t fair to ya, am I?”

She falls to a heap under the table, and spends the meal pouncing at scraps Sarah accidentally drops.

The sky drains, the world darkening until you’re lit in shades of orange and gold; the candles flickering and stretching funny shadows across the porch ceiling.

Joel bribes Sarah with staying up later, so long as she helps him clear the table. She babbles away as they fill the sink with dishes; follows at his heels and catches him up on the politics of second grade.

He leans down to take Ellie – sound asleep and snoring – from you.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he says, and kisses you. “C’mon, Duckie,” he groans as she climbs into his other arm. “Bedtime.”

Upstairs, you split off into the girls’ rooms. Shimmer follows you into Sarah’s, curling up at her feet in a nest of pink blankets.

Your firstborn is already tucked under her covers, her nightlight spinning hazy stars around the walls.

“How much do I love you?” you whisper, stroking her hair.

Sarah takes a few seconds to answer, sleep already overcoming her. “More…more ‘n the…” she yawns, “…more ‘n the whole world, Mama…”

“The whole world,” you repeat, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “Sweet dreams, little Duckie.”

Joel meets you in the hallway. He holds the baby monitor up. The screen lights; the fuzzy outline of your baby in her cot. Arms outstretched, above her head; fists balled and a determined frown on her face as she snoozes.

“Like a log,” Joel mutters, nudging you over to the stairs. “’nother thing she got from her mom.”

You smile – a loose, sleepy thing. “’s my girl.”

He follows you downstairs.

The reflections of the candles glint from each photo frame on the wall, lighting them one by one as you pass. First birthdays, first Christmases. Sarah perched atop a pony in Jackson; Joel in a suit holding Ellie, seconds before she spat milk down his tie.

Each one a tiny thread, linking you from who you were to who you are now. Stringing you together, binding the wound you never knew how to tend to.

At the bottom of the stairs, you feel a tug from your back pocket.

“Joel –” you giggle, stumbling into his arms. “We got dishes to – Joel –”

“Come on,” he whispers against your lips, stealing soft kisses. “It’s a nice night, let’s just sit for a while.”

He leads you out front and rocks back on the swing. He sets the monitor down at his feet and opens his arms. A goofy smile on his face, eyes twinkling.

You fold your arms. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“I know. But I love you.”

Your breath catches, the way it always does. Almost seven years, two kids and a fucking joint mortgage – and it still catches you off guard when you remember.

He loves you. He always did.

“That’s what makes you the idiot,” you reply, stepping forward. You slip into his lap, knees either side of his hips, and link your arms around his neck. “Fell in love with your nemesis.”

“Hm.” Joel’s arms scoop around your butt. “All that time, I thought we were friends.”

You laugh, leaning in to him. “We were never friends,” you say, “I never wanted to be just your friend.”

His chest rumbles beneath yours. He presses more kisses into your neck, kneading your waist. He takes your jaw, pulling back to look at you.

This man, and the silver through his beard, and the marks on his careful hands. This man, who never looked surer of himself – never looked more like the gleeful kid you once spotted in a photo frame – than when he has one daughter in one arm and the other slung over his back.

This man, who once built you a closet in exchange for a fake date. Who, drunk on liquor and something more, followed you back to your hotel room and changed you forever.

Made you his, forever.

You forget what it ever felt like to be anything else.

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Kiss

Summary: Colt has a bit of an oral fixation...

A/N: The Fall Guy is my new favourite thing and I personally would gnaw on Colt Seavers like a chew toy.

Colt x afab reader <3

As per usual, it's NSFW 18+ @ken-dom as always my darling, I thank you for your support and inspiration and late night chats.

There will certainly be more Seavers in the very near future ;) but for now, be gentle, I'm no stunt man

Enjoy my loves <3

There was a heavy knock on your trailer door before it clicked open and Colt ducked inside. 

His shaggy blond hair falling in his face as he smiled that smile that made you weak in the knees. 

He was covered from head to toe in dirt and dust in your favourite outfit; jeans with both knees ripped out and a dirty white t-shirt and work boots in his Miami Vice stunt team jacket. 

“Hi” you smiled, as his large arms slipped around your waist, pulling you against him. 

Your arms snaked around his neck, his skin warm and sun kissed against your forearms. 

“Hi” he whispered before claiming your lips in a heated gentle kiss. He pushed you back gently against the small counter. You moaned softly against his mouth as he sucked on your bottom lip making your stomach flutter. 

His teeth pulled gently on your lip before your tongue tangled with his, returning his kiss with just as much fervor. 

He boosted you up on the small ledge, his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt, squeezing gently, grazing over the smooth skin of the small of your back. 

The walkie talkie at the end of the counter crackled with chatter, Dan was looking for you. 

You pushed Colt back gently, prying your lips from his, albeit reluctantly, leaning to reach the small radio. Colt paid it no mind whatsoever, opting to continue his assault. His beard scratched over your skin as his teeth nipped along the length of your neck as he mumbled protests. 

Holding his shoulder for support, you leaned further, fingers just brushing against the walkie talkie as he sucked harshly at the hollow of your collarbone. 

You gasped, squeezing his shoulder “Colt, please-” you strained to reach the radio as Dan called again, knocking it over. 

You giggled as his bangs tickled against your cheek, his hand closing around your wrist pulling you back to him. 

“Nn-no” you protested as his frame enveloped yours as he turned you to face him, still stretched over the length of the counter, his weight heavy on top of you as he cupped your cheek, his lips finding yours as you protested half heartedly. 

Your breath caught in your throat against his mouth as you felt yourself slip from the countertop; his strong arm locking around your back kept you from falling to the floor as your arms instinctively wrapped around his broad shoulders. 

You break your kiss a second time, panting heavily against his neck as you try again to protest. 

“Colt” you breathed hard as he moaned against your neck, but made no effort to lift his head; instead his perfect teeth leaving love bites down your throat, leading down toward your cleavage. 

You whined pathetically as his warm tongue licked over your skin. Your entire body going limp in his arms, fingernails scratching against the nape of his neck. He knew just how to push your buttons. 

His free hand pulling the deep v neck of your t-shirt down even further as he dragged his nose between your cleavage. 

“Oh my-” you gasped, licking your lips as he hummed with approval; the support of the counter under you was gone, his arm across your back and one unsteady foot barely touching the floor between his boots, keeping you suspended where he wanted. 

There was a loud knock on the door of the trailer, Dan's booming voice coming from the other side. 

“Colt you better not be in there!”

That stopped him in his tracks, but he only looked up at you from his place between your breasts, his blue eyes meeting yours with a mischievous glint as he stood rooted to the spot. 

You bit your lips together, fighting back a laugh as Colt winked at you but didn't move. 

You squeezed your eyes shut laughing quietly as Colt moved to start sucking on your overheated skin. 

You grit your teeth pushing him gently by the shoulder but you knew it was in vain. “Stop it” you whispered harshly. 

“He's not here Dan!” You yelled and Colt's head shot up

“Shhhh” Colt frowned up at you 

“He knows I'm in here” you whispered harshly 

Colt just rolled his eyes

“Check the coffee cart!’ you yelled, your fingers twisting in his mop of tangled hair. 

“Mhm” was Dan's unbelieving, muffled reply.

Colt only snorted into your cleavage and you pulled on the thick strands of his hair hard, making him growl low in the back of his throat. 

He stood up straight, pulling you with him before he sank to his knees in front of you, his hands pushing up the thin fabric of your shirt, he kissed a trail over your bare stomach; both your hands on either side of his head, threading through his hair. 

His nimble fingers working open the button of your jeans before he slid them down your legs along with your panties. 

You rested against the counter, your eyes fluttering closed as you felt him lean in closer to your core. 

Your heart thudded loudly in your ears as his calloused hands slid back up the length of your now bare thighs. 

He let out a soft moan as you scratched against his scalp a second time, his head dipping to lick a hot stripe between your thighs. 

You cried out, your knees instantly buckled as you threw your head back. 

Colt slid a hand under the back of your thigh, hooking your knee over his left shoulder to move himself closer. 

You balanced against the counter on one foot as he slid underneath you, his hands firmly on your hips. 

He moaned against your slick folds making you whine with need over his head; both your hands holding his head still as he fucked you with his tongue. 

Your weight rested heavily against his shoulder as you bucked your hips, grinding against him as his beard scratched the inside of your thigh, only adding to your bliss.

“Holy fuck” you swallowed hard, eliciting another moan between your thighs. 

You dropped your chin against your neck as his tongue flicked over that oversensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Colt g-god” you whimpered unashamedly as he lapped at your leaking core, desperate to push you over the edge. 

His fingers gripped your hips with a painful need, his short fingernails biting into your flesh. 

His tongue skilfully working between your folds. The entirety of your weight threatening to collapse on him knelt in front of you. 

You shuddered over him and he moaned under you, knowing you were close. 

“Colt I-” you squeezed your eyes shut, struggling to find the words. You hummed, biting down hard on your bottom lip. 

You gasped, trying again failing miserably stumbling over his name a second time “C-Colt”

He simply moaned with agreement devouring you like you were his last meal….and if Dan got ahold of him you probably would be. 

You moaned, desperate and needy over his head, fisting chunks of his thick hair. “Colt” you breathed. 

Again, he moaned against your core with agreement, not even bothering to come up for air. 

“Mhm, mhm, mhm” he attempted a nod, but your grip in his hair made it difficult. 

All at once the one knee holding you steady, buckled, Colt's grip on your hips tightening instantly to keep you stationary as you yanked hard on the hair between your fingers, thrusting your hips shamelessly, grinding against him, fucking his face, quite literally riding out your orgasm as he lapped up and sucked every last drop. 

You nearly collapsed against the counter as he eased your leg from off his shoulder and got to his feet, an impressive hard on, pressing wet against his jeans. 

Barely giving you a chance catch your breath and come down from your high he claimed your mouth in a desperate kiss; his entire face wet with your slick. 

You reached between you, ripping his jeans open and shoving your hand inside, fingers wrapping around his throbbing, leaking shaft. 

He pulled his mouth from yours, his breath hot and heavy against your neck as he growled through grit teeth, his cock twitching hard in your fingers. Precum spilling from the tip, dripping over your hand. 

His teeth sank into your neck, making you whimper and squeeze him harder. He bit so hard on the little hollow under your ear you thought for sure he would pierce skin before he sucked hard, you had no doubt, forming a dark purple bruise in his wake.  

His entire body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat. 

You pulled his cock free, stroking him gently. 

Leaning next to his ear you breathed hard after running your tongue along his jaw. 

“Mark me” you whispered, his cock twitched again and he bucked his hips with a groan. “Then fuck my mouth”

Again, his teeth sank into your neck, this time he did pierce your skin making you cry out with a moan against his shoulder. 

You sank to your knees in the small space, immediately hollowing your cheeks and taking his entire throbbing length into your mouth. 

The deep groan over your head making your core throb as his massive hands gathered your hair into a snarled ponytail, the head of his cock bumping the back of your throat as he fought to keep himself in check. 

Your hands dropped in your lap as you let him take complete control, his hips moving slowly at first as you moaned around his length. Until you looked up at him from under your lashes with a small quiet moan. 

His eyes locked on yours and all at once his hips thrust forward, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat with enough force to make you choke slightly, but he didn't stop. 

His grip on your hair tightened as he did what you'd asked, fucked your mouth. 

You let him slide over your tongue effortlessly as he breathed heavily through his nose and muttered “Fuck”

You moaned around him, which only egged him on, coating your tongue with the beginning of his release. 

His hips snapped hard and you moaned approvingly before he stumbled over his own words. “C-come I'm g-nnnuh”

Before you had a chance to acknowledge the flurry of noises over your head, Colt grunted and his thick hot release filled your mouth and just like he had, you sucked and swallowed everything he had to give. 

He braced himself on the counter as you let him slide from your mouth before wiping the back of your hand across your lips and got to your feet. 

You both put yourselves back together, and you buttoned your jeans as Colt's arms slipped back around his waist. Both of you still catching your breath. 

He kissed across your face and down your neck, his teeth marks prominent, red and angry against your tanned skin. He kissed it gently before continuing along your jaw. 

You hummed with protest as your hands slid up his back. “You're insatiable,” you giggled “Take up gum chewing or something” 

He shook his head gently, “Uh huh,” his mouth barely pulling away to speak as continued to pepper your neck and face with kisses before his lips found yours, “Kiss more first…” he muttered against your lips, kissing you gently before he pulled back as you giggled. 

“Control yourself, Seavers” 

“Never” he shook his head pushing you back against the counter to once again lose his nose in your cleavage. His mouth sucking and nipping at the mounds of your flesh.

You pushed him back gently with a laugh surveying the bright red bite marks he left behind. 

“God, can you at least hide them better?” You smirked as he leaned over you, you cupped his cheek, pulling him to you. 

“I could,” he shrugged in between kisses “But I don't want to” 

You rolled your eyes, pushing his bangs back off his forehead as he leaned over you. “I miss your long hair” you whispered as he leaned forward to kiss the tip of your nose.

“Wanna go do some donuts?” 

“You mean go make out in your truck instead of in here?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“And maybe a couple of donuts,” he shrugged. When you didn't answer right away he continued “I'll start growing my hair out” he smiled

You smiled and draped your arms around his neck as he pulled you up from the counter. “How can I say no to that?”

He shrugged nonchalantly with that goofy grin you fell in love with. 

“Let's go Stunt Man” you smiled, planting one last kiss on his swollen lips before slipping around him and out of your trailer. 

[st-danger]

hi !! can we get ifrit having fun with phantom please ?

He gets along with everyone, immediately. There's no dancing around any of the others, no need to dip his toes into the water gingerly when it comes to getting to know them. Aeon is simply summoned and welcomed and finds it terribly easy to hit his stride from the get go.

You fit in well, Ifrit tells him at mass one night, eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles and somehow still manages to seem dangerous even when trying to appear friendly. Perhaps it's the proximity that throws him, the closeness with which Ifrit sits on the pew beside him when he's sure there could be more space. He knows very little- well, is given very little information about Ifrit, who spends more time in the back rooms and shadows of the abbey since packing away the guitar. At some point, they'll all learn what a curious creature Aeon is, prone to exploration by any means possible. It's but a small shame that it will take them a moment to catch up with how quickly Aeon is prone to explore his interests.

By the time Aether actually has a moment to tell Aeon that Ifrit is an older summon, less refined, less patient- more prone to giving in to wants with no hesitation-

Well. The warning would have gone unheeded before, but by the time it happens, Aeon's already let the curiosity steer him down a dimly lit corridor. Into a dimly lit room.

He allows curiosity to pull him into Ifrit's lap, allows curiosity to force him as if controlled by strings to run his hands up Ifrit's arms, feeling and squeezing the muscles. Indulgent, Ifrit smiles that same, unsettling smile, and adjusts so he can flex his bicep for Aeon to feel.

"How strong are you?" Aeon asks, caressing. His tone is amused and relaxed, for now. He's just so interested, excited at the thought of discovery. The nerves will come later, but they aren't here now. Later, his breath will hitch in his chest and his eyes will go wide and worried while he pants out harsh breath and his body will tremble with fear and uncertainty- of this, Ifrit will make sure. But for the next few moments, Aeon is sweet and easy prey. Food to toy with, and utterly pleased with that role. He continues feeling his arm, smiling a crooked little grin with crooked little teeth. The smile only grows when Ifrit's other hand lands heavy on his thigh.

"Stronger than you," Ifrit murmurs, nostrils flaring while he scents the air on his next inhale, breathing in the electrical sparks of arousal rolling off Aeon, so close. It would be easy to push him to the ground and take him. Easier still when that's what Aeon wants him to do.

"Oh, yeah, of course," Aeon says, pleased. "But how much?" He draws his hands to Ifrit's chest, rubs flat palms over him there, and Ifrit allows it. Fights the urge to grab and grope and take and instead- like a gentleman, allows Aeon to feel and explore and grind against his thigh enough to work himself up more. "Bet you could carry me pretty easily, huh? Even if I tried to make it difficult."

Ifrit takes a deep, slow breath in and inhales the smell of the blood rushing through Aeon's veins and doesn't bother to hide the way it makes his mouth water.

"If I wanted to," Ifrit says in a low, measured tone, "it wouldn't matter what you wanted."

Aeon hums, pleased. Gaze dropping to Ifrit's mouth, and then he ducks down for the briefest tease of a kiss, the softest most maddening excuse for one, but enough to seal his own fate.

"Prove it."

[hungharrington]

What do you think is one thing that would just break Steve's brain? I think it would be going somewhere with him in a skirt/dress and no underwear, waiting until you've arrived to tell him and then teasing him all night. I feel like you'd just be IN for it when you get back home

BABY YOU BROKE MY BRAIN WITH THIS ONE and stopppp not the no panties under the dress? god the exhibitionist in me is creaming my pants at the fucking thought

this. this breaks steve's brain — it hits every switch for horny in his brain, along with a few of the posessive switches and maybe some jealous switches too. and god waiting until you're there to tell him? steve has to think back to how you two had made out in the car before coming over, you in his lap in the drivers seat, your bare cunt just inches away from his fingers - if only he had been a little more eager for it and less interested in the party, he could've had you bouncing on his cock in his car, far far away from this party.

but instead, you've waited until he's settled in a bit and gotten a drink in his hand, the two of you situating yourselves onto one of the couches. he sits first and, as always if he can, you're pulled onto his lap — sideways, so you can properly curl into his side. it's then when you lean and scrape your lips against his ear and whisper, "did i mention that i'm not wearing any panties?"

steve freezes. the words process, his stomach burns hotly and fuck, if his cock doesn't give a twitch at the thought, even if he's not sure it's true. he turns to look at you, wide-eyed and you smirk, "don't believe me?" and ever so slightly, your thighs on his lap begin to part — steve's hand shoots out and grabs your knee, yanking them back together instantly.

he takes a deep breath, his hand on your knee flexing a bit as you nose along his neck, dropping a delicate kiss or two. your perfume, the dress, the mere knowledge that his fingers could just slide up your thigh and find your sweet slick waiting for him— steve coughs awkwardly, ducking his head to hide his face, unable to properly function for a whole ass minute.

"we're going home," he rasps, giving you knee a quick tap to signal for you to stand. you pout and play it up, "what? but we just got here, baby. don't you wanna stay?"

steve heaves another deep breath, his hand on your knee already inching higher as he leans in closer to murmur in your ear, voice dangerously low, "unless you wanna see how well you can stay quiet in front of all these people while i fuck you on my fingers—"

you squirm at the thought, at the mounting desire as steve's fingers toy with the hem of your dress. he's so close to your cunt, he swears he can smell how wet you are.

"—then, i suggest you get up so we can go home."

you go home.

[averymcrgan]

I Really Ducking Love You

this is just Bucktommy being cute with rubber ducks 🤗🦆

read it on ao3

When Tommy opens the center console of Evan's Jeep looking for their misplaced shopping list, he doesn't expect to find the compartment full of rubber ducks. He stares down at the toys, eyebrows scrunched as he studies them. They aren't just the plain yellow ones; there is a varying range of colors, glitters, occupations, and accessories. Tommy doesn't know how long he stands there staring, but it must have been too long because the driver's side door opens, and Evan pops his head in.

Tommy looks up at him.

"Babe, why do you have so many rubber ducks?"

Evan's face twists in confusion at the question for a second before it lights up with a smile as he laughs, leaning farther into the car to peer into the center console.

"It's something that started during the pandemic. You see a Jeep, you leave a duck. That sorta thing. I've seen these accounts on Tik Tok who have whole set ups in their trunks so they can make the ducks customized to the Jeeps they see. And some people even have these little stands on their mirrors so people have a better place to leave them instead of somewhere that they aren't going to be seen. The dedication people have to it is insane but I kind of admire them for it."

Tommy nods at the information as he reaches into the pile of ducks and pulls out the first one that catches his eye, a hot pink one with sunglasses.

"There must be alot of Jeep owners around because you have amassed quite the collection here." He gives the pink duck a squeeze and it makes Evan laugh before he reaches across the car and plucks the duck from his hand, setting it back with it friends.

"These aren't all from other people. I bought a variety bag so I didn't have to give away the ones I recieved. Those are tucked away safely at my apartment so they don't get mixed up."

Tommy hums in understanding as he reaches back into the center console and grabs the list he got distracted from before. Moving the notepad uncovers a duck he couldn't see before. An idea starts to form as he snaps the lid shut and plops the list into his boyfriend's waiting hand.

"Alright, I want a duck tour when we get home. Right now, we gotta get into that store before it gets too crowded or we are never getting out of here." Evan salutes and backs out of the driver's side as Tommy does the same on the passenger's side. They meet around the front of the car, and Evan grabs Tommy's hand with his free one, intertwining their fingers. Tommy's gives his hand a quick squeeze before he's being pulled along towards the carts as Evan starts rattling off what they need for dinner.

-- a few days later --

Tommy gets to set his plan into motion a few days after the 'Great Duck Discovery' when they go to the movies. After their showing ends and they're making their way towards to exit, Evan lets him know he's going to take a quick trip to the bathroom. Tommy nods, tells him to take his time and that he'll be out in the car waiting. Evan gives him a thumbs up and heads towards the restroom and Tommy is out of the theater's front doors before the bathroom door even closes.

When he gets to the Jeep, he moves around to the trunk to dig through his work bag where he stashed the duck he had ordered the night of their trip to the grocery store. It's a little pilot duck that had arrived the day before their date tonight. Tommy had spent his entire afternoon off transforming the little duck into exactly what he had had in mind. He had painted it's flight suit a darker blue to match the one he wears at work. With the thinnest sharpie he owned Tommy had carefully written his last name on the front as a mirror of his nametag. He had even made an attempted at the Harbor station patch. Tommy shuts the trunk and moves around to the passenger's side. carefully placing the duck on the door handle before hopping into the driver's seat. He pulls out his phone and pretends to be occupied with it while he waits.

A couple of minutes pass before the crunch of gravel under foot draws his attention. He doesn't look up from his phoe but he knows it's Evan from the way the footsteps pause and a huff of laughter comes from outside of the car. The passenger side door opens and Tommy tips his head to see one grinning Evan Buckley.

"Seems like I've got a new duck to add to my personal collection." Evan lifts his hand to show off the duck, wiggling it in the air. It makes Tommy laugh as he goes to set his phone down in the cup holder so he can take the duck so Evan can get into the car. The duck is dropped into his waiting palm as Evan hoists himself into his seat, closing the door behind him. He turns to look at Tommy then, a small smile on his face.

Tommy smiles back as Evan leans across the center console to press his lips against Tommy's. They both sigh into the kiss and Tommy  brings his hand up to card his fingers through Evan's hair completely forgetting about the rubber duck in his hand. He pulls away with a laugh, shaking his head when Evan grins even wider.

"What was that for?" Tommy asks as Evan plucks the duck from his hand and leans forward to situate the little toy securely against the windshield. Evan sits back in his seat before turning to face Tommy again, his smile softening as his shrugs a shoulder.

"Just, uh, wanted to say thank you for a wonderful night, is all."

And with that answer, it's Tommy's turn to lean across the center console so he can gently grasp his boyfriend's chin, angling his face so he can press their lips together again. This time when he goes to sink his fingers into Evan's hair, there isn't a rubber duck in his way.

-- the next morning --

Tommy's just finished filling his travel mug when he hears the shuffle of feet making their way down the hal and into the kitchen. When Evan reaches him, he immediately plasters himself to Tommy's back. His arms come up to wrap tightly around Tommy's waist as Evan rests his forehead against Tommy's back. Neither of them speaks right away and Tommy's wondering if his boyfriend has fallen asleep standing up when Evan shifts, splaying his hands across Tommy's stomach. Tommy chuckles, shaking his head fondly.

"I thought I told you to go back to sleep."

The other man grumbles something into the fabric of Tommy's shirt and it makes him laugh as he settles his hand on Evan's wrists, giving them a light squeeze. He feels Evan lift his head so he can hook his chin over Tommy's shoulder instead. "I know, but I wanted to give you a little present before you went in."

Tommy hums as he nudges Evan away just enough to turn around in his arms. He sets his hands on the other man's hips, tucking his thumbs under his sleep shirt to brush lightly over the skin there.

"As much as I would love a repeat performance of last night, I am going to end up being very late to work." Evan rolls his eyes with a shake of his head, whacking Tommy in the arm before pulling his hand away to reach for somthing in the pocket of his sweats.

"It's not that kind of gift! Get your head out of the gutter, old man." Tommy huffs and pinches at Evan's side, which earns him a yelp and a fist thumped against his chest.

"I meant," Evan opens the hand still resting against Tommy's chest to show off a rubber duck, "that I wanted to give you this."

The rubber duck sitting in Evan's palm is dressed like a firefighter and Tommy instantly knows it's the same one he saw that day in the grocery store parking lot. He takes a moment to look over the duck before flicking his eyes up to meet Evan's.

"Did you give it your birthmark?" Evan nods, ducking his head a little as his free hand fiddles with the hem of Tommy's shirt. "I figured since I have a little Tommy Duck in my car, you, uh, could have a little Buck Duck in yours."

Tommy lifts his hand to cup Evan's cheek, and he ducks down a little so he can press their lips together. Evan's sighs against his mouth, setting his palm and the duck to rest against Tommy's chest.

When they seperate, Tommy releases Evan's chin and takes the duck into his hand, eyes flicking over the toy again. In addition to the birthmark, the original design on the hat has been blacked out and replaced with a silver '118'. The duck's eyes have been painted blue and Tommy releases they match the blue he used to paint his own duck's outfit. When he tips it forward to look at the duck's back, 'Buckley' is written across the back in the same silver from the hat. Evan watches him during the whole inspection, eyes flitting across the other man's face like he's trying to read his boyfriend's mind. Tommy finally lets him in on how he feels when he leans forward, stealing a quick kiss.

"I love it."

"Oh, good. I'm glad." Tommy brushes his thumb across Evan's hip as he watches the other man relaxes, the uncertainty that had been there moments before over his little gift completely forgotten.

"And I see you found the remnants of my own project at some point which leads me to wonder when you even had time to do this." Evan chuckles at that.

"It might have been after you fell asleep last night. You were snoring so loud I managed to sneak out to my car, sneak back in, and complete this little surprise all without waking you up." And Tommy would be impressed about his boyfriend's dedication if not for the little comment about the snoring.

"I do not snore, Evan."

"You absolutely do snore, Thomas. And as your boyfriend, I find it very concerning that you can not hear if someone has entered your hom while you're asleep because of all the snoring! It's a real problem you know. Maybe we should look into getting it checked out. Or possibly installing an alarm system."

Tommy scoffs as he pinches at Evan's side again but the other man doesn't budge. Just tilts his face up with the bigest smirk on his face. Tommy would think it was cute if he wasn't currently under attack.

"You're a brat, you know that?" Evan's bats his eyelashes up at Tommy, smirk turning into something more innocent.

"Yeah, but lucky for you, I'm you're brat and you love me for it." And Tommy tries to scowl, he really does, but he always finds it so hard to stay mad at his boyfriend and those pretty blue eyes of his.

"Damn right I do." Tommy grins. "I guess you could say that I really ducking love you." Evan groans at the pun but his eyes are bright and full of laughter as he tips forward, slotting their mouths together. Tommy makes a pleased little humming sound as he slips his arm fully around Evan's waist, bringing them even closer, and Evan uses the opportunity to wrap his arms around Tommy's neck. He lets Evan kiss him breathless for who knows how long before he's pulling away, chest heaving as Evan chases after his lips. Tommy squeezes his hips, keeping him in place. Evan pouts about it and Tommy squeezes him again in a silent apology because as tempting as it is to keep kissing him, Tommy has something to say.

"I was just thinking that if you're so concerned with me sleeping through an intruder, what if you moved in? That way you wouldn't have to worry so much." Evan jerks back so suddenly that it unbalances them and Tommy staggers forward a few steps to press him back against the island. Evan's staring at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

Tommy's not sure how long they stand there before Evan finally snaps his mouth shut, but he still doesn't say anything. Tommy's face starts to heat as he wonders if he just made the biggest mistake of his life

"I mean, you don't have to, obviously. Unless you want to. Or you don't. Or- god, I've made a mess of this, haven't I?" He clenches his fist, and it makes the little Buck Duck squeak unhappily. "Why don't you take today and think about it? We could talk about it more tomorrow if-" Tommy doesn't even get to finish his rambling because Evan is surging forward, crashing their lips together.

Tommy grunts as he gets an armful of Evan Buckley, his grip tightening and eyes falling closed as he tries to keep up with his boyfriend's very enthusiastic attempt at trying to devour him whole. Except Evan pulls away a few moments later, his lips are red and slick and it's Tommy's turn to chase after them. Evan laughs, bright and slightly hysterical sounding, as he sways out of reach.

"Wait, baby, wait, hold on. I have to say yes to moving in first." And that stops Tommy dead in his tracks.

"Yes to moving in?"

Evan nods, hands coming up to brush through the short hairs along Tommy's neck. "Of course I'll move in, Tom. I couldn't imagine saying no to getting to come home to you every day."

Now it's Tommy turn to laugh a little hysterically as he's tugged forward into Evan's space, getting a taste of the grin that's spread across Evan's lips as they settle against each other. And as Evan gets a hand in his hair and Tommy works his hands under Evan's shirt, Tommy accepts that he is definitely going to be late to work.

(Tommy, miraculously makes it to Harbor with two whole minutes to spare. He jogs into the locker room and manages to change, stash his stuff in his locker and slide into the open seat next to Lucy right before their captain gets into the morning briefing. Tommy sags into his chair, hand slipping into his pocket in search of the little duck he stowed away before he came out, hand closing around it. And he knows the duck was meant for his car but Tommy thinks the helicopter could use a little touch of Evan instead.)