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poppy-metal · 5 months ago

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So I’ve sent a few asks about this since i'm not a challengers blog lmao but i feel like ive got this sorted now. This is a polycule au where reader enters via Tashi.

Reader is Tashi’s childhood best friend. They met at a day camp for kids in the neighborhood, and you were excited to let her babble on about tennis and sports and everything else. You traded hair ties and discovered you have the same favorite movie and that was that.

You were interested in tennis for a bit, an eager little kid, really just excited to have a best friend. Your parents were a bit concerned - don't you want other friends? She seems a little... overbearing... - but you didn’t care. This wasn’t just another kid - this was Tashi. Fire and ice, determination and grit, strength and beauty... You didn’t realize you were falling in love, you were just a kid. But that first love - when given the opportunity - can grow into its own beast. Spin the bottle might have been the first kiss you two share (and your first kiss ever), and it probably should have hurt your feelings more when she told you you were a terrible kisser later that night, but she offered to teach you and you tried to ignore the way your mouth went dry at the thought of tasting her again.

But despite your best efforts, as you drift away from tennis and into the pageant circuit, you and Tashi drift apart too. She still drags you out to do doubles for fun, but you can tell it bothers her that you aren’t as passionate about it as she is. It was her idea to write letters in college - she was flopped out on your bed, looking like a goddess in her tiny pajama shorts. She said it was convenient, you couldn’t help the way your heart skipped a beat. You’d been scared that she might just leave you - find a friend with a passion and drive that matched hers. But she wanted you around. Even tried to set you up with Art one time, the four of you crammed in a booth at some shitty diner. You decided then that you hated both boys - you’d heard their names in her letters, tried to ignore the way jealousy coiled in your chest every time they looked at her.

After her injury though... she just drifted away. By the time Lily was born, she rarely wrote back, to your texts or emails. It was too hard - you understood tennis as a game, but not in the way she did. Besides, you were solidly from before. Before the injury, before the marriage, before any of it. In her mind, you were pure. She couldn’t taint that with her pain and loss. You tried reaching out to Art, but he brushed you off. You ran into Patrick a few years later, at a shitty hotel. You’d almost kissed him - the heat of the moment and the history making desire twist with guilt in your stomach and you’d practically ran from the bar.

But that didn’t mean you stopped writing. And that made everything worse - why couldn’t you be more like Patrick, take a hint, let her go, let her slip fully into her after. But you never forgot a birthday - an ever growing collection of cards and letters in a box under her bed. You’d wondered, sometimes, if she read them. The letters got shorter and shorter as your own life drifted away from you. Empty friendships, empty relationships... it should have alarmed you, the way your life became grey without her.

After the Challenger, when Patrick was back in their life, he was looking for something of Art’s when he found that shoebox under her bed. The last few letters are unopened - you’d stopped including any details of interest by now, and she couldn’t bear to read the nothingness. You used to fill pages - now you barely covered the front of one.

But despite late night conversations while Tashi was getting ready for bed, neither Patrick nor Art ever felt like it was their place to say anything. Patrick would poke and prod, but never actually did anything.

It would be another year of radio silence before fate intervened. At this point in your life, you were working as a personal assistant for some big-wig sports sponsor, an overbearing man with wandering hands - but he pays you well, and your contract has a year or so left in it anyways.

The party had barely started when someone taps you on your shoulder. You’d been flitting around in a blush gown, debriefing the staff and restocking tables. You spin, expecting another waiter with a question, but Art’s blue eyes widened as they met yours. He hadn’t recognized you from behind - looking for answers about where to put their coats, but now you were both staring, brains whirring, trying to think of what to say. And you can’t stop yourself from scanning the room, a million questions swirling in your mind. Is she here? Did she know I was here? Eventually, you and Art are able to get through the awkward conversation, as you try to keep your eyes from traveling the entirety of his form - older, but still muscled, and the crows feet around his eyes only served to increase his attractiveness.

You’d flit away again, your heart pounding in your chest. You still hadn’t seen Tashi - was she even here? It would be a few hours before Patrick would confront you at the bar. You’d finally gotten away from your boss, throwing back a shot surreptitiously.

“Is he always like that?” He asked, leaning back against the bar, up in your space the way he’d been all those years ago.

“Hmm?” Was all you could manage, the shock and the alcohol making your mind move slower than normal.

“Your boss. Is he always so touchy?” You don’t answer that, putting your shot glass back on the bar and flitting away again.You’d hosted a thousand parties with your boss - why are they here now?

It was almost midnight by the time you finally see Tashi - you’d been washing your hands in the women's bathroom when she came out of the stall behind you and you both froze. Your brain was running a mile a minute, you weren’t even sure if you were breathing, all those feelings from decades ago coming up your throat.

“It’s good to see you.” Was all she said before slipping out of the bathroom. You find yourself leaning heavily against the sink, just trying to catch your breath.

Tashi would say that it was seeing you with your boss that pushed her over the edge into bringing you back into her life. But both Patrick and Art know that it wouldn’t have mattered if she had seen you with your shitty boss, happily married with kids, or in the height of your career. One look at you was enough.

aw, this one HURT what the hell ☹️☹️☹️☹️ the continued letters :((((( them slowly getting more and more lifeless the more that times passes and the more listless she becomes :(((( i imagine she stops hoping for tashi's reply, probably stops thinking tashi reads them at all - just vents like its a diary - she could buy an actual diary but something about the letters and knowing where they'll end up gives you comfort. you talk about failed dates and how you dont feel like you're built for love, dont think its meant for you. think you're probably always meant to doll it out and not receive it and how its okay and you accept it and you dont resent her for leaving - especially after her injury, you get it - except sometimes you get angry and your letters have tear stains on them with blurred ink lines and you write about how you understand how hurt and devastated tashi must have been and still must be, but why couldn't she let you be there for her? why weren't you enough? why did she accept love from art years later but never sends a letter back to you? why does he get grace from that time in your life, but you dont? what did you do to deserve it?

those are the letters tashi almost replies to - the angry ones - she gets as far as putting a pen to paper but can never find the words to explain how the reminder of you, after her injury, was just too much to bear - all her passion and ferocity and girlish zeal were wrapped up tightly and bound to you - even though you didn't play tennis - you reminded her of everything playing tennis used to make her feel. euphoric. how can she explain thinking of you made her sick to her stomach and by the time she'd gotten to a place where she could stand on her own two feet again. allow love back into her life through art - that she'd simply felt the weight of her cruelty too intensely. she couldn't apologize. she couldn't bear seeing the betrayal in your eyes, the hurt, the wound she'd caused. tashi was tough - but not when it came to you. you'd rip her right open. so she never replied. and eventually, it became too much to read them too.

and art probably knows about you - it's kind of hard not to notice his wife getting letters continuously. he asks about them, and tashi tells them they're from you and arts thinks 'oh.' he feels bad for you, he remembers you - remembers that time tashi tried to set you on a double date and it went miserably because art was too much of a loser back then to know how to treat a woman - and he'd still been very much in love with tashi. you'd been sweet, though. down to earth, kind, funny. he could tell you and tashi adored eachother. he doesn't read any of your letters, but he sees the expression on tashi's face kind of - shrink whenever she gets one - and he recommends only once, "why dont you return it?" but the glare she'd sent him had been enough that he'd never brought it up again. he wanted to ask more about you. had an inkling there was something more there under the surface - something romantic even, but he never knew how to go about asking. you were a touchy subject. it made him endlessly curious, despite himself.

and patrick - patrick probably hurt the worst. tashi marrying art - not being invited to the wedding - it'd hurt, badly. you'd written her many letters about just how much it hurt - but with patrick. it felt like a slap to the face. you and patrick - you felt a kinship with him. you hadn't bonded until well after college, not until years later, when you ran into him one night at a local bar. but catching up with him felt as easy as breathing, and like you'd known him all your life. he was self-deprecating and annoyingly flirtatious and haunted. he asked you about a tattoo you had on your wrist with a finger skimming the mark there and you'd breathed in. and that was it. you spent hours talking about tashi, spooling your guts out - and he did the same. you realized you had a connection there - you'd never been around patrick much when he dated tashi but you could tell he still loved her. just like you did. art too, though you didn't know the man well enough to mourn his absence from your life, other than to be stung that he apparently was more deserving of tashi than you were.

you'd almost went home with him - you could tell he wanted to. and the shared pain you felt drew you to him, you couldn't lie. patrick zweig was attractive and and you knew a night with him would treat you well. he'd make you cum - many times, probably. but the thing that stopped you was the very reason you were called to do it in the first place. god, was everything in your life about tashi? every goddamn thing? even your hookups? patrick wanted you, he definitely thought you were hot, but the peak of his desire came from wanting to have something of tashi's. to be closer to her - or to back at her. he'd make you cum, but it wouldn't be about you, or even for you. you couldn’t even be mad at him for wanting it - because for a moment, you wanted it too. to have something of tashi's - both to be closer to her and to spite her. but that's not who you were, at the end of the day.

you just didn't have it in you to play games.

patrick didn't take it hard. just gave you a half crooked smile and gave you his number if you ever changed your mind. the paper sat folded up in a pocket in your wallet for years to come. never used, but never tossed out.

it would be a few years later - working on an event for your gross boss that you saw the match on screen. catching snatches of it between your rounds of attending to guests, before tuning in fully on your break. breathless and nearly nose pressed to the screen as you watched all three of them come together in the most beautiful match of tennis you'd ever seen in your life. watching art and patrick embrace across the net made your eyes burn. when you saw tashi smile you turned the TV off.

a week later patrick was in the news, pictures of him seen with tashi and art on every article online. you couldn’t escape from their image - pictures of the three of them at a dinner - coming out of the movies. one of tashi and patrick seen laughing at a premiere. another of art and patrick relaxing on beach chairs.

it felt like being stabbed in the chest. the connection you felt with patrick severed. you didn't share anything. he was still chosen, in the end, when you weren't. you threw his number out. crumpled and barely eligible anyway.

you stop writing tashi after that. you doubt she'd notice. it was time you stopped being pathetic and let go. she probably threw the letters away the second she got them. art probably thought you were a nuisance. patrick probably thought you were a joke.

you move through life on autopilot for some time. you tune out news about anything related to tennis. you throw yourself into your job - that you hate. but what can you do? it puts food on the table and a roof over your head and yeah your boss gets handsy and makes inappropriate comments but its worth it kind of because he pays you extra and that means you get to buy the fancy ramen. the kind with actual beef tips in it.

its just any other night, refilling guests drinks - managing the bar when it's unattended - flitting around to see if anyone needed anything. your outfit was bordering on inappropriate - akin to that of a maid - black and white and shorter than necessary, especially for a high brow event such as this. but it was what your boss made all the women wear, so you couldn't complain. and yeah, maybe your skirt was shorter than anyone elses but if you just were conscious enough of your surroundings and keeping the hem from raising, it was manageable.

seeing art is like a bucket of ice being dumped on your head. turning around to see his startled expression feels almost comical. his suit and tie in comparison to your near slutty get up is humiliating beyond belief but you simply paste a smile on your face and pretend like seeing him and what it means that hes here hasn't just made your brain short circuit - you act like he's any other guest. pluck his coat from his arm and tell him if he needs anything to please let you know. you hope he doesn't. you hope he leaves you the hell alone.

if seeing art was ice seeing patrick at the bar feels like being tossed into a fireplace. you feel your skin heat just from him being close. your nose twitches at his comment - patrick was always more perceptive than people gave him credit for - but you didn't want to linger around to entertain him. if he thought he could just talk to you like he did the last time you two talked - like he hadn't spit in your face - he was wrong.

and if seeing patrick was like being thrown in a pit of fire seeing tashi in the bathroom was like being shot through the heart. a bullet entering your sternum. breaking all your bones that'd been paper thin anyway and tearing apart all your lungs and viens and cartilage. beautiful as the day you'd last seen her. somehow even more gorgeous with time and in the flesh. her beauty could never be captured completely by a camera or on a screen, though. it was the kind that shone best in person. because she glowed. she was effervescent. you wanted to die.

"its good to see you."

its good to see you.

over and over again in your head long after the door swings shut behind her. its good to see you like there wasn't a decade of unaccounted time between you. its good to see you like there weren't a thousand unanswered letters between you. its good to see you like you were passing acquaintances. nothing more.

you wash your hands in the sink three times. you fix your skirt, though it does absolutely nothing to do so. you go back outside and you deliberately avoid their table and when your boss pulls you to the side and slides a hand down your arm and tells you, you look like you need a break - you look at him and you know you can do what you usually do, which is act stupid and say no thank you or simply act like you dont know what he wants from you until he gets bored. but then you feel the empty pit in your chest that the bullet left ravaged, and you know you need something to fill it. even if that something will make you hate yourself.

you dont beat around the bush.

"can you take me home after work?"

your boss grins. you smile back, it feels wooden on your face.

"sure i can, sweetheart."

#ask #i LOOOOOOVE when y'all send me asks like this like yesssss i wanna read your concepts ur own au ideas #just yapping ur thoughts and im listening ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️#and i love angst i love broken hearted reader i love polycule i love drama #best friend!au

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rynnaissance · 9 months ago

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ok so for future reference, if i ever do continue working on my fic, how do we think bell’s hells would be at driving cars in a modern au? i’ve got ideas, but i want to hear other people’s input.

here’s what i’ve got:

chetney: DO NOT GET IN A CAR WITH CHETNEY WHATEVER YOU DO. that senior citizen is batshit insane and he WILL road rage. if someone cuts him off then wherever he was going is forgotten because he has to tailgate that person now while yelling at them to pull over so they can “talk.” i can’t decide if he would have a really nice car or a really shitty one because honestly both fit. maybe a fancy truck for hauling wood?

orym: he’s your safest bet out of the hells if you want to get somewhere on time without fearing for your life. bro is a law abiding citizen of the road. he never loses his cool (unlike chet) and his car is always clean and smells super nice. he mostly listens to meditation style music, but he’ll let the other person have the aux because he’s genuinely curious to hear what they listen to. shout out to orym.

laudna: okay back to the insanity. ALSO DO NOT GET IN A CAR WITH LAUDNA! girlie pop should not be on the road. she’s blasting the weirdest fucking genres of metal imaginable, she can hear nothing else. the music only somewhat drowns out the horrible keening noises her car makes, as if it’s begging to die. that thing hasn’t been to the shop in decades and omits the occasional plume of black smoke that smell like burnt hair and buttered popcorn for some reason? i saw someone else talk about how she’s a crazy driver with everyone except imogen who she drives very well for and never blasts music, and i like that idea a lot.

imogen: it was her dad’s truck before her’s, a farm vehicle meant for rural roads with four wheel drive. it’s pretty beat up, but it’s reliable. imogen hates driving though, as it can be super overwhelming in the city, and prefers to go with laudna. outside of the city, on rural roads where you won’t see another car for miles, she finds it almost as relaxing as horseback riding. she likes to cruise around with her widows down, shamelessly listening to country music. yeehaw.

ashton: should you get in a car with ashton? depends on the day, as they are kind of a wild card. one day, it might be a chill drive with you two causally exchanging stories, like sober “what the fuck is up with that?” other times you better hold onto your seat because you are getting to your location regardless of how traffic is flowing. ashton is the person who cuts chetney off. it may be on purpose, no one knows for certain, but he always seems to manage to find the old man and make his day a little more difficult. if they see someone they know, they’ll lay on horn and yell, “hey asshole!” with a wave and a grin. the car itself is covered in stickers and sharpie graffiti, interior and exterior. you’ll always know it’s him.

fearne: does she have a license? she would say yes. the truth is no. fearne was never taught how to drive, she just kinda figured it out as she went along. because of ashton, she used to think honking is a friendly thing, but had to be informed by fcg that those people are not just saying hi, but are actually mad at her. she didn’t like that very much. she doesn’t seem to be aware that there are any dangers to driving. she’s almost always getting into crashes, which she responds to with a giggle and a “whoops(:” it’s a marvel she hasn’t been arrested yet. there’s also an angry possum that’s sometimes found in the truck of her car, so it’s best not to open it.

fcg: much like orym, fcg is a very safe person to drive with. although maybe a little annoying, as he’ll let everyone go before him at a four way stop regardless of if it’s actually their turn. sometimes though, when they’re under a lot of stress, they resemble chetney more. they won’t tolerate any bullshit from other drivers and yell at pedestrians to get out of the way. he’s been getting better about this though, but still.

#critical role #cr campaign three #bell’s hells #bell’s hells modern au #chetney pock o'pea #orym of the air ashari #cr laudna #imogen temult #ashton greymoore #fearne calloway #cr fcg #again i would love to hear other people’s ideas too

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lesbianrobin · 2 years ago

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lesbianrobin fic scraps #3: the working title for this one was a drake and josh reference

What does getting the guest room ready even mean?

The guest room is right across from Steve's. It has that same matching wallpaper and curtains thing going that his bedroom does, just in pale yellow flowers rather than black and white plaid. He's pretty sure it was supposed to be a nursery, but that never happened. Mom blamed Dad and Dad blamed Steve. According to Dad, Steve just sucked so bad they never wanted to try again. According to Mom, Dad’s an evil asshole who wouldn’t let her have all the babies she wanted. Sometimes when things had been good for a little while, they’d change the story, that they tried for awhile and it just didn’t pan out, or that they were perfectly content with their one lovely boy and never even considered having more, but of course they always lied in front of each other and Steve knew better than to trust the bullshit they fed him whenever they insisted on playing the happy family. Both of them were only ever honest with Steve when nobody else was around.

The whole thing’s ironic. That’s what irony is, right? Dad never wanted the girl that Mom swore would save their marriage, and now the second she’s gone he’s changed his mind.

Dad said Maxine is twelve. That’s the same age as Mike and all his little friends, which means that she’s, like, a whole person with opinions and she’ll probably be just as miserable about the situation as Steve is. He is miserable, right? He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t need strangers in his house acting like they’re family. Dad’s new wife is either just as shitty as he is or she’s too good for him, and Steve’s not exactly thrilled about either prospect. How evil can he be? Stealing some poor woman and her daughter away from sun and sand only to make them rot in Hawkins. Maybe the lady’s an asshole or an idiot, but her kid’s just a kid. Like Will Byers. Living her life and then one day she just gets dragged to hell.

Maybe it’s just his own shitty memories making everything look shitty, but this room is depressing. Steve wouldn’t want to live here. His room can be kind of depressing, too, but at least it’s his. He's used to it, he doesn't need to love it. Maxine should love her bedroom, but she won't unless he makes some serious changes. The bedding in here’s all wrong for a kid. Plain white sheets and a big ruffled comforter with a mountain of fancy throw pillows. Steve would have felt like he was staying at his grandma’s house if he had to sleep in that when he was twelve. There’s a heavy vase with fake, dusty flowers on the desk, gold sconces on the wall on either side of the headboard, and a random porcelain doll propped up in the antique chair in the corner.

Steve takes down the sconces. There are big nails sticking out, so he’ll have to find something else to go there, because he has no clue how to patch holes in walls. Maybe, like, shelves? A clock on one and some kind of art hanging on the other? Maybe he could just get an empty frame and then she could get a poster of whatever stuff she likes to put in it. While he's at it, he should probably get some things for the bathroom, too. He's never shared a bathroom with anyone before. Should he get a new toothbrush holder? The one he has now is kind of old and gross. He grabs the creepy doll, leaves the bedroom, and stuffs the doll and the sconces into the hall closet. It's full of stuff that Mom keeps swearing she'll pick up someday soon.

It's weird to hate his mom. He doesn't have much practice at it, but he's getting there. She took almost everything in the living room and all the art on their walls. Steve always assumed that if she decided to finally leave, she'd take him too.

At least he already has a lot of practice at being wrong.

For once when he leaves the house with his dad's credit card and little else, he actually has a reason. Usually it's just to get out. It's supposed to be a forty-five minute drive to the mall, but rain starts pouring down halfway there and it ends up taking a little over an hour because nobody knows how to fucking drive. He's lucky enough to snag a spot right outside the Sears entrance and run inside without getting completely drenched, though his shoes won't stop squeaking on the tile.

He doesn't have the time or really know how to replace wallpaper, so he's gotta work with the yellow flowers. Steve's always liked yellow. It can be hard to pull off in clothing form, but it reminds him of sunshine and dandelions and bananas and a million other awesome things that Maxine hopefully likes too. But what if she doesn't? He can't lean into the yellow too hard.

The bedding has to come first. It's the center of the room, and he can pick other stuff based on whatever will match it. Steve walks down the aisle and frowns. The sets all just look like old lady shit. Why does everything have to have flowers or ruffles on it or cost, like, a thousand dollars? The colors are all wrong, too. So many pinks, and he knows from Nancy that people just assume girls will like pink and then drown them in it, so he can't do that to Maxine. He looks around and sees the next aisle: KIDS' BEDDING. Thank fuckin' god.

Some of this stuff is terrible, too, covered in teddy bears and Rainbow Brite, but some of the ones marked TEEN BED SET are alright. One of them has skateboards all over it. Steve considers it for a second, because skateboarding is pretty cool, but it doesn't match the wallpaper at all and it's kind of too specific for a kid he's never met. Maybe she broke her arm skateboarding once and now she has skateboard trauma.

#em talks #lesbianrobin.ficscraps

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minastras · 1 year ago

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prev • masterlist • next

→ 09 you’re sweet

words: 0.7k

Jay liked studying with you, he really did, but you made it difficult sometimes. His mind kept drifting off to how good you looked, how nice you smelled, how you scrunched your nose adorably whenever you made a typo.

You were working together in one of the graduate researcher rooms on the top floor of the library, protected from wandering undergraduates by an access card lock. The fully glass door and massive windows didn’t exactly make the room very private or intimate, but he was nervous anyway.

“Are you okay? Do you want to take a break?” you asked, noticing he hadn’t written a word in the last ten minutes.

His cheeks flushed a bright red. “I’m fine,” he replied immediately, as if that was a normal reaction to have. “What’ve you been up to?”

If you were weirded out by his unusual cadence or behaviour, you pretended not to notice.

“I’m still trying to figure out who wrecked my car,” you laughed, showing him your hand-drawn map of your building’s carpark. “I have four suspects on my radar right now, so I’m seeing which of them is the most likely culprit based on their usual driving paths.”

Jay’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“Oh- uh- who’s on your suspect list?” he asked.

“That dick who drives the red Lamborghini, our upstairs neighbours, this guy who hates my roommate Sunghoon, and the girl who lives down the hall,” you said, ticking each suspect off on your fingers. “None of them seem like particularly strong suspects yet.”

He relaxed, if only marginally. “It sounds like your investigation’s hit a dead end. Maybe you should just give up,” he suggested.

“I can still get the CCTV footage from our building’s security guard,” you mused, thinking out loud more than anything. No. No, you couldn’t do that.

“That’s crazy!” he exclaimed, laughing nervously, fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket. “I mean- taking the train isn’t so bad, right? Gas prices are nuts now. Road taxes are going up. That shitty car was on death’s door anyway.”

He winced at his own bumbling ineptitude and stole a glance at you. You’d fallen silent, clearly upset by something he’d said in his long ramble.

“I’m sorry,” he said. You just shrugged. After an agonising silence, he asked, “Why are you so attached to that car?”

Another agonising silence passed.

“Marty was my parents’ car,” you finally answered, looking down at your hands instead of at him. “They got him right before I was born and named him after Marty McFly from Back to the Future, and when I was little they used to tell me he could travel back in time just like in the movies.”

You had a wistful smile on your face, picturing childhood memories he couldn’t see.

“When I left home for university years ago, they gave him to me even though they couldn’t afford another car and even though they needed him more than I did, just so I’d have a slightly easier commute to and from campus.

“All my most important moments happened with him — my first drive back home to visit my family, my first road trip with Chaewon, my first time moving houses on my own. And he was one of the few pieces of my parents I had here. I feel like I’ve failed them — I promised to be responsible and take care of their car and I didn’t.”

Guilt tugged at Jay’s heartstrings. He should’ve confessed from the start. He’d spent the last month trying to stop you from finding out the truth. And wasn’t he still here now, lying and deceiving you?

“That’s not on you, though. It’s not like you drove irresponsibly and wrecked your car. It’s m- the other person’s fault,” he pointed out.

Again, you shrugged, noncommittal.

“I can see why it was so important to you,” he said, debating whether or not he should give you a hug before deciding not to. “You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

Finally you cracked a small smile, lifting your head to look him in the eye.

“Thank you, Jay,” you said, with a fondness in your gaze he hadn’t seen from you before then. “You’re sweet.”

He should’ve just told you the truth.

#enhypen #enhypen smau #enhypen x reader #park jongseong #enhypen jay #jay x reader #jay smau #jongseong x reader #jongseong smau #enhypen fluff

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t4t4t · 7 months ago

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Eddie and Collie got into this long fight that started at the grocery store and continued as we got home and when we got home, Collie took a big escalation in the store of saying she needs to leave because like, we told her to focus, and she started yelling at Eddie in the store that she speaks whenever she feels like it, whenever any thought happens, she has this little phraseology she loves repeating whenever anyone tells her to shut up in any way -- whenever a thought strikes, something something. Idk, I hate my memory. But like I just walked away and tried to focus on what we needed to leave.

But it was Eddie's food card, we didn't have any left. But like, we gave them food from our stamps, she would be welcome to it if she didn't make him / us feel unsafe. She complained about having no food in the car when she left and was sitting in it alone...

But like it spiralled into Eddie hitting her in the stomach and face and then Collie gave him a nosebleed back.

Part of the fight was Eddie very nonseriously threatening to call the cops in the car when Collie wouldn't give him back his keys when he asked after she was done driving. She was already talking in the store that she wanted to leave so like, that's not the most surprising response, but it's odd Collie held onto them pettily and like baited him like, what are you gonna do if I don't. So he said the thing about the cops but like of course he doesn't want cops coming by, we heavily don't want them anywhere near this household.

Collie used the moment to bring up all her negative feelings about Eddie jokingly using the words tranny, faggot, and retarded (to some extent he mostly uses this in reference to himself but sometimes jokingly for others but openly acknowledged that he would have stopped if she had said anything about it) but she never brought any of this up to him until last night. She did bring up to me that she wanted to talk about it eventually a while ago but it never happened until then I guess. But it's not healthy for her to bottle up her feelings and then try to instrumentalize these things as like, you should take my side in things that you did these things to me, which like, is not at all how clear communication works.

Eddie said things like "let's go faggots" and "I wanna cuddle with my trannies" collectively a few times but he never individually addressed Collie a faggot -- last night Collie kept saying that he should apologize for specifically calling her that, which is a misleading way to say it. She never brought up her negative feelings about this until yesterday, with something like "you're lucky you didn't decked in the face for calling a trans woman faggot" and it's like. What a confusing and manipulative way to frame that.

But and so Eddie was getting annoyed with her and if she planned on leaving / was getting ready to leave and was shouting at him he deserved to get beat up (for intra community camaderie she took in the most bad faith she possibly could) -- I wasn't in the room when the physical fight happened because I was using the opportunity to steal my phone back from her pencil case bag, because she took it out of my back pocket when I was fixing the display of Eddie and Alina's stuffies that she made a mess of grabbing the stuffies she had put up in the display, and was saying if I planned on staying I couldn't keep the phone. But I quickly noticed the opportunity and kept it safe on me until she left....

She took my books, she took my castration painting, she took my notebooks, she took flour and pasta sauce she can't even use.

We've been using my card and Alina's card for a lot of stuff so like, I'm in the negative and there's 300 dollars in Collie's account that like. Long story but basically super shitty, like 1/3 of it might be donations, but the rest is money we've been collecting doing stuff together, we've been communally pooling money for literally 3 whole weeks now, but now she just ran away with that. Eddie will get unemployment money in a few days, Alina still feels sick. We wanted to get antibiotics for her yesterday but all this argument was a multiple hour affair

I hid in the bathroom with my phone after I got it, then she asked to use the bathroom so I left but she didn't lunge at me for it then. Then she grabbed all the boxes from the living room, which had much of my notebooks and books and the painting. She took the Casio that Emma gave us, I thought I understood it as mine... she left her organelle m.

She's been texting me for hours last night and hours this morning. She hates that I didn't leave with her even as she calls me an abuser and a sexual assaulter. But she took my things. But she's wondering if I want to be part of her family and is saying I shouldn't be here if I want to be part of her family.

She took pins from the DSA trans clothing swap that I was never able to show yall :--( "Death before detransition", "dyke" in a metal font, the "No one way works" Diane di Prima quote. I got earrings she took because I never had the time to take it out of her pencil bag. I guess I should have tried when I took the phone but I was thinking that was the most important and I needed to get back to the bathroom ASAP.

She went dancing with Eddie the night before, and not even an hour prior to the grocery store scene/argument we were at the clothing swap. Eddie and I got more than she did, I wonder if that made her at all upset. Some of the stuff I got might fit her better than me but I never got a chance to talk about it... :(

She said she's going to throw her necklace of the three that we got that was three necklaces in one package of the three piece heart with magnets from Claire's in the river.

Why does nothing last.

Eddie is telling me it's highly unlikely she'll hurt herself or stop wanting to be with me if she's continuing to text me as she is, if she really wanted not to be with me she would have blocked me. He's saying I should give her a few days to calm down and not even respond much. I'm not sure what to think

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quillyfied · 7 months ago

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Hellaverse Theories: Helluva Boss S1E3 and S1E4

Welcome to Quilly’s Hellaverse Theories, where I overthink the entire Hellaverse! Moving forward with Helluva Boss this evening, visiting s1e3 and s1e4. I’m on a timetable now, wanting to get these done before the new episode comes out, but since we don’t know when that will be…just gonna have to hope for the best!

Now, jumping into s1e3:

There’s a detail from last episode that I did forget to mention: in a letter that Fizzbot holds up saying Loo Loo Land isn’t copyright infringement, Mammon calls Lucifer “my friend and ruler,” so I guess my speculation on whether or not Lucifer was King of all of Hell or just of Pride in one of my Hazbin Hotel analysis posts can be put to rest! Lucifer is King of all of Hell and not just Pride, I can move on with my life.

Blitzo singing along to dad rock and forgetting half the words: the greatest Mood.

Blitzo and Verosika’s banter is…enlightening. Lots of little tidbits to pick up on. I am SO excited for the opportunity to get to know more details in Apology Tour (PLEASE), because while it’s grade-A vile bickering, it’s the venom and bitterness that drenches their every interaction that really shows that when things were good for them…they were probably really good. As my Hellaverse friend sagely told me, you don’t hate someone that much unless you loved them that much first. Verosika’s BlitzO tattoo isn’t obvious yet, but notice that she’s the only person in the entire show (except maybe Barbie?) whom Blitzo doesn’t correct on the silent O. His choice of opening salvo is petty and gross, just as we expect, but Verosika’s is biting and weird: “and I should have known you’d be here when I heard the Amber Alerts.” Some people have taken that to mean that maybe Blitzo wanted kids when they were together (which could be supported by his adoption of Loona and how he calls Octavia “sweetie” in the second episode, though outside of that there really isn’t much to go on for building a theory about Blitzo wanting explicitly to be a father), and this could also just be a very crass and demeaning joke about Blitzo’s character (calling him a child kidnapper at best, a pedophile at worst), but. I dunno. It’s the first unusual thing Verosika says, but not the last. The second happens at Ozzie’s so we’ll wait until then to get into it more, but here’s the point I’m driving at: Verosika was way more hurt by their breakup than Blitzo was, and she’s still hurt by it. I may posit, given that one of the upcoming episodes is literally named “Apology Tour,” that Verosika lacks closure from their train wreck of a relationship and Blitzo might need to apologize just as much as she needs to hear the apology. Not to say Blitzo is entirely at fault, because I’m sure she gave as good as she got, but she knows about Blitzo’s sister when none of the rest of IMP, not even Loona, seem to know about her (which is funny because there’s a giant poster of her in the office; it was there in the pilot episode so congrats folks this was always the plan, to bait people in with what I’m told is Invader Zim energy and then wallop us all with feels), she gets away with calling Blitzo by his full/former name, and she was clearly someone important enough to him that he still has pictures of from when they were together on his phone. He does feel BAD about how it went down, even if he won’t even admit it to himself.

And how did it all go down? Let’s listen in: “run off, leaving someone else to pay for the hotel room, steal their car and run three rings to Wrath and max HER credit cards on shitty horse-riding lessons.” Ouch. Let’s look at the layout of Hell, which we don’t know yet but will soon: Pride, Wrath, Gluttony, Greed, Lust, Envy, Sloth. Three rings away from Wrath? Lust. Not surprising, seeing as how Verosika is a succubus, but think about it. A relationship that is likely on the rocks (or, knowing Blitzo, maybe getting too serious and he’s uncomfortable either way), so they take a night in Lust at a hotel (maybe after a performance for Verosika?), and maybe whatever Blitzo was doing (I have seen here and there that he was doing bodyguard work for Verosika but I don’t know about that tbh, I’m willing to bet the flashback we get from s2.5 involving Millie and Blitzo fighting might give us some insight there but it’s likely Blitzo was either still working at Loo Loo Land or had just left it) would have allowed him to pay for the hotel room or at least help pay, and Verosika wakes up with him gone along with her car and her wallet. After she got a tattoo of the guy’s name on her arm. Verosika’s behavior towards him might lend some viewers to believe she deserved that, but I’m not so sure, actually; I don’t think she’d be so hurt and Blitzo would feel guilty about it if she fully deserved that kind of treatment. Yes, yes, this is Hell, everyone is shitty, but there’s something about that scenario that goes beyond shitty into just…ouch. Couple that with her Beezlejuice addiction and all of Blitzo’s fucking trauma…match made in Hell would be too cliché here, right? I’m probably better than that?

I’m not. Match made in Hell, indeed.

Dammit. The HR joke makes me laugh every time.

“I wasted so much time with a bag of holes like that.” So this was a relatively lengthy relationship, then. Making the whole…leaving and stealing thing…worse, actually. It feels less shitty somehow if it was a fling or a hookup, but something that dramatic probably only happens after a longer commitment and WOW I want to know all the details of that train wreck PLEASE VIV AND BRANDON PLEASE.

Side note that I have finally noticed the stickers on the back of the van, that’s ADORABLE Blitzo you absolute SAP.

Also Tex is too good for all of us. Appreciate him. Appreciate the HECK out of him.

(Blitzo protecting his employees because he cares about them, nbd, I’m sure this affliction won’t get any worse for him at all.)

(Blitzo having the exact same thought process I have when I realize I use the same notable words too close together and already posted something, it’s FINE)

There’s something about how the banter flows with Blitzo and Moxxie sometimes that makes me wonder if they improvise this stuff, at least in the writing stages, because “Why don’t YOU take an art class?” “Why don’t YOU see how EXPENSIVE they are?” kills me dead every single time. It’s just. It’s such beautifully comedic escalation into further absurdity. This show is poetry sometimes.

So I think it’s been confirmed that the scenes in the 2.5 trailer in a fancy Pride room with the Goetia and the Sins is a trial; there are little hints here and there that some sort of unrest is building, that Blitzo and IMP going topside is causing wider-spread issues that are slow-burning but there. I think this is the first episode where we lay the foundation work, beyond the actual first episode where Stolas reminds them that their use of his grimoire is technically illegal: not only is it illegal, but they’re supposed to be in human disguises on top of that. And they’re not supposed to be obvious about what they’re doing. Or causing giant fish monsters to grow out of the ocean and attack humans. It also makes me wonder if the killing of humans themselves is also illegal, but somehow I doubt that; I think they’re just supposed to not be obvious about it. Pretty sure this will be popping up more in future episodes, which I’ll list as they appear, but I think it’s a good bet that what IMP is doing is not just piddlingly illegal, but actually a big hecking deal.

Also a first showing of Blitzo’s surprisingly strategic and smart mind: they aren’t supposed to be seen, and loose shots will cause a panic. Sensible. Absolutely correct to use Loona as bait to lure away their targets. It becomes more and more obvious the longer the show goes on, but the ways Blitzo’s bizarre brain is actually kind of a genius at strategy and violence to get to his preferred outcome are both entertaining and gratifying to see. Until his care for Loona completely overrides his sense, but, y’know. Can’t win ‘em all, can’t fault Blitzo for being worried about her (especially when she has a YEARLY SHOT that she can get only EVERY FIVE YEARS, that feels AWFULLY POINTED, HEIRARCHY OF HELL).

And, yeah, Verosika has SO much room to be talking, when she’s throwing a flask of Beezlejuice into a crowd of humans, and from my understanding, that stuff is toxic to humans. The thing falling into the ocean and mutating a fish isn’t as discreet as humans dying from ODing on a hellish liquor, but it does seem more like giving them a fighting chance. Additional question: succubi and incubi (unsure if there’s a difference in the Hellaverse or not) in lore, to my memory, get something out of encouraging sexual appetites in humans and killing them for it, dragging their souls to Hell; at the very least, they feed off the sexual energy until they kill their host. What exactly is the succubi’s purpose in the Hellaverse? Because it doesn’t seem to be killing humans. And they’re adept at inspiring lust, but to what end? Probably doesn’t really matter, but I’m curious anyway. Wonder if it’s ever going to be explained (because much like the Envy demon who will be showing up in Ghostfuckers, I assume there is an actual reason for them doing what they do, and I wanna know why hanging around and messing with humans is so beneficial to them. Can’t be for their souls; all sinners go to Pride and they have their own issues to be dealing with, and it seems only sinners can own and barter souls anyway).

Listen, I know Blitzo isn’t nearly that awkward around other people, but something about Loona being so nervous around people and stumbling and being adorable (to us, at least) just screams “yeah this is Blitzo’s kid” to me, somehow. IDK why. Maybe the yearning for connection while being kinda hopeless at making any. Especially with each other. Though in a way, Blitzo managed to do exactly what he wanted: he made a stable, safe place for Loona. She relies on him, she cares about him, and while she’s closer to him than almost anyone else, she does have very much a kid’s view of their parent: he’s always fine, he’ll be okay. It was just a dumb fight. He’ll get over it. He’ll be there for her when she needs him (and often when she doesn’t). THAT’S FAMILY BAYBEEEEE.

(Heeee Drunk Possum Moxxie :D :D :D)

“Would be a shame if anyone found out y’all were behind a giant monster fish in the human world.” “Oh Satan! You’d all be so FUCKED!” …yeah that trial ain’t gonna be a good thing, is it, fam. My gut feeling that IMP, or at least Blitzo, is gonna be on trial for everything he’s doing in the human world continues to gain traction in my own head.

“Let’s get you some friends, girl.” TEX IS TOO GOOD FOR US.

Listen I’m more sensitive these days to fat jokes but sometimes…sometimes the fat jokes are just really funny. “Let’s go park our FAT FUCKIN CAR in our FAT FUCKIN SPACE” dammit why is that funny. Why am I laughing. (Maybe because it isn’t using fat in a derogatory way, more a victorious to neutral descriptive way? I don’t know.)

The fact that the chorus of the song that Blitzo is singing in the credits goes into the tune of HEAVEN IS A PLACE ON EARTH BY BELINDA CARLISLE ABSOLUTELY *KILLS* ME. MURDERS ME DEAD. OMG.

So, in my first journey through these episodes, the showing of care between Blitzo and Loona helped me get through this. But the next episode…that one was kinda hard for me to plow through. It’s easier now, so let’s go!

To episode 4!

First things first: heeee Cherub Towne and Imp City. My brain does love its symmetry.

Second things second: wow Collin gets thrown into all the crap situations, huh? I’m so excited to see them again in s2.5 (I KNEW CHERUB AND DHORKS WOULD BE WORKING TOGETHER OKAY I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT. I’M NOT GONNA STOP SCREAMING ABOUT THAT), because even this early, Collin deserves better and already seems kind of at odds with his teammates.

Also interesting how Hell seems to get Heaven’s commercials. Makes me wonder if anybody in Heaven gets Hell’s, and what that might mean if any of them saw the Hazbin Hotel commercial. (Ooh. Wouldn’t that be fun, if the commercial actually does something in Hazbin Hotel s2? Like…alert a certain spider-shaped winner that her twin brother is alive in Hell and attempting redemption? HMMM.)

I’ve been pondering what to call Blitzo’s gun, since I don’t know gun types. “Flintlock” is what I kept seeing most, but that puzzled me, since flintlocks are single-shot firearms that need loaded a specific way and the show doesn’t do that. EXCEPT IT DOES. RIGHT HERE. IN THIS EPISODE. Which makes me kinda happy, because “flintlock” is a badass and kinda sexy word.

Also, Wally Wackford as a recurring background character makes me happy.

Aaaaaand the advent of the Fat Jokes About Moxxie That Make Literally No Sense Because LOOK AT HIM Train. Lovely.

Y’know, on the subject of Moxxie, actually, which I was maybe saving for a later episode but screw it I’m thinking about it now because of the frame I paused the episode on to write the previous paragraph: he doesn’t have any scars. His freckles are there (and freckles and tattoos are also white on imps, though there is every possibility that Moxxie and his mother weren’t freckled, but…scarred…specifically…), but no other white patches on him. I find that fascinating.

OKAY HERE WE GO, 1:41 INTO THE EPISODE: a nice long shot of the poster of Blitzo and Barbie Wire, the Amazing Imp Twins. Clearly made before the accident. What precisely their show was meant to be, I couldn’t say, because Blitzo is the one in clown attire and Barb just looks sort of normal, but it looks like early concept art anyway so we’ll let them have it. Millie later pops up in this empty space, but the fact that we get such a long uninterrupted view of the background makes it clear that this is important information we the audience are supposed to pick up on. HB does this often, actually, and it makes the rewatch rewards SO GOOD.

“I am eccentric and must therefore do eccentric shit!” Mood.

You heard it here first, folks: Moxxie finds eternal torment hot.

Okay, here’s another building block for my “IMP is in deep legal shit” theory; the “three tacky stalkers about to attempt a Murder” scene. Where there are many pictures taken of them. And their disguises are…okay. Humans don’t typically see the imps and immediately think “devils” (see “possum”), but that’s still photographic evidence that at least one earthly agency and any hellish law enforcement could use against them. Which just makes me question the whole “human disguises” rigamarole, how Loona got one, and how far we can plausibly stretch “IMP doesn’t get any” before it becomes ridiculous past the point of humor or belief.

Blitzo losing his cat sock puppet in a holy explosion: the most poignant story of loss in this entire show.

Okay actually who sent CHERUB to save Lyle Lipton? I know they say “on behalf of all the people benefitted by your amazing technological advances” but…like…who???? Who was the poor naïve person who sent CHERUB to go stop that man from committing suicide? Unless it was more calculated than that, but I doubt it.

“Commit die” should be what took off instead of “unaliving.” Only children’s show animated Deadpool gets to say that word. Heck.

“He’s classier than that!” NO ONE IS CLASSIER THAN A KATANA, COLLIN.

The costumes that IMP is wearing all episode are incredible, though. I know Blitzo’s first one is a character by Brandon Rogers, though I’d love to know who/what Moxxie and Millie were supposed to be (more characters by him?). The second round is pretty obvious: it’s Cats. Which is only funnier given the movie abomination. I know nothing about it but Blitzo as Rum Tum Tugger feels appropriate on a vibes level. But the third round…WHO ARE THEY. WHERE ARE THEY FROM. THEY SEEM SO SPECIFIC BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT IS. IS IT HEATHERS? IS IT MEAN GIRLS? IS IT HAIRSPRAY? WHAT IS IT.

So imps seem about as mortal as living humans, if a little hardier, and it doesn’t seem as though cherubs come packing angelic steel (…Heavenly classism?), so getting threatened by some golden crossbows seems about as dangerous as anything else; it does make me wonder if cherubs have the same mortality rates as imps, though.

Keenie showing her own bloodlust and rage issues and Cletus going along with it feels…foreshadowy, now that we know they’re coming back for sure. Saying it once again: Collin is not gonna be on board with them and how far they’re willing to go for vengeance (though admittedly getting locked out of Heaven because their fight with IMP caused them to accidentally kill the mark is a pretty good reason to go looking for vengeance; however, a human agency outfitting and working with angels to invade Hell is NOT gonna look good for IMP if and when the law comes calling).

Nice to know that Helluva Boss is just as clueless for what gets someone into Heaven/Hell as Hazbin Hotel, only it matters so much less and their guesses for getting into Hell are much more on the mark, I think :P

Also, is this the only episode where the credits aren’t bloodstained? I haven’t been paying enough attention.

And that’s the end of this batch of episodes! Next batch coming soon!

#quilly's hellaverse theories #helluva boss #quilly writing #helluva boss spoilers #since trailer discussion

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katstries · 10 months ago

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“Come on, you need to let loose,” Dean whined, pulling the covers off her body, the girl groaning in response, trying to pull the blanket back onto herself.

Dean used his strength to his own advantage, yanking it so hard the blanket made contact with her floor, “I won’t take no for an answer.”

Nearly an hour later, Dean opened the door for her, letting her step inside a random bar on the highway that he had passed numerous of times while driving.

“What can I get for you?” He asked as they neared the bar, the woman still slightly out of it. His hand went almost instinctively on the small of her back, looking over her shoulder at the drink card in her hands.

“A whiskey?” she mumbled, placing the card back onto the bar, making her way to the nearest table while completely ignoring Dean and his attempts to make her feel better.

He neared the table, two glasses of whiskey in his hands, a cheeky grin on his face, “One whiskey for the beautiful damsel in distress.”

“Dean, why did you bring me here?” she asked, finger circling the rim of the whiskey glass, her eyes glued to him.

He sighed, reaching out for her hand to stop her from playing with the glass, “You don’t have to go through this alone and hell, I just thought we could have some fun. He was never worth you even looking at him and god forbid, if I could, I’d make it that way that he could never look at a woman again.”

His protectiveness and the warmth of his hand made a small smile creep onto her lips, appreciating the small words of affirmation coming from the usually cocky man.

“You’re right, it’s not worth it,” she sighed, taking her glass of whiskey only to take it all down in a single shot, slamming the glass back onto the table.

Hours later, they were clearly drunk from the amount of empty whiskey glasses on the table, both of them leaning slightly closer to each other as they talked with their words slurred.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” he murmured, getting up from his chair only to stumble a little. He disappeared from sight, the woman having a sheepish smile on her face from the alcohol flowing in her veins.

“Is this thing on?” she heard a slur of words from a familiar voice, finger tapping on the microphone to make sure it was on. She couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head towards Dean.

As the music started, everyone’s attention was automatically turned on Dean, his own eyes only glued to the red haired woman in his table.

“You think your life is done, he took it all with him. So you drink enough for it to wash away the sin. Such a shitty thing he did, the way he said goodbye. You can take it out on me if you like,” his voice went on, raspy and husky.

She just stared at Dean in disbelief, a stupid grin on her face as her cheeks rose up, suddenly feeling very warm and fuzzy inside.

“Fuck away the pain, erase him from your brain. Fake it like you love me, come on baby, touch me. Show me where it hurts this dirty little curse. Don’t have to be ashamed if you wanna scream my name while I fuck away the pain.”

He pointed his finger at her, people looking back and forth between them as they cheered on, Dean getting more confidence by the minute as he started moving his body in the rhythm of the music.

She got up from the table, walking closer to the stage as people had started gathering, enjoying the karaoke show the seemingly handsome man put on. Ladies were screaming and clapping on, making Dean feel like a rockstar.

“You hate the way he fooled around behind your back. A slave to him, but now with me no strings attached. But if you wanna use me up and leave me in the bed, if that’s what you need go right ahead.”

She stood there dumbfounded, shaking her head even more this time as Dean continued on with his show.

With his last words, he was slightly out of breath, chest rising quick and fast. He dropped the microphone on the floor before hopping off the stage, his feet carrying him straight to her.

“You’re insane,” she laughed, playfully hitting him in the chest.

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her tight against his body, whispering in a low voice into her ear, “Insane for you.”

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peachyfnaf · 3 months ago

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18 whole years, huh?

18 whole years of existing on this shitty planet filled with shitty things and shitty people.

18 whole years of existing on this beautiful planet filled with wonderful things and beautiful people.

i am.

terrified.

i don't like my birthday. i hate it, actually. not only does it mark a point in time every year where i have to be around the ""family"" that i don't really care about or even like; but to me, the passage of time is a terrifying- if not the most terrifying thing- and now i'm an adult. gags. i am an adult in the eyes of society. i am a person who can own a house on their own, get any job, start a family, have kids.

that is terrifying.

i feel like i haven't really changed much since i turned 15. i mean, i've gotten more mature, that's a fact. but i feel just as unprepared to grow up now as i was then. i don't know how to drive. i don't know how to do taxes. i've never had a job. i literally got my first debit card like a month ago and i've still yet to use it.

so yeah i'm fucking scared!!!!! i feel like the second i take a step out into "adulting" i'm going to blow up from lasers in the sky shooting me down!!!!!!!!!!

but. (yes there's a "but", bare with me)

but, i still want to do it.

i want to grow up. i want to get a stable enough income doing art where i'm able to get out of this fucking house and move in with someone i love. i want to cut off all the horrible people in my life, and get away from them. i want to be able to walk around my own house without having to mask. i want to be able to fill up the walls with anime posters and buy merch of all my hyperfixations without being scolded for "wasting money" or "acting like a child".

and now, i'm one step closer to being able to do that, just because i was able to convince myself to survive this long.

am i gonna do all that right away?? oh-ho-hooo hell no. i still have no fucking clue what im doing, and i don't even have the option to yet cause. mr. krabs voice. money.

BUT. but, it's actually possible now. it's not just the dreams and ideals of some scared little girl wishing she could be anywhere but here. it's something i can actually do, if i bust my ass to do it.

and if you've happened to read this far, first off, tf you doing here? second off, thank you. thanks for acknowledging i exist, on this app full of millions of people, that you downloaded on this planet of 8 billion people. i appreciate you more than you know.

i am also going to use this yap and ramble and hide this wayyy at the bottom, so that i can be less worried n embarrassed about it being seen, but i've made a lot of friends in the past year the sams fandom that i never expected to make. some of them were literally people i idolized, and now we chat in discord dm's all the time. i still can't wrap my head around it.

if you see your name here, know that in some way shape or form, you've made me smile when i thought about your existence. some of you i know pretty well, and some of you i wish i could get to know more, but im a pissbaby with anxiety who cant initiate conversation fjkhsdf

drew. star. mothy. creesa. juno. sunny. dana. ceph. ken. sam.

polaris. alex. haven.

(those last 3 are separated because they're the names of people who i've actually stopped crying before over cause they said hi to me or some shit dfjkhsdf)

and THERE'S PROBABLY A LOT MORE PEOPLE I'M MISSING BECAUSE WRITING THIS OUT MADE ME TEAR UP SO NOW MY MINDS A BOWL OF SOUP. BUT IF WE'RE FRIENDS AND YOUR NAMES NOT ON HERE IT'S NOT BC I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU, IT'S BECAUSE I'M A DUMBASS DFSJKHSDF

aaand this is long enough, dear lord.

so yeah. i'm 18, i'm scared, but i'm alive, and i love my friends. and i think that's pretty neat.

let's see if i can reblog this post again when i turn 19 with some good news, yeah?

yeah.

(and yes, future me, in case we forget we did actually draw a celebratory piece this year. yippee to us.)

okaysoitisntactuallymybirthdayuntillike40minutesfromnowbutimgoingtobedso

Today is the day I first escaped the cold, cruel clutches of the First Spinjitzu Master and I've been making it EVERYONE'S problem ever since!!! I have no intent of stopping, either, I assure you. <3<3<3

#yapping about smtn tag #long post #this shit is SO LONG KDFJHDSF

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

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acquainted

You had no intentions of becoming acquainted with the clan your family had cut ties with, but when Naoya Zenin himself is willing to teach you a lesson and you’re determined to show him what you’re capable of, it becomes a silly game of power and dominance.

REQUEST. naoya putting reader back to her place

WARNINGS: Naoya Zenin, rough sex, orgasm denial, face fucking, slight voyeurism, degradation, slight bondage, cowgirl riding, manhandling, spanking, hate sex

WC. 5.4k+

NOTES. Because Naoya is my favorite, his fic is the only one I’ve ever edited, LOL. Even though this is requested, this is written out of self-indulgence, purely because I love Naoya and even though he’s nasty, he’s my comfort character. And freaking FINALLY I have written more for this man. I worship this King 👑

There were so many ways this day had gone wrong. First, your shower broke. Second, the maintenance men couldn’t come until late in the afternoon, so you had to drive all the way to school looking like a half-mess. You weren’t a slob, of course, but you were beyond irritable at the thought your hair felt greasier than most.

So when an unfamiliar mop of blonde hair sat at your place, the sight of pierced ears meeting your gaze as you smiled at the young man, you had to clutch your bag tighter. No need to be harsh to anyone; you reminded yourself.

“Hi,” you greeted as politely as you could.

The young man in your seat was handsome — terribly so — feline eyes emphasized with an eyeliner, and stunning green eyes that peered up at you with utmost boredom. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint where you’d seen him before.

“I believe you’re in my seat.”

You expected he’d kindly take another seat since the hall was empty, but he only leaned back in your seat, brow raised with a slight smirk. “So?”

Your mouth fell agape, hands falling at your sides. Who was this guy? “What do you mean, so? Get the fuck out of my seat.”

“Women,” he rolled his eyes, “Always so tempered and dirty mouthed,” the words felt like stinging slap in your face, and he easily read through you when he snickered to himself, waving a hand in the air as if he was swatting a fly away. “I’m already sitting here, so go find someplace else. I came here first.”

“You little — who do you think you are?”

“Who do you think you are for speaking to me? Did I give you permission?”

His condescending voice made you lunge at him if not for your friend’s hand wrapping at your arm, shooting worried glances over the guy. His smirk deepened when your friend pulled away, the words mutter under her breath. “Come on, let’s go,” she tugged you away despite your protests, pushing your shoulders down to make you sit. Once out of earshot, she rolled her eyes. “I seriously hate that guy. Don’t you ever involve yourself with him.”

“Who’s that prick anyway? He acts so high and mighty like he’s some rich daddy’s son. Look, he’s totally claiming my seat as his!”

“That’s Naoya Zenin, and yeah, he is some rich daddy’s son,” she confirmed, shivering at the mere mention of his name. “He’s an absolutely big misogynist. Don’t be fooled by his pretty face — he’s the worst fuckboy to ever exist. That dick of his isn’t worth getting fucked over. He’s already made half the women in school cry and run after him like a horde of lovesick zombies,” your friend gagged with a shake of her head, “It’s terrifying, actually.”

“Fucking asshole,” you hissed under your breath, sending side glances at the corner of your eye.

That stupid guy was still in your seat, a bored expression on his handsome face, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks at every blink. He just had to be a sexist pig with that gorgeous face — no good men existed anymore. “Whatever. He’ll get a taste of his own medicine soon.”

“Whatever it is you’re planning, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I’m doing this for all of us,” you announced with your spine straightened. “I’m not letting a man walk like that acting like he’s got the whole world at his feet. I’ll teach him a lesson or two.”

“You do know he can sue you if you punch him right?”

“Who said I was going to punch him?” a smirk painted your lips at the same time he felt your eyes burning holes at the side of his face, your expression even more triumphant when he tilted his head to the side, eyebrow cocked at your gaze. He must’ve assumed you’d fallen for his looks judging by the satisfied smile on his face, making you laugh because it would be fun to teach him a lesson. “No, I have a much more interesting plan in mind.”

It turned out that Naoya wasn’t that much of a stranger.

You had his reputation to thank for — people spoke his name left and right that it was nearly impossible not to know of him. It had you wondering how you managed to live through university so long without knowing him when the name drowned you; he was a Zenin.

No wonder that name was so familiar.

The Zenin’s were a close business partner of your family, but they cut off ties with their company years ago due to them having an intolerable attitude. Clearly, it ran in the blood, and their heir manifested it so well.

Thoughts of Naoya and his stupid face were soon drowned out by expensive champagne, the golden liquid sparkling in your hands. You had to attend this dinner gala where businessmen and powerful families alike conjoined for a formal opportunity of forming connections and solidifying deals, pressuring you to be at your best behaviour lest you wanted your black card to be cut off.

You made your way through the crowd to get another one of those hors d oeuvres, opting to just sit in the corner while you watched your family plaster on big, fake smiles with even louder, faker laughter.

It was quite sad, really, that people had to do stuff like this, but who were you to complain when it was what fed you on a silver plate all the time?

For now, you just wanted to enjoy the new dress your mother had gotten you, the silk black material hugged around your curves delectably. Pearl drop earrings hung to frame the sides of your face, legs lengthened and accentuated with stiletto heels.

You felt sexy — especially when you got lingering gazes from men who were slightly older and definitely richer, though you made no move.

The last thing you wanted was to become someone’s trophy wife when you could become so much more. Plus, only your parents had the task of befriending people and building trust with others. You were only here to help represent the name somewhat with your pretty face, not really having much of an intention to be acquainted with anyone.

You swiped another glass of fizzy alcohol from the waiter that passed by, glossy red lips pinched around the glass when a sultry voice mused at your ear, “Still can’t find a seat?”

Swirling around so fast that the contents nearly poured out the glass, you weren’t surprised to see Naoya fucking Zenin stood before you, his tall stature draped in only the finest and hand-stitched three piece suit.

He looked absolutely delectable this way, earrings glimmering under the golden chandeliers and eyes lined with kohl, the aura of elegance that perfectly concealed his less than pleasing personality excessively charming.

You were beyond appalled.

“Still can’t find a brain?” you retorted with a roll of your eyes, eyes still narrowed at Naoya’s displeased ones as you dunk your drink in one go. “What are you doing here, pig?”

“I’ll let that comment slide once — only because you look hot tonight,” his predatory gaze ran over your form, the careful pattern of him pausing at the swell of your breasts sliding to the curve of your hips heating up each inch of your skin. “And it’s Naoya for you. Naoya Zenin, the rightful heir of the Zenin Corp—”

“What’s that scent you’re wearing? Baby powder? Fitting for your cute face, actually.”

Naoya’s jaw clenched, clearly unaccustomed to people cutting off his holiness, and you had to bite down on your lip to prevent the chuckles from slipping through. “It’s Tom Ford.”

“Hmm, why am I not surprised? My horrible ex also wore the same scent. Maybe it’s a trademark for all limp losers, huh?” Naoya opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, stepping forward to grab at the space between his tie to pull him down. His face was mere centimetres away from you, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips, the intense anger flaring through those eyes hot enough to burn you. “You act so smug and defensive, Naoya. Trying to have a big man personality to conceal a small dick?”

“I have nothing to prove to you.”

“You don’t need to prove me anything,” you glanced down at his pants with a smirk, ignoring the heat pulsing in your veins because the sight contradicted your words. There was a noticeable bulge inside those shiny black slacks, though the last thing you wanted him to see was the way your mouth watered in anticipation. “I already know what I need to know.”

“Yeah? You and your shitty girlfriends can’t stop talking about my dick?”

You shrugged sarcastically, “You know women. We’re tireless complainers.”

Naoya’s jaw ticked upon you using his words against him, his hands coming up to caress at your neck, his nails scratching behind the thick silver chain you wore.

From afar and in the eyes of others, people would’ve thought you and Naoya were simply getting a little too heated, his lips dipped to graze your ear while his slender fingers pressed a little tighter into your air pipe. Your positions could easily be mistaken for Naoya seducing you, and you supposed he was, since your body responded differently from your verbal protests.

“You should watch what you’re saying,” he warned, voice low with warning. “I could easily dump your body into a river and no one would even notice. In fact, maybe the world might even thank me for doing them a service and ridding them of a spiteful woman like you.”

“Oh, pretty boy,” you chuckled back and stood to your tippy toes. One of your hands wrapped around his neck to forcefully tilt his neck to yours, nose pressed above his collar to inhale the intoxicating masculine scent he wore. “You’re all bark and no bite. Why don’t you show me what you’re capable of? If you’re as awful as they make you out to be, maybe I’ll shiver enough to drop my panties for you.”

You didn’t miss the way Naoya’s hands gripped at your waist to pull you close, enticing you to continue with your insults because maybe Naoya liked this a lot more than he let on. Could it be his superiority complex didn’t always like submissive women, after all?

Well, it would make sense; everyone always liked a little challenge, didn’t they?

If that was what he wanted, then you’d be generous enough to grant it to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to get a chance to put me in my place, to teach me a lesson for defiling the oh-so-mighty Naoya Zenin?” you purposefully toned your voice down to a more breathy tone, your chest swelling with pride when Naoya sucked in a sharp inhale beside your ear.

God, he sounded beautiful — and you hadn’t even fucked him yet. Now, you were eager to hear what else those disgusting lips could be capable of other than degrading you.

Pulling away from him just to bat your lashes at him, heat pooled straight into your core when Naoya’s gaze had completely darkened, dark orbs pooled with lust and anger. Only he could make such an expression look so good.

“You don’t scare me, Zenin. You’re nothing but a small boy wearing big man pants.”

For a moment, your smile widened, believing that you’d won this time around. Naoya was still breathing hard at each brush of your stomach to his now hardening erection, but then he smirked and gently pushed you away from him. “I’m not fucking you here,” he stated calmly, not even bothering to keep his voice low. “You’re a lot dumber than I thought you’d be if you really think I’m whipping my cock out during this dreadful dinner.”

“This dreadful dinner you speak of is an opportunity for people like us to establish connections. I would’ve assumed you wanted nothing more to impress others but it seems I was wrong. If you hate this event so much, why bother coming here in the first place?”

“Just had a feeling I was going to meet a little minx,” he watched you seductively, his smirk adorned with his tongue peeking out to lick his lips — in turn wetting you in places he promised to make his by the end of the night. Curse him, you chanted in your head, curse him for being so attractive. It would’ve been easier if he was ugly. “And as always, I’m right.”

You tilted a brow, slightly impressed. “So you’ve done your background check on me. That doesn’t explain why you’re still here though. Surely a woman couldn’t be enough for a reason to make a man like you go all this way?”

“You’re right, a woman would never be a good enough reason, but I wanted to put you in your place,” his eyes flickered back up to you, now twinkling with danger and something else entirely. “Bad little girls need to be a taught to a lesson.”

“So what’re you waiting for? Go ahead and show me your ways, Zenin.”

“I will,” he nodded to himself, “I’m about to,” Naoya was nothing but confident as he strode your way until his arms was locked with yours, his breath tickling your collarbones that had unknowingly exposed itself at each heated touch. “You’re not that bad for a slut. You look like one, smell like one — I bet you also feel like one.”

A dry laugh left your lips as you fisted his shirt, mirroring his smirk to show that if a match was what he looked for, then a match he’d find indeed. Only this time, you would be worse.

“Why don’t you go ahead and find out?”

Naoya, despite being an absolutely poor excuse of a human being, was somewhat redeemable for being a man of his words. Find out he did, and he wasted no time into shoving you inside his McLaren, barely able to keep his hands off you the whole way up to his penthouse.

It was a blurry mess from there.

Moans spilled from your lips while he ripped your clothes off, not bothering to apologize that he’d just ruined one of your most prized possessions, his lust-clouded haze mumbling that he’d just buy you another one.

It was the last thing you expected to hear from him, but you couldn’t protest, not when he’d angrily snapped the buttons of his shirt away, a low growl mixing with your breathy whines as he loosened his tie.

Your eyes widened at the sight, legs rubbing together as you imagined what else he could do with that pretty tie of his.

Would he tie you to his bed, fuck you stupid and call you useless? Or perhaps, you could do it?

Naoya cut off your train of thought by pushing you back to his mattress, his hands tugging at his belt before he pulled his boxers down, his thick length slapping at his abdomen. Your mouth immediately watered at the sight. You were beyond wet from nothing but your sloppy make-out sessions, but would he fit?

Just the thought of him giving you that burning stretch made your legs spread beside his sides, the sardonic laughter ripping from Naoya’s lips absolutely disgusting.

“Fucking pathetic. You’re just like everyone else; submitting to me at the sight of my cock, but that’s not true, is it? Moment you saw me, I knew you were clenching around nothing,” he gripped at your jaw to force you to look at him. You glared up at him from his bruising hold, your cheeks squished under his rough hands. “But that’s okay; wanting me is not something you should be ashamed about. Although you should be thanking me I’m even letting you near me like this.”

“I’m so honoured. Come on, Naoya, let me feel you — let me make you feel good.”

Naoya, too lost in his ego, missed the sarcasm dripping in your voice. “So eager to be my cock sleeve, huh?” he grinned, tugging at your hair to push you deeper into his mattress. “Get on your knees. Now suck.”

He was too harsh in his pace, determined to exert his dominance over you. You could feel every ridge of his vein as he continued fucking into your mouth, his abs rippling above you. It felt like witnessing a Greek god come apart, and you took pleasure in being his ruin, prompting you to hollow your cheeks and bob your mouth up and down on his cock harder.

Naoya’s chuckles were broken and often mixed with curses of fuck, you feel so fucking good, his nails now scratching at your scalp.

Soon, Naoya stilled inside you, his hold around your head deadly to keep you in place. Tears flowed down your face as he kept thrusting inside, making sure to hit the back of your throat before his muscles tightened. Spurts of warm cum followed after that, but instead of swallowing it like you expected he’d command you to do, Naoya whipped out his cock and came all over your face, his seed shooting all over your cheeks and lips.

You took it all obediently, just enough to give him the false pretense of submissiveness that he was so willing to force from you.

While he was occupied pumping his still rock hard cock, eyes closed and massaging your scalp almost soothingly, Naoya failed to notice your hurried movements of standing from the bed, fingers looped around his tie.

A small wail resonated from him when you shoved him down onto the bed, knees locked at either sides of his waist before you tugged at the cloth wrapped around his neck. Naoya kicked his legs behind you as you tied his wrists to the bed hard enough that Naoya winced, the tie only forming tighter at each lame grapple of his.

You looked back at how he got more beautiful laid out in front of you like that, chest heaving up and down while he struggled against the restraints, face flushed with anger — no, this wasn’t anger anymore — he was furious.

“What are you doing?! Get this off me — how dare you!”

“How dare you,” you spat back, discarding your lace bra off to wipe his cum away from your face, gagging when the bitter cum left a tang on your lips. “I just got my skin appointment last week and you came on my face like that?”

Naoya kept fighting back before he realised it was a futile attempt, leaning back down onto the pillows, though that didn’t soften his heated eyes on yours. You cooed at how adorable he submitted to you, running a finger down the sides of his jaw. “Aw, don’t look so angry, baby. I’m just starting my fun,” you purred, “You should’ve known better than to mess with me, Naoya. I’m not as nice as the others. And I’ll show you just how awful I can be.”

Naoya’s breath hitched when you shimmied out of your underwear, a dark glint in your eyes as you stretched the elastic into a fake arrow until it snapped into his face.

“You fucking bitch,” he growled, turning his face away from your panties soaked with arousal. “Once I get out of here, I will ruin you.”

“Huh, yeah, sure,” you mumbled incoherently, too lost in the pleasure as you sunk down on his cock. You were right, he was fucking thick, stretching you out better than any of your toys could. Plus, he was warm and leaking with pre-cum that he slid in easily, erotic groans leaving both your mouths once he was finally seated inside you.

Naoya was growling at you to let go of him when you laughed, lifting your hips up slowly before sliding back down on him just as slow, almost as if you made love to his cock the same passionate way you did with a lover. “You do have a wonderful cock, though. I’ve never felt this good in my life,” you leaned down to lick a stripe down to his neck, allowing him to hear the needy pants you graced with him. “You feel so good, Naoya, oh. If you weren’t such an asshole, I might even fall in love with you.”

“Go faster. This is unfair!”

Naoya tried thrusting deep into you, evidently unsatisfied at this torturous pace you set, but you only gripped at his thigh in warning, your eyes no longer sweet as you glared at him.

“Nothing’s ever fair in this world, sweetheart,” you reminded him, shivering every now and then as you bounced on his cock, his length slipping past through your walls magically. “Like how such a gorgeous face and amazing dick is paired with the most disgusting personality ever. No, it’s not fair, indeed...”

You closed your eyes with your head thrown back, placing your hips flat on his pelvic bone instead, fingers rubbing at your clit while Naoya throbbed inside you, desperate for release.

The little whines you gave were nothing but mocking. You knew that Naoya suffered through this position, but did you care? Absolutely not. With Naoya’s cock stretching you full and his tip kissing your most sensitive spots, in addition to your fingers rubbing and tweaking at your clit, this was the most pleasure you’d ever gotten from sex.

You were stimulated everywhere, your other hand reached up to tug at your hardened nipples.

Your walls clenched around him, signalling him that you were close and you let out a broken moan, falling forward to gyrate your hips around his cock to push you over the edge. It wasn’t enough to get him off since you were mostly still fondling with your clit, the sounds of your moans like torture to his ears.

“No, don’t you dare cum, I swear if you—” Your orgasm washed over you comfortingly like a warm blanket. Instead of seeing white, it was like your vision cleared, the sight of the sweat that made Naoya’s hair stick to his forehead in clumps crystal clear. You prolonged your orgasm by thrusting your hips in a sickening rhythm of thrust, pause, thrust, stop — and by then Naoya was losing his mind.

Naoya lost control as he snapped his hips upwards inside you hard enough that you winced in pain, pushing off his dick until he’s left humping the empty air, his body drenched with perspiration. “No, no, no, fuck you! Get back here you useless slut!”

You lay beside him, giggling in post-orgasm bliss. Just to tease him, you rolled to his side to press a kiss to his cheek, laughing harder when your lips came in contact with his flushed skin.

“You’re so adorable like this,” you cupped his face tenderly, perfectly aware that Naoya had begun to growl, his wrists almost bruised from how hard he brawled against his tie. “If I didn’t hate you so much, I would’ve let you cum inside me,” you offered with a pat to his chest, moving off the bed with wobbly legs.

“Well, whatever, that was fun. I would say we both had the most sensual sex of our lives, but that would be a joke for you, don’t you think?” you snorted as you inserted your arms to his discarded suit jacket.

Naoya stayed still on the bed, his cock still painfully hard and slick with your cum. “Don’t look so angry, Naoya. You had it coming for you. Don’t worry, though, as a thanks for letting me cum that hard — though I mostly did all the work — I’ll keep this between us so you at least get to keep whatever’s left of your dignity,” you blew a kiss his way, “Bye, sweetie. At least now I know people weren’t exaggerating when they called you a good fuck.”

Not bothering to slip your heels back on, you looped your shoes into the curls of your fingers, about to button Naoya’s jacket as you made your way to his door.

You never got halfway across the room when strong arms suddenly lifted you off the ground, your vision transitioning from his door to the pads of his feet, your body slung across his shoulder. Naoya gripped at your ass in warning when you kicked your legs, leaving him with no choice but to hug your thighs with one arm.

The next thing you knew, he slammed the balcony doors open with one hand and slammed you on the pool table. His rough hands yanked his jacket away from your body, the chilly night of the air bringing a shiver down your spine as it hit your drenched core.

Naoya had pinned your arms flat on your back in a painful angle, making you cry out just as he kneed your legs open, his free hand that wasn’t pinning you down aligning his cock against your hole. You were a moaning mess underneath him, the pain only an intoxicating addition to the pleasure he was pounding into you. Naoya then leaned to whisper your ear, the sudden movement making his cock slide deeper into you, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Oh, Naoya, fuck—”

“I am not just a good fuck,” he corrected you, “I am Naoya Zenin — and you will do well being silent and submissive while I fuck you, do you understand?” You were too lost in the feeling of him rutting deep into you that he had you seeing white this time around. When you didn’t answer, Naoya slapped your ass, your yelps echoing from the dead night. “I asked you a question.”

“No,” you bit back, “I refuse to—” you were silenced when Naoya hit your sweet spot, laughing at your state that you were too fucked out to give him a proper answer.

Naoya’s pace was merciless as he fucked deeper into you, the hand on your ass moving up to grab at your waist to keep slamming you back to his cock. He watched as your lips sucked him in so tight that he didn’t know whether you were pushing him out or refusing to let go. Turning your head to the side to gasp for air, you opened your eyes, only to be met by the sight of men crowding on the building across yours to witness your undoing by Naoya’s hands.

“I’ve barely started and you’re already so wet for me,” he mocked in your ear. As if on cue, squelching sounds accompanied your desperate moans, hands grabbing at nothing in particular. “Shall I try upping my speed?”

“N-Naoya- there are people looking.”

“Let them see,” he seethed, using one arm to lift your other leg up to the table to gain him more access into your warm, wet cavern. The sudden stretch made your muscles ache until you lay there limp; jaw clenched at the pleasure Naoya drowned you with. “Let them know how much I’m making this pussy mine. Gosh, can you hear yourself? You sound like a dirty fucking slut,” another slap landed on your ass, hard enough to leave a mark there for tomorrow. “You claim to hate me, so then why are you dripping all over me, huh? Pathetic whore. You women are nothing but cum dumps to me.”

Naoya spread your butt cheeks open, laughing at the silly way you clenched around him every time he pulled out, your puffy lips sucking him back again until Naoya buried himself to the hilt. His dick did wonders in letting out the most erotic whines and whimpers you never thought you’d be capable of, leaving you a drooling and panting mess under him.

“You little fucker, don’t even think about cumming inside me, I will literally castrate you and feed your balls to yourself.”

“Such a dirty mouth. Though that’s expected of a nasty woman like you,” he sassed, his thrusts faltering while his hand clenched your flesh tighter. That was enough to send you over the edge when Naoya slammed his hips harder and more desperately this time around, his cock twitching against your walls. “You wish I would cum inside you. But I have a better plan in mind.”

All it took was one rough hand for him to pull you before him, pushing you down into your knees again as he came inside your mouth. You could feel your cum and his dripping onto his dark marble tiles, the white pool of liquid shining.

Naoya thrusted lazily into your mouth, a sickening grin on his face while he kept you down there. His glare deepened when you tried to pull away from him. “Swallow, you slut. Or I’m fucking your face until I break your jaw.”

Furiously, you swallowed around his cock, Naoya groaning at the feeling of your walls convulsing around him. The moment you gagged from when his tip poked the back of your throat, Naoya pushed you off him until you were left choking on the ground. You gasped for air, hands clasped around your neck, sure that you were going to have a sore jaw and a fucked throat tomorrow.

You kept glaring at Naoya, but this didn’t deter him from gripping your chin down, humming to himself upon seeing that his cum was now gone in your mouth. “Hmm, so you did swallow it like a good girl. I’m glad I’ve disciplined you well.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’m King there already, baby,” Before you could retort, his arms encircled your waist until you were heaved in his arms again. You pounded against his back because you were too done, you couldn’t do another round. Naoya sighed as he threw you in the bed as if you were a ragdoll, disappearing in the bathroom for a while before coming back with a wet towel, which he rudely flicked your way. “Clean yourself up and then leave. Take the back elevators. I don’t want the staff to see a whore leaving my place.”

“You’re the one who brought me here.”

“Only because I had a duty to put you in your place,” He stared at you with his smirk now permanent in his face, admiring the bruises he left on your body.

“We’re not over yet, Zenin. I’m going to break you one way or another.”

You rolled your eyes at him, walking to his closet to wear one of his shirts. Naoya was silent the whole time as he watched you button his shirt with trembling hands, his presence hot on your heels as he followed you out the large room.

As you were about to leave, you picked up the towel you used to clean your cum with and threw it right at his face.

Naoya dodged it easily, eyeing the towel with a scoff. “Still resilient, I see,” settling down on one of his lounge chairs like it was a throne, Naoya rested his cheek on his fist as he stared you down. “But fine — I accept your challenge. A true man never backs down from a challenge, after all.”

“Oh, honey, I’m more than just a challenge,” you sneered.

Naoya’s gaze left your eyes to stare at your perky nipples that poked through his shirt, feeling his cock swell all over again. But he was a man of control and dignity — he wouldn’t do anything more with you, not when it was clear you’ve had enough for tonight.

It didn’t bother him though, he knew he’d have more opportunities to put you in your place.

“We’ll see about that. I’ll be the one to decide your worth,” he declared oh so smugly, the mere sound of his voice pushing you to slam a fist to ruin that pretty face of his, though you held your ground, far too tired to move a muscle. Naoya saw this too, and he smiled to himself, head tilted to the side as he studied the mess he’d made of you. “Tomorrow, same time same place?”

There was no telling what pushed you to agree, but the words left your lips far too confidently for you to even wonder why.

“Be ready for me, Zenin.”

“I always am.”

All the way back to the back elevators that Naoya had directed you at, you pondered on how you’d be able to tell your parents you suddenly needed a ride home when they had no idea you left the dinner gala in the first place. But most of all, how were you supposed to tell them you’d acquainted yourself with the Zenin clan all over again?

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tteokdoroki · 4 years ago

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dick destroyer december | i. midoriya

♡ pairing: izuku midoriya x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 6.2K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: college!au, fluff + smut.

♡ summary: with no nut november over, finals complete and christmas right around the corner, your number one boy returns to you with only one thing on his mind.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, pwp ( characters aged up to twenties ), drinking, mentions of alcohol, mentions of poly!kiribaku, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it y’all ) wall sex, fingering ( female recieving ), light!pet play, spitting, cum play, mentions of sex toys, exhibitionism, oral sex ( male + female recieving ), light!praise, heavy!breeding kink.

♡ author’s note(s): merry christmas everyone! i hope despite the circumstances that you’re all able to enjoy the holidays and are staying safe, if you’re not celebrating i wish you a wonderful day as well!! anyways here’s a little festive fic to satisfy you guys and tysm for 2K+ followers <33 find the corresponding kiribaku fic here!

♡ masterlist | requests

ever since you’d started college, your roomate, katsuki had always said that november was his favourite month of the year; it took you a while to figure out why.

having known the blonde since you were a child, you were aware that he despised the cold weather that nipped at his nose and made his quirk slow down. he hated wearing extra sweaters and begrudgingly asking your mother to make him some hot chocolate whenever he came over to play; in fact he hated asking you for it now as adults in your early twenties but as his good college roommate from freshmen year, you made sure he always had a mug waiting. nonetheless, katsuki’s sudden love for the winter months and festive weeks following honestly confused you to your wits end— especially with the impending doom of finals sneaking up on you.

however, you quickly found out the reason behind your best friend’s change in attitude towards the month of november, six months into your freshman year relationship with izuku midoriya.

“no nut november,” katsuki had purred into the neck of his beer bottle, rolling the cool glass against his bottom lip as he laughed at you from across the room. you had recalled the conversation to have occurred exactly half way through october, before the aforementioned month, you and your roommate had decided to host a small gathering with your classmates— purely fulled by thirty boxes of pepperoni pizza and beer, only two of the boxes had been vegetarian for your friends mina ashido and denki kaminari ( he was challenged by mina to go green for an entire month. “that’s why i love this month s’fuckin’ much.”

bakugou ended his sentence with a swig of his beer, setting the now empty bottle onto the coffee table that had been a house warming gift from his own mom. the sound causes todoroki and sero to jump from their place playing cards against humanity with your girl friend momo on the floor, and kirishima ( bakugou’s crush at the time, who’s drunk and passed out in the blonde’s lap ) to flinch awake. katuski pets his red hair once, making kirishima blink up at him affectionally.

your boyfriend, izuku, fidgets under the intimating stare of your roomie and you can tell he’s fighting the blush that spreads rapidly across his freckled cheeks. “n-no nut november?” your baby squeaks out, large palm settling on your lower waist as you shuffle to get comfortable in his lap. it’s clear he hasn’t taken part before, so you know exactly what your best friend is doing. trying to tease him in front of all your friends and pull him into something that you’re going to hate. nonetheless, deku downs the rest of his own alcoholic drink as bakugou prepares a response— the rest of your friendship group now pulled into the conversation.

“katsuki bakugou, don’t be mean.” you scold with a bite into your grease laced pizza and offer up the rest to izuku, who politely passes. you pout.

“‘m not, just sayin’— that damn month will be the only time of the year that i don’t get to hear you and the goddamn nerd fuckin’ like rabbits all the time.”

this time, its you who fights an embarrassed look on your face while your green haired lover simply swipes todoroki’s shot from the coffee table and swallows it all at once. the dual haired boy only groans before rising to get another from the kitchen and the rest of your friends hide their giggles in their own drinks, cards and half eaten pizza slices. “you…you can hear us?” you squeal incredulously, causing your friends to snort out loud again. izuku still says nothing.

“baby, we damn near almost see you whenever we drop by!” kirishima mumbles with sleep curling in his tone, he stretches like a cat on bakugou’s lap and grins at you— sharpened teeth dazzling under the LED lights in your living room. they flicker to a deep green, but you barely notice it.

abandoning your pizza as a whole, you huff and push up the sleeves of izuku’s hoodie that you wear— just about ready to pummel your best friend into the ground for having people over while you…ahem…get some, but shoto returns from the kitchen quicker than you anticipate and cuts right through the chatter with ease, giving you little time to feel flustered by the sudden turn in conversation. “you guys are more sexually active than my parents and they had four kids, messed up with raising us from touya, though,” he says in his iconic monotonous voice, causing you to splutter and katsuki to kick his feet out in victory. “seriously, i doubt midoriya would be able to beat any of us at this no nut november thing ‘cause of it.”

this time, deku ( as so affectionally nicknamed by your childhood best friend ), pouts, his frustrated voice bleeding into the conversation. “c’mon, don’t you have a little faith in me, shoto?”

“no.” is todoroki’s simple answer. you flinch, did you guys really have sex that often? to the point where no one believed your boyfriend could go a month without getting his dick wet?

“i second that,” kaminari pipes in, picking a mushroom off of his pizza and leaning over to plop it into sero’s mouth.

“third it!” the latter adds.

your roomie takes that and runs with it. “he wouldn’t last a day even if he tried.”

“leave it alone, katsuki.” you find the courage to defend yourself through your flustered state without realising the buzz of beer and vodka shooting through zuku’s veins.

it takes quite a bit to get your boyfriend drunk, he was a big boy after all and played for your college football team but once the drink was through his system he often broke out of his shy demeanour and into one of confidence and challenging your beloved best friend. izuku’s grip on your waist tightens as he leans forward to point accusingly at the blonde before speaking. “wanna fucking bet on it, kacchan?” he says with sparkling emerald eyes and a honeyed voice that makes you twitch in place in his lap. of course you would get horny right in the middle of your two best boys having a drunk argument.

“what’chu say nerd?” bakugou slurs, pushing poor kirishima off of his lap and to the floor in order to stand up and cross the room towards your boyfriend, pointing a finger in his face.

izuku pushes the digit away, smirking up at the blonde drunkenly and everyone’s gaze in the room suddenly falls on them. “i bet that i can last longer in no nut november than you.”

you whimper from your lover’s lap, knowing that as soon as everyone clears out you’re going to pounce on him before this stupid bet takes place. this doesn’t go unnoticed by the girls, momo and mina, who tease you for having such a high libido but you don’t think they’ll understand how much you’re going to suffer without your broccoli haired boyfriend’s dick every other night.

you love izuku and katsuki, you really do— but its times like this, for the sake of your sex drive and love life, that you really wish they’d got along more. maybe it was their little battle for your affection that caused the rift between the two, after all katsuki had been the only boy in your life up until college and izuku, you were pretty sure was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with…either way, their rivalry was getting in your way and was about to be a major cockblock for the next thirty days. “hold up you guys, don’t i get a say in this?” your voice comes out in a slight whine as you tug on midoriya’s fitted shirt, but he’s too busy having a stare off with your roommate to notice. “what about me and my needs?”

“it’s not about’cha, shitty girl.”

“stay out of this, yn.”

you huff, pushing yourself off of your boyfriend izuku’s lap to stand and smack the pair of losers upside their heads before joining your girls on the floor. mina pulls you into a comforting hug, trying to distract your mind from the fact that it’ll be deku dick-less for a month while momo serves you out a set of cards to join her in a game of cards against humanity with the other boys lounging on the floor— kirihsima is invited into the game too. “sounds like i’ll be getting you a dildo as an early christmas present!” ashido comments, swiping her deck off of your hand me down rug before anyone can see them.

momo grins at you while you take your cards and take another shot from poor, unsuspecting shoto. “better make it extra thick, we know he’s got a nice one on him, yn.”

“fuck you guys.”

“gladly, we’re not taking part of no nut november like those two idiots.” the black haired girl hums, shuffling in her seat to start the next round. you roll your eyes and turn your gaze to watch the green and blonde haired boys you adore so much fight over this trivial guys only event.

their cheeks are flushed from all the beer they’ve drunk and they’re leaning on each other for support, but that doesn’t stop them from going at each other. “you couldn’t beat me, even if you tried, shitty deku.” katsuki mumbles, arm around midoriya’s head— forcing the poor boy into bakugou’s large pecs. “haha...shitku…”

“oh try me, bitch.” your boyfriend counters, voice so husky it sends shivers down your spine, although it contrasts deeply with the sight of his adorable cheeks pressed against katsuki’s tits.

they’re too drunk to brawl it out and quite frankly you’re too tired to bother to stop them, mind only wondering how you plan to survive the next thirty days.

three years, three novembers and a few weeks into december later; you’re still wondering how the hell you’ve survived.

ever since that night in your freshman year; izuku, bakugou and the other boys have competed vigorously to last throughout the entirety of no nut november; your boyfriend having won the last three years in a row. katsuki hated it, losing to your izuku but he hated the victory sex you gave him even more.

you’d think he’d be used to it by now, with everyone in their final year of college but bakugou had manage to luck out this year on not hearing you and midoriya go round after round on november thirtieth. finals had hit you guys hard in terms of wrapping up the semester before christmas; they were important to pass too, considering you’d all be graduating within a few months, so you’d barely seen izuku since november ended and december rolled around.

now, being a couple weeks into the festive month and with finals drawing to a close— you had yet to make plans to see your boyfriend. there was little time between the online classes and preparation from the holidays, yet you could feel yourself growing more sexually frustrated by the second. rubbing one out wasn’t doing it for you anymore and listening katsuki’s bragging about his peaceful nights of sleep while you decorated your apartment with mistletoe and tinsel was really starting to tick you off.

the very decoration slips from between your fingers as bakugou walks in, yanking bits of tape from his fingers from where you had him lining the ceiling rails with gold, green and red tinsel. the blonde had only gone and slammed the door to your living room against the wall, grumbling about the stupid mess of clear tape across his clumsy fingers— the action scaring you half to death before you huff, facing him. “what, katsuki? what could you possibly need right now?”

his vermillion gaze picks up from his smoking palms, a last resort to getting rid of the tape. “came to tell ya that ‘m headin’ out with kirishima— going to pick up our girlfriend from the airport.” a sweet blush lays loosely against your best friend’s cheeks at his admission, not long after you guys’ drunken night in freshman year, bakugou had confessed to your red headed companion; only to find out he had a girlfriend waiting for him in his hometown.

kirishima wasn’t a cheater, but he also couldn’t help the flutter in his heart around bakugou— so had the two meet straight away and after a lot of tears and large dramatics, the three settled into a cute little relationship. you’d only met the girl once when she visited both boys for spring break— but you’d loved her and knew how much she made your best friend happy.

you smile nonetheless, picking the mistletoe up from the floor. “tell her i said hi, yeah?” you mention to your friend while he shrugs on a jacket and checks himself in the mirror. katsuki was in love, and it was insanely adorable to see. “do i need to set up the guest bedroom for her ’n kiri?”

“nah, shitty red head kicked out kami, he’s staying with sero and mina while my girl’s up.” katsuki shakes his head, letting you fix the collar of his jacket after you bound over to him. “we’ll be back after lunch to pick up some of my stuff though. so don’t do anything fuckin’ stupid and i’ll see you later, yeah?”

you cross a finger over your heart but the mischievous smile on your face gives you away. “no promises katsu, stay safe out there!”

your smile drops however, as soon as your roommate closes the door behind him, knowing him and kirishima, they’ll probably fuck their girl across all the surfaces in eijirou’s free apartment, which only makes your stomach churn with hot jealously and a hint of arousal.

selfish of you as it were, you wish your boyfriend hadn’t chosen such an intense subject with so many finals and intense studying— but izuku loved engineering almost as much as he loved you, so its not like you would ask him to give up his passion.

besides, you figured he’d look pretty hot in his mechanics classes—sleeves rolled up to his elbows, scared hands on display while sweat drips down his furrowed brow and—

and fuck me, now you were as horny as a mother fucker.

a familiar ache appears between your thighs while you attempt to busy yourself with the rest of the festive decorations; you hang a wreathe at the door both inside and out, tape the remaining tinsel around counters in your kitchen and finally attempt to fix the christmas tree katsuki insisted wasn’t lopsided ( even though it was ). but no matter how hard you worked om christmas-ing the apartment, you couldn’t shake the fantasy of midoriya railing you against his work bench. it wouldn’t go away.

patting your cheeks to calm your hot flush; you decide that you’re done bedazzling and fix some christmas lights above your doorways to go with your LED ones, and get ready to take a cold shower and hoping that the wetness between your legs will go away. you make a b-line for the bathroom, not bothering to bring a spare change of clothes since katsuki isn’t home. it’s not like he hasn’t seen you naked before.

you’re half way through your commute, wearing nothing but one of zuku’s old shirts when the front door jingles and busts open from the other side of your home. foot steps pound against your hardwood floor, letting you know someone is approaching.

“fucking hell katsuki, stop slamming the door against the wall before you make another—“ your words die in the back of your throat when your sweet little boyfriend comes into view. albeit a bit dishevelled, deku’s green hair falls prettily over his excited eyes while sweat rolls in tiny droplets from his forehead to his chin and his backpack hanging half off of his shoulder…in all honesty he looks a mess, but a good looking one at that. “zuku? what are you doing here?”

your lover looks bewildered, but a smile that fills you with warmth crosses his face. “i ran across campus to see you; i finished my finals…” he pants, the engineering building is pretty far from here so no wonder he looks the way he does.

despite knowing this, you quirk a brow. “still doesn’t answer my question babe.”

“november is over,” izuku sighs, dropping his backpack and crossing the room towards you in three short strides. When he reaches you, scarred hands curl around your waist while soft lips tickle the shell of your ear with deku’s next words. “it’s christmas…don’t make me wait. i want to fuck you.”

you don’t miss the way bight green eyes darken and drag up your hand naked body, your boyfriend’s shirt ending just above your knees and exposing the meat of your thighs to him. the wetness pools between them, making your skin glisten under familiar flashing LED lights and tinsel. izuku is waiting for a. sign...anything for you to give him consent to take his prize between your legs, electricity crackles in the air and you instinctively reach up to curl your fingers in his curls. “fuck me, izuku.” you say breathlessly, unleashing a month and a half’s worth of hormones out onto each other. “fuck me like you mean it, big boy.”

the teasing lilt to your voice earns you a spank to the ass as deku lifts you up into his arms and over his muscular shoulder. you squeal in delight at the harsh sting, leaning down to pat his ass too. he’s got a particularly nice one and you’re sure it was carved by the fucking gods.

the green haired boy hauls you over to the kitchen counter, setting you down atop it before his lips find yours in passionate and hurried movements. its been so long since you’ve kissed him, felt his muscles ripple under your touch while your hand roams his chest underneath the varsity jacket he wears.

you push the offending material off while izuku trails a hand between your thighs, chuckling into the kiss at the slick that adds a glimmer to your skin. his pink tongue darts out to lick a stripe across your bottom lip, begging for permission to enter your hot mouth. you grant him access, swirling your own pink muscle around is and suck it down. your breath hitches as thick fingers finally come into contact with the burn of your heat, gently prodding at your puffy, sticky clit. “you’re…doll, you’re so fucking wet already. did you miss me?” your boy moans breathlessly in between your sloppy kisses, pulling away to show you the string of your slick that coats his fingers. you nod in agreement.

izuku taps your lips once and you obediently take the digits into your mouth, humming at your sweetness that invades your tongue, all the while, his other wandering hand shoves two digits into your wet cunt with no warning— making you shiver on the counter while the tinsel you’d taped there scratches at your calves. both sets of fingers thrust into your openings at the same time, giving you a friction you so awfully desire.

“such a good girl, dollface— fuck, i f-forgot how good you looked sucking on my fingers like that.” midoriya whines out and you’re not sure which of your holes he’s referring to, but you couldn’t care less, not when those that stuff your tight pussy are curling against the walls in a way that has you leaking sweet nectar all over your marble surfaces. you gush at his praise however, bucking your hips into his hand while the heel of his palm grinds into your swollen clit— sending shockwaves through your body.

the fingers that plug your mouth are pulled out so the darling sounds of your moans mingle with that of your dripping heat, walls clenching around izuku every once on a while. your lover grinds against the table, watching you with close eyes as your face contorts into expressions that he’s missed so dearly. one thrust into your spongy g-spot makes your body jump and thighs close around your boyfriend’s hand— head falling forward against his shoulder. “mnn, zuzu... haven’t felt this good in s’long, gonna cum, gonna mess up your hand.”

to your dismay, deku pulls from your cunt faster than you would have liked and you whine at the empty feeling in your stretched out hole. your heat makes an awful dripping sound when you’re fully empty, and you grunt knowing that its a mess you’ll have to clean up later.

however, you’re easily distracted by the lips at your collar bones, painting bruises into your sweat licked skin while slick hands paw at your breasts. “cum on my face first, please?” its cute how desperate izuku is, but you can’t say that you aren’t either— especially when you haven’t fucked in so long.

“yes, god yes…” you accept too quickly while your shirt is pulled off completely; for midoriya’s mouth as moved from pressing hot kisses to your neck onto biting at your breast and rolling the hardened nipple of your other with his free hand. “but, wanna suck you off too ‘zuku…”

your boyfriend doesn’t hesitate with his next movements, kicking off his pants and boxers ( in one go, mind you ) before picking you up once again and sinking to the floor with you in his arms. he makes quick work of flipping you onto your tummy, pulsing cunny shoved so close into his face that you can feel deku’s nose bump your clit when he breathes and then; your face rests so easily on the swell of his thigh— right next to his hardened cock that you’ve missed so much.

izuku midoriya is a god and you swear by it.

your friend’s were right, he is packing. he’s thick and girthy, tip angry and red as it leaks heavily with a clear precum that has you drooling. “missed your dick, zu,“ you sigh, mostly to yourself and before you know it, your lips enclose around the head of his cock.

the way you suck on it, as if you’ve been starved of your last meal makes izuku shiver with pleasure and his nails dig into your peachy ass. you roll his balls between your fingers, loving the delicious whimpers you manage to lure from between your boy’s lips and the sound makes your pussy spasm around nothing.

a weighted palm moves to the back of your head in order to push you further down on his cock, deku’s own hips bucking up so you swallow more of him down. the taste of him is dangerously addictive, saltiness dancing across your tongue. “suck my dick sweetheart, yeah? suck on it just like that, good girl.” the hot breath from each of his choked laments brushes against your eager cunt, dampening your skin even more. he dives right in, tongue slithering between your puffy folds while he slurps at you with at insatiable place.

izuku craves to make you feel nothing but ecstasy, working his pink muscle hard against your walls that clamp down on his tongue while yours runs laps between the dribbling tip of his iron hot length. inhaling sharply, you force yourself to take more of deku down your throat, listening out for the tears that sting in his emerald eyes wen you swallow around him. You hum with sweet victory when his breathing stutters and hips jump up with excitement.

you’re both close, sensitive from the time you’ve spent away from one another, but neither of you can find it in yourselves to care. the room rises with temperature at every step you take towards orgasm, deku taking your cheeks in large, calloused palms and spreading you apart to spit directly into your hole. you swear on your life you’d never known pleasure until you’d met izuku, as no matter how much time you’d been apart, he still knew all the little tips and tricks to get you going. where to hold you, how to touch you, what to say. he was always so focused on making you feel good.

your head bobs up and down with an inconsistent pace, each time, your tongue mapping out the veins on his girth that you’d come to know so well, hand’s fisting at balls and the rest of his cock that you can’t reach.

“i’m gonna…doll—puppy, i’m gonna cream in that mouth of yours… please,” a strangled cry. “i-is that okay?”

you tap his thigh once, your own little signal to let your boyfriend know it’s okay before continuing your work— letting drool pool in your mouth before spewing it onto his cock. deku pulls his tongue from inside of you, flicking it rapidly at your clit to bring you closer and closer to the edge, not wanting to cum without you. and he doesn’t, the cord that’s built up in your stomach finally snapping.

white flashes behind your eyes as you gush all over izuku’s face, drenching his freckled cheeks and painting his innocence with a layer of your honeyed sin. Your lover follows shortly after, filling your mouth to the brim with a heavy load that tastes of him and only him. a taste that you could fall in love with every single day. “baby,” you giggle after letting go of his cock with a satisfying ‘pop’, heat spreading beneath your skin as you take note of the slight shine to the green haired student’s face. “think you made me squirt!”

“guess i did! you’re always so cute when you squirt for me, yn,” and like the messy boy he is, midoriya wipes his mouth on the back of his hand ( always a poor eater, couldn’t keep his meal in one peace ) before peeking at you from over your quivering and arched back. izuku smiles proudly at his handy-work of your messy cunt, radiating a billion rays of sunshine and your heart clenches in your chest. you hate how cute he looks when you’re in such a lewd and compromising position, like he hadn’t just fucked you dumb under the mistletoe. “should’ve been on my dick ’n not m-my tongue though...”

“i wouldn’t be opposed to another round, if you aren’t.”

“like hell i could say no to being inside you after a whole month of waiting, doll.”

you roll your eyes, but wiggle your hips back into your boyfriend’s face nonetheless. “then dick me down deku, destroy me.”

with your boyfriend’s help, you manage to crawl off of his lap and wait patiently on your knees as he stands. izuku beams down at you, a hundred and one words of love written in his eyes that glow warmly under christmas lights before he pets your head and reaches for your hands to help you stand on shaky legs.

the first kiss you share after this is gentle and sweet, even while your tangled fingers are set free and deku’s large hands are once again on your waist, rubbing small circles into the skin of your hips as he backs you into the nearest wall. you simper at the taste of yourself on his tongue and allow him to hoist you up by the backs of your thighs— locking your ankles at the centre of his back and just above bis bum— all the while keeping you pressed against the wall.

the outline of izuku’s length presses hotly against your weeping slit, his lips still slotted against yours in a slow liplock while his tip smears the remains of his seed across your clit and between your folds. you feel your boyfriend’s arms quiver around you as he slowly begins to sheath himself within your spamming pussy— jolting away from his lips, your mouth falls open in a weak moan and the green eyed boy quickly follows you, copying the movement of your lips as his sweaty forehead meets your own and your gazes align sweetly. “doll…” he mumbles brokenly, letting you adjust to the push of his cock against your walls. “been so long since i felt you like this…”

your fingertips reach out and graze his shoulders, hot breath fanning out between your bodies as izuku’s cock reaches the hilt inside of you. he stills. “move baby, can’t wait anymore— “

izuku midoriya doesn’t need to be told twice when it comes to fucking you; finally making the move to bottom out inside of your pussy. heat blossoms in your heart and your glistening mound as your lover gently rolls his hips against yours and the way he feels reminds you that your mind, body and soul belong to him and him only.

although you are finally together, moving as one against the wall in your shitty college apartment, you crave for izuku to fill you to the brim and reach up to tug at mossy locks in order to bring him impossibly closer.

you don’t dare close your eyes as deku sets the pace, not even as your gaze on him flutters, you want the image of his blushed and blissed out face imprinted to into the back of your mind forever, you want the sounds of struggled whimpers and skin slapping against skin to become the tune of your memories. you want your senses to be filled with him always and forever as make love against tinselled ceiling rails and mistletoe above your heads. all you can think is more, more, more. more of him, more of izuku.

“focus on me, puppy,” izuku reminds you, grinding his pelvis against you every time his hips canter into you. his cock grazes the entrance of your womb, leaking into you like a cocktail of your arousals. but the neediness behind his words makes you blink away the glassiness in your eyes, locking your arms and legs around him tighter and grinding your hips down to meet the drive of his cock into your spongy g-spot. “your cute lil hole’s still so tight, nice ’n moulded into the shape of my cock— made to take me, right?” your boy babbles, tripping over his sentences through the saliva on his tongue.

the feeling has you stirring against your boyfriend’s length, his now rapid pace sending your teary eyes rolling and you mewling. “made for you ’n only you ‘zu, please don’ stop…” is all you can say, mind breaking as midoriya’s hands drop between your joined bodies to draw lazy shapes into your puffy nub, the movements silky due to the mild mix of juices coating your sexes.

each thrust from your lover sends you a little bit up the wall, head of his cock catching tastefully along the ridges of your velvety walls— the way your pussy feels inside drives izuku to the brink of insanity, you’ve always been able to take him so well and he missed the way your cute face curled into expressions of desire all for him. you’re so pretty, so intoxicating and he’s so happy to have you back in his arms.

“s-such a good girl for me, yn…fucking hell puppy,” izuku punctuates each of his toe curling thrusts with stuttered cries of your name, angling his hips upwards to hit your g-spot over and over. everything feels so sloppy, tainted with signs of your love but as the knot in your stomach begins to unravel, you couldn’t care less. “gonna make you mine, gonna fill you up and make you my fucking puppy.”

“’m already yours, always will be zuku,” you manage to speak, clenching down on him and letting out an almost pornographic moan as deku drills into you with the last of his strength.

he nods against your foreheads that remain pressed together, staring at you with adoration written across his seafood eyes. “love you, doll…love you s’much, you did so well baby…cum for me now…” izuku mumbles out, hissing slightly as your grip on his hair tightens to yank him down for one final searing kiss.

tears of heavenly pleasure roll down your cheeks as he swallows your final moan, his words pushing you right over the edge and into an earth shattering orgasm. “c-cumming!” you squeal so loud that you’re sure the neighbours can hear, while you lose control and pulse around midoriya’s scalding cock. the world of colour flashes behind your eyes— release splattering out against your boyfriend’s pelvis and the floor. “mnnn, izuku! i love you, please…”

you’re begging now, your sloppy pussy coaxing him along to his own release while deku relentlessly fucks into you. his chest rumbles with every one of his whimpers and groans, cock pushing you into overstimulation while he snaps his hips into you.

“ohh i love you…gonna cum, gonna cum— fuck, puppy—!” he sobs pathetically, dropping his head to your neck as his teeth clamp down on your bare skin to silence himsel. your tired body is forced up the wall while izuku tumbles into his own orgasm, sweltering seed splashing up inside your abused cunt. he slows to a grind, creaming inside you and painting your insides white as snow— panting with you until your breathing calms down.

the pair of you sink to the floor again, still in one another’s embrace as exhaustion sweeps over your limbs. before you know it, izuku is giggling sweetly against your lips, pressing grateful kisses along your neck and jaw while you fiddle with his baby hairs on the nape of his neck— still trying to catch your breath.

“t-that,” he sighs, nothing but love and adoration cushioning his gaze on you as you settle in his lap. you squirm at feeling so full, his cum dripping out of your fluttering hole but find yourself getting comfortable soon after. “that was so good, i missed you, yn, really.”

you cup the boy’s freckled cheeks and hum, heart swelling at his slight confession. “i missed you more zuku, all of you, not just your dick.” you clarify your words, making light of the mess you’ve made.

izuku rolls his eyes but leans into your gentle touch nonetheless, faking a pout in order to get a kiss on the lips. “glad to know that my girlfriend still loves me, even when she’s been deprived of my godly cock for a month and a half.”

“i’ll always love you.” you say, leaning in to give him a slight peck on the lips.

“as will i.”

you both tilt your heads to complete the vow with a simple kiss when a cough cuts through the love filled atmosphere, making you and izuku jump right out of your skin. Immediately, your gaze scopes out the room, only to land on your child hood best friend— accompanied by both his girlfriend and boyfriend. fuck, you completely forgot about that.

“are you two done now?” katsuki drawls, still tucked into his winter jacket, while krishima covers his girlfriend’s eyes with a free hand, the other occupied by her luggage from her flight. she still offers you an awkward smile and a wave.

“k-kacchan! haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” deku squeaks, wrapping his arms around you to pull you into his chest and at least protect some of your decency. it’s nothing bakugou nor kirishima haven’t sen before ( it’s not the first time you’ve been caught like this ) but you allow yourself to fall into izuku’s protective embrace anyways— heated embarrassment prickling underneath your skin.

your blonde roommate, however, is livid— staring you down with bloody eyes that speak tales of murder. “knock? knock? i fucking live here, you shitty nerd!” bakugou scolds, making you flinch and offer him a weak smile. eijirou by now has the decency to escort his girlfriend into his other partner’s room to gather some of his belongings, effectively leaving you and your boyfriend to face the wrath of your favourite angry pomeranian. the blonde turns to you. “and i thought i told you not to do anythin’ fuckin’ stupid while i was gone?”

“don’t yell at me! i didn’t know izuku was coming… literally and figuratively!” both boys groan at this, making you scowl. what? it was a good joke! “besides, i was just congratulating my boyfriend for winning no nut november, again. you should be used to it by now, suki.”

katuski looks between you both, annoyance sweeping his face before he pinches the bridge of his nose and huffs. “couldn’t you congratulate him somewhere else? somewhere, where i didn’t have to be blinded and traumatised for the rest of my shitty life.”

this time, it’s your boyfriend who speaks up, standing with you in his arms. deku smirks evilly, pointing to the little green plant above your heads. “no can do kacchan, it’s dick destroyer december and there was no better way to start it, than under the mistletoe.”

izuku turns swiftly on his heel and makes a dash towards your bedroom before your best friend can threaten to blow you up, presumably to fuck you in your bed for this next round.

“fuck you guys!” he curses you out, watching you go.

“we’re already on it, have a great christmas, katsuki!” you sing back, just a deku slams your door shut and drops you onto your bed— already crawling on top of you.

you’d have to thank katsuki someday for challenging izuku back in freshman year, because without his newfound love for november— you wouldn’t have discovered your guilty pleasure for dick destroyer december.

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hangovercurse · 4 years ago

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The GQ Couples Quiz

You, a famous actress, and your boyfriend, MGK, do an interview about your relationship for GQ.

Request: “Can I get a Colson Baker imagine where you do the couple interview for buzzfeed please”

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: I changed it to the GQ interview because I couldn’t find the one for Buzzfeed, sorry!

Word Count: 2480

“Hey guys I’m MGK”

“And I’m Y/S/N”

“And this is the GQ couples quiz.” You both said at the same time before busting out in laughter at the corniness.

“I think you know way more about me than I know about you.” Colson said, a nervous look on his face.

You giggled, “I think I know some stuff that could get you into trouble.”

The producers behind the cameras laughed at that. “Okay, I’ll go first.” Colson picked up the cards in his hand. “What is my full name?”

You smiled, “Starting off with the heavy stuff here, guys.” You said, looking behind the cameras with a laugh. “Your full name is Richard Colson Baker.” Colson made a face at the use of his first name which made you giggle.

“Yeah, but if anyone calls me Richard or Richie,” he pointed straight into the camera, “I will come for you.” You giggled at his silliness, looking at your own card which held the same question.

“Okay, what is my full name?” You looked up at him, “If you get this wrong, I will walk out of here.”

His eyes went wide, “I think I know my own girlfriend’s name Ms. Y/F/N.” You giggled, nodding in approval, and letting him continue. “Where was I born?”

You rolled your eyes, “Houston, Texas. Easy. Where was I born?”

“Y/B/T” He said with a grin, flipping to the next card.

“What is my secret talent?”

“You say this is your secret talent, but you talk about it all the time so I don’t know if it counts.” You said, “but you can juggle.”

He nods, “That’s the only talent I have so it counts.” You giggled, shaking your head. “Yours is that you can balance shit on your head, right? Like cups and plates and shit.”

You nodded, “together we make a whole circus act.”

You both laughed, his entire body moving as he did. Eventually, he calmed down and looked at the next card. “I’m gonna look like such a shitty boyfriend.” You laughed, waiting for him to read the question, “What’s my favorite meal?”

You laughed harder, “you don’t know my favorite meal?”

He threw his head back, “I know what you eat a lot but like, I couldn’t tell you what is specifically your favorite meal.”

You giggled, “yours is Soul food. Like chicken and mac n cheese and all that.”

He nodded, “I was gonna say chicken wings, but you’re right.”

“Every time we go to Cleveland you drag me to that one place and you get so excited about it.” You told him and he smiled. “Do I wanna ask you what mine is?”

“Dude, you are gonna make me look so bad.” He shook his head, but tried anyways, “I mean, I know you like making breakfast with me and Case, but I don’t know if that’s your favorite meal or not.”

You grinned widely, excited that he got it right. “No, you’re so right. Like, it’s not the best food,” he pouted, “but the fact that we all make it together is really cute.”

He blushed, reading the next card. “What is my favorite song to sing around the house?” He started laughing in the middle of the question, making you laugh with him.

“Oh my god, what doesn’t he sing around the house?” You said to the crew behind the screen. Slim and Baze were standing to the side, laughing with you. “I guess normally its whatever he’s working on. Like I swear, no one is more obsessed with his music than he is.”

His cheeks were red and he buried his face behind his cards. “I’d like to disagree but I really don’t have a favorite song to sing around the house. It’s just kind of whatever’s in my head.’

“So, then I still get the point, right?”

“I guess you still get the point.” He sighed.

“Okay this one is different for me, what is my favorite song to dance to?” You asked, grinning slyly at him.

He rolled his eyes, “if you play anything by 24kGoldn, she will be dancing to it. If you play anything I’ve come out with, she skips it.”

You gaped, “I do not skip it you ass! You just don’t make good dancing music. There’s nothing wrong with that, I just can’t dance and cry at the same time.” By the end of your statement, you were both laughing like little kids. “But Goldn, he makes some dance-worthy music.”

Colson shook his head but continued. “What was the name of the first song I ever released and my first album?”

“Lace up.” You announced, making the x symbol with your hands. Colson nodded, smiling at you fondly. “Uh, your first song was…” you trailed off, thinking. “It wasn’t Wild Boy, was it?”

He shook his head, “nope, earlier than that. It was never on an official album.”

Your eyes shot open in realization, “Oh! Alice in Wonderland!” You shouted and he nodded, smiling proudly.

“I swear to God I look so bad right now.” He complained.

You chuckled, shaking your head, “We’ve gotten the same number of questions right! I wouldn’t have gotten that if you hadn’t told me it wasn’t on an album.” He let out a sigh but you continued, “what was the first piece of film I ever appeared in?”

You could tell he was thinking, “like commercials and stuff count?” You nodded, “you were in that Febreze commercial when you were like, 12, weren’t you?”

You laughed really loud, your head going back and your eyes shutting. “I hate that you know that.” Colson pumped his fists in the air, celebrating his correct answer.

“If you were to ask like your first actual like movie, it was Nerve, cause that’s how we met.” He said, a wide grin on his face. You nodded, matching his energy. He looked at the card, his eyes going soft. “Okay this one’s cute, when was our first date and what did we do?”

You giggled, remembering the long path to your relationship. “Our first actual date was on April 23rd, 2019. We went to a little drive-in movie and you borrowed Baze’s truck and we sat in the bed and uh… let me just say we didn’t do much watching.” The crew members started laughing with you, so much that you had to take a few seconds of a break.

“We’ll cut the break out, don’t worry.” The assistant director said. Colson’s face was red, trying to hide his laugh as you went back to the video.

You cleared your throat, “when was our first kiss?”

He chuckled, “It was not that night, funnily enough.” You both giggled, hiding your face in embarrassment. “Our first kiss was the night before. It was my birthday and we were in this huge house and there were a ton of people around and I realized that you were the only person I actually wanted to be with at that moment in time. So, we snuck out to the backyard with a bottle of something and spent the rest of the night getting drunk with each other. And at some point, I kissed you.” You smiled, the memory of that night coming back to you. “And then I asked you on said first date.”

There were a few scattered “awes” from the production team, which you laughed off. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, it was cute, next question.”

He shook his head at you but read the next question, “Ugh, these are all so cheesy. When did I first say I loved you?”

You chuckled, “You were on tour and I hadn’t seen you in like two months except on the phone. So, when you got back, you took me and Casie out for lunch and then we went to this skate park. I remember I was teaching Casie how to skate and you just kind of blurted it out. And Casie and I both looked at you like “what the fuck did you just say?” and you got really embarrassed about it and then Casie said “finally!” like she had been waiting for it.”

You were a giggling mess, happiness flooding your body as you remembered the moment. “No,” he started, “you don’t understand. Casie figured it out like weeks before me. We were talking on the phone, and this kid, my nine-year-old daughter, started teasing me about how nervous I was to tell you.”

Your grin widened. “I swear Casie would’ve killed me if I hadn’t told you that day.”

“I will have to thank Casie at some point.” You said as you flipped to the next question. “What is my favorite movie and TV show? You gotta get them both right.”

He put his head in his hands, letting out a sigh. “I know your favorite movie is Nerve for obvious reasons,” he motioned up and down his body, “however, I know you’ve seen The Dirt about a hundred times, so.” He pointed his head at you and you rolled your eyes.

“He’s so egotistical.” You said to the camera. “But you’re right, Nerve is my favorite movie not only because its how we met but also because it was the first movie I was ever in. But if you were to ask my favorite movie that I’m not in, it would be The Dirt. You get 2 points for that one.”

Colson nodded, “hell yeah. Okay, what do I consider my biggest career accomplishment?”

Your eyes went wide as you realized you didn’t know the answer. “I could say like three or four different things right now.” You whined, looking to him for help. “When Miocic started coming out to your song, when you recorded with Crue, when Cena started using your song. You’ve done so much shit.”

He chuckled, “yeah but what’s the most important one, like to me?”

You tilted your head, “Was it when you performed on New Year’s?” You asked, feeling slightly embarrassed.

He laughed, “you’re a goddamn mind reader, I swear.” You smiled, sighing in relief, “yeah, it wasn’t like the biggest thing but it was the most important to me.”

You smiled, “we’re just on the same wavelength.” He rolled his eyes at your goofiness. “Okay, okay. How do you know when I’m mad at you?”

He chuckled, looking down at his hands, “if its something I did and we’re like, in public, you just won’t talk to me and like you won’t let me touch you.” He turned to the camera and the rest of the room, “like we are both very touchy people, so if she stops holding my hand or something, I know I fucked up.”

You giggled, nodding in agreement, “but if I really mess up, she’ll let me know.”

“We’re very big on communication.” You smiled, both of you stifling laughter at the many memories of you arguing over stupid things. “But it’s why this works, y’know?” You said to the camera.

“You should get this one, what’s my biggest fear?” He asked, the room falling silent.

You turned to look at him, a soft smile on your face. “Losing Casie.” You said, “or me, but mostly Casie.” You both knew how much he loved Casie. It was what attracted you to him so much in the first place. And since you’d known him, Casie had become equally important in your life.

He nodded, “yeah. I’ve had, like, actual nightmares about it. Scariest shit.”

You let the answer linger in the air for a second before pulling out the last card. “Okay, last question. When did we first meet and when did you first realize you liked me?” You grinned up at him and he blushed.

“First day we met was the day of the Nerve read through and we hit it off immediately. But I realized I “liked” you,” he used air quotes when he said the word liked, “when you did that ladder scene. I remember thinking like, “damn, that girl is fucking metal.””

You laughed, “I was so terrified but I was trying to keep calm because I wanted you to think I was cool.” You squeezed your eyes shut, “I was freaking out.”

Colson laughed with you, pausing to catch his breath, “but the first time I realized I loved you was when I was on tour. Normally I called you before I went out after the show, but this one night I was really burnt out and the only thing I wanted to do was to sit on the bus and facetime you. And even though I was like four hours behind you and it was like 5 am where you were, you stayed up with me and we just talked for a while. And then you fell asleep without hanging up and I couldn’t bring myself to hang up. So, I just, as creepy as this shit sounds, I just watched you sleep. And I had that thought of like, I could do this every night and not get bored of it. And that’s when I realized that I loved you.”

The look on your face explained your emotions perfectly, and it was something the internet talked about for a while after the video was released. Colson blushed, “now you gotta say when you first realized you liked me so I don’t look like a little bitch.”

You laughed loudly, body shaking. “Ok, first time I realized I liked you was when you brought Casie to set. Like, the way you acted with her and everything was so sweet. Like I was already attracted to you but that was the point where I was like, woah.” You made wide eyes to prove your point. “I realized I loved you the same facetime call. I hate being woken up and I was really mad when my phone rang. But then I saw it was you and my heart literally did a little backflip. The next morning, I woke up to the call still going and you were asleep on the other end and I realized that I would never answer a facetime call at 5 am for anyone else.”

He smiled fondly at you, “we’re so in sync.” You giggled, agreeing.

“Okay, that was our really cheesy GQ couple’s quiz. Thank you guys so much for watching. Stream Daywalker by MGK and Corpse.” You said to the camera.

“And go see Y/N’s new movie out on Netflix!” Your boyfriend said giving a thumbs up to the camera.

The director gave you the signal to cut and you let out a sigh of relief, looking over to Colson, who was already looking at you. “I love you.” He said.

“I love you too, dork.” You mumbled, moving from your chair to his, resting your head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you.

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #colson imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff

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bookishofalder · 4 years ago

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Catfish & Sunshine

Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader Mini Series

Summary: Frankie is secretly in love with his best friend. Thanks in part to Benny’s shitty horror movie recommendation and stray ice cream, feelings come out unexpectedly during movie night.

Warnings: Language, SMUT, little angst, lots of fluff, poor writer understanding of US military benefits/retirement. WC 8,215.

A/N: I dreamed this up after rewatching Triple Frontier about a month ago (for the plot, of course) and let it sit for a while. Became inspired to finish it off this week and share it with you all-so please let me know your thoughts!

For over a decade, Saturday nights were, for Frankie Morales, usually spent with his best friends over drinks at their favourite bar. When deployed, the bar was instead smuggled whiskey that they shared under the stars, an attempt to imagine they were anywhere other than the current hellhole. As Special Ops soldiers, Frankie and his buddies had been through the worst of the worst together, until one by one they retired or were forced to retire, and then they were back to regular appearances at the local bar, for a while the five of them, then four.

Until Frankie met you.

Had someone come up to him during one of those nights years before and told Frankie that one day he’d be bringing you along to the bar to join him and the guys, he’d have laughed in their faces. But for a while, that was exactly what occurred, until you and Frankie grew so close that you usually ended up making different plans, like going mini-golfing, or lounging at his apartment and watching movies. Not that you didn’t love the guys, all whom you’d met except for Santi as he had been off the grid for just over a year when you and Frankie had met.

It was thanks to the elder Miller brother, Will, that he had even met you at all. Working at the VA office, Will had learned of one of the few retirement perks they had for putting their asses on the line for their country-physical therapy. And you came highly recommended, a star PT who had worked magic over his friends' ailments. Knowing Frankie suffered from shoulder and neck pains, Will handed him your card and encouraged him to book an appointment.

He hadn’t called straight away. He’d popped your card onto his fridge and every day he’d pass by it, consider calling, and then talk himself out of it. Until the pain became too much to bear, his latest menial job just a little too physical for him, causing him to consider using again just to dull the ache. But he’d walked by your card moments later and instead of making a terrible decision he had promised himself he’d never make again, he called your office. Made an appointment with your friendly receptionist, who thankfully had his name already because Will had put in a good word for Frankie and asked that they try and get him in straight away, whenever he finally did call.

Two days later Frankie was standing nervously in the treatment room, looking at a wall decorated with your various degrees and certificates. He was anxious not only because he worried he’d get his hopes up that this would help the pain only to be disappointed, but also because he had no idea what to expect. Years of service as a pilot had made Frankie into a man who planned, meticulously, leaving little in the way of surprises. But he’d reasoned that calling the office back and demanding they give him a minute-by-minute account of what the appointment would be like was probably going too far.

And then you had walked in and immediately his worries morphed into concern over the fact that he required a beard trim, that he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed and popped his usual cap on, probably appearing a little gruff. And fuck, he almost couldn’t breathe when you gave him the most dazzling, genuine smile like you were greeting an old friend. You were bright, a rare energy radiating off of you as though you absorbed it straight from the fucking sun, and you were beautiful. No wonder Will had winked at Frankie when he’d handed you the business card.

You were observant, introducing yourself and seemingly sensing his overall discomfort. Instead of launching straight to business, you gestured for him to sit and spent a good twenty minutes casually chatting, pulling information you needed from him while putting him at ease entirely. He learned then that Will had already sung Frankie’s praises, given you the heads up that he was a worrier and even told a few stories that showcased his talents as a pilot.

If Frankie didn’t know any better, he’d think his friend was trying to play matchmaker.

All thoughts of Will Miller, and pretty much every other thing on the planet, vanished the moment you laid your expert hands on to Frankie. You zeroed in on the worst source of pain and slowly worked away, and he could only agree with Will that you had magic hands. He could have died happily right then, as you chatted away and brought him the most relief he’d felt in years. You would pause occasionally to check in with his pain levels and make sure he was doing alright, always asking him to look at you to answer and searching his face as he spoke to ensure he was telling the truth.

The care you gave Frankie in just one appointment was enough to start him falling. And he kept going back, multiple appointments a week that not only had him walking taller, feeling lighter on his feet and reducing his migraines to seldom, but also allowing him to get to know you better. You were the kind of sweet-natured person that cried when you saw a sad commercial, laughed freely to the lamest of jokes, and seemed to wake up on the right side of the bed every day. You were sunshine, literal, tangible sunshine, and Frankie thought you might not even realize it.

Though Frankie had convinced himself early on that a woman as beautiful and kind as you could never be interested in a grouch like him, with his crows' feet and a closet full of demons. The longer he knew you little seeds of hope would sprout whenever he made you laugh so hard you had to stop the treatment just to hold your stomach as you giggled. Or when you’d share something with him innocent enough but, upon reflection, he would think it wasn’t something a normal patient-provider relationship would find exchanged.

But there was the age difference, a decade between you both that, if nothing else worked, would successfully extinguish his hope. He had wondered if perhaps you were just a decent people person, that the friendship he felt was there was entirely one-sided.

Until one day, a few months into coming to you for treatment, Frankie sat waiting for you to come in the room only for you to appear looking entirely unlike yourself. He booked his appointments always for the end of the day, a routine that promised he would get plenty of uninterrupted time with you and the conversation could flow without a time constraint. He had been so surprised that you weren’t grinning as you stepped into the room that he stood abruptly, filling with concern.

When he asked, softly, if you were alright, you didn’t brush him off like he might have expected. You instead looked up at Frankie, your lower lip trembling as your eyes filled with tears, and sobbed unexpectedly. That sound had torn a hole right into his chest and he had pulled you straight into his arms and hugged you close before asking you to tell him what he could do to help.

You ended up explaining that you had come in that morning to the news that a regular patient of yours, an elderly man you’d known the entire time you’d been working for the VA office, had passed away in his sleep. And you’d apologized to Frankie while sniffling and wiping at the tears, telling him you’d held it in all day but couldn’t do that when your friend asked you, and he had been baffled to realize you were referring to him. As your friend.

He had cut off your apology to hug you close again, smoothing your hair gently as he whispered calming words and sentiments to you in Spanish. And though you didn’t speak the language, you had since told Frankie it had done exactly what he’d hoped and made you feel all the better.

After his treatment that day, Frankie asked if he could take you for a drink to toast your friend's life. He waited for you to close up the office, and then you’d followed him in your car to drive over to his usual bar. And you both drank to the veteran who passed, then ended up ordering dinner and remaining at the bar until late, talking even more freely outside of the office. If Frankie didn’t already have it bad for you, that night sure sealed it for him.

After that, you and Frankie began texting regularly, sometimes even calling one another to share a funny story or talk about something in the news. He had joined you for your former clients funeral, his hand rubbing comforting circles into your back before he took you out for lunch, then you’d ended up at his place to watch a cheesy movie, ordering pizza when you both realized there was a sequel that, if it was as bad as the first, you absolutely needed to watch.

And just like that, Frankie saw his life altered completely when you became his best friend.

Currently, Frankie was seated comfortably on his couch, where he frowned at the TV playing a horror movie that you had insisted was supposed to be good, because Benny had recommended it. Considering the younger Miller brother could barely sit still half the time, that was supposedly good enough for you.

You were tucked into Frankie’s side, eyes fixed on the screen until a jump scare had you jerk, then twist your face to press into his chest, because you hated the gory bits.

“Fuck! How does this not scare you even a little, Frankie?” You whined, unknowingly causing Frankie to swell with pride when he heard the note of admiration in your voice. He had started to suspect that the reason movie nights were becoming exclusively scary movies was that you were determined to find one that actually frightened him.

So far, you’d had no luck. But Frankie didn’t mind, because though you were already a touchy person in general, you were especially clingy when you queued up the next horror flick as if you trusted him to keep you safe.

Frankie didn’t reply, his chest rumbling with silent laughter that made you teasingly poke his side. He jumped, because you knew exactly where to aim, then cleared his throat. The scene ended, and he began to extract himself from your grip. “My sweet tooth is calling, cariño. I’m going to get some ice cream.”

You let him go, your head popping up, a big grin on your face, “Can I have some too, please?” And he nodded, smiling at you before walking across the open concept apartment and into his kitchen.

He stretched his back before opening the freezer where he had some bars next to an off-limits pint of Ben and Jerry’s. You had put it there months ago, telling Frankie it was for days when you got together and one of you needed to cry over a bad date. You called it ‘emergency’ ice cream. Frankie considered it to be ‘fuck you’ ice cream, because every time he opened his damn freezer he saw that pint and ended up thinking about how neither of you had been on a date with anyone since becoming friends over a year before, then falling into the same circular argument with himself-that the friendship was too important for him to feel the way he did, that he was jumping to conclusions and maybe you had gone on a few good dates that you just didn’t tell him about, and he was out of his mind if he thought you would ever feel the same way.

“Here you go, Sunshine,” He plopped back down next to you and passed you your bar, watching as you beamed at him widely, the inevitable result of his use of the nickname he’d dubbed you with a long time ago.

He desperately hoped you never realized the amount of affection truly behind that nickname.

Because how could he even begin to explain that you were literally sunshine in his dark life?

“Thank you,” You pulled the wrapper off, glancing at the movie and frowning. “Uhg. Benny promised the one was good! I’m starting to think he only recommends movies if they have at least one pair of tits.” You took the first bite of your ice cream bar while Frankie nearly choked on his own.

Amused as he was whenever you joked about your shared friends, Frankie also loved it when you swore. You were a goofy, happy little thing most of the time and curse words just seemed so out of character for you, pulling laughter from Frankie any time you caught him by surprise. You spent your days around gruff veterans and never seemed to lose any light, no matter how many real horror stories you heard. So whenever you managed to sound so uncharacteristically blunt, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Benny has always been a tits man,” Frankie agreed, and you giggled. He tried to refocus on the movie then, but it hadn’t captured his interest in the least. After a moment, you spoke again and he had to work on not choking.

“What are you, Francisco?”

Your tone was playful, light; Frankie’s head jerked in surprise to gaze down at you and you wiggled your brows, going for laughs. You seemed completely unaware of the roaring in his ears, the visceral reaction your words brought forth within him. You and Frankie had shared intimate tidbits like that before with one another, often during nights at the bar with the Miller brothers. After a few drinks and usually, because his friends knew exactly how he felt about you and tried to steer the conversations into dangerous waters and watch Frankie try to save himself.

Only, Frankie’s friendship with you during the last few months had become...deeper. After the operation Santiago had brought Will, Benny, Tom and him in on, your relationship had evolved. Because that nightmare had reminded Frankie just how dark shit could get in the blink of an eye, and he’d had to do things he thought he was done with when he retired from service. Worse, because they were just civilians using Santi’s connections and intel to rob a drug lord.

And you had no idea what he’d gone through, how hard he’d fought just to get home to you because he couldn’t-wouldn’t-tell you. Yet you still patched him up, physically and emotionally, when he’d come home three weeks later than he’d promised. You held him as he cried and never became angry with him, never questioned him for answers as to why he’d come home with one less friend and a whole lot of mysterious trauma.

After that, Frankie realized he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you.

So a simple, flirtatious little question? Yeah, it really managed to fuck Frankie up.

His friends had sensed the change as well, noticed how you held Frankie up when he felt like he couldn’t stand, how you comforted them all when they got home and cried along with them over Tom, over Santi not coming home even though you’d only met him once, briefly. You held strong for him at Tom’s funeral, which prompted the Miller brothers to tell Frankie in no uncertain terms that he simply could not let you slip through his fingers. If that fucking mission had taught them anything, it was that life was too short and you might as well live it to the fullest.

But the thing was, Frankie depended on you. Your friendship was the one real, good, pure thing in his life. And you gave it so willingly and unquestionably even after what he put you through that there was no fucking way he was risking it by telling you how he felt.

Christ, you even had a spot in his bathroom for your own toiletries, a favourite pillow on his bed for the nights you stayed, a fucking hook for your coat that he installed just a little lower than the other because you were so much smaller than Frankie.

And still, he wouldn’t look at what that might mean because he was afraid, and as much as you seemed to think nothing scared him, the truth was that a gory horror movie, or losing his friend, or even fucking live combat could never come close to the fear he felt when he pictured life without you.

You were Frankie’s Sunshine, and he never wanted to be alone in the dark again.

Aware he was still gazing down at you, Frankie found himself entirely at a loss for words. You didn’t seem to mind, simply waiting for him to respond while taking small bites of your treat. His cock twitched at the combination of your words, the innocent way you gazed at him, because Frankie hadn’t touched himself in quite some time and it didn’t take much to drive him up the wall.

His life with you had become remarkably domestic, routine. You often stayed multiple nights in a row at his place, preferring his company over being alone, and the shorter distance to your office. His spacious condo had one large four-piece bathroom, which meant there had been a few times where one of you was in the shower and the other came in, desperate to use the toilet before their bladder could burst. The shower had a thickly frosted glass enclosure, which provided plenty of visual privacy from both sides, the only indication that someone was in the shower was a very faint tint. This was never an issue until it was.

Exactly sixty-two days prior (not that Frankie was necessarily keeping count of passing time since his last orgasm), you had burst into the bathroom one afternoon unexpectedly. Returning early from your jog because you needed to pee, while Frankie stood in the shower. He listened to you tell him about a cute dog you’d seen outside his building. The thing was, Frankie had expected you to be gone longer, and you were in the middle of a three-day visit that had left him needy and horny because he hadn’t had time alone and yet you walked around in his fucking clothes, slept next to him in his bed, and he needed release.

He was grateful the tinted glass prevented you from having any idea what he was doing on the other side. And he had been close already when you came in, one hand fisting over his cock while the other pressed into the tile wall, and guilt sprang up in the back of his mind because he had been thinking of you as he touched himself. And you were just feet away, unaware and fuck if that didn’t lead him to the edge.

But it was when you had sat down to pee and he heard you give a little moan of relief that Frankie lost it, giving in to the most powerful-yet silent-orgasm he had had in fucking years. Rope after rope of cum, his legs violently shaking, and he’d wondered if he would pass out it felt so good. Then you’d flushed and continued speaking, washing your hands before telling him you were going to put on a pot of coffee. And the guilt Frankie felt was so immense that he vowed right there he wasn’t going to touch himself again. He cared for and respected you too much to reduce you to his graphic thoughts without your consent.

Sixty-two days later and you were testing his limits unknowingly.

“I, uh, I’m not sure,” He replied, keeping his eyes locked on yours. You frowned a little, kitten licking the ice cream absentmindedly. Frankie almost groaned, wondering if you were trying to kill him. “I guess, it depends on the person.” He was never, ever going to admit he was a you man, that your ass, your perfect tits, your pretty little mouth were everything he could dream and more.

He tried to shrug casually, as if indifferent.

“I guess it’s a funny question,” You said after a moment, laughing a little, “I mean, no one asks a straight woman if she’s an ass or cock girl!”

Frankie took a too-large bite of his treat, the cold painful and giving him instant brain freeze but it was just the distraction he needed because seeing your plump lips wrap around the word ‘cock’ might just kill him. He coughed attempting to laugh at your joke despite the brain freeze, and you leaned closer in concern.

“Sorry, are you-ah, shit!” A piece of your ice cream bar, which you’d moved to hold higher as you were checking on Frankie, fell off and landed on your chest, instantly staining the pale pink t-shirt. You hopped up with a noise of discontent, catching the fallen glob and hurrying into the kitchen to toss it in the sink. “Damn it!”

Frankie reached out and paused the movie, standing up and intending to follow you. He took two steps, adjusting his cap as he moved, and then looked up to where you stood at the sink, running your shirt under the faucet. Freezing, he took it the sight of you standing in his kitchen, your shirt removed to run under the water, leaving you wearing yoga pants and a simple white bra. For a moment, he just shut down and stared at you dumbfounded, before internal alarms started sounding and Frankie’s eyes were sweeping over your curves, his eyes zeroing in on the lack of support your bra had, your breasts perky and full and fuck, he had to look away.

He looked up at his ceiling at cleared his throat “You uh, want me to grab you a shirt?” His voice came out much deeper than he was expecting. He hoped you didn’t notice, though with only being able to see your profile even if he did dare to look at you, he’d never be able to tell.

“Can I borrow your big sweater, please?” You asked him, and Frankie nodded as he hurried away, down the hall to grab the sweater he knew you meant from his room. He would have laughed at your suggestion it was his sweater when he barely got to wear it himself anymore, but he was trying to remember how to breathe.

Once out of sight in his bedroom, Frankie took a few steadying breaths before grabbing the sweater off the end of his bed. He was going to subject himself to a cold shower after he handed this to you because you were staying the night again and he could not climb into a bed with you this worked up.

One of the reasons that you and Frankie just worked as friends were your opposite ways of navigating life. Where Frankie was a detailed, meticulous planner, you flitted from idea to idea spontaneously until something landed right, and you seemed to enjoy pulling him along with you as you followed those random whims. And he let you pull him because he trusted you so completely. Even if he would still make a new plan in the back of his mind, it still felt like he was taking chances he never would have without you leading the way.

Planning was Frankie’s way of keeping control. Of keeping himself, his squadmates, his loved ones, safe and secure. After Columbia, where every bit of the plan had gone completely to shit, he’d needed to let you lead more often just so he could feel grounded because he didn’t trust himself any longer. And you had been happy to lead, to test his limits by pushing aside any planning he attempted and pull him from his comfort zone. You had taught him how to grapple with his instincts and his desires, giving him real-world methods to cope, including breathing as he was now.

So focused as he was on his breathing, Frankie hadn’t noticed you had joined him in his room, standing just inside the doorway. If he had heard you, he wouldn’t have spun around abruptly and take two long strides before realizing how close you were, nearly knocking you over as he did. He dropped the sweater when he reached out with both hands to grab your upper arms and steady you, and then he met your gaze.

Frankie couldn’t say whether it was the heat of his hands on you so unexpectedly, or the way you each shivered at the electricity that seemed to pulse from him to you. Maybe it was everything combined, years of friendship, longing and pining and then almost dying in the middle of the jungle only to come home and have you climb into his lap and sob in relief that he was home, and a million other moments in between.

But when Frankie met your eyes there in the doorway of his bedroom, he knew his expression was giving him away completely.

You were looking at him with wide eyes, your mouth slightly open in surprise, whatever words you were going to say long since lost. And then he saw it, was looking right at you when your expression shifted, no longer the innocent, playful woman but instead, one who was suffering just as much as he was, longing and love and this hunger on your face he’d never seen before.

Without hesitating, without thinking or planning his next move, Frankie tugged you against him and leaned down to slot his lips over yours, taken aback when he saw you close your eyes and stretch your neck up to meet him. When your soft lips connected to his, Frankie trembled and groaned, loving the feel of your body pressed against him, the way you smelled like something tropical, how even with your perfect curves you were so small compared to him. Kissing you was everything he’d dreamed and more.

He wanted to deepen the kiss, taste you, but even as he thought it his mind jumped ten steps ahead and imagined you on his bed and he had to stop himself from getting carried away. With great effort he pulled back, first breaking the kiss and then taking several steps away, panting heavily.

“Frankie?” You were out of breath, confused, and deliciously flushed. He could see your nipples tightened against the thin fabric of your bra, goosebumps along your skin. Just the knowledge that he’d had that kind of effect on you was enough to make him want to cum in his pants right there.

“Cariño, I can’t, I’m sorry,” It was physically painful now, his hard length straining against his jeans, but he was more concerned about you, and how afraid he was to lose you. “I-I’ve wanted to do that but you gotta know, I love you. I’m in love with you.” He couldn’t meet your eyes, instead choosing to look at his feet and rubbing his hands over his face.

You approached him again, just as quietly, taking him by surprise when you spoke from just inches away. “Frankie, look at me,” It was an order, a tone you rarely used but that always worked on grounding him, and he realized you understood he was struggling right now not to break down, terrified he’d fucked up the best thing in his life in a moment of weakness. He reluctantly met your gaze, swallowing thickly as he did.

“I need you to hear me right now, okay? Tell me.”

“I’m listening,” He confirmed, heart about ready to beat out of his chest, “I can hear you.”

“Good,” And you closed the gap between your body and his, pressing your hands into his shoulders. Frankie caught his breath. “I want you to do that again, and I don’t want you to stop. Please, kiss me again, Frankie, because I love you too and I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole life than I want you-“

Frankie cut you off, a growl ripping from his chest before he gathered you roughly into his arms and kissed you again, this time quickly swiping his tongue across your lips for permission to enter, and you gladly parted them for him, moaning when his tongue licked into your hot mouth. He slid one hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving into your hair carefully before he pressed your face to his, needy to taste you more, to get drunk on you. Fuck, you were perfect.

When you whimpered against him, the sound almost lost in his mouth, Frankie moved, walking you back until you hit the wall and crowding you there. He ran his free hand across the bare skin of your side, heat coursing through his veins when you shuddered at his touch, keening for him. He hadn’t realized he was rolling his hips against you, his erection pressed into your stomach until one of your small hands somehow slipped between your bodies and ghosted over the front of his jeans curiously.

“Fuck,” He broke the kiss, this time simply to lower his head and kiss along your jaw, down your neck, “Sunshine, I fucking love you, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, sweet girl.” He licked the column of your throat as he moved to the other side of your face before biting gently. The sound that tore from you was so filthy he groaned again, dropping both hands to grasp your forearms.

“Frankie, fuck, don’t stop,” You were tugging at his shirt, and despite your request, he had to move back slightly to pull it over his head, his bare chest revealed to you and even though you’d seen him shirtless before, the intimacy of this time, of finally being with you after so long, made him self conscious. If you saw anything you didn’t like, you didn’t show it. Instead, you bit your lip as your hands tentatively roamed across his chest, trailing over his stomach lightly enough that he shivered. When you spoke next, you yet again took Frankie completely by surprise, your brows furrowing as your expression became more than just hungry, “Mine.”

You whispered it, but to Frankie, it was like you’d just announced it to the entire world. The possessive edge wasn’t lost on him, no, it shot straight to his core and snapped the final cords of his restraint.

“I should...I need a minute, Sunshine,” Frankie pressed his hands into the wall on either side of you, “I haven’t done anything in a long time, haven’t even cum, I don’t think I can be as sweet to you as I want to be.”

Your lust-blown eyes met his, “Why haven’t you cum?” He could hear trouble in your voice now, the not so careful way you spoke pulling dangerous images in his mind as he stared down at you, his jaw tense. When Frankie made no reply, you pressed your pointer finger to the middle of his chest, your eyes never leaving his as you slowly, lightly, moved it downward, trailing his dark hair. “Is it because you think of me? Are you that amazing that you won’t even let yourself cum because you think it’s wrong to think about me like that?”

A strangled noise was all he could respond with, his hands pressing desperately into the wall. You knew him too well, understood exactly what he’d meant without having to ask. And then you kept talking, and honestly, Frankie was floored at how dirty you suddenly were for him.

“I have to admit, you’re better than me, Frankie,” That finger trailed so slowly, closing in on his belly button now, “I’m not good like you, I think about you all the time. Especially when I touch myself, usually after I’ve spent a ton of time with you and I can’t fucking wait for a second longer. Wanna know what I picture?”

His voice was husky, a warning if ever there was one, “What did you picture, sweet girl?”

You moaned, your finger now closing in on the waist of his jeans, “You, bending me over the couch, that one is a favourite. Or waking you up with a blowjob, swallowing everything you’ve got because I know you taste delicious,” You unbuttoned his jeans now, sliding the zipper down with care, “But I think the winner, the one that always makes me scream your name, is thinking about riding you, Frankie. Climbing in your lap and just-“

Fuck, fuck he couldn’t hold back. He’d told you he couldn’t and yet you wouldn’t shut up and all thoughts of making love to you gently were out the fucking window, Frankie instead growled deeply and grabbed you by the arms, all but throwing you on the bed. You were smirking up at him, your eyes dark with lust and shining with triumph.

“Fuck, sweet girl, you wanna scream my name?” He removed his pants and briefs in one motion, his cock spring up, hard and leaking precum and you licked your lips, giving a little whimper at the sight of him. Frankie grasped himself, pumping his hand a few times as he stood over you, “Like what you see?”

“Jesus, Frankie-you need a new nickname,” You said, eyes glued to his cock, “Catfish makes no sense when you’re walking around with that fucking bat-wait!” He froze in the middle of removing his ball cap, looking at you with concern to see you bite your lip a little shyly, “Keep it on. The hat.”

Warmth spread through him at your request and Frankie replaced the hat on his head, then dropped to his knees next to the bed, his hands running up your thighs as you writhed. At your waist, he grasped the tops of your yoga pants and tugged them down, enjoying the way your body arched when you lifted your hips to help him. The only item of clothing either of you wore now was you in your bra, and fuck were you a sight.

Frankie gazed up at you from the floor in awe, his eyes roving over you hungrily as you watched him, propped up on your elbows. He started kissing up your thighs then, pushing your legs apart and spreading you, his hands kneading your flesh. “Sweet girl, you have such a pretty pussy, better than I imagined.” He moaned, biting into the soft flesh of your inner leg and drawing a whimper from you, “I can fucking smell you already, so wet and ready for me, fuck.”

“Oh god Frankie, please, touch me. I can’t wait anymore, I need you!”

“Told you,” Frankie climbed over top of you, his legs on either side of your body as he reached down and dragged you further onto the bed, his show of strength making you whimper, “It’s been a while. And you walk around here wearing my fucking clothes all the time. You don’t know what you do to me, Sunshine.” He grunted as he repositioned himself between your legs, his hands grasping the backs of them to haul your body against his, his cock pressed painfully against your thigh, “Gonna fuck you, sweet girl.” And with one careful, quick motion he thrust forward and each of you cried out at the pleasure of Frankie filling you.

“Frankie! Oh!” Your legs wrapped around him instantly, urging him as deep as possible as he split you open so deliciously. Once he was fully seated within you, Frankie dropped forward, propping himself on one arm, and cupped your face with his free hand. He looked into your eyes as he started a fast, hard pace, thrusting deep and reeling over how wet you were for him, how perfectly your velvet folds wrapped around him.

“Fuck, cariño, you’re fucking tight,” He grunted, kissing you sloppily as you threw your arms around him, hugging him close, “So tight for me, so perfect making those pretty noises, fuck.” Frankie groaned when you clenched around him as he spoke, “You like it when I tell you how perfect you are?”

“Ye-yeah Frankie, I love it. Oh, fuck!”

You were trembling now, squeezing him each time he whispered in your ear. Frankie kept up a string of praises and filthy words, taking note of the ones that had you gripping him extra hard.

He’d always had a casual enjoyment of dirty talk, nothing over the top, easy enough to shut off if it wasn’t enjoyed by the other person. But something about talking like this to you had his balls tightening that much faster, his thrusts becoming brutal.

Still murmuring in your ear, Frankie lowered his hand to your clit, experimentally rubbing, circling and pinching it to see what you liked. He was going to cum soon, and he’d be damned if you didn’t cum too. Though, as Frankie settled on circling you, both feeling and hearing how this was definitely how you liked it, his worries quickly dissipated when your hips were suddenly bucking up to meet his and you were screaming his name.

“That’s it, let go for me sweet girl,” Frankie’s thrusts were becoming increasingly sloppy as he neared the edge, “Are you-fuck, where should I?” He couldn’t even form a sentence now, he was so close and you were squeezing around him so perfectly as you closed in on your orgasm.

You understood though, your eyes meeting his as you pulled yourself together enough to reply, “Frankie, cum inside me please, please fill me up, pleasepleaseplease-“

“Fuck! H-here you go, perfect little thing!” He roared, dropping his weight over your and growling as he spilled inside you, as you bucked and writhed beneath him and screamed out, toppling over the edge and into oblivion with him. He heard himself cursing in Spanish as he experienced the most intense orgasm of his entire life, his hips slowing to continue to draw it out, still more cum filling you and you were a wreck under him, shivering and moaning.

“Yes, Frankie, yes.” You whimpered, your hands sliding into his hair-knocking his cap off-and tugging at his curls.

It took several minutes to recover, though Frankie had enough awareness to shift his weight so that you could breathe properly. Still hard inside you, he began to kiss you all over, peppering your face and neck before biting a few more marks into your neck, his tongue laving out to soothe. He enjoyed the way you whimpered when overstimulated, twitching when he pinched your nipple over your bra, squeaking his name when he pressed himself as deep inside you as he could one last time before pulling out.

Frankie collapsed on the bed next to you, then quickly tugged you into his arms and kissed the top of your head. His fear began to bubble back up now that the haze of passion was clearing, and he was starting to question every single moment that had occurred since you'd asked him if he was a tits man or an ass man.

What had he done? Was he going to lose you after this? Lose his entire reason for living for one amazing orgasm?

But it was like you could reach his mind, as only a few minutes had passed and then, with a little groan, you pulled yourself up so that you were on your elbow, looking down at Frankie. You took one look at his face and frowned, “That was quicker than I thought.”

Frankie stared at you, “What was?”

“I guessed it would take more than two minutes for you to start regretting this.”

Sighing, he pulled himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed. You followed, but crossed your legs and shuffled next to him. “I meant what I said, I love you,” Frankie explained, rubbing a hand over his face, “I love you so much, so fucking much it hurts. But the idea of messing this up is terrifying me, Sunshine. I don’t think I could lose you, I think it would kill me.”

“Frankie,” You crawled over him, straddling his hips and settling into his lap. You cupped his face firmly, looking into his eyes. Your expression was open, warm and vulnerable and a little incredulous, “You aren’t going to lose me, not ever. I want this-I want you, and everything you come with, okay?”

Though his heart was soaring, Frankie still worried, shaking his head, “I come with a lot of dark baggage, sweet girl. Not to mention the age difference.”

“Jesus, Frankie, do you really think I don’t know what I’m saying when I tell you I’m all in?” You asked him, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “I love you. Can I tell you when I knew?”

Frankie peered at you, his hands coming to hold your waist as he nodded.

“The boys trip.” You stated, using the term each of you agreed upon when referencing his three-week disappearance to Columbia. “When you first left, I knew something was off but I trust you, so I didn’t question it. But then after a few days, with no word from you, I started to really worry,” You paused, momentarily lost in thought, eyes dark now with the painful memory of his absence and the little information you’d come to learn about it since. “Did I ever tell you I booked a ticket to Columbia?”

This caught Frankie off guard because you most certainly had not told him that, “What, are you serious?”

“Yep. Booked it for the day after you ended up calling me. I don’t know what I was planning to do, but I knew you were there and, even if you were dead, I needed to be as well.” You stroked your thumbs over his cheeks, “After you called, and I knew you were alive and coming home, I realized that the way you said it meant you almost didn’t make it home, and I knew you weren’t saying something. I hung up and sat in my room for a minute and it occurred to me that you could have died and I would have never seen you again. That was when I knew it wasn’t just a crush.”

Heavy emotion filled his chest, rendering him unable to immediately respond. Frankie gathered you close and stood, clutching you against him and carrying you into the bathroom. He set you on the toilet before turning to his massive soaker tub and switching it on, fully intending on spending the rest of the night in there with you. When he turned around, you were carefully tidying yourself up. With a grunt, he grabbed a washcloth and ran it under warm water before kneeling in front of you and taking over.

“Why didn’t you say anything? After I came home, I mean.” His tone was light, as he didn’t mean to come across as accusing you of anything-it’s not like he had said anything to you. Good-natured as you were, you simply smiled at him, a little sadly.

“Too afraid, right at first,” You admitted, your eyes fluttering shut as he took care of you with the warm washcloth, “But when you came home you were a fucking wreck, Frankie. You lost your friend, Santi didn’t come back with you either, and Will and Benny had the same expression on their faces whenever I saw them. You saw some shit, did some shit, I don’t know and I’ll be real here, I don’t need you to ever feel like you should tell me what exactly happened. But after the first day you were back, I could see how much it changed you and I thought it would be selfish to tell you how I felt and add more emotional bullshit onto your plate.”

Frankie continued to kneel in front of you after tossing the washcloth into his laundry hamper. For a moment, the only sound in the room that of the tub filling. He stared into your eyes, seeing only how truthful you were being, how incredibly kind. He had never realized how completely he could love someone until he met you.

“I thought about you the entire time I was gone.” He admitted before carefully standing and checking the temperature of the water. He added a bath salt mixture that you’d bought a while ago, claiming it was a gift when really you were the one to use them, locking yourself away for hours to soak because you didn’t have a tub at your place. He shut the water off and held his arms out for you, which you eagerly stepped into and allowed him to guide you both into the water.

Once settled, your back against his chest, you replied. “Your face when you came home, I’ll never forget your expression.” His legs were on either side of you, and you began to lazily trace along his right thigh as both of you fell into your painful memories of his ill-fated trip.

Frankie sighed sadly, “I’m sorry I ever left, Sunshine. I never should have left you,” He tightened his grip around your waist under the water, one hand spread flat across your stomach, “It was just...fuck, everything went bad straight from the start. We had a moment of luck and then it was like nothing could go right. And I don’t know, I’m fucking gutted that Tom is gone, but it’s worse that Santiago won’t come home. He’s like my brother, and he blames himself for everything.”

Frankie knew you had no idea what he meant. You knew he and the guys were former special ops that served together, but when Santi had asked him to go to Columbia Frankie had only told you the basics-the country, who he would be with, that he might not have a lot of chances to call, and that it would be about a week. Santi had picked him up and you had been there to see him off that morning, and his friend had casually referenced a ‘boys trip’ while speaking with you as Frankie loaded his shit in the back.

Of course, you weren’t stupid. You worked with the VA, met a lot of former service members who ended up contracting out their skills after retiring or leaving due to injuries or lifestyle changes. And you knew Frankie, understood him like no one ever had before, which is why as he gave you further details you didn’t flinch or freeze up, you simply listened. When Frankie had gone quiet for a while, you eventually turned to gaze up at him over your shoulder, your cheek on his chest.

“From what I could tell,” You began slowly, your words cautious, “Whatever you did, what happened, you all put it aside to get Tom’s body home to his family. And considering the type of work Santi was doing out there for three years before he came here to ask you guys to join him, I figure you all must have almost died a few times each, probably took out some terrible men along the way.”

Frankie had to bite back his sob, turning his face away from you to stare, ashamed and remorseful at the wall. You reacted quickly, pulling yourself up and turning over, your naked body pressing over his as you grabbed Frankie’s head and gently turned him to look at you. “Baby,” You cooed, your eyes shining with concern, “Don’t do that, don’t hide from me.”

That was all it took. Frankie let the sob out and the relief of it was instantaneous, so much so that he let out another, then another, all while you held him and murmured soft, sweet words and pressing chaste kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, along his jaw. It didn’t last long, he’d cried so many times over everything that had gone down, but this was the first time you had revealed you sort of had an idea of what they had been up to, and you were still supporting him and loving him and it was all very overwhelming.

A short time later, Frankie wiped his eyes and shot you a grateful look, hoping you could sense how much he appreciated you. You settled into the water again, knees pulled to your chest as you faced him and trailed your hands comfortingly up and down his chest. “Sunshine,” He whispered, catching one hand and holding it against his heart, “I love you, thank you for being so fucking incredible.”

He tugged you closer, joining you in laughing when a little water sloshed up over the edge of the tub as you landed against him. You snuggled close and kissed him, your fingers carding into his curls and holding him steady. When Frankie took you to bed that night, there were no pillows between your bodies, not a shred of clothing separating you. He held you close, falling asleep faster than he had in years.

And for the first time in Frankie’s life, he felt whole and complete, like nothing could ever bring him into darkness again, not when he had you, literal sunshine, lighting his existence.

PART TWO

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