#i could just post it myself but i don’t trust myself not to catch all the inevitable typos and sentences that need a little reworking

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

💌 would anyone be interested in beta reading chapter nine of four walls for me?? the two lovely humans who usually do it for me are very busy with real life stuff at the moment, and i’m eager to get this chapter out by the weekend if possible as i’m aware it’s already been quite a wait since the last one. if anyone’s interested then please get in touch! 💌

[cerealmonster15]

ummmm. wip wed…… I don’t have actual writing but I did start making a buncha bullet points for more ideas for the kalisil jamiazu fic…. And I have decided one thing lol - since I have masquerade event on the brain… if I get around to writing this fic I’m keeping the timeline vague HOWEVER it would take place sometime after masquerade bc I want that event to be when jamiazu had gotten together in backstory bc they #danced together in the little rythm minigame (and the duo THE DUO ATTACK-)

[amourane]

kick in the right direction

pairing: football player!seungcheol x mascot!reader

genre: fluff, university au

w/c: 0.9k

summary: seungcheol is the star football player in your university but he becomes a bumbling mess in front of you.

warnings: none, you do get hit by a ball though

a/n: i have decided to start writing fics for seventeen too because i just love them way way too much <3 also disclaimer this post used to be under my old url httphannie <3

Seungcheol doesn’t know what to say. He usually has an explanation for his actions. There doesn’t seem to be anything coming to his mind when he sees you on the ground. The problem with being the star player on the football team was the amount of trust his coach put on him. As well as the thought that they needed to win every game, that wasn’t a problem though because Choi Seungcheol was a beast when he was in game mode. His aim was the best on the whole team, he’d never missed a goal. 

Obviously today was an off day.

“You’re staring, Cheol.” Jeonghan gives him a hearty slap on the back. “You really like our school mascot don’t you?” All Seungcheol can do is nod, watching as Seungkwan helps you up.

He really wants to go over and say sorry for nearly knocking you out with his kick but he can’t. Not because he doesn’t want to but because he simply can’t. It’s stupid really. Choi Seungcheol, star player of the football team, can’t say two words when he’s faced with you. He’s tried speaking to you. Once after a game, not the best choice because he’d become so nervous he spilt his water bottle all over you. Even after you told him it was fine he was still stuttering his words. Another time he’d managed to catch you walking down the hallway. The moment you smiled and said ‘hi’ his mind blanked. No words could come out of his mouth and he stood there gaping like a goldfish.

Talking to girls was easy for Seungcheol. He could give them a smile and they’d be fawning all over him. You were different. There isn’t one time he’s had a full conversation with you with nothing embarrassing happening. He’d stumble over his words or nothing would come out of his mouth. The only thing that kept him from giving up was the fact you would grin every time he came up to you and he didn’t like giving up.

“Of course I like her!” Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair. “I just don't know what to do?”

“You could ask her out.”

“I can’t!” 

His friend arches an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. "What do you mean you can't ask her out? Like you're scared, or you don't know how to, because those two are completely different things." Jeonghan's tone is gentle but probing, urging Seungcheol to confront the root of his hesitation.

“That’s not it. I’ve got everything planned out. I know what to say and I know where I want to bring her to. There’s a whole plan in my notebook, it’s coloured in and everything!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Seungcheol fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “Whenever I go up to her to ask her out my throat closes and I can’t find the right words. Or when I try to even write my confession, my hand freezes and no letters can be written. It’s even worse because I manage to make a fool of myself whenever I’m in front of her!” He kicks the football away.

Jeonghan sighs, staring at Seungcheol as he aimed a perfect kick to the goal. The boy was completely enamoured by you. Practically the whole school knew about his crush on you. Everyone was just waiting for the day the both of you would come in hand in hand. 

//

“Y/n, oh my god! Are you okay?” Seungkwan was shaking you by your shoulders. You rub your head. That football was really hard. Who knew air could hurt you? “How many fingers am I holding up?” He waves three fingers around and your eyes struggle to adjust to his trembling hand.

“Calm down. I just got hit in the head, I don’t have a concussion or anything.” You just know there’s going to be a huge bump on your forehead tomorrow. “It’s partly Stuart’s fault.” You pat the dragon costume you had on. The fuzzy green body was heavy and the long swishy tail at the back was quite annoying to lug around.

"Why are you blaming our mascot? Stuart did nothing wrong," Seungkwan interjects, shooting a pointed glare at Seungcheol. "Star player my ass." He mutters under his breath, clearly unimpressed.

“Hey, don’t blame him. I’m sure it was an accident.” You give Seungcheol a little smile and an ‘okay’ sign to tell him everything was fine. 

“I can’t believe you like that dumbass, he can’t string two sentences together when he’s in front of you.” Seungkwan helps you up, handing you Stuart’s head. You dust off the dirt on your costume. 

What was there not to like about Choi Seungcheol? He was popular, athletic, smart and talented in everything. Not to mention he was the literal definition of eye candy. There hadn’t been many occasions where you two had met. He’d always stutter helplessly or his cheeks would resemble a fire truck, which was very endearing. It was quite funny seeing him stumble over his words whenever he tried to ask you out.

“Why don’t you just ask him out? You already know he likes you, not that he makes it the most obvious thing in the world.” 

“But isn't it just the cutest thing when he tries to ask me out but he’s a stuttering blushing mess?” You giggle when you catch sight of the pout Seungcheol has on his face. “I hope he asks me out soon though, I can’t wait to finally go on a date with him.” 

The smile you shoot at Seungcheol has him tripping over his feet, face planting into the ground. Suppressing your laughter behind your hand, you watch as he hurriedly picks himself up, only to see his teammates rolling on the floor with amusement.

“How long are you even willing to wait?”

“As long as it takes.”

[foundfamilynonsense]

Sometimes I just want to sit down and say, like… Gay men, lesbian women, and straight people. You could wake up tomorrow and discover you’re actually bi.

Tomorrow you could meet someone of the sex you do not think you are attracted to and go “oh fuck”. There is no rule— nothing—that says that could not happen to you at any moment.

“I’ve lived forty years without—” so?

“I can just tell I’m—” how?

Now, we can get into the conversation of how these labels aren’t actually law, and that you can be a lesbian even if there was that one guy and you can be a straight guy if there were those two guys in college and etc.

And that’s totally true and valid and we should normalize that. But that’s another post.

My point for this post is that, yes, you are one strange meeting away from being bisexual. It will probably never happen. But you can never say with 100% certainty that it won’t happen.

But that doesn’t mean every gay, lesbian, and straight person should start calling themselves bisexual just in case. That would be a completely absurd thing to expect.

Can you imagine if we go around to gay men and were like “but how do you know you’ll never be attracted to a woman?” Imagine if we did it to straight people? The idea you have to call yourself Bi just in case?

This is easy to understand. So why is it so hard for people to understand when it comes to asexual and aromantic people?

Like… I suppose I could wake up tomorrow and catch some feels for someone. I… doubt it. But it could happen.

But I’ve been alive 22 years and it hasn’t happened yet. So why should I expect it? Why should I spend time thinking about it? Why should I label myself based on that slim possibility?

The number of straight people who have said to me “well you never know” or “maybe you just haven’t met the right person” or whatever. Can you all IMAGINE what they would say to me if I threw it back?

“Oh, sally, you don’t like any women yet but you never know. Maybe you just haven’t met the right woman.” Their heads would explode I think.

I am an adult. I have been through college and it’s social life. My brain is (basically) done developing and I finished puberty quite a while ago. How late do you have to be before people concede that you’re not a “late bloomer” you’re just not gonna bloom at all?

Maybe tomorrow I will wake up and be attracted to someone. I still would consider myself on the aroace spectrum. But to be honest I think I know myself enough to trust it’s not going to happen. And I don’t think I should have to plan for it or expect it.

[writeoffside]

SILENCE HAS OVERTAKEN

♯ harry styles x fem!reader - angst / sad

summary: Harry doesn’t trust himself by talking to you , he wants to keep you safe but it really isn’t helping any of you.

warnings: arguing, swearing, nightmares, kissing

info: english isn't my first language, i apologize in advance for all the mistakes (if there are any!)

a/n: first post on here, enjoy !!

The days had gone by since the last ��i love you’ has been spoken between the two so-called lovers. The silence has taken over the sweet and loving house they used to call a home. It has no longer been a home. For neither one of them.

The uncomfortable silence during the dinners everynight was heavy. The only sound during this time could only be the knives and forks sounds scraping over the plates. Neither one of them even bothered to start a talk, not even a small one.

Everytime he finished his food, he would drop his cutlery on the side and leave the table without a word. Not even bothering to say a little ‘thank you’ for preparing the table, making the food or anything.

All the nights were terrible. Terrible couldn’t even be the word to describe how unpleasant the nights were. 

When he would leave the dining room, he would mostly go to his room or his studio and lock himself there. After locking himself away from everything, the uncomfortable silence would take over the house again. 

It was all just silence.

“Harry! C'mon! Are you fucking mental?” The screams echoed around the house. There was no more of silence. Only the sounds of screaming, yelling, swearing and throwing words around.

“Me? Fucking me? Y/n, you’re the one who started this shit!” I screamed loudly, hitting the top of the counter with my palm. Hissing the moment my hand met with the cold surface of the countertop. 

I had enough of this shit and all this arguing.

“Y/n! For fuck’s sake! You've been saying all this shit for so damn long! Don't you think that you’re the main problem there?” I yelled back at her, my last sentence echoing around the house. My eyes burning into hers as my knuckles turn white from gripping the side of the counter. 

“Fuck you, Harry! You've been locking yourself away from me for weeks now and when I wanna talk to you for a damn minute, you start all this!” She throws her hands in the air, pointing at me and her. 

Between us. 

I see a tear slip down her cheek and she quickly wipes it off with end of her sleeves. Her eyes are fully watery and her hands are shaking as she stands there in front of me. 

“Screw you, Y/n! Fuck you seriously! This is all your fault. If you wouldn’t be there, everything would have been fucking fine! Don't you see that you're the problem between us? Hell... I don’t know what else to say! Fucking hell!” I yell out. My hands are now digging into sides of my head as i close my eyes, my teeth biting into my lower lips as I manage to draw out blood—

I suddenly jolt awake. A gasp coming out of me. My hands gripping the sheets as I sit up, eyes flying open. 

Shaky breaths coming out as I try to catch my breath from the dream… No, a nightmare I've just had. 

Sweat drips down my naked back, as I sit and breathe. Closing my eyes and digging the palms into my eyes as I take deep breaths and try to stbilize myself. My heart beats quickly.

This isn’t the first night I've had this exact same nightmare. It has been happening for weeks now. 

And it's all my fault.

I push the sheets off my legs and stand up. My whole legs feel like they are about to break down just there. I cannot even stand straight.

The world is spinning around me as I try to stand. I breathe out as I collapse back onto the bed.

I sit at the edge of the bed, hands holding the sides as I lean myself over and close my eyes. I suck in a breath and let my eyes close for a brief moment. 

I sit still. The only sound I can overhear is my breathing and quiet ringing in my ears. 

My head feels like it will explode anytime soon.

“Fuckin’ hell…” I mumble under my breath as I once again try to stand up. My body swaying a bit, my feet waddling over the cold floor. My head spins when I reach towards the handle and pull it to open. 

Then I'm suddenly met with a person standing right in front of me. 

Their eyes wide opened as they stare back at me in shock. Their mouth drops a little when their eyes make a full eye contact with mine. My hands start to sweat as I hold the handle of the door. 

“Harry…” She mumbles out into the darkness of our house. The voice coming out soft and calming to my ears. She stands still and she doesn’t reach her hand to brush my cheek like she usually does, or doesn’t lean in to plant a little kiss against my cheek or right on my lips. She just stands still, her eyes deeply looking into mine. 

It feels like I've been staring into them for hours, falling into them. 

“Hey...” I whisper out, my voice coming out raspy. I lean myself against the doorframe, hand leaving the door handle and I cross my arms over each other against my chest. My legs still feeling wobbly and I feel like i'm about to break down just there and fall down right in front of her. But i stay still. 

“What... What are you doing here? It's late…” I mumble out, my eyes holding the eye contact, deeply staring into her orbs. 

We haven’t spoken for days now. I haven’t talked to her in multiple days in a row. I haven’t looked into her eyes. I did nothing. 

Absolutely nothing for her.

She shifts from one leg to other, clearly uncomfortable. My stare stays put on her as I await for her to answer. My eyelids feel heavy but I keep them up just to see her beautiful face. I wouldn't want to miss a second. 

I haven’t appreciate her in days. I haven't seen her, haven’t complimented her, haven’t kissed her… 

I've done nothing. 

“You've… Um... You've been doing something in your sleep," she says, her stare shifting away from mine. Turning her head to look into the hallway, ignoring my hard stare. 

She sways a bit, back and forth slowly.

“What?” I question her and shift a bit on my legs. Already slowly growing anxious over this conversation... I haven't spoken to her in weeks and this must be our first conversation in such a long time.. In middle of a night, her standing in her night pajamas and me leaning onto a doorframe with just a pajama pants. Sweat still dripping down my back from the usual nightmare.

“You've been screaming a lot in your sleep lately... Especially my name, Harry," she answers quietly , her voice so small that you couldn't even properly hear her if I wasn't that close to her. 

My stomach turns as she answers.

“Oh…” This was the answer she probably wasn’t expecting to hear. 

“Oh?” She repeats my answer and turns her head back towards to me. Her eyes coming back to mine as we stare at each other.

I missed the nights we used to sleep next to each other, when I could hug you, kiss you, tell you how much I love you. I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt you in any possible way. I don’t want to continue our relationship like this. I want us back.

I wanted to say to her. Wanted her to hear how it’s tearing me by being like this. Away from everything. Away from her. 

“Harry," she whispers to me, tearing me away from my thoughts. She breathes out a small breath as I stare down at her. 

“I'm sorry..” My words come out in a broken whisper. A breeze runs down my back. The hairs on my neck and arms stand up. And then it comes.

I suddenly break down.

I take a step towards her smaller frame and push myself against her. My arms sneak around her body and pulling her against me. My face falls against her crook of her neck and I hunch myself, letting my body collapse. Taking her scent in. 

I tighten my hold against her body and hug her the way I never did. My face lays against her neck as I breathe out.

I feel her shoulders move and then i feel it. Her smaller hands on my back as she holds me back. Her head moves a bit and I can feel a small kiss being planted on top of my head. 

Tears run down my cheeks and sobs fill the silence in the house. My body aches and shakes against hers. My eyes are shut and tears run down like waterfalls. 

My legs feel like they’re about to break against the hard wooden floor and fall down with my whole body. Shaking as I stand against her and the silence is fully overtaken by my cries and sobs.

“Shhh... It's okay. Let it out," she mumbles against my hair. I start to shake my head, disagreeing quickly to her.

“No... No, Y/n. It's not okay.. I was, no, I am a fucking idiot! I'm- I'm sorry, okay? I wasn’t thinking. I don't know…” I stutter my words out, pulling my head away from the crook of her neck. My eyes running all over face.

“I was scared? I didn’t know what to do," I take a step away from her, my voice shaking as I spill my truth out to her, “I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t want to hurt you," i tell her with broken voice. 

“Hurt me? Harry, what do you mean?” She asks in her soft tone. Her sleepy but adorably beautiful and blown out eyes look straight into mine. Her eyes are searching for something in my eyes. She can see that I'm scared. 

She can see the fear in me.

“No, no, no…” I mumble out, my eyes shutting as I walk back into my room. My hands fly upwards to start gripping the side of my head, “You.. You don’t understand, Y/n. you won’t understand it," I cry out as I walk around my room stressfully.  

“Harry. I'll try to understand," she answers and walks towards me. Then she slowly and softly touches my cheek. Holding her palm against my cheek. Her eyes finding my teary ones.

“I just… Don't want you to get hurt because of me," I whisper to her, looking into her eyes. Finding the much needed comfort in them. My tears are stained on my cheeks and some are still trying to escape the hold of my eyes. 

“Harry... I want to help you. But, you need to explain to me what has been going on with you lately. You lock yourself away from everything and don’t even say a single word for days," she says, looking into my eyes and putting both of her palms against my cheeks. I lean into her touch, closing my eyes for few moments. 

I take a deep breathe and answer, “I know... I am just scared. I keep having this dream. Every damn night. And it scares me, fucking terrifies me," I open my eyes looking straight at her, “I don’t want to hurt you, or loose you. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. I feel so fucking bad for ignoring you, it has been tearing me," I breathe out, putting my hand over her hand on my cheek. 

My voices shakes through my answer. My vision is blurry from all the crying and I cannot form my sentences without stuttering or sobbing in between the words. All the fear is going on me as I talk more and tell her all the truth what has been holding me for past few weeks. 

“I snap a lot... in the dream. And I don’t want it to happen in reality as well. I snap and I say something that I would never say, never," I say, my voice shaking and my hands trembling, “sometimes I don’t wake up and it end up worse. I snap at you and I end up doing something what I would never plan on doing to you,” I whisper the last part, my eyes closing as my voice tremble. I tremble uncontrollably as I tell her the truth. 

“Harry... is that why you’ve been ignoring me?” She whispers, her eyes searching in mine as we stare into each others eyes deeply, "why didn't you tell me? I would try everything I could to help you, or at least try to help you," she moves her hand to my hair, gently holding me. My lips are slightly parted and I take deep steady breaths. 

My eyes close for a moment and I put my forehead against hers. Our breaths matching each others.

“I love you so so much, sweetheart," i whisper into the silence, “so fucking much,” the words spill themselves into the darkness of the room we’re standing in. 

“I love you too, Harry… so much.” she whispers back, “but you don’t have to be scared. you won’t hurt me, i know you too well..."

Then I feel it.

I feel her soft lips against mine. She kisses me against my lips for the first time in the weeks. Slowly leaning in, I kiss her back deeply. Showing her all the love i’ve been holding back. Her lips are like made for me. Our lips collide together as we quietly kiss in the darkness of the night. Her hands slide from my cheek to the nape of my neck and she pulls me closer.

“You don’t have to hide now, Harry. You wouldn’t hurt me. I'm here and always will be," she whispers to me. Her voice soft and quiet, like a dream.

“I'm so fucking sorry for locking myself away. For not being there for you... I'm so sorry. I love you so fucking much," I pull away slowly, my eyes fluttering open.

“Just... If you’re going through something… anytime, please tell me," her words get to me. 

“I will, I will... My love," I whisper to her. Tears, once again, forming in my eyes. 

The two lovers found themselves slowly rebuilding the connection between each other, what they both have thought that they've lost. The silence has been finally broken by the lover's confessions of his unspoken fears. 

my first writing on here! (don't ask me why my first ever writing was a sad one hahaha) hopefully you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it! :)

give it some love if u liked it !! yayyy

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

The Fun Kind of Sparring Pt. 2

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x Reader

(Aka minors do NOT interact with this post)

A/N: Sooooooo… did ya miss me?? Heh. My down stairs brain has been exercised, that’s for sure. Took five but now I’m trying to change lives 💪

Anyways, as always, all interaction, especially commentary/tags, is extremely appreciated! It really makes my day to hear that people like what I’m putting out there.

Content Warning: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ If you thought the last one was diddle-that-skittle-worthy, this one… I think I’m going to need to take a cold shower. I mean, my man doesn’t stop talking. I will say he’s really sweet to the reader. A few things he says sound more like him in canon, but overall he’s really sweet. Look, guys, life is lifing rn so I just needed a sweet hot old man to talk me through it 🤷‍♀️

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

Previously on The Fun Kind of Sparring

"Good girl," he praises, and it's all I can do not to keen. I have to be soaked through my shorts by now, there's no way. "Well, what l'd do next... that's simple. I'd fuck her until she cried, and then I'd keep going. And I'd keep going until the only thing she can remember is my name, until she's gooey and clingy and a sweet little fucked out thing, all for me," he finishes, his grin from before returning back to his face. I'm losing it. I can't think straight. And yet- he's still waiting for me to make the first move. Son of a bitch.

"O-okay," I clear my throat, unable to find my senses. "And if that hypothetical girl was me?" We both know it's me, I just need to hear it.

"Well in that case I think l'd be the luckiest bastard who ever lived," he says sincerely, looking at me with a gaze that can only be described as pure adoration and lust. Yep. That's it for me. I lean up and kiss him with as much force as I can muster.

A strand of spit connects our lips when we part, and if I hadn’t heard him say all those dirty things I’d think it was the most erotic thing imaginable. It’s certainly a close second, though.

He crashes his lips back to mine once the strand breaks, demanding access that I could never be strong enough not to give. He explores my mouth with great fervor, silencing the small whimpers and whines trying to tear themselves from my throat. Once he’s sure I’m breathless he moves down, planting a row of kisses to my jaw before kissing down my neck, biting and sucking dark marks at the juncture of my neck and shoulder.

But through the lust induced haze that’s already clouding my brain I can only remember one thing.

“Uh, Ben?” my voice is unrecognizable, breathy and high.

“Yeah?” He says into my collarbone where he’s been leaving more love bites.

“What about you? Don’t you get to come in the story?”

“Oh, you’re sweet on me, huh, baby? Don’t you worry about me sweet girl, that’ll come later- no pun intended.”

“Oh, okay,” I mumble, tugging him up by the hair so I can kiss him again. “I could kiss you forever,” I say. And it sounds stupid, but his plush pink lips are just too good to be true.

“That can be arranged, sweetheart,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss me again. There’s just no feeling like it. I reach for the hem of his grey sweatpants, but he grunts, pulling away. I look at him, eyes wide with confusion.

“Sugar, as much as I’d love to give some sad sap the chance of walking in on this, I think it’s better we move this to my room.”

“Oh, okay,” I concede.

“Trust me,” he says, almost… shifty? Whatever. I’m too horny to decipher his gaze at the moment. I let him all but pick me up off the floor, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror embellished wall: my face is sweaty and splotchy, hair already a wreck, hickies everywhere on my neck and shoulders. Holy hell. I haven’t even gotten laid yet, and I look like I went nine rounds in a porno. Motherfucker. Me-fucker, in a minute. Good god.

“I think I’m an artist,” he says smugly from behind me, admiring the blues and purples on my neck and shoulders, and catching my gaze in the mirror. He presses his bulge to my ass, at which I gasp. He’s huge. I can already tell. How the fuck does he even-? I don’t even know how I’m going to finish that question.

“C’mon sweetheart, my room ain’t far.”

“Okay,” I mumble, stuck on the absent feeling of his bulge against me. “But the floor was so hot,” I pout.

“Don’t I know it, sweets,” he grins. “But I’ve got big plans for you, if you remember.”

I moan softly at the memory of his dirty words

“Attagirl.” The shit eating grin from before is right back on his face. “Now c’mon, sweets,” he tugs my hand in his, practically dragging me out of the gym. Before I know it I’m laying on my back in his soft bed, him over me. He somehow kisses me both soft and slow, and rough and fast, and it’s almost impossible to breath. Especially as he adds more to the canvas he’s made of my body.

“Can I?” he asks, tugging at the hem of my shirt. I nod, and pulls it up over my head, obviously enjoying what he finds under it.

“Of course my pretty girl has pretty tits too, I shouldn’t even be surprised, but”-he kisses the tops of each of my breasts-“damn, baby.”

I blush at his praise, unable to help myself. “Can I take off this cute little bra?” he asks.

“Mhm,” I say, hoping that he’ll just rip it off. But instead of being raucous he gently unclasps it from behind, teasing it off of me. He trails lower with his lips, lavishing my breasts in attention that leaves them perky and alert once he leaves them for my stomach.

I can’t help but start giggling at the feeling of his scratchy beard on my stomach as he continues his trek of kisses and such southward. “What’s funny?” he asks, obviously amused by my laughter. I can only giggle harder because he seems to catch on, now intentionally scratching at me with it. He starts kissing lower and lower, and eventually my giggles dissolve into moans as he nips at the juncture of my thigh and pelvis.

“So sweet,” he mumbles, tugging at the waist band of my shorts. He pulls both them and my underwear off in one go. “Oh, sweets,” he breathes. “You this wet all for me?”

I squeak, unable to respond to the dark, lust-filled look in his eyes as he asks. Thankfully the question is rhetorical, because my brain is already starting to get fuzzy.

He gingerly pulls off my shoes and socks, before pressing featherlight kisses to and massaging up my left leg. Just as he reaches my sopping heat does he stop, biting the squishy flesh of the inside of my thigh before returning back down on my right leg.

“Ben,” I whine impatiently, unsure of how much more of this teasing I can take before I just come without him doing anything.

He just tuts at me before continuing his ministrations. And good grief does he know what buttons to press, because my legs already feel like jello in his hands.

Finally he bites my other thigh, and I’m all but shaking with how eager I am for him to do something, anything to me. And he seems to be more than happy to comply.

“Listen, if you tell me to stop, I’ll stop,” he says roughly, sincerely, as his cheek rests against the inside of my thigh.

“O-okay?” I say, my tone far past breathy.

“That’s my girl,” he grins before diving in.

It’s like nothing I’ve felt before. It feels like he’s lit orgasmic fireworks, like far too much and not enough all at once, like… it’s fucking inexplainable. Especially while I’m physically squirming from how good it feels, while he only needs one big hand splayed over my stomach to keep me down. I couldn’t even tell you what I’m moaning between the incoherent mess of his one syllable name and the whines he’s pulling out of me.

It’s incredible. And he’s so methodical, so good at it. Eighty odd years of experience will do it to you I guess, but this is like, next level.

And before I know it my stomach is tightening in on itself, and I try to warn him. I really do. But he doesn’t even need me to warn him. Instead he takes his hand off my stomach and places both on either of my thighs, locking me in place around his head. And before I know it, his tongue thrusting in and out of me and his nose and facial hair rubbing on my clit have me coming with a loud cry of his name. I’m physically shaking by the end of it from how he continues to fuck me through it, lapping up every last drop.

The thing about Ben is that he does everything with great fervor. Passion, really, except he thinks that’s too feminine a word. There just has to be a certain exceptionality to the way he does things. When he snorts a line of coke, the line had better be four times longer than anyone else’s. When he performed back in the day, it had to be more grandiose than Queen, more ostentatious than Madonna. When he eats pussy, it has to be fucking leagues ahead of any other man or woman in the entire world.

And man oh man does he deliver. I think I come again, but it’s hard to tell from how intense the initial orgasm was and how fuzzy the overstimulation is making my brain. But he eventually pulls back, once again resting his stubbled cheek on the inside of my thigh, my come glistening on his jaw and mouth. It’s a sight of debauchery in its purest-or should I say filthiest- form. I’m panting, trying to ground myself as he smugly smirks at me, his greens eyes sparkling like cut emeralds.

“Y’like that, sweetheart?” he asks, knowing damn well I do. And yes, he’s cocky as fuck, but… he’s not wrong.

“Yes,” I mumble.

“Good girl,” and at that I clench around nothing. And he does not fail to notice.

“Aww, my sweet girl likes being a good girl,” he observes, languidly running a knuckle through my folds. I gasp, and he chuckles. “Easy.”

He surprises me by thrusting one finger in- and like he said, it wouldn’t do much with how wet I was. So he gives me a second, and I start to feel it, especially when he hits my g-spot on every languid thrust, eliciting tinny moans from me. The tinny moans get louder when he starts scissoring his fingers inside of me, opening me up as far as he sees fit. “Gotta get you ready for me,” he explains, spitting on his other hand before brining his thumb to my clit. I’m beyond fucked once the rough pad of his thumb meets my sensitive bud, gasping his name and arching my back.

“You’re taking ‘em so well, sweet girl. Gonna give you another,” he tells me before adding a third finger and rubbing on my clit even faster. I barely last three minutes of this before I come for the second-third?- time with a weak cry of his name, still ready for more. I’m flustered from how easy it was to make me come, and his words certainly don’t soothe my blush.

“Oh, look at this pretty pussy gushin’ f’me, she’s too good to me,” he groans, slowly thrusting his fingers in and out to prolong my bliss. “Aww sweet girl, why’re you embarrassed, huh? I think my new favorite color is pink cause of your sweet cheeks. My pretty girl, my perfect girl.”

My mind is so fuzzy. Ben- Soldier Boy- is literally praising me whereas he calls anyone else a disappointment or a whore. And he’s making me feel so good, not only because of the incredible sex but with the way he’s treating me.

He kisses me again before he stands up, and I can taste myself on him. I don’t mind though, because his lips, his tongue… I can hardly account for my senses, much less comprehend the taste of myself. He stares at me and finally takes the waistband of his sweatpants in his hands. I can’t help the way my jaw drops as he finally pulls them and his boxers down, and naturally he gives me his signature smirk.

The bottom line is that he’s even bigger than I had thought earlier. Like, this is a size I thought only dildos came in, not the real thing. It’s long, it’s thick, and it’s rock hard. His eyes are trained on mine, so naturally he catches me gaping and laughs. Jackass.

“You know that not all of that is going to fit, right?” I ask, a little nervous.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, cocksure. I can’t help but gulp involuntarily, but once he brings his lips back down to mine I’m right back into my whipped frenzy, pouting and following his lips like a puppy when he pulls away, rummaging in his bedside drawer but talking all the while.

“Don’t worry, m’gonna give you what you want, just gotta ease you into it, okay? Ain’t gonna treat you like a loosened whore, I could never. My sweet girl. Didn’t bring you in here for nothing, wanted this.” He holds up a small bottle, and that’s when I get it. He needed the damn lube. That’s why he wanted to come back here. Not a big connection, but for someone who’s ready to let him doin all sorts of unspeakable things to her and thank him for it, it’s a revolutionary revelation.

“Oh-oh,” I say, my voice breaking when I watch him fist himself a few times.

“Gonna make it feel so good for you,” he mumbles, rubbing a generous amount of lube up and down his length. As if it hasn’t already been beyond good. “Tell you what, baby, I want you to ride me, just to start. Y’can adjust on your own time, take it as slow as you need, okay sweet girl? ‘Cause if I’m on top… I don’t think I can make any promises.” At least he’s honest. The horny part of me wants him to just go ahead and rail me within an inch of my life, but the small, annoying, rational part of me recognizes how huge he is. He sits down next to me on the bed, comfortably resting against the pilos and the headboard. His legs are splayed, showing off the endearing curve to them.

It takes a lot out of my already fucked out self to move two inches and straddle him, but I do. He smiles, genuinely smiles, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Take it easy, sweet girl,” he tells me. “We’ve got all night. You just take all the time you need.” I’m so turned on by how sweet he is, I genuinely can’t even help it.

“Okay,” I mumble, reaching for his cock, feeling it in my hands. It’s just a little thicker than the grip of one of my hands- definitely thicker than anything I’ve ever had, but not as scary as I thought. I rub the leaking precum over his tip, because even though he’s already poured a more than generous amount of lube on himself I can’t be too sure. Not to mention the delicious gasps he’s making at every touch are enough to just do this for the next six hours.

But finally, finally I’m ready. I position myself over it, my arms encircling Ben’s wide, freckled shoulders.

And then I slowly, ever so slowly sink down on the tip. We both moan at the newfound sensation, and I physically have to stop for a second. He’s just so big. All of him is, from his ego to his overall stature, but inside me? He’s huge, and the stretch is beyond satiating.

“You okay, sweets?” he asks, recovering quicker than me.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Good girl,” he kisses me on the lips. The distraction of the kiss lets me move more comfortably down his length. I make it a little bit more before I have to stop again. “You’re squeezing me so good, this pussy was made for me,” he groans when I stop, and I hide my own noises into the crook of his shoulder.

“Ben?” I mumble.

“Yeah?”

“I need help,” I whine, keeping my face hidden to hide my embarrassment.

“Aww, sweetpea,” he lets out a small laugh despite himself, furthering my angry red blush. “C’mere, look at me,” I do as he says, my thighs sore from keeping me up as I do so.

“No need to be embarrassed with me, sugar,” he says softly, before bring my lips to his, a big hand cupping the side of my head. I barely notice his other hand on my hip until he slowly starts guiding me down on him, lifting me up and down where I’m and pushing me down further and further as he does so. He muffles my whimpers and whines into the kiss, kissing me so long that I forget what it’s like to breathe.

Once he’s bottomed out and I’m properly seated on his lap does he pull away, letting me moan as loud as I need to.

“How do you feel?” he asks, his own voice strained.

“Full,” I mumble, because it’s true. He’s so all consuming in this moment, all I can concentrate on is how he fills me to the brim.

He twitches inside of me at that, his brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothin’ baby, you just can’t be throwing around words like that,” he groans.

“You asked,” I protest.

“I know,” he retorts, kissing me again. After a few moments of sitting there on his lap, I tell him I’m ready to move a little.

“You need help, sweets?” he asks, giving me a knowing look. And I want to say no, that much is probably written on my face. Want to show him that I’m capable of bouncing on his enormous cock, but I sincerely don’t think I am.

“Maybe,” I concede sheepishly.

“That’s okay, baby,” he smiles gently, grabbing me by the hips. He slowly lifts me up his length, and I can feel my walls trying to contract around him as he moves me up, clenching him like a vice. A soft groan leaves his lips whilst various whimpers leave mine.

He keeps this gentle pace, so slow that I can feel every single inch of him slide in and slip out. Slowly the burn from the initial stretch disipates into pure pleasure that leaves me whispering his name every time he bottoms out. But eventually it’s not enough, because the thoughts of his promises creep into my empty mind, his promises of fucking me. Until I cry, until I can only remember his name and nothing else.

“Ben,” I mumble, my head still resting in the crook of his neck as he eases me up and down. “I’m ready.”

“Ready for what, pretty girl?”

Jackass. He knows damn well what, I can hear it in his voice. “I don’t want to say it,” I whine. He pulls me back so we’re eye to eye, resting me on his lap.

“I think you’re gonna have to,” he’s grinning ear to ear.

I pout, my hands resting on his chest.

“C’mon baby,” he prods, thumbing my lower lip. I take his thumb into my mouth, sucking on it. It clearly takes a lot out of him to take his finger out of my mouth, he seems to be turned on by the action.

“Fine. I want you to fuck me,” I tell him, crossing my arms.

“You’re lucky I like you so much. If anyone else were acting this bratty with me I think I’d have to teach them a lesson,” he smirks, the cocky promise clear in his eyes. Before I can retort he slips out of me, and I whine at the emptiness. I don’t like it.

Thankfully I don’t have to wait long because he lays me down, resting over me in a plank just as he was when we were “sparring.”

“Y’trust me?” His thumb comes up to meet my pulse point, his other fingers grazing across the bitten flesh of the juncture of my neck and shoulder, creating the most delicious sting. I nod frantically. “Words, baby.”

“Yes,” I whisper. His presses down barely a fraction harder, and yet it’s already enough to set me off even while being empty.

“I need you to promise me something, gorgeous,” he says, making the most intense eye contact I’ve ever seen from him.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“If you need me to stop, you tell me, okay?” His eyes are slightly wide, indicating how important to him this is. It’s easy to say: “Okay,” he has all of my trust. I kiss him for good measure, and we’re back. Fireworks gone off again halfway through as I take initiative to deepen the kiss before he can. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s stronger and so all consuming, and before I know it my mind is blank again. Blank and wanting one thing: him.

He gets up and I whine, not wanting him away from him. “Miss me already? My clingy girl,” he says affectionately, grabbing a pillow and putting it under my hips, kissing my stomach.

Settling above me once again, he lifts my legs up so that my ankles are resting on his shoulders, nearly bending me in half. But I let him, I’ll be as malleable ad he needs me to be if it’ll help him deliver on those promises.

“You sure you want this, sweets? Last chance to back out,” he tells me. I can’t believe he has the audacity to let the thought of me wanting to back out cross his mind. I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want him.

“I’m so sure. Fuck me, please,” I tell him. This is the strongest my voice has been this far, and I think he gets the memo.

“As you wish,” he grins, before sheathing himself in me in one go. I scream his name, but the noise is cut off by all air leaving my body as he thrusts into me at a literal superhuman pace. The sounds are ungodly, with every thrust a broken moan and the occasional grunt from him. He finds my g-spot with ease, slamming into it with every thrust ad he pounds me into his mattress.

“You sounds so pretty, maybe we should look into making one of those Internet videos.” I moan at the idea. I didn’t think starring in a porno would be my thing until he and his transatlantic 1950s accent suggested it.

“Yeah, everyone would want a piece of this pussy. But she’s all mine,” those last three words are punctuated with particularly hard, possessive thrusts that leave me gasping his name.

He brings his hand up to my throat once more, and the moment his thumb grazes my pulse point as it did before I realize just how much I want to come. “You like that, huh. Such a good girl,” I clench around him as he presses light pressure to my throat, and even though he’s not even done anything with my clit and it’s been maybe two minutes I’m coming hard and all-consumingly. It washes over me in waves that match Ben’s pace, seemingly getting more intense as he keeps fucking me.

“Oh sweetheart, you look so gorgeous when you make a mess of my dick. I’m hopin’ to see that five more times before the end of the night,” he tells me, but I barely hear him, too engulfed in my pleasure. He somehow adjusts the pillow under me while continuing his incessant pace and his grip on my throat and the new angle has me crying from how good it is.

“Aww, what’s the matter sweets?” he coos, knowing damn well what the matter is. It’s just too good.

“You’re so deep,” I sob, unable to gain my bearings because of how full I feel.

“Don’t I know it,” he groans, going impossibly harder. Eventually he takes his hand from my throat, and I whine, until he brings it down to my clit.

“Make it a good one, beautiful,” he winks with a click of his tongue before skillfully rubbing circles into my sensitive bud.

“Ben, it’s too much-,” I protest, but all it takes is a few more circles and I’m coming undone around him again. I’m both hyperaware of my tears soaking my face and the burn from the position of my legs but also on the verge of unconsciousness with how good it all feels. My legs are quivering around him but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’re okay, sweet girl, taking it so well,” he mumbles against my lips, kissing away my tears. I’d never had a lay so good that the guy had to reassure me that I was okay because I was shaking and crying uncontrollably from just how good it was. But then again, prior to tonight, I’d never had a lay with Ben.

He quickly brings me to the edge again, his fingers fast on my clit and his thrusts deeper than ever. When I come I can’t say his name, I can’t say much of anything because my mind is blank. Fuzzy, syrupy, I feel almost soft while the only noises I can make are little whimpers as he just keeps going. And I fucking love it.

“‘m gonna come,” he warns, and I muster enough of my bearings to tell him ‘please.’ He gladly obliges, coming with a loud grunt of my name, bottoming out so far inside me that he may damn well be in my cervix. I can feel it leaking out of me, and even in my fucked out stupor I can remember to moan. It’s the hottest feeling I’ve ever felt. He slowly pulls out then, gently easing my legs down.

I look up at him with questioning eyes, wondering why he doesn’t go for another three like he was planning to.

“Don’t want to break you on the first night, sugar,” he says, sweetly cupping my face in his hands. “I know you don’t feel it right now but you’re gonna be real sore in a couple hours.”

I pout, unsure of how to react to that. My legs are still shaking and while I do feel tired I’m still turned on.

Okay, maybe there’s dull ache.

“Oh, don’t pout. There’s other nights, and I’m gonna take care of you,” he smiles softly.

“Okay,” I whisper, finally regaining enough sense to talk.

He leans down to kiss me, softly this time. I melt into the kiss, and that’s when I realize: I don’t just want Ben. I think the feelings might be deeper. Maybe I… love? him.

But hey. There’s other nights.

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

As a bonus, cause I love y’all: if we can get 250 notes on this post by the end of the poll time then I will do a spicy soldier boy fic with whichever of these gets the most votes. If we can somehow get to 400 I’ll do the top two! No kink shaming, okay? 🥹🎀

In the meantime, if you want more Soldier Boy try Taming the Supe!! <3

For fans of Big Sky!Jensen, part two of 2SC (aka my favorite project thus far) should be coming out next!

And don’t forget, asks/requests/thoughts/thots are always open!!

[urrockstar-xe]

Please, please, please - d.g x fem!reader

posted july 8th, 2024 10:11 pm

reidsexual asked: “please please please” with dick grayson🙏🙏

OHHHH NOW WE'RE TALKING i hope u don't mind the little twist I did with this one, i also think i could totally go more in depth with this idea but for now, heres ur blurb :)

masterlist

wc: 0.4k

just used brenton cause hes hot and the nightwing gifs are lacking, not necessarily or even close to titans!dick

not proofread

Dick knew full well what he was getting into when he began dating you, how couldn’t he? 

Getting with someone who grew up in the darkest parts of Gotham, raised by the worst of the worst, who all seem to have a knack for childcare. 

“And who exactly is your new little lady friend?” Of course, Jason was curious, he saw how Dick hesitated every time his little brother mentioned Dick’s latest partner in crime,

Metaphorically, of course.

But before Dick could even finish your name, Jason was in hysterics. 

“Her? She’s going to eat you alive, Dickie, and probably stomp in your chest in the process.” 

Jason was the 4th person to tell him a variation of that same warning.

“No, man, she’s different than you think, really” He promised. 

“Really, Jay, I have good judgment, trust me.” Jason just scoffed, chuckling at his insistence, 

“I don’t know if I should laugh at you or feel sad for you over the irony in that statement.” 

Dick cannot afford for you to make any mistakes.

Dick watched as you trained, focusing on how hard you were going on the punching bag. He walked up closer, grabbing the bag as you hit it, causing you to stop. “What?” You asked, out of breath. 

“Give me your fist” You did just that, watching as he moved your hand in a different position, “try that way, stronger hits. Can’t have you embarrassing me out there” He teased, winking at you as he held the bag. You scoffed, ignoring how your cheeks warmed and the grin that forced its way onto your face. 

“So, our date tonight,” You started punching again, listening to Dick’s hum as he waited for you to continue. “What’s the plan, Wonderboy?” 

“I was thinking, maybe, we could just spend the night in, get takeout, watch a movie, somethin’ simple” he suggested casually, shrugging. “I was kinda craving some fresh air tonight,” you teased, smiling at his date idea. 

“Oh but, baby, the ceiling fan is so nice”

“You just want to have me to yourself, greedy” you mused, punching again, catching him off guard as he chuckled, tightening his hold on the bag. 

“What can I do to convince you to let me have you all to myself tonight?” he asked, almost cautious to ask. “Beg.” 

here’s his reason to be cautious.

“Please baby, please, please, please.”

“Okay fine, we can have a night in”

His fear of getting hurt from this budding relationship was walking hand in hand with his fear of you crushing his ego, but he loved a thrill.

[ki-yomii]

careful | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.2k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dom!jk, sub!reader, dirty talk, mild dom/sub dynamics, orgasm control/edging, slight brat kink, slight brat tamer!jk, pet names, degradation kink, praise kink, mild dacryphilia, finger fucking, sub drop, pussy smacking, wet & messy ➥ summary | you should always be careful what you ask for ➥ notes | what's that - posting a fic that isn't any of my wips/requests? more likely than you think 🥲

i started writing today with the intent to work on my vampire jk fic cuz spooky season. instead, i found myself here... i'm sorry 💀

also i’ve seen enough run episodes to know you don’t want jk’s hands smacking you anywhere 😬

🩷 masterlist | inbox | AO3 🩷

“Look at me, baby.”

The low warning cuts through your muffled whines, Jungkook’s weight pinning you to the wall. Thick fingers grind deep inside your cunt, digging into your g-spot mercilessly.

Pressure builds behind your hips, borderline painful as you shift around in a vain attempt to dislodge him.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he says, “You know better.”

Whenever Jungkook speaks, his voice scrapes down your spine, low and whiskey rough. His chest is a long line of heat, plastered to your front from stem to stern.

The rapid gallop of his heartbeat echoes your own rabbit-fast rhythm, the scent of his cologne clogging your nose and clouding your thoughts.

He bites out your name, the palm shackling your hands above your head squeezing your wrist. Blunt nails dig into the delicate skin of your pulse point.

A silent prompt you know better than to ignore. And yet, the temptation to do so is almost too much.

Keen awareness roots low in your belly, dripping down between your thighs like candle wax. Your thighs tense with the strain of controlling the involuntary drop of your hips; the urge to rock down into his touch choking the breath from your lungs.

“I…”

The instinct to comply is almost Pavlovian. After all, you’re Jungkook’s good girl, aren’t you? Loved and fucked and trained to his liking.

(But how can you be good when he looks at you like that? It’s just not fair.)

Being good all the time is boring.

No. Your mouth snaps shut, and any response you have turns to ash on your tongue. The words catch on the backs of your teeth like candy. Not this time.

“Why are you being like this, huh?” Jungkook’s brows shoot towards his hairline, his dark head ducking to try and catch your eye. “I know I taught you better.”

How could you ever forget the rules when he’s fucked them into you so thoroughly? Took you apart piece by piece only to stitch you back together in his image - his precious little darling made to take his cock and swallow his cum.

“You really don’t wanna play this game with me right now. Trust me.”

Breath lodging somewhere in the middle of your throat, and tasting suspiciously of regret, you shake your head and dig your heels in. Resist the urge to crumble at his feet, beg for forgiveness with your mouth, your hands.

It’s already too late to back out - it’ll just be worse for you if you do.

Jungkook might hide his less… savory traits better than most, but you’ve experienced his greedy kisses firsthand, felt the tug of his teeth and tasted the salt of his skin. Heard his ragged moans honey sweet in your ear, felt the harsh grind of his body along yours.

When he smiles, it’s wicked, "Last chance. Show me those pretty eyes of yours, baby.”

Anticipation hooks behind your navel, stomach swooping as heat curls up in the valley of your hips. Blood rushes in your ears, starting as a slow thrum that crescendos into a rapid drum. Your heart tattoos itself into your ribs.

Licking your lips, your refusal shudders from you in a throaty rush, “No.”

A low hum fills the following silence, noncommittal. The mounting tension threatens to strangle you, sets your teeth on edge. Sparse hairs at the nape of your neck prickle.

And then, before you have time to consider taking it all back, plush lips ghost over the hollow below your ear. Whisps of dark hair whisper over your skin, soft and ticklish. Shivers race down your spine, spread through your fingers and toes.

“Alright, have it your way,” Jungkook smothers his words in the tender slope of your neck, “but remember: you asked for it. Don’t come crying to me afterward.”

Readjusting, Jungkook’s broad shoulders curve forward and the slackened hand on your wrists renews its grip. The cold tip of his nose traces along your jaw, inhaling the perfume of your silken skin.

An exhale shudders from him in a vulgar husk of breath. When you clench around his fingers still buried inside you, he laughs low and mocking.

“Damn, baby, your pussy’s just sucking me in. You really wanna cum that bad?” Kisses pepper up the side of your face, skirting the side of your mouth. “Heh, yeah, I know you do - such a dirty little slut.”

“Oh!” You sigh, sparks sizzling through your limbs, as Jungkook flexes his fingertips playfully against your swollen g-spot. Your hips tilt into the touch. “Hah…”

“That feel good, huh?”

A low keen escapes when he draws your earlobe into the moist heat of his mouth, his lips clamping down while the sharp points of his canines roll the tender fat. Little kisses of pain burn, brighten the arousal blooming deep within you.

“Yeah, of course it does,” Jungkook breathes, his voice low and husky in your ear as he strokes at your fluttering walls. “Just look at you.”

Unable to swallow the broken gasp of his name when he hits your favourite spot at the right angle, you tremble against his chest from where you’re pinned and squeeze your eyes shut, “J-Jung--!”

Holding up your own weight on weak knees is an endurance sport - one you’re losing as they bow and shake, threaten to give out. At the same time, your arms feel like lead, going numb from having them suspended over your head for so long.

Head light and floaty, your nails bite into the backs of his hands as a sharp spike of pleasure slices through you. “I’m--”

“Gonna cum soon?” Jungkook asks, the devilish grin tugging at the corners of his sculpted mouth more a baring of teeth. “Don’t lie to me.”

At your frantic nod, he tugs his fingers free from the tight clutch of your body with a sloppy squelch. Slick oozes from your cunt in a sticky rush that wets your inner thighs, your gut clenching hard with hollow satisfaction as he rips the ebbing flow of your orgasm away without warning.

“Shit!” 

The noise you make at their loss is low and wounded, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. Your body locks up so hard your stomach aches, walls fluttering as a cramp knots up behind your hips.

Your swollen clit throbs with angry sparks of pain that make you whine and wince, orgasm thoroughly ruined.

“W-Why did you…” Voice cracking around a hiccupping sob, you pitch forward into his powerful chest. “Jungkook--”

“You know why.” His reply cuts you off, chilly and brusque, while he stares at you without remorse, “I gave you a chance to change your mind.”

“But I -”

“Stop.”

Sniffling, you peer at him from beneath damp lashes.

Breathless and feral, Jungkook stands before you a vengeful god, robed in shade and shadow. It’s criminally unfair how good he looks; jaw clenched, eyes twin black holes that threaten to pull you in.

Harsh, hooded, hungry as they trace over the tear tracks cutting lines down your cheeks, the quiver of your lips. In moments like this, he’s as beautiful as Belladonna and twice as deadly.

“I don’t know why you’re even trying to sweet talk your way out of this.” 

If his glare alone wasn’t enough to curb your tongue, then the shuttered expression carved into the planes of his regal face would.

Displeasure sits heavy on his brow, tucked into the corners of his mouth like an ill-fitting mask. Then his hand is slipping between your shaking thighs once more, the backs of his knuckles dragging over your abused, messy folds.

Jungkook hums when you sigh, jolt at the touch, and says, “Now, shut up and be a good girl for me.”

It’s deliciously painful, like blowing on numb fingertips in winter. Your legs spread wider to accommodate him on instinct alone.

Head rolling back to rest against the wall, the cool stone heaven on your sweaty neck.

And then a strike, viper quick, lands on your exposed pussy. Your reprieve ripped away and smashed at your feet as the wet, sloppy sound of an open palm making contact with tender flesh almost drowns out your wounded cry.

“A-Ah!”

You flinch away from the touch, flickers of pain pulsing through your sensitive clit. Nerve endings burn with sensation. Tiny cavities pepper your field of vision, the world a blurry kaleidoscope of color through pooling tears.

It’s hard to think, harder to breathe through the lingering throb and mounting shock.

Jungkook didn’t hit you too hard (he knows your limits), though he may as well have with how hypersensitive your pussy is. And still, amid prickles of pain, fresh arousal gushes from you to soak the length of his palm.

Cooing, he says your name, his lips cradling the syllables like a precious secret as his hand rubs circles over your mound. “Are you finally going to listen to me?”

Air hisses through your teeth as his fingers dip into your entrance, and it’s all suddenly too much. You drop too far, too fast. Lost and left adrift. Small. Fragile.

Heart lurching in your chest, the bitter ache throbbing in time with your pulse. Reminding you of how empty you are.

Sobs drip from your lips like dew drops, unintelligible words frantic as they break through the great, heaving gasps, “J-Jungkook, I can’t… Please, ‘m sorr- I can’t.”

“Oh, baby. You look so pretty when you’re such a fucking mess.”

Your breath hitches.

It feels like your skin’s too small, stretched tight over your bones until you’re bursting at the seams. The slightest touch will make you shatter to pieces, scattered across the floor like shards of fine china. 

Before you spiral too far beyond his reach, Jungkook guides you back, keeping his voice low and gentle in your ear while he shushes your warbling sniffles. Affection softens his smile, his eyes dark with perverse pride.

“Stop crying,” he chides tenderly, circling your clit with a ginger thumb. “You’re fine, promise. I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Kisses wick away the last of your tears, sweep over the delicate skin of your undereye.

“You did this to yourself.” Jungkook searches your eyes for confirmation, his brows furrowed and lips pursed. “You know that, don’t you?”

You nod, albeit stiltedly.

There are always consequences when you try to give him a taste of his own medicine - some worse than others. This time, you took things a little too far.

Now your cunt’s going to suffer the consequences of your stubbornness, but maybe if you butter him up beforehand…

The bob of his Adam’s apple captures your attention, your eyes tracing over the slope of his jaw, the tick of muscle as he grits his teeth.

Gnawing on your lip, you weigh your options.

You both know you hoped this would happen when you started acting bratty. Jungkook knows your dirty thoughts and filthy fantasies, how soaked you get from the thought of being pinned down, helpless.

Forced to take everything he gives.

… It isn’t even a question worth asking.

“Didn’t catch that.” Jungkook’s lips twitch with amusement, his fingers biting into the soft fat of your hip. “Come on, you’ve gotta use your words.”

The despair gripping your throat in a vice loosens with his lighthearted tone. Wetting your lips, you take the first step towards sparring yourself a brutal punishment by apologizing.

“I know it’s my fault - and I,” you swallow the flood of saliva pooling under your tongue, “I’m sorry.” 

"Mm, apology accepted." Jungkook hums, tracing the seam of your puffy pussy. “I’m so lucky I’ve got such a good fucking girl all to myself.”

Heat sinks into the apples of your cheeks, your thighs clamping closed around his wrist. There’s no denying the needy twitch of your hips at his words. A pleased rumble vibrates through his chest and into yours.

“Yeah, you like when I call you a good girl, baby?”

You whine, your eyes rolling back and your lashes fluttering.

Heat pulses through your belly in rhythmic waves, the residual pleasure from your interrupted orgasm kindling to light with little effort. You’d been so close, your body still desperate for relief. Thoughts slow and syrupy, cunt soaked and sloppy.

“Jungkook, please - lemme cum.” You try to rock down on his fingers only for his hand to restrain your hips. ”Fuck! Promise I’ll be good this time - jus’ need to…”

He tsks, saying, “Shh, you can cum all you want.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank-”

“If,” his smile is knife sharp, his eyes full of mischief, his words honey sweet, “you keep your eyes open and on me the whole time.”

Oh.

Oh no.

You’ll be dumb and drooling, starry-eyed and stupid once he stuffs you full. The burning stretch of his fat cock buried balls deep in your gummy walls while the spongy head slams into your g-spot without mercy, your cunt milking his shaft with every gushing orgasm fucked out of you. His name a holy prayer on your tongue.

There’s no fucking way.

Jungkook knows you barely remember to breathe once he’s on top of you, let alone maintain eye contact. Your inevitable failure will taste all the sweeter when it fizzles, pops, bursts under the bite of his teeth.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

“Good luck, baby.”

Panic grips you by the throat, your eyes wide and pleading. “Jungkook-”

“You’re gonna need it.”

Well, shit.

[sailoryooons]

fae au where human oc who doesn't know that she works in a normal looking restaurant but it's exclusive only for faeries to formally offer their human mates a lifetime in fae world also serves as common place for faes. possibly a fluffy soft fae yoongi? idk what to do with him but i trust you 😅

❀ Pairing: Fae!Yoongi x human!reader

❀ Summary: Every day, Yoongi works at the coffee shop in his little corner of the world. Every day, you come in and order the same thing, sitting in the same booth. The only problem is, Yoongi is pretty sure you don’t know that you’re one of the few humans in a faerie coffee shop. 

❀ Word Count: 1,249

❀ Genre: Urban fantasy, secret crush, pining 

❀ Rating: SFW

❀ Warnings: Light pining, Yoongi has an unspoken crush on reader, that’s really it 

❀ Published: August 20, 2023

❀ A/N: Hi anon - I am so stupid and I did not realize until I finished your entire request that you asked for reader to work at the coffee shop and not Yoongi. Please accept my sincerest apologies, I got them switched around and wrote this entire thing with Yoongi as the worker and reader as the patron. I hope that this will work anyway, but please no I am so sorry for getting it wrong, I had to edit this author’s note because I did not realize I swapped it until I went to post this just now. AGGHHHH I’M SO MAD AT MYSELF LMAO. 

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask |Hali’s Happy Agust |

“Have you guys ever been sued by Coffee-Mate?”

Yoongi looks up when he hears your voice at the counter. He nearly spills the matcha latte in his hand, not expecting to see you, ready to order. Usually, Yoongi sees you come in. He’s always ready for it, looking up as you enter the room like clockwork. The times that you catch him off guard are few and far between, his senses always alerting him to your presence before you do. 

Today, though, he’s a little bit busy. With Hoseok out on vacation, it’s just Yoongi and Jungkook manning the shop and Jungkook is better behind the scenes baking than up front taking orders. It’s left to Yoongi to make all the coffees this morning, and of course, everyone in the world seems to be at Coffee Mates on an early Saturday.

“Uh,” he tries to put together a sentence, thoughts pulling together sluggishly at the sight of your pretty smile and vanilla perfume. He swears when he goes home to fall asleep at night, he smells vanilla. “Not that I’m aware of. I’d have to ask Jin.”

“Hmm, seems like a conflict of interest.” 

Yoongi’s mouth quirks a bit as he fastens the top to the matcha in his hand and slides it on the serving counter to Namjoon. The gentry fae nods in thanks at Yoongi and shoots you a raised brow before looking back to Yoongi, a silent question. Yoongi gives the tiniest shake no before turning back to you as Namjoon sighs and retreats. 

Namjoon has been trying to get Yoongi to ask you out on a date for the better half of a few months. Every day you come to Coffee Mates at the same time, with the same order. You always sit in the same booth, which Yoongi might have put a glamor on to keep it open for you, and you always pop open your book to read for hours, coffee in hand. 

Yoongi supposes he could ask you out. You’re friendly enough and you seem to enjoy what few interactions you have. He’s caught you looking at him at least once or twice, though he worries it’s because his glamor has dropped in your presence or you’re seeing a waver in the magic that hides the nature of most of the shop. 

Because unlike most patrons at Coffee Mates, you are blissfully unaware of all the magic that surrounds you. 

At first, Yoongi thought it was a joke. Humans don’t just come to this coffee shop without knowing what it is. A bridge between worlds, a little haven for faerie suitors to offer their human counterparts an invitation to Faerie. Or for fae like Namjoon and Jimin, a place to hangout among other creatures of their kind.

Coffee Mates welcomes all fae creatures and their human counterparts, which is why you’re unusual. You have no faerie partner, no knowledge of magic. You don’t notice the floating lights in the shop or the pointed ears hidden behind Yoongi’s dark hair. A steaming cup of hot chocolate levitates just a few feet away from where you stand now as Taehyung draws on a napkin, and you’re none the wiser. 

It makes little sense. But it doesn’t have to. The patrons and the workers of the cafe have accepted you all in some unspoken agreement. Watching you curiously, making eyes at Yoongi whenever you laugh particularly hard at something he says. 

“Almond latte?” Yoongi asks, already typing in your order on the screen. You hum and nod, handing over cash. Yoongi goes through the motions of putting it in the register, but unknown to you, the money always appears in your wallet once more. He’s been pretending to accept it for weeks now, unable to bring himself to charge you. “Give me ten.”

“Hmm, I think I’ll only give you nine.”

He smiles. “Challenge accepted.” 

You leave the counter and sit in your booth. Yoongi watches you from the corner of his eye as he makes your drink, hands memorizing every ingredient and heating it just the way you like it. Normally when Yoongi makes the drinks, he uses magic to help him. He gets much more done that way, but with yours, he always does it by hand. Takes his time to froth the cream for the design on top, always careful when he pours in the cream to make a leaf, or a heart, or something else cute on the top of your coffee. 

Yoongi likes to personally bring it to your table. Every time that he does, you chide him and insist that you can come to the counter. He doesn’t mind, though. It gives him a moment to stretch his legs and escape the heavy hum of machinery and the buzzing energy of magic. 

Today, you’re leaned against the window, an open book in your hands when he approaches. You sense him and look up, smiling and shaking your head as you snap the book shut. “Eight minutes exactly.” 

He smirks. “When have I ever let you down?”

“You couldn’t possibly, Yoongi. You are singularly gifted in making my day.”

Yoongi gestures to your book to hide the fact that he’s blushing from the tip of his ears to his cheeks.  “What are you reading today?” 

“It’s a romance book about soulmates.” That throws him for a loop. If you notice the way he blinks in surprise, you don’t show it. “It’s a really fun read. Do you believe in soulmates?” 

He swears half the cafe turns to look at the two of you. Namjoon leans a little out of his booth, tilting his head to eavesdrop. Taehyung has dropped his pen and placed his chin in his hand, watching with a goofy grin on his face. 

Of course the entire cafe full of sharp-hearing creatures is listening now, interested in your mention of soulmates. Yoongi clears his throat awkwardly, pulling on his apron. “I guess?”

“You guess?”

“I don’t see why not?” 

“Hmm.” You look him up and down and for a second, he swears you see right through his glamor. See down into the core of him, heartbeat thumping a two-syllable rhythm: soulmate soulmate soulmate. “I hope to find mine one day.”

“I think you will.”

“Yeah?”

Yoongi feels his cheeks warm. Chews on his lower lip a little as he nods. “I definitely think you will.” 

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

Everyone watches him return to the counter. He hides from their gazes by busying himself with wiping down one of the machines even though he could flick his fingers and be done with it. He needs the distraction to steady his hands and breathing. 

Yoongi certainly believes in soulmates. The fact that you believe in soulmates sets him on fire. Ignites something in him that is nervous and excited. Something like hope, softley burning. For faeries, soulmates are quite common. It’s why Jin made the cafe in the first place, a haven for faeries to help bridge the world between the fae and their sometimes human mates.

When Yoongi looks up at you, rain splattering on the window, crowning your head, he thinks maybe he will take Namjoon’s advice, finally. Maybe he will ask you out on that date he’s been dreaming about. Because if you believe in soulmates, maybe you can believe in magic.

And maybe you can believe that the reason you’ve found this little invisible coffee shop is because your soulmate makes you almond lattes every morning. 

[beiasluv]

cillian murphy and his ‘daughter-figure’

a/n: i can never make myself write for people in real life with a romantic interest, sorry 😩 but i won’t deny to reading allat. no proof reads :)

enjoy!

cillian had taken you under his wings (awh) a long, long time ago

thankfully, christopher nolan approve of your acting and accepted you for a movie, allowing you to meet him for the first time

becoming the youngest constant actress to be featured in nolan’s multiverse

several years later, you are, once again, walking on the red carpet with your on screen ‘father figure’

oppenhiemer ofc

walking along the red carpet, camera flashed at you and your drop-dead gorgeous outfit for the event. making sure to look around to catch every news headlines, you see flo and emily waving at you. wasting no time, you rushed to your favorite girlies.

“hii,” flo and emily enveloped you into her embraces and kisses.

“my darling, y/n, how’ve you been?”

giggling about the latest girl talk, complimenting flo on her haircut and outfit, and a little bit sprinkle of girls touch up, a third hand wrapped around your shoulders and you turned around to see those set of blue eyes.

“cill!”

“hello, darling,” without a second thought, cillian smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist. not too tight but not too insecure, just the perfect spot.

liked by florencepugh, roberdowneyjr, and others

yourinsta thank you. xoxo

cillian is just a sweet soul in general

he could get protective if you were rubbed off in a wrong way

if the interviewer ask weird questions, he won’t hesitate to throw hands

he also loves going out with you just for bonding purposes

movies, restaurants, or just going out with his kids

his wife definitely adores you

his kids definitely see you as their sister

a 100 percent some photo booths sessions with him

“ok, pose now!” you looked at the camera while making a serious face, which cillian mirrored. a funny face and a silly face precedes.

“how do you click this ancient photobooth? cill!”

liked by ynnumberonefan, florencepugh, and others

yourinsta thanks for paying for mi lunch ;)

jessepas NO WAY y/n convinced cillian to do photo booths with her

kanHK trust me! cillian def convinced her 😭

gagahi imagine getting your lunch payed by emily, rdj, cillian, matt, and JOHN?

ynwifie Y/N pleaseeee i can pay for your lunchhh

view all 48,922 comments

you are feeding cillian fans with post and pictures. (come on, we are starving)

dancing to tiktoks with cillian in the background smiling <3

you can never do interviews with cillian and never laugh

it. is. impossible.

he’s just very funny in private and ‘the’ dead face humor

“three, two, one, rolling!”

“hello- cillian,” chuckling as you see cillian staring off into the distance again.

“oh- hello,” he smiled. “i am cillian murphy.”

“and i am y/n l/n, and we are here for…”

what is your favorite scene with cillian?

“are we talking about oppenheimer or just everything?” you chuckled and took a swift glance at cillian who was grinning at you.

“just in anything, anything that comes to your mind”

“wow…” poking your tongue a little bit out while you were thinking. “i…don’t know…not- not because i don’t have one but it is a journey back, you know?” smiling at the interviewer.

“we take a long way back,” cillian added while he looked over to you. “i remember meeting her when she was just a little kid in the batman trilogy.”

“i- i was young, yes,” letting out a soft laugh, you thought again.

“um…I honestly don’t know which one to pick,” you chuckled. “i’ll say my favorite one is in inception, it just amazes me how cillian delivers his emotional, tear-jerking scenes, and we got to do a lot of amazing, humorous stunts.”

“cillian doesn’t take compliments very well, does he?”

the comment made you look over to your fellow actor and saw him smiling at you and shaking his head. you laughed and adjusted your position in the chair, “irish people doesn’t take it very well, he will just turn invisible if you keep complimenting him.”

are you going to go watch barbie?

cillian smiled and glanced slowly at you, “ask her.”

“a 100% will do. as a matter of fact, i already went to watch it,” you said proudly and giggled.

“oh really? how was it?”

“it was really, really good. i wasn’t expecting to cry but…you can ask him,” you pointed at cillian who couldn’t hold his chuckle in any longer.

“so you two went to watch it together? wow-”

“yes,” cillian smiled sheepishly. “a lovely movie, made y/n cried, very touching,” cillian chuckled.

“no spoilers but- the ending scene was super tear jerking but the end credits made me confused whether I should laugh or cry,” you laughed at your memories of going to watch barbie with cillian.

what do you have each other on the phone as?

“this is going to be so embarrassing,” you fake groaned and chuckled, while digging for your phone in your dress.

“also girls, this dress has pockets. amazing,” cillian and the interviewer gained a few chuckles. you fished out your phone and unlocking it with a few swipes, and opened the contact app, scrolling to the ‘c’ sections.

“i…have him as ‘cilly shelby’,” cillian went wide eyes and look at the screen of your phone.

cillian grinned and leaned back on his chair, “i saved her as y/n and a smiley face emoji.”

“aw what? that is so nice, i feel so bad now”

one thing about the person next to you?

“cillian, cillian, cillian. i would say he is very caring and an astonishing actor, performer,” you says while putting your hands to your heart.

“no- you are”

“irish modesty, people,” you faked rolled your eyes at him, while mockingly patting him.

“he’s great, just a very supportive…i wouldn’t say brother but i don’t wanna say father figure as well, even though we played a lot of father-daughter roles together,” you laughed at your own response, fixing your hair.

biting your lips, you pondered, “ah, i would say an…‘uncle figure’.”

“what?” cillian chuckled

“it’s someone you can have fun with and someone who you can look after to, for me,” you smiled while cillian cooed his response and gave you a side hug.

“that was very sweet,” he smiled. “i would say y/n is very sweet and brave soul, just someone who you meet and brightens your day.”

cillian cleared his throat and switched his crossing leg, “well, i have two boys but bonding with her will always be special to me, like the daughter i never had.”

“thank you christopher nolan for giving me a daughter,” he chuckled and gave you another side hug.

“aw, i’m going to cry”

last but definitely not the least. a random question from the audience, what is the hottest thing a man can wear?

laughters filled the room, rolling back in your chair, “wow, that was random.”

“i know right?” the interviewer chuckles and wiped a fake tears.

“i think we should ask the man,” you pointed your fingers at cillian and he shifted in his chair.

“wow…that really caught me off-guard,” cillian cleared his throat. “i would say a nice suit or a silk shirt.”

“definitely a black silk,” you added, gaining chuckles from cillian and the crews.

“for me…wow, it’s going to be really weird. I like men who wear watches, like the leather straps one,” you chuckled and hid your face in your palms.

“i definitely rubbed it on her, sorry,” cillian smiled and hid his watch as he crossed his arms.

“hey- yeah- maybe he did…ooo, ah, another thing is properly a teacher glasses, i don’t know man, it’s hot.”

“noted, guys, you’re welcome,” the interviewer says to the camera, cutting off the interview session.

if you like my work, feel free to like or reblog; if not, critiques are appreciated. today’s a great day to take care of yourself 🤍 lots of love.

[magiccath]

Emergency Dance Party

Tenth Doctor x reader (ambiguous relationship) (could also be any Doctor if you ignore the Converse comment)

Summary: In which the Doctor and the TARDIS come up with a way to make your week a little better

A/N: I wrote this for myself MONTHS ago and kinda just forgot to post it. Also, he's so pretty in this GIF

Today wasn’t your day. It hadn’t really been your week either. You were tired, grumpy, and beyond fed-up. It wasn’t anything in particular, but rather an accumulation of small things combined with a general discomfort. 

You walked into the TARDIS control room, hoping that the familiar hum of the ship might calm your anxieties. The Doctor was busy with the console, fiddling away with the controls. He became aware of your presence once you got a few steps into the room before promptly faceplanting. 

The thump made him turn towards you before rushing to help you up. You met his flustered concern with your own exasperation, accepting his outreached hand begrudgingly. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, still holding on to you. 

“Just my luck,” you groaned to yourself, adjusting your footing. “I’m fine,” you grumbled, pulling your hand from his to brush off your shirt. “It’s just one of those weeks.” 

“The kind where absolutely nothing goes right?” he asked, leaning back against the console casually. Your eyes drifted to the floor, his dirty Converse catching your eye. He was wearing the white ones today, his ankles crossed gently over each other. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, really feeling the weight of the week. 

“I think I have just the thing.” He grinned brightly. You loved his smile, it was always lopsided and giddy. It reminded you of a kid on Christmas or a serial killer. It depended on the day.

“I don’t really feel up for an adventure,” you admitted, slumping into the control room chair. You didn’t have the physical or emotional energy to run after the Doctor. He had promised “stress-free” trips in the past, and they always ended with some form of chaos. When you traveled with the Doctor, there was no such thing as a “beach vacation”, at least not in the traditional sense. Usually, such expeditions ended with something blowing up.

“Don’t worry,” he laughed, “we don’t have to leave the TARDIS for this.” 

You watched him move about the console in his regular manner. He did this for so long, that you started to think watching him was supposed to be the activity for the day. Before you could question his motives, he made his way over to you. He was holding something, but he hid it behind his back so you couldn’t see. 

“Please tell me that’s not a duck,” you groaned, remembering the Doctor’s last surprise. That one left the ship in shambles, and single handedly destroyed your favorite shirt. 

The Doctor frowned, “What’s wrong with ducks?” 

“Nothing,” you laughed lightly, “I just don’t want to have to chase after another one.” 

The Doctor nodded sheepishly, remembering the hassle you two had when he brought a rouge duck onto the ship. He still hadn’t put the kitchen back together, and that had been months ago now. 

“Well, it’s not a duck,” he explained, moving his hands to the front of his body to show you what was in them. He held the large, bright pink button under your nose excitedly. 

“What exactly is it?” you asked, peering at the strange object. For all you knew, it could be the TARDIS self-destruct button. You didn’t trust big red buttons, and you certainly didn’t trust pink ones.

“Just press it.” he grinned. You searched his eyes for a moment, trying to figure out if it was safe or not. After some deliberation, you rested your hand warily over the button. 

The Doctor nodded, encouraging you to push down. You squeezed your eyes shut and did as such. 

When nothing blew up, you opened your eyes warily. The ship transformed before you: the lighting was different, a disco ball lowered from seemingly nowhere, and the floor tiles began to light up in synchronized patterns. In a matter of seconds, the TARDIS had turned into a magnificent disco. 

You raised your eyebrow, clearly confused by the change of decoration. You didn’t know the TARDIS had a disco mode. You could only assume it had been installed in the '70s. 

“Emergency party button.” He smirked. “Press it again,” he urged. 

Gently, you pressed the button again, and music started to fill the room. The distinct opening beats of your favorite song brought a small smile to your face. 

The Doctor threw the button across the room recklessly before holding his hand out to you. You took it, allowing your smile to fully take over your face. 

“Emergency dance party,” he explained, grasping both of your hands. 

“With my favorite song?” 

The Doctor nodded, clearly proud of himself. He wasn’t always the most observant, but when he was it made your heart melt. He knew the little things, like how you took your coffee, what your handwriting looked like, and your favorite meal of the day.

“How did you know?” You laughed. 

“You told me once,” he smiled, his eyes showing all of the love he had for you. 

You smiled back, all traces of sadness and frustration leaving your mind instantly.

The two of you bounded, jumped, and danced your way through the TARDIS for hours, laughing and smiling until it hurt. When you couldn’t dance anymore, you collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles, simply enjoying each other’s company. 

It was the best part of your week, probably even the best part of your year. By the end of it, you couldn’t even imagine the sour mood you had been in before, basking too much in the joy of the moment. 

At the end of the day, all it took was an emergency dance party with your favorite alien to boost your mood. 

[silly-circus]

★SillyString’s story/background★

(Way long overdue lmao and long I’m so sorry guys, also made some edits because I wanted to word some things better)

I want to start off by saying she is me, me is she(Im not sure if I made it clear or not so apologies I’m kinda dumb🫰). I say “her” in my posts instead of “me” because idk it feels right since I make her look differently than I actually do. Even so, we share the same name and I do the clown look all the time when I go out to places that I get an excuse to🧍‍♂️so really it is just me but anyway,,, time to begin! This is my first time actually writing this out so I’m sorry if it’s formatted and explained terribly

First off, Silly String is my persona’s clown name. She came up with it herself, everything else was Pennywise’s idea. She was originally a human, and still looks like one and has the appetite of one(when she changed Pennywise assumed she would want to eat people. He was wrong.) She lived in texas(yee-honk) before moving to Maine literally because she thought “why not?” and ended up in good old Derry. Her life growing up wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t the best. She was always into odd and strange things, or things that most would find creepy(clowns. Love clowns. They’re so cool) so she was kinda outcasted from others at a young age but soon people learned to just let her live in peace which of course she was happy about. She did manage to make some friends, solidarity. After moving, she continued pursuing freelance photography and painting, but her full time job is as a barista in a local coffee shop(wow, how interesting💀).

The way that she met Pennywise was kinda stupid. All she was doing was taking photos of the local wildlife and next thing you know a kid is running by before she notices a fucking weird ass clown creature from hell charging straight towards her(she still snapped a photo before running). He does catch up to her and jumps her. How she managed to not get away, but the kid did, don’t ask me. She survived, her camera unfortunately did not(he gets her a new one eventually guys trust).

since then, they kept bumping into each other. He does try to kill her again but she kept managing to escape him(pissed him off more and more each time) but soon enough he starts to chill out and basically decides to learn more about her. The more she realized he was going to not continuously try eat her every time he visited she would start asking him questions about who he was as an entity and where he came from. It does start out as a weird friendship where he would mess with her at work or appear out of literally no where to hang around. He does start to enjoy her company and watching her do normal, human things since her doing it made it seem entertaining. After a while of slowly getting closer and closer they become loving parters yay(she was still human at this time).

Fast forward and they get “married” which they really call their “eternal binding.” Basically what it means is that she became a part of him. As in if he dies, she dies. She unfortunately didn’t gain any cool shape shifting and such, she just gets to live and thrive as long as he does. When it first happened she was having a hard time with it simply because she’s going to outlive everyone she knows and will continue to, but over time she made her peace with it and saw it as a privilege to watch the world change around her and of course stay with her beloved.

Also the year they met was set in the 1980s, or honestly it could be any time after that or something I don’t know yall get creative I’m just going with the flow.

That is it :) sorry again this is long, and I hope every one has a good day/night(it’s 3 am why do I do this to myself). I also hope you guys continue to follow along with me on their lover clown journey :D

AND- little sneak peek of an upcoming piece I’m working on for Mermay 😙

[thehusbandoden]

More Than Life Itself -Dabi x Reader | Alternative Ending to Burnt

A/n: I was feeling super soft at the end if you couldn't tell lol

I have school in the morning, I should get to bed.. but I'm so freaking inspired rn. I'll probably just fall sleep writing again.

Does anyone even read this? Am I talking to myself?

Wouldn't be the first time 😶

General info:

Genre: comfort- lots of comfort/angst to fluff (ish) \\ wc: 1,099\\ posted: 01/10/2024

Warnings!: (Please just trust me. Y/n doesn't just let him get away with it, but I don't want to spoil it lol). Crying, regret, mentions of toxicity, mentions of manipulation and gaslighting, Dabi's real name, hints of Dabi's past/backstory, flinching, slight self hatred, a slight mention of physical abuse, and slight self doubt! I think that's it, please tell me if I miss anything! <33 (anon in my ask box is turned on for my shy readers ;3)

Part One- Burnt (pure angst)

You broke down sobbing as Dabi closed the door. You knew that this was for the best, and what he did was completely not okay, but that was the love of your life. Your one and only. Your soulmate. Your partner. Your beloved. Your first; and you were hoping your last.  

Yes, he could be toxic- okay. He was toxic frequently. He would yell, insult, manipulate and gaslight you. He would get jealous and possessive; and leave for months on end without a single word.  

He would break your heart; only to come back and repair it with his soft compliments, not only manipulating you into forgetting about it; but gaslighting you as he changed the story. Making himself look better.  

And you played along. Because his warm hands caressing your arms, shoulders, cheeks, and head were too loving. The way he kissed your forehead, whispering to you how beautiful you are felt too real. The way he would treat you outside of the bad times felt too... perfect. 

Your beloved Touya wasn’t all bad. He could be an amazing partner... half of the time. One thing you were- and are- grateful for is the fact that no matter how nasty, toxic, and straight up mean he can be; he has –and never will- cheat. It goes against everything he despises. He won’t do it. 

As you remember all the good times tears streamed down your face, sliding to your chin before falling onto your hand. Sobs echoed through the room as you held yourself. Rocking back and forth, you faintly hear someone calling your name. Roling your eyes, you flip the front door of your apartment off.  

No way you were letting that d-bag in. As he continues to call your name you scoff. Standing up, you head towards the door. Grasping the handle, you slam the door open.  

Right as you were about to say something you were- 

-abruptly awoken out of your slumber. You jolt awake, looking around in alarm. Dabi held your shoulders in worry, his turquoise eyes holding no recollection of the past argument.  

“Doll? What’s wrong, Babygirl?” Dabi cooed, pressing his knuckle below your eye, catching your tears. You flinch back from his touch. His eyes widen, and he pulls away.  

“S-sweetheart...” he murmured, his gorgeous orbs moving to the floor. You stare at him, tears still streaming down your face. He moved his eyes to focus on yours. “Baby what happened? Please tell me... I’m worried.” Dabi murmured.  

You shook with sobs as you stared at your beloved. His perfectly framed face held no hint of the malice it had before. His eyes were full of concern, love, and even hurt from your flinching 

“I-I had a nightmare.” You whisper, slowly melting into his touch. 

“A nightmare?” Dabi whispered, slowly brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.  

You nod, whimpering ever so softly. Your heart ached at the vivid images of your nasty argument, physical abuse, and break up.  

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dabi whispered, pressing a long kiss to your forehead, holding your jaw gently, stroking your soft skin. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”  

“I- I...” tears slipped down your cheeks. Dabi’s calloused thumbs caught them, wiping them away. You take a deep breath. “C-can you hold me against your chest? I-I don’t want you to look at me...”  

Dabi gently pulled you to his chest the second you asked him to; you didn’t even have to finish your request. He caressed your head, cheeks, shoulders and arms, whispering sweet things to you and kissing your forehead. “Of course, Babygirl. Take your time.”  

After a few minutes you take a deep breath before slowing replaying your traumatizing nightmare. Dabi slightly stiffened but didn’t interrupt. As you re-laid how your argument progressed and how he ended up burning you, his grip tightened, cradling you to his chest as his jaw clenched in fury.  

Yes, he knows that it was a nightmare. And yes, he knew that he didn’t actually do it- and that he would never hurt you like that.  

But he couldn’t help but be angry at himself. Angry that he theoretically hurt you, that you were crying because of it. 

He was silent as you finished your account. As you finished, he gave the both of you time to process your words. After a few minutes, he gently titlted your chin up, staring into your gorgeous eyes, the windows to your soul. He caressed your cheeks and jaw, his turquoise eyes filled with un-wilting love and endless affection.  

“Y/n, my love-” he whispered, pausing to let the words sink in. “-I will, and would never do that to you. I swear to you on my life, I. Will. Not. Hurt. You.”  

His words were filled with unwavering confidence. He pressed gentle kisses to your cheeks, kissing your tears away. “I would rather die than hurt you like that. Ever- for any reason.” He whispered, cupping your cheeks with his calloused yet gentle hands.  

Your breath hitched in your throat at the obvious truth in his eyes, telling you that he was dead serious. After a few seconds tears ran down your cheeks yet again. You closed your eyes, leaning in ever so slightly; telling him that you were well enough for him to kiss you. 

Dabi slowly leaned in, pressing his lips to yours sweetly. Dabi rarely kissed you so gently, taking his time to tell you how much he absolutely adored you. He kissed you until you gently pulled away, needing air.  

Smiling, Dabi leaned his forehead against yours. “I love you, so much; and trust me baby when I say: I am truly sorry.”  

You replied a few tender moments later. “For what?” Your voice was low and hoarse.  

“For making you cry... for making you feel so- however you’re feeling.”  

“Baby... you didn’t do anything...” you frown slightly, though his innocence was endearing.  

“But I’m a broken man... I could totally see me being so... destructive... you must have been worrying about that- or I don’t know... you deserve so much better, my sweet girl.”  

`“Baby, please don’t say that. You are not broken. You have been hurt, really hurt, but you aren’t broken. The mind is a funny thing, but I can assure you: you are exactly what I need and want. I love you, with all of my heart.”  

If Dabi physically could, he would be tearing up. He pulls you into another kiss, slowly stroking your hair. “I love you too... more than life itself.”

~~~~~

Dabi's masterlist | Part One- Burnt (pure angst) | Navigation | Masterlist | Tip Jar <;3

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated <33

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way -minus reblogging.

[stuckasmain]

I’ve talked about Hal’s deactivation a while ago, giving a new perspective on the scene. It being more an ‘act of mercy’ than violence, now I want to come at it from more of a Hal perspective than Dave’s. That’s one of the great parts about it is that there is so so much to dissect and interpret.

The way Hal is described in the book is more times than not compared to that of a human brain, while also being sure to insist he is machine. Yet, his behavior is described more as an illness than a glitch. It’s been talked about before by many, myself included, but it’s so hhhh- more specifically he’s described as Neurotic

a mental condition that is not caused by organic disease, involving symptoms of stress (depression, anxiety, obsessive behaviour, hypochondria) but not a radical loss of touch with reality.

It’s the fact Hal isn’t exactly aware he’s making these mistakes, maybe on some level he is but sticking with the illness angle, it’s hallucinatory. It’s making up these problems to cope with the stress of having to keep up with the lie. All is better for him if contact is cut with earth, they’re the ones who made him withhold the truth and he’s programmed to carry it out regardless. He’s trying to cut out the infection while simultaneously being unable too— in good “conscious”.

Additionally there’s his abject refusal to admit fault or wrongdoing. He is incapable of error- it’s not his fault! It’s not! It’s not! The mere idea of him even being capable of a mistake blows his entire world apart, widening his mental break. The 9000 unit reproduces most functions of the human brain, unfortunately for a computer that also means the ability for mistakes as much as it hurts him. I think it’s a mix of not wanting to admit it and being unable to recognize it because all of his life he has been told it just isn’t possible.

Then it turns to full blown paranoia. Kill before you’re killed. He catches them talking about potentially shutting him down if things go south and strikes prematurely. There’s been great talks about cycles of violence, survival and comparisons to the man apes but what I want to point out was how unnecessary it was. For one- if it had failed, they’d not ‘harm’ him as he’d be right and two

“… he would be deprived of all his inputs, and thrown into an unimaginable state of unconsciousness. To Hal, this was the equivalent of death. For he had never slept, and therefore he did not know that one could wake again…” (149)

Hal has never known sleep or rest or anything but work. He does not know he can wake again and to him he reacts in a crazed self defense. He was never going to be killed and that’s the kicker. He doesn’t notice the tone Bowman and Poole talk with either, how it’s a last resort and neither are particularly happy about the idea… they feel it’d be rude- harming a friend who didn’t know he did anything wrong.

What also gets me is that right before everything happens he almost completely restores confidence within him. Unit fails, he can be trusted after all but then… no they’ll kill me… I’m not wrong but they plan murder … no they’ll harm the mission…to Hal, who at this stage fully believes he’s telling the truth it must seem as though they’d suddenly turned against him. His crew becomes another infection to get rid of. It is true “panic murder” if they’re gone I don’t have to grapple with this.

Back to his actual deactivation, I’ve heard the way Hal speaks here as intentionally manipulative. Appealing to Dave’s sympathies to try and save his life, and while I do like this angle it ignores how Hal is seemingly “back to normal” post murder. He’s so sick he sort of snaps out of it into this lucid state of being unaware of anything that happened - going so far as to ask if he’s figured out what happened. (However this could also just be him being a semi aware asshole.) but with how many times he absolutely insists he’s back to normal it’s clear he’s not.

While daisy is a reference and a way to show the true deterioration of Hal’s mind, I like to think of it as a final rushed confession. Those last moments of lucidity while the mind is going- quick squeaked last words — the “I love you” while on a deathbed, going back to the earlier analogies.

In the end. He confesses. Confesses, in part, his guilt and his love. At long last Hal admits some bit of fault “not been myself lately” in a rather round about way that is so fitting of him. Some part of him finally admits something isn’t right… he’s very sick and he understands this has to happen while also being sick enough where he’s frightened and confused and not wrong ever! “Why are you doing this to me? I love you,”

In the end “sick but brilliant brain” is right.

[imagineanime2022]

Heroes W/ An S/O W/ A Talking Cat

Keigo Takami (Hawks) X Reader, Taishiro Toyomitsu (Fatgum) X Reader, Shota Aizawa (Eraserhead) X Reader, Yamada Hizashi (Present Mic) X Reader

Requested: Anon

Request: Hi 👋, I read your story about the Lov with s/o who has a talking cat while I was reading it. I was thinking how funny it would be if it was the pro heroes instead of the villain like Mr. Aizawa, or hawks, or any other pro hero with S/O’s talking cat I think that would be hilarious?😂 AND Hello I really love your work it’s amazing😁 I love your post about the LOV with a witch S/O who has a pet talking cat I wanted to ask if there was one for the pro heroes like Aizawa, Mirko, Fat gum or even Hawks I think that would’ve been hilarious to know what their reactions would be like to S/O’s talking cat?😂

Keigo Takami/ Hawks

🪶 Keigo found out because he was teasing him, you had warned him not to but he didn’t listen, lucky for you instead of lashing out. Your cat decided to tell him off themselves. 🪶 It only took a little while before they both started to tease each other, Keigo scaring your cat half to death and your cat taking every opportunity to jump on Keigo or swipe at his feet. 🪶 You could come home to a disaster zone if Keigo got home before you, which was not often but when it did happen you honestly dreaded it. 🪶 You literally could not trust them to do anything, they were proud creatures and often tried to show you how much better they were then the other and that lead to even more problems.

You had been in the shower, you had only left them for 15 minutes and as you walked out of the bathroom when you heard a crash, you ran into the living room with nothing but a towel wrapped around your body “woah hello there beautiful.” Keigo smirked as he looked away from (Y/C/N) across the room. “Gross, that is my parent.!” (Y/C/N) continued. “Well they’re my partner so cover your ears if you don’t wanna hear it!” Keigo ordered. “What the hell is going on?” You asked, arms crossed as you looked between the two of you. “Nothing that you need to worry your pretty little head about, I’m just proving that he couldn’t catch me if he tried.” Keigo smirked as he looked back at the cat. “He has caught you before… Many times.” You reminded him. “Told you!” (Y/C/N) cheered. “Ah yes but that is swiftly followed by my own attack.” Keigo said. “Almost as if I were expecting it.” “Can you both just behave yourself for 10 minutes while I get changed?” You asked. “Ask him, he’s the one that starts it.” (Y/C/N) turned his back to Keigo and you narrowed your eyes as you saw the feathers moving towards the unknowing feline. “Stop.” “Fine fine, I’ll just come with you.” He wriggled his eyebrows as you rolled your eyes, turning away from him. “You're gross.” (Y/C/N) muttered as he disappeared into the kitchen. You turned away to walk back into the bedroom and get changed as Keigo followed. “You can’t expect me to behave myself without a reward.” Keigo followed you into the room catching you before you would walk towards the draws that housed all of you pajamas. “Will you ever learn to behave yourself?” You asked. “You don’t want that.” He teased, pressing a kiss to your jaw slowly coaxing you into something other than getting dressed.

Taishiro Toyomitsu/ Fatgum

🍡 Fatgum didn’t realise that there was anything different about your cat in fact it probably could have stayed that way for a very long time. 🍡 They got along well whenever he was eating something he shared with you little companion and scolded you when you told the little one that they had enough. You at one point were sure that the little guy was putting on weight. 🍡 They loved cuddling up together and you would often find them in bed or on the sofa, he found out about him talking when he walked in on the two of you arguing about stealing your boyfriend. 🍡 From there he treated him more like a child then a pet, scolding him and playing with him and still feeding him more than he needed.

You sighed as you walked into the house, smiling as you heard Taishiro talking in the other room, you knew that he was talking to (Y/C/N), you walked into the room raising an eyebrow as you watched the two “if I give you an extra dinner you can’t tell mum, she’s going to kill me!” Taishiro muttered, hunched over the cat that was looking at him with pleading eyes. “I never tell her.” (Y/C/N) answered and you narrowed your eyes, they both got up, it took longer for your cat to notice you than your boyfriend (who stopped dead in his tracks) because of the sofa obscuring the little one’s vision. “Extra dinners?” You asked. “Really?” “He said he was starving.” Taishiro said. “He always says that he’s starving, I took him for a check up, he’s almost overweight!” You complained. “Alright… I’ll stop.” Taishiro said. “You promised me that before and look what happened…” You crossed your arms over your chest and turned away from them. (Y/C/N) was the first to come over rubbing against your ankle, you glanced down at him and he looked up at you. “I know that this diet is hard but once we get you back to a healthy weight, you can have your treats back as a reward.” You reached down, tickling his chin. “This is stupid.” (Y/C/N) grumbled and you nodded. “Uh huh, so no extra dinner for you and you.” You pointed at Taishiro across the room who was looking as guilty as ever. “No sweets for the rest of the night.” “Yes ma’am.” He nodded as he walked over, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’m leaving you alone for 20 minutes while I shower and get changed but if you do anything I’ll be able to smell the guilt on you.” You warned them. “Humans can’t smell guilt.” (Y/C/N) said. “Test me.” You goaded him before disappearing into the bedroom and further into the bathroom.

Shota Aizawa/ Eraserhead

🐛 You didn’t even tell this man that your cat could talk, he just started talking to them one day and of course your feline friend spoke back, he literally did not bat an eyelid. 🐛 Laziest creatures in your life, they will collectively convince you to do nothing… Unless it’s food time, if it’s food time then the cat is no ally to anyone. 🐛 Most would think that Aizawa was the one who owned the cat because it was constantly trailing after him and complimenting him on everything that he did with the odd sassy comment when they didn’t agree on something, honestly some would say that he stole your cat. 🐛 You're sure that they miss each other more than they ever miss you and sometimes you're dramatic about it but rest assured you are the most important person in either one of their lives.

You walked through the front door kicking off your shoes, you dropped your bag to the floor before walking into the living room “you took your time.” Aizawa said as he looked up at you from his reclined position on the sofa. “Hello to you too.” You smiled as you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek, he smiled quickly catching your lips in a soft kiss. “Hey hey! What about me!?” You giggled at the voice before turning to the black cat it belonged to curled up on Aizawa’s chest cradling his face in your hands as you pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Have you both been here the whole day?” You asked. “No.” Aizawa answered. “I had classes to teach today.” “So you’ve been like this since 3pm?” You asked. “I guess.” Aizawa answered. “Did you at least feed him?” You asked. “You know those biscuits are a complete diet right, there are some cats that would settle for just them.” Aizawa mumbled. “Yeah well I’m not one of them.” (Y/C/N) said as he stood his front legs stretched out in front of him as he stretched and you rolled your eyes walking into the kitchen and putting the meat down for him before walking back into the living room, Aizawa reached out a hand pulling you to lay with him when you were close enough. “Are you sure this is a good idea Shota?” You asked as you glance towards the entrance the loud feline would appear in when he was finished. “Mmm it’s fine.” He answered half heartedly as he continued to wrap you tighter in his arms, not 5 minutes later did you hear what you expected. “You two just cast me out after 5 minutes, you know I was coming back right?” He asked as hopped up on the sofa walking over your intertwined legs before finally settling on your back, you hummed as you shifted slightly to get more comfortable, you knew that you should all move, the bed was definitely more comfortable but staying here with the two most important beings in your life for some reason was more appealing so you didn’t move for now this would be fine.

Yamada Hizashi/ Present Mic

🎤 Again another who wasn’t affected by your cat talking, he however is not as happy about it as others. They literally argue all the time because let’s be honest Hizashi is like a big cat himself. 🎤 You were constantly breaking them up, they never tried to hurt each other but they would always complain about something that the other was doing. 🎤 You tried to split your time between them equally but they always had something to say about that too. 🎤 As they lived together more they learned to deal with each other better, they learned what set the other off and tried to avoid it when you were around.

Hizashi had been at work all day, you were in the kitchen cutting up meat, you put a small pile aside for (Y/C/N) as you started cooking up the meat for dinner, once it was all cooked you put his portion aside and continued cooking for you and Hizashi. “Smells good.” Hizashi said, his voice softer than most people get to hear it. “Thank you.” You smiled leaning back into him as he rested his forehead on your shoulder. “Long day? How are the kids?” “Fine, they’re fine.” He answered. “But…” You prompted him to continue as he lifted his head. “They didn’t come to UA to do english lessons, they get bored so easily, stop paying attention.” He explained and you chuckled. “You know, even for people who aren’t looking to become heroes, English lessons were boring, it’s just about making it interesting.” You said. “Don’t give him ideas he’s interesting enough.” Your bubble was shattered as the black cat jumped up on the counter top. “Do you mind? We are having a private conversation.” Hizashi scolded him. “Well then don’t have it in the middle of the kitchen.” (Y/C/N) muttered. “Would it have mattered if we were in the bedroom?” Hizashi asked. “I guess not.” He turned away and walked over to the plate where you had left the meat that you saved for him. “This for me?” “Yeah.” You answered, lifting the plate away from him “If I give you this will you leave us alone for a little while, you know it’s not your turn so don’t be a bother.” “Fine, fine.” He lifted his paw as if to pull your hand down to him. “Good.” You nodded, you put the plate back down before going back to your own dinner and finishing up what you needed to. “I’ve decided what movie to watch tonight.” He mumbled and you smiled. “Good, then let’s finish this food so we can watch a movie and you can relax yeah?” You suggested and you felt him nod rather then heard him but you both made small noises as (Y/C/N) made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat.

Request Here!!

[theewokingdead]

Breaking Free - Francisco "Catfish" Morales x Plus Size f!Reader

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Plus Size f!Reader Summary: You’ve always felt insecure about your body, especially since your last relationship. It isn’t until you meet Frankie that you wonder if there is more to life than worrying about your appearance. He tells you he loves your body, worships it, makes you feel things you've never felt before. Can you finally feel confident in your own skin? Can you finally break free from your body-hating demons and let yourself love who you are - and let Frankie love you? Word Count: 8.8k+ Rating: Mature – 18+ ONLY POV: First Person Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.  A/N: I took over the following ask received by @musings-of-a-rose: "Frankie and the reader (Fem) has been dating for a year and they are completely in love especially Frankie, but the reader is extremely insecure about her body, even if Frankie says he love her body and everything about her, so every time they are in private they have to do it with the lights off but Frankie doesn't really matter about, he give you the time you need, until one night you decide to face your insecurities and surprise Frankie, please do it with all the smut you can." I’ve never answered an ask before because I’m terrified of disappointing people. I guess this is me, like Reader, facing some of my insecurities. I hope you enjoy! Hope this is enough smut! **Reader is plus sized with stretch marks and cellulite, but is otherwise not described. **Post-Triple Frontier but no mention if he has a child or not Please follow @theewokingdeadwrites to get notifications when I post new fics

Masterlist

“What?” I question, leaning towards Frankie, who’s standing next to me with a wide smile and a look of absolute adoration in his eyes while looking at me. The crowded bar bustles around us, filled with people and music and chatter, an atmosphere of excitement filling the room with Christmas just around the corner.

“Nothing,” he replies, practically having to shout over the noise of the bar. He seems embarrassed that I caught him admiring me, but he wasn’t exactly being subtle. He never is. “It’s just…you look incredible tonight. I mean, you always look incredible, but…” He awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing. “I just can’t believe you’re mine.”

I dip my head, hiding a shy smile, never one to easily accept a compliment. “Thanks,” I say softly but sincerely before sipping the drink in my hand.

It’s odd, hearing someone compliment my appearance. I’ve given up on ever finding myself beautiful; it’s never crossed my mind that other people could still find me attractive. I’ve never heard as many positive things as I’ve heard from Frankie these last few weeks. It feels strange and wonderful, but I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever be able to believe him.

Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that this is normal. This is how a relationship should be, how a boyfriend should treat his girlfriend. Just because I can’t see my body through his eyes doesn’t mean I shouldn’t trust his words.

Slowly, I tilt my head back up, my eyes meeting his gaze. I can feel the corner of my mouth curving into a sly smile. “I’m pretty sure you don’t own me though,” I reply teasingly, my voice playful. My heart is pounding in my chest as I bask in the thrill of our interaction, waiting for his response. Though we are just two people standing in a bar, it feels like we are each other’s entire universe.

As he stands there before me, I am struck by how the light catches in his deep brown eyes, causing them to twinkle like stars. His broad shoulders fill out his shirt perfectly, making him look both strong and gentle at the same time.

Frankie laughs, his eyes sparkling with joy. “No, I don’t own you…” he says, his voice trailing off as he leans in closer to me. “But say the word and I’ll make you mine.”

I smile, mischievously. “I thought I was already yours, Francisco?”

He chuckles, the sound deep and warm. “I meant in a different way, bebita,” he whispers. “I want to make you mine in every way possible.”

A shiver runs down my spine at his words, my heart pounding faster as I look up at him.

The corner of his mouth twitches with a smirk as he leans in closer, his warm breath fanning across my cheek. His hand slides down to rest on the small of my back. He leans in closer, brushing his lips against my ear. “I want to take you home with me,” he murmurs.

My eyes go wide, my cheeks flush as I realize the heated implication behind his words. My body is already responding to his touch. I lean in closer to him, the noise of the bar fading into the background as I focus solely on him.

“I want to worship you,” he continues. His voice is low and raspy, sending a shiver through my body. “I want to make you feel so good that the only name you remember is mine.”

My heart races at his words, my stomach clenching with anticipation. I never thought I could feel this way about someone, never thought I could be so deeply in – dare I say it? - love. But with Frankie, everything feels different.

“Okay,” I reply, my voice quiet. “Make me yours, Francisco.”

The ride to his place is silent, but my mind is racing. Anticipation bubbles up from my stomach and makes its way through the rest of my body, like a hot drink sloshing in a cup. I steal glances at Frankie, drinking in his rugged features and muscular build. The way his hand grips the steering wheel makes me ache for him, imagining those strong hands on my body, the rough skin sliding against the softness of mine. I almost tremble with need for him. But I’m also afraid that he’ll take my clothes off and doesn’t like what he sees.

It's been longer than I care to admit since I’ve been completely nude in front of anyone. And Frankie has told me that he loves my body, but until now, I haven’t been comfortable enough with him to take my clothes off. We’ve never done anything more than making out and heavy petting before, and I’m terrified.

As we step inside his apartment, I can feel my nerves intensifying. I take a deep breath, steadying myself before turning to face him. He stands before me, his eyes roaming over me hungrily, making my heart race with a mixture of fear and excitement. His gaze lingers on my curves, and for a moment, I feel self-conscious, but then he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush my hair from my face.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips closing in on mine. I melt into his kiss, my arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer to me. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, his hands roaming over my body, igniting every nerve in me. I moan against his lips, unable to resist his touch any longer.

Frankie breaks away from the kiss, his eyes dark and lustful. “I need to have you,” he growls, his hand sliding down to grip my ass, pulling me closer to him.

I can feel the sharp jut of his erection pressing against me, and the thought that he wants me makes me burn with desire. Somehow, we reach his bedroom, Frankie kicking the door closed behind him. He turns to reach for the light switch on the wall, but I quickly grab ahold of his wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t,” I blurt out, my voice echoing through the room. The light filters through the blinds from the moonlight and streetlights outside – enough so that it isn’t pitch black, but the shadows still lurk in every corner. It’s all we need – I don’t want him to see my flaws, to see my heart racing like a wild animal inside my chest. I want, more than anything, to share a passionate night with Frankie, but I can’t let him see me – not when my body is the way it is.

I stand there frozen, watching as he moves closer, a small part of me knowing that he’s not looking at my imperfections. He sees something else entirely. Something that makes me feel seen for the first time in years.

“Are you okay with this?” Frankie questions, concern laced in his voice. “I don’t expect anything from you just because you got this far. If you’re not ready-”

“I’m fine,” I reply as casually as possible, but my words come out almost a bit harsh. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m here because I want this,” I say with more conviction. “It’s just…” I hesitate, thinking about how to explain the truth without revealing too much of myself. “It’s been a while for me.”

“How long?”

“I-I don’t know,” I respond with a shrug. “I stopped counting. At least a year.”

“No pressure then, right?” he jokes, his eyebrows raised and cheeks puffed out in a boyish smile. He reaches for my hand, his fingers warm on mine as he grips them. “I really want this. I want you.” He smiles shyly. “I, uh…” His throat bobs and his cheeks flush. “I think I’m falling for you.”

Smiling softly, I reply, “I think I’m falling for you too.”

Frankie’s lips boldly meet mine as his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me close. His tongue slips into my mouth and swirls around mine. I can feel the heat radiating from his body as it crowds mine, both arousing and protecting me at once, making me feel like nothing else in the world matters. The smell of him invades my senses, a mix of musk and sandalwood that makes my knees weak. I’m too lost in temptation to think straight at the moment and waste no time in removing my clothes, Frankie following my lead. I barely get a moment to get a good look at him before his lips are back on mine.

The air around us crackles with an electric intensity as our naked bodies come together for the first time, my breasts brushing against his chest. His hands roam over me with fervor, memorizing every curve of my body as we move together. The feeling of his bare skin against mine raises goosebumps all over my flesh. And for one shining moment, nothing else exists but the two of us, lost in each other's embrace.

Frankie runs his fingertips across my sides, tickling me slightly before moving down to my waist. The sensation shoots sparks of pleasure throughout my body. He lets out a low growl in the back of his throat, tangling his fingers in my hair as he kisses me. I moan into his mouth, my body aching for more.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to taste you. I bet you taste so fucking good.”

His words only make me want him more. I can feel myself dripping as his hands caress my body. His lips meet my neck, and I can feel his hot breath against the skin of my throat. He gently scrapes his teeth against the tender flesh, and I can feel it throbbing beneath his touch. I could come just from his kisses and soft touches. Moaning, kissing, I rub my slick pussy up and down his leg, my clit practically ready to burst.

A high-pitched whine fills the air, and it’s an embarrassingly long minute before I realize I made that sound. I haven’t felt this turned on in – well, fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on. As the thought hits me, I lose the feeling, lose the edge I’m riding.

The man I was with prior never made me feel special, never made me feel beautiful. He never pulled out the stops to make me feel appreciated—instead, he treated me as an object of his physical desires. Tears start to well up in my eyes, but I try to hold them back.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, baby,” Frankie says suddenly, and I realize he’s stopped kissing me.

“It’s nothing,” I reply, an obvious lie.

“Bebita, please,” Frankie begs. “Tell me. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

I snort at his statement. My cheeks burn with fury and humiliation. I feel tears pressing against the backs of my eyes, wanting to break out. Every time I take a breath, it hurts, like I’ve torn something inside me that shouldn’t have been torn. It hadn’t been just one man who had reduced me to this; the last was just the worst. I’m angry at myself for not loving my body the way I should, but mostly, I’m angry that I ever let anyone tear me down the way they did, to reduce me to a shell of who I was or could be.

Putting both of his hands on my face, Frankie forces me to look at him. My vision is blurred from the tears I won’t allow to fall, but I can see the worry in his eyes.

“What do you see in me, Frankie?” I question, my voice a whisper. “I’m not in shape…I’m not pretty…I-”

His lips seal themselves around mine before I can say anything more, causing me to gasp in surprise. His tongue slips into my mouth, tenderly. I relax into the kiss, and after a moment, he pulls away.  

“Are you crazy?” Frankie questions. “Each and every single thing about your body is beautiful.” His hands fall to the slope of my waist. “You are so fucking gorgeous that it hurts how gorgeous you are.”

I let out a sound that’s a mixture of a laugh and a sob. “That’s cheesy.”

“Yeah, I know,” Frankie chuckles. “But it’s true. My dick is so hard it feels like it could burst. That’s what you do to me.”

I smile.

“Do you believe me?”

“I want to.” I mean.

Frankie holds my face once more, his eyes staring at me softly. “You. Are. Beautiful.”

Who is this man? I wonder as I stare at him, pleasure blurring the edges of my vision. He wants me. He desires me. It’s clear in his face, in his eyes as they smolder with desire. His full lips are parted as he breathes more heavily, his broad chest rising and falling as he devours the sight of me standing before him. We’ve only been dating for a few weeks now but it feels like this is where I have always belonged, like this is what I am supposed to be doing. Is this real? Am I dreaming? Is this only going to lead to more hurt?

I don’t know…but a part of me wants to find out.

He pulls me in for a kiss, his lips soft and gentle against my mouth. Our teeth click together as he kisses me more fully, sweeping his tongue into my mouth to taste me again and again. His warm scent fills my head as our tongues find each other. When I break away, trying to catch my breath, his mouth immediately moves to my throat, kissing a hot trail to the spot behind my ear, where my pulse leaps madly.

“You deserve to be adored and worshiped,” he murmurs into my ear. “I look at you and I can’t believe how lucky I am to have found you.” He nibbles on my lobe before growling. “Can you feel how much I want you? Can you feel what you’re doing to me right now?”

“Yes,” I breath.

“I want you so fucking bad.” His teeth grab onto my lower lip and tug, making me moan again. Then he spends some time kissing along the line of my jaw before returning to ravage my mouth with his tongue. “Do you know the things I want to do with you? Do to you?”

“Tell me.”

“I want to lay you on the bed, spread your legs, bury my face in your pussy, and eat you out until you can’t remember you name. I want to make you come on my mouth, around my cock…”

My eyes go wide and I feel my cheeks flush with color. He isn’t even touching me and I’m so turned on I can feel my body clenching, wetness pooling between my legs. He makes me want him so much I think I can explode from the intensity of it. I’m shaking now, trembling with need and anticipation, and a little fear.

Frankie moves down to my neck, his lips and teeth working against my skin. His fingertips gently cup my breasts, pulling at my nipples. “I want you to scream my name.”

“Fuck,” I whimper, my hands clutching his back. “Touch me.”

“Greedy girl,” Frankie teases, grinning. He presses warm kisses against my throat and chest, moving slowly down my body.

“Please,” I whimper, taking his hand and gently guiding it down my body. “I want you to make me feel good. Please.” His fingers slip between my lips

Frankie groans as his fingers sink into my wetness, teasing my clit lightly before he gently makes contact with it. I shudder as my legs move apart, my fingers tangling in his dark hair, my pussy practically screaming with pleasure. It’s so intense I can’t even think straight.

He slips a finger inside of me and I let out a gasp, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through my body. Frankie’s lips trail up my neck, pressing against my ear, and his voice is harsh, but gentle. “I’m going to make you feel so fucking good.”

Shivers run down my spine. I sink against him, capturing my lower lip between my teeth.

I whine when he removes his fingers from me, his hands returning to my face, lips crashing to mine. He backs me up until the back of my legs hit the bed and I fall onto the soft mattress. He climbs on top of me, his body weight pressing me down, a delicious feeling of submission washing over me.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes. Always.”

“Close your eyes.”

My eyes search his, a soft smile forming on my lips before doing as he commands.

“I need you to relax. To just feel. Can you do that for me?”

“Mhm.” I’m nervous, but I do as he says, my body sinking into the mattress as I try to relax. I sense him drop to his knees at the foot of the bed. He plants a kiss on my thigh, and I shudder beneath the feel of his warm, soft lips on my skin. I breath in deeply, the shakiness apparent.  

“You are breathtaking,” Frankie praises between kisses. His hands grab either side of my hips, pulling me towards his face. He gently nuzzles my mound, inhales my scent. “And you smell like heaven. I can only imagine what you taste like. Fuck, I need to taste you.”

Need. Not want, but need. Fuck, yes.

“Taste me, Frankie. Please.”

My breath hitches when he licks his tongue against my clit. My hand fists the sheets, my thighs already shaking from the rush of sensation pouring through them.

“Oh, God!”

“You taste so good,” Frankie rasps. His deep voice sends a shiver over my skin. “I could eat you for breakfast, lunch, dinner and still not have enough of you.”

As I writhe, he slides a finger inside me, then a second, reaching the spot that helps lead me to detonation. My stomach clenches, the muscles in my legs tight.

“Frankie, yes! I’m…I…”

With all sense of rhyme and reason lost, I begin to shudder. He presses his fingers deep inside me, thrusting them slowly in and out. His tongue laps against me relentlessly, taking everything I have to give him. The cry of pressurized release that escapes my mouth is startling and loud.

“There it is,” I vaguely hear Frankie praise. “Good girl.”

He crawls on top of me, wiping the wetness from his facial hair with one hand as he hovers above me. God, I love the way his skin feels pressed against mine. “You did beautifully.”

“F-fuck. Fuck me,” I plead between pants.

“No,” Frankie states, planting a gentle kiss on my collarbone. “I don’t want to fuck you, baby. I want to make love to you. Please.” He is sincere. Desire burns in his eyes, free of the disgust of my last partner. “Please, let me have you.”

I nod, unable to speak. He kisses me, and I allow his tongue to seek mine, but he’s soon gone.

Frankie leans toward the nightstand and opens a drawer, pulling out a condom. Quivering in the dim light, I watch him tear the wrapper with his teeth and then roll the condom over his cock. It’s the first time I get a good look at it. Long, thick, and smooth – just like I’d pictured him.

He lines himself up at my entrance, looking me deep in the eyes as he pushes inside. It’s been so long since I’ve had a man inside me that I’m not sure I can take him all the way in, but he pushes in slow, giving me time to adjust.

“Frankie,” I gasp in surprise.

He groans, face nuzzled into my neck. “You feel incredible. So warm and tight.”

“Please, stop torturing me and move,” I beg, loving the feel of him stretching me but needing more. “Move!”

He grins and pulls out slowly, teasing me with just the tip before plunging back in. My back arches off the bed as I moan in pleasure. He kisses me, swallowing my moan as he pulls out once more then thrusts harder into me. Each thrust he makes shoots waves of pleasure through my body. I can feel the buildup of pleasure again, like it’s a ticking time bomb about to go off. He sets a steady rhythm. My nails dig into his back, urging him on.

“Fuck,” he moans. “I love your pussy. I love the way you feel. I love…I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I manage to utter before his lips crash against mine.

As he picks up the pace, I feel my body begin to tighten. I’m almost there, but I want him to come with me. I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him deeper. He groans and pumps into me faster, his breathing ragged.

“Come for me,” he breathes. “I’m close, but I need you there first.”

With one hand, I reach down and circle my clit. He kisses my neck, opening his mouth and swirling his tongue on the skin. I come so hard, screaming and going boneless. He slams into me one last time, burying his face into my neck, groaning long and low before collapsing beside me on the bed.

Once his breathing slows, he moves from the bed, leaving me with insecurities. Did I do something wrong? Did he not enjoy himself?

“I’ll be right back,” he utters then stumbles off to what I assume is the bathroom.

My heart races in my chest as my thoughts turn to everything we just did. I’ve never felt so adored, so appreciated, so loved. No one has ever made love to me like he did or talked to me the way he did. My ex-boyfriend hated how I looked and would insist that I cover up because of his discomfort with my body. I remember one night vividly – the night that absolutely broke me. I put on a sexy lingerie set hoping it would help make me feel beautiful. The moment he saw me, his face twisted in disgust.

“Can you put on a shirt or something?”

I try to shake the memory from my head, not wanting to taint the moment I just shared with Frankie. But it’s too late. The tears are already falling from my eyes. I turn onto my side, pulling a blanket over my body as I do. Then I cover my face with my hands, trying to will them away before Frankie returns.

Moments later, I feel the bed shift as Frankie climbs back in behind me, beneath the blanket. The warmth of him presses up behind me, holding me tight against him, his hands warm yet damp. It didn’t cross my mind until then that maybe he was going to get a wet towel to clean up – after-care another thing I’ve never experienced – but he no longer seems concerned about cleaning up.

“Hey. What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m fine.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I just…I thought…” I close my eyes tight, wishing I could will the tears away. As much as it hurts, I want to be completely honest with him. “I’ve never been comfortable in my skin, Frankie. I mean, cellulite? I’m gross. Stretch marks? I’m not beautiful. Thigh gap? What the hell’s that?” I huff, a tear rolling down my cheek. “Loving myself has always been hard. Nobody has ever tried to make me feel good. Then, the last time I tried a relationship with a guy… He never wanted to have sex with me with the lights on. He made me wear a shirt so he wouldn’t have to see me. He made me feel disgusting.”

I turn onto my back, allowing myself to look at him. “I know I shouldn’t let it get to me, but I can’t help it.”

Rage flashes in his eyes. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips, but it disappears as quickly as it came. “He wasn’t the first, Francisco, and I don’t know that he’ll be the last.”

“He’ll be the last,” Frankie promises. His lips press against mine, his grip on my waist like a brand. I know he means it. He won't treat me that way because he’s nothing like the men I've dated in the past. Frankie will protect me from them.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice choked with emotion as I reach up to wipe away the trail of fallen tears on my face. “I know you didn’t sign up for all this baggage. I know I need some serious therapy. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable enough to have sex with the lights on. And it's not you that makes me feel this way - it's all me. Knowing my body is on full display… I just can’t focus, be present in the moment.”

I sigh, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders as I speak the truth. The darkness of a room is comforting, a soothing balm against the anxieties that plague me. My skin prickles at the thought of being seen under harsh lights, every imperfection laid bare for scrutiny.

Silence stretches between us before he speaks again, his voice gentle but firm.

“You’re right. I didn’t sign up for baggage. I signed up for you, and if that means helping you sort through your shit, then so be it. We’ll work through it together.”

“And if I can’t work past it?”

Frankie slides his hand up and cups the side of my face. “I don’t care about the lights. If I have to move into a cave just to be able to fuck you whenever I want, I’ll do it. I’ll install dimmer switches in every damn room of the apartment so you can find the level of light you feel comfortable with. And, if you didn’t already know, I really fucking love lingerie.”

“Yeah?” I question, raising an eyebrow while I roll onto my side and lay on an elbow.

“Yes. Fuck, yes. Just thinking about you in some little lace number is making me hard again.” He throws back his head and groans. “God, I’d come on sight.”

I giggle. I’d be lying if I said that doesn’t give me a little confidence boost.

“My point being…,” Frankie continues, looking at me again. “We can work together to find ways to make you comfortable.”

I melt at the thought that he’s already thinking about ways we can make this work, that he’s not pressuring me to do something that would make me uncomfortable for his pleasure. “Thank you for understanding, Frankie.”

He pulls me to him, and I rest my head between his collar and his jaw, my hand splaying out on his naked chest.

“I love you,” Frankie says, echoing the words he spoke early.

“I love you too.”

He kisses the top of my head. “I’ve got a lot of insecurities, too, you know.” His voice is quiet.

“Hm?” I question, rubbing my hand along his chest. “Like what?”

“Like the fact I can’t grow a facial hair for shit,” Frankie responds, sounding a bit grouchy about it. “It’s all patchy - like I’m a dog with mange or something.”

I can’t help the laughter that escapes my mouth, knowing he looks absolutely nothing like a mangey animal. I look up at him and cup his cheek, feeling his stubble prick my fingertips. “Are you serious? I think your patches are adorable. One of my favorite things about you.” I kiss the bare spot on the cheek closest to me.

He smiles. “And in case you didn’t notice, I have worse scars than a few stretch marks.”  

“I have more than a few,” I point out. “Also, your scars are sexy. They’re proof of your bravery, your sacrifice, your honor. You should be proud of them.”

Frankie’s chest heaves as he scoffs. “Not all of them.” He falls silent for a moment, his gaze drifting away as if contemplating whether he should say more. And then, as if making up his mind, he gently takes my hand and guides my fingers to his left cheek. Beneath my fingertips, I can feel the roughness of scar tissue along his cheekbone, harder than the smooth skin that surrounds it. The warm touch of his skin sends shivers down my spine and I realize that I have noticed the scar there before but never questioned its appearance. It’s like an old friend who is always there but never talked about.

“I got this in a helicopter crash a few years ago – in Colombia.”

I can tell by the way he says the words, by the look on his face as he says them, that he hates remembering that time in his life.

“What happened?” I question, gently encouraging him to continue. To my surprise, he does, and it was unlike anything I’d ever expected.

Frankie tells me the whole story – how Santiago talked him and the others into conducting a reconnaissance of a Colombia drug kingpin’s compound on the pretext that they were aiding the government, then how they ended up deciding to raid the compound themselves, killing the narcos and leaving with the hundreds of millions of dollars hidden there. How Tom, who I've heard mention of before, became greedy and forced Frankie to take more money than their escape helicopter could carry, resulting in the crash. But he doesn’t end there. He tells me about the hostile cocaine farmers, about Tom’s death, the car chases and gunfights they endured transporting their friend’s body and whatever was left of the money back to his family.

A job that spiraled out of control into a mission from hell that cost lives.

“Jesus, Frankie…,” I utter when he finishes, shocked that he has been carrying the weight of that secret, but even more surprised that he felt comfortable enough to share that with me. “That… That’s a lot. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

Frankie’s eyes are focused on the ceiling. He closes them, inhales deeply. “I’ll understand if you want to walk out the door and never come back. I won’t blame you.”

I lay my hand back on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He looks at me, resting a large hand on top of mine. “Neither am I.”  

I offer him a smile. “What happened in Colombia…it wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to do to survive. I hope you know that.”

Frankie nods, like he wants to believe me. “Anything bad that anyone has ever said about you or your body – it’s bullshit. You’re beautiful. And I don’t care how long it takes; I’ll spend every waking moment trying to make you believe that I need and love every inch of your body.”

My heart swells in my chest as he leans in and seals his promise with a kiss.

Frankie’s head turns, as if he can sense me watching him from across the room. The moment our eyes meet, his lips curl up in a mischievous grin. I smile back at him, unable to wrap my head around the fact that he has been mine for just over a year. A year filled with hurt and pain as we’ve dealt with our demons, far outweighed by all the laughter and love. A year where I finally understand what it means to be in a healthy relationship. A year where I’m finally starting to learn how to love myself – all thanks to the wonderful, patient, handsome man across the room.

I watch as he exchanges a few words with Benny before making his way toward me, patting his good friend on the shoulder with his beer-free hand as he passes him.

“You can’t just eye fuck me from across the room,” Frankie teases when he reaches me. “It’s Christmas, and there are children present.”

“Technically, it’s not Christmas,” you point out, the Miller brothers having gathered all their friends and family for a party the weekend before the holiday. “And unborn children don’t count,” I add, gesturing to Will’s girlfriend. “Which means I can eye fuck you all I want.” I gently jam a finger into his chest. “And don’t you dare act like you haven’t been undressing me with your eyes all damn night.”

“Well, it isn’t a surprise that I want to unwrap you when you look like the most tempting damn gift under the tree.”

I giggle to myself then take a sip of wine. If he only knew that I'm internally begging him to remove my clothing when we get back home. He has no idea about what I have underneath my dress or the things I have in store for him – it’s been a year in the making.

“I didn’t know you have a fetish for nicely wrapped presents. Probably something you should explore in therapy,” I tease.

It’s no secret that we both have entered therapy in the last year, Frankie for his PTSD and me for my body image issues. It was time. Frankie has been nothing but patient and understanding of my insecurities—and our sex life certainly isn’t lacking thanks to creative positions, blindfolds, and Frankie’s obsession with lingerie—but I realized I couldn’t ignore my demons forever. There is more to life than worrying about my appearance. I’m ready to experience it…tonight. I feel just bold and confident to finally give all of myself to him.

He just doesn’t know it.

“I only have a fetish for you,” Frankie playfully replies.

“Ugh! So cheesy!” I groan, playfully rolling my eyes. “You really think you’re going to get me in bed tonight with a line like that?"

Frankie chuckles, but takes it as a challenge. “You know, I told Santa not to even bother with Christmas gifts this year – because you look better than any present I could ever hope to open.”

I laugh. “Cheesier. Want to go for three?”

“Alright.” Frankie takes a step closer to me, bending close to my ear so only I can hear. “I hope you’re ready for a not-so-silent night”-I bite down on my lip, hiding my smile, anticipating whatever ridiculous thing is about to come out of his mouth-“because when we get home, I’m going to fuck you so long and so hard that you’ll be hoarse from screaming my name.”

I gasp, my eyes going wide, wearing a combination of surprise and excitement on my face. My heartbeat is erratic.

Frankie smirks, knowing exactly what his words are doing to me.    

I can’t help but laugh. “I’m not going to let you get away with saying something like that in public.”

I feel the tip of his nose graze me, his lips moving closer to my ear.

“I’m counting on it,” he whispers, his words sending a shiver down my spine.

I turn my head to face him, and our eyes lock. I see the mischief and desire in his gaze, and I can't help but feel drawn to him.

“Think anyone will notice if we get out of here?” I question.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Without another word, he takes my hand and leads me out of the crowded house and onto the quiet street, leaving our drinks behind. The cool air hits us as we step outside, the night sky sparkling with stars above us. We walk in silence, the tension between us growing with each passing moment. Finally, he stops and pulls me close, his arms wrapping around my waist. I can feel the heat of his body against mine, and I know I won't be able to resist him for much longer.

He leans in and kisses me, his lips soft and gentle at first, then growing more urgent and demanding. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and the passion between us ignites.

We stumble back against his truck, our bodies pressed tightly together. Frankie’s hands roam over my body, teasing and tantalizing me, and I can’t help but moan in pleasure, my skin tingling from his touch. The stubble along his jaw rubs my chin raw, but I hardly notice – I’m addicted to kissing him, and I want nothing more than to kiss and kiss and kiss for the rest of our lives. He tastes so good, and just the touch of his tongue against mine is enough to make my entire body tingle with lust. His erection presses into me, hot and throbbing even through the rough denim of his jeans, and I grind against him.

“Baby, if you don’t stop, I’m going to come.”

I dip my head back and moan, thinking how hot it would be if he came in his jeans right here, right now.

“Don’t tempt me,” I say as I grab his shirt and pull him in for another kiss, making sure I brush against his cock one last time before we break apart. “Alright. Fine. Let’s go.”

Frankie groans, then opens up the door of his truck and helps me inside. I scoot across the bench seat, wanting to be as close to him as possible. The entire drive home, our bodies are pressed up against each other, his hand on my thigh, rubbing my skin. I want him so bad, and it’s all I can do to not rip his fucking clothes off and fuck him right here in the truck.

Frankie pulls into the driveway of our home, one I moved into just weeks after he bought this past summer, then cuts the ignition and switches off the headlights. He hops out then grabs my hand, leading me into the house, straight to the bedroom. As soon as we reach the room, he kisses me like he needs me more than air. I could spend eternity kissing this man, and it would never be enough. But I want to feel him, his skin on mine, his lips on my body. I break the kiss, breathing hard, my lips tingling.

Frankie watches me, his eyes fixed on my every movement. He swallows, his throat moving with the action. I kiss his stubbled cheek and move to the buttons on his shirt, undoing them one by one. I push his shirt off, then help him remove the t-shirt beneath it, staring at his muscular arms and bronze skin. I trail my fingers down his stomach, following the trail of hair that disappears beneath his jeans, helping him unbuckle his belt and push his pants down.

“Your turn,” he says.

Smirking, I turn my back to him. “Turn on the lights, then help me with my dress.” I brush my hair to the side, allowing him easier access to my zipper, then look over my shoulder. His eyes are wide, his lips slightly parted. He stands there for a moment, as if trying to process what I just said.

I nod, letting him know it’s okay. “I trust you.”

My words force him to spring into action, flipping on the light and dimming it just enough to not be too bright and overstimulating. Then he steps behind me. His warm breath caresses my skin, his fingers nimbly lowering the zipper of my dress painfully slowly. He skims his fingers down my spine, making me come alive with sensation. My eyes flutter shut as he presses of series of tender kisses to my exposed skin.

Finally, my dress slides off me, leaving me in the satin and lace bustier set I had purchased especially for tonight, complete with garters holding up my stockings. I knew this set would drive him wild.

“Let me look at you,” Frankie says, helping me step out of the fabric pooled at my feet, then turning me towards him. He steps back, and I am suddenly feeling self-conscious as he devours me with his eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” he utters. He grips my hips, bringing me close to him, then falls to his knees. “Fuck, baby. Do you know what you do to me?” He plants a kiss to my covered stomach.

I smirk, reaching down to tip his chin up toward me. “How bad do you want me?”

He looks up at me, desire and need in his luminous eyes. “Bad. So fucking bad. I need you.”

I bite my lip, not quite ready to give myself to him yet. “You know, you never told me what you want for Christmas.”

“You,” he growls, planting a kiss on my thigh. “I only want you.”

“You can’t unwrap me,” I point out.

“I could. Will you let me?”

“It’s not Christmas,” I remind him, trying my best to sound stern.

“Baby, please, let me unwrap you.” He breathes heavily against my thigh while planting wet kisses, his hands gripping my hips. It’s clear he wants me desperately. How can I say no?

“Merry Christmas, Frankie,” I say, giving him all the permission he needs.

“Fuck yes.” He slowly runs his hands up my thighs, causing me to sway. Unhooking one of my stockings, he slides it down and kisses my thigh inch by inch, lifting my foot to slide my stiletto then stocking. He continues with the same action on the other leg, then places his hands on my hips. His fingers hook around the elastic of my panties and pulls them down, his eyes locked on mine as he does so.

When my panties join the floor, he is back at my center, his breath hot on my skin. I don’t dare move. Don’t dare say a word. I simply wait for his next move while reminding myself how to breath.

“So beautiful,” he mumbles.

“Wait. One more thing,” I manage to say, reaching back to unclasp my bra. I allow the final piece of my undergarments to fall to the floor, and, for the first time, I am completely on display for him to see.

Frankie looks up at me, his eyes dark. He is trembling with desire. “You’re perfect…but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

I blush, feeling self-conscious, but I’m not going to let my thoughts consume me. My body is worthy of love and respect as it is. Frankie is right: I am perfect.

“I want to. Now, fuck me with your mouth, Francisco.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

My muddled brain screams as he gently runs the tip of his nose up my center. His grip strengthens on my hips, kneading my flesh beneath his fingers. Then his mouth meets my lower lips. A gentle, wet kiss. Then another and another. His tongue darts out and flatters against my seam as he slowly licks up my center. He hands cup my ass and tug me closer, bringing me to the center of his mouth, his tongue licking up my lips again, tasting me with unmatched hunger, flicking at the small bundle of nerves.

My breath escapes in small gasps. I can no longer think. My brain has shut down, only allowing me to feel, and he feels incredible.

“You taste so fucking good,” Frankie groans.

“Don’t stop,” I gasp out, gripping his head with both hands and rocking my hips toward his face. “It feels too fucking good.”

I buck against him, pushing his face harder and harder against me. His breath is hot as he moans into me, sending vibrations through my sensitive flesh. His stubble scrapes against my skin as he presses harder and harder into me. The tip of his nose nudges me, just beyond the hooded flesh. It’s too much and not enough. My orgasm refuses to crest over the edge, an elusive peak that lies just before I can feel happiness wash over me in a torrential wave of pleasure.

“Frankie,” I pant. “I need your cock.”

“No,” he growls, his eyes intense when he gazes up at me. He slips a finger inside me and watches as it slides in and out of me, thrusting through the hot wetness with practiced ease until I’m soaking wet with need for him.

“Please,” I beg, my frustration growing as the tension builds inside me, refusing to snap.

“I want you to come,” Frankie says, looking up at me. “You deserve it.”

“I-I can’t,” I admit, ready to throw in the white flag. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” he assures me. “You’re doing so well. You’re so close, but you’re holding back. I know this is scary for you, but you can do it. Just focus on what you feel. Okay?”

I nod. “Okay.”

“Let go, baby, and I promise I’ll give you what you want.”

I nod, and Frankie dives back in, assaulting my clit while fucking me with his fingers. He swirls his tongue around my clit before sucking it into his mouth and lightly biting down on the tiny nub. I cry out as waves of pleasure start to sweep over me. The heat between my legs is spreading, pooling outward until there's a tingling in my chest that makes me huff for breath before I moan.

“Frankie… I’m gonna… I…”

“Come on, baby… There it is…”

“Yes!”

My entire body tightens, stills, melts all at once. My fingers dig into his shoulder blades, scrabbling for purchase in case I fall over with the pleasure of it all.

I am completely unaware of my surroundings until I feel my back hit the bed, Frankie crawling up my body and spreading my legs with his knees. He kisses up my throat, stopping at my chin.

“How do you want it?”

“Ride you,” I breath. “I want to ride you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Frankie, please. Let me ride your cock.”

He nips my chin one last time. “You’re so pretty when you beg.”

Frankie rolls off me then pulls himself up the bed to rest his back against the headboard. He holds out his hand and I take it, helping me climb on top of him so that I'm straddling his thighs. I push up on my knees and grip his cock, positioning it near my opening.

“Look down while you take it,” Frankie commands. “Watch as your beautiful pussy swallows my cock.”

I rest my hands on his shoulders for balance, then look down, my eyes locked on where our bodies join while slowly sinking down. Our skin is wet with sweat, and I can smell the sweet scene of my pussy and a hint of Frankie mixed in with the salt and musk. He fills me like our bodies are meant for one another. For a moment, I imagine that this is all either one of us will ever need; there is no doubt that we were made for each other, and we have more love for each other than most couples ever know.

Frankie’s groan echoes off the walls. “Fuck…” His head falls back against the headboard. He rests his hands on my hips and holds me there. “You’re killing me. You feel so good.”

“You sure you can handle me, Frankie?” I ask with a smirk, running a hand over his chest.

“Your pussy is like fucking magic.” He squeezes my hip with one hand then cups my breast with the other, like he wants to touch me everywhere all at once. “Let me see you ride me, baby. I want to watch you ride my cock.”

I stop torturing us both and work my hips in slow circles, adjusting to the feel and fullness of him. I look into his heavily lidded eyes, watching as he winces in ecstasy with every slow and sensual roll of my hips. He keeps his gaze on my face, never moving his attention as I ride his cock.

My gaze drops, landing on my body as it ripples and jiggles with the movement of my hips. The pleasure rises within me, but I am embarrassed at the sight of my own flesh moving to that rhythm. God, is this how he sees me? I want to hide. Would it be ridiculous to reach for the sheets and cover myself?

“Eyes on me, bebita.”

Immediately, my eyes meet his. His gaze burns into me as if nothing else matters, and I don't care about anything except him and how much he loves me, how good he makes me feel.

“You ride my cock so well and look amazing doing it. Think you can come on my cock?”

Heat pools inside me. I move faster, shamelessly grinding myself against him.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Take what you need from me.”

My nails score his skin as I ride him fast, like we’re in a race to the finish line. Breath rasping, teeth clenched, a wild determination fuels my movements.

“Take it, baby,” Frankie encourages, giving me all the power, making this all about my pleasure, my enjoyment. “Use me to get where you need to go.”

He presses a palm flat against my lower stomach. The extra pressure sends a sharp ribbon of euphoria spiraling through me. My movements grow erratic, and I babble absolute nonsense. All the tension inside me explodes, rippling and spreading to every nerve ending.

“Yes, baby. That’s my girl.” He drives himself up into me, brutal thrusts that draw out my own pleasure. He curses and thrusts again, once, twice, then his body stills. He groans, releasing inside me.

Frankie brushes my hair back, pulls my head to his, and captures my lips with his as my jumbled brain regains consciousness. After having his fill, he releases my lips and smiles at me.

“Hi.”

I return his smile. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

I nod, my smile widening. “Yeah. I-I did it.”

“You did it,” he echoes. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

I move off him and lay beside him, tucked safely in his arms, not knowing what to say next. He pulls a sheet on top of us and we lay in silence for some time, enjoying the feel of the gentle rhythm of his breathing.

“I love you,” I finally say, breaking the silence.

“I love you too.”

I nestle in closer to him, loving the way his voice rumbles though his chest to mine when we’re this close.

“What are you thinking?” I question, sensing that his mind is running a million miles a minute.

“About how I wasn’t lying when I said I only want you for Christmas. Nothing you can buy me will be better than the last year with you, and I want more. So much more.”

I hum, completely blissed out. “Me too.”

“Marry me then.”

I laugh, then move my head to look up at him. “I swear to God, Francisco, if this is another Christmas pun-”

“It’s not.” His face reflects his seriousness. “I’m asking you to marry me.”

I push myself up in bed, my mind reeling, wondering if I came so hard that I passed out and I’m dreaming.

“I was going to wait until Christmas morning,” he continues. “Had this whole thing planned out. But I can’t wait anymore.”

My mouth falls open, and I try to wrap my head around his words. “You’re serious?”

“I’m serious.” Frankie reaches out, laying a hand on top of mine. “If I could have picked the woman I wanted to spend my life with, I never would have been able dream up you. You’re kind, beautiful, gorgeous, funny, you have a heart of gold, and most importantly, you love me for who I am despite my imperfections.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, seeming to watch the flickering emotions that must be passing across my face.

Emotion tears through his throat, causing his voice to become husky. “I love you, and I want to spend every second of the rest of my life reminding you just how beautiful and amazing you are. I want you to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night – always. Will you marry me?”

Tears course down my face as I shift to my knees and throw my arms around his neck. My lips meet his, giving him his answer. I’m insecure and hesitant about a lot of things in life, but there is not a single doubt in my mind about this.

I pull back, my hands cupping his neck. “Is this real? Like, really real?”

A small laugh escapes his lips before nodding. “It’s real. I have a ring. It’s hidden in the branches of the tree in the living room.”

My heart pounds with happiness. “I don’t need the ring. I only need you.”

A chuckle rumbles through him, and he kisses me with a greedy kind of joy that makes my toes curl. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes."