#i might go back to hot breath rod and clean it up more

[yonker-tonker]

some cool emo pallets

[cjlouwho]

Prompt: tommy breakdown after buck goes through something traumatic, not right after. When buck is all good, tommy starts to shut down, and after a while buck notices and comforts him. Okay thats a long one sorry lol

This is probably not exactly what you wanted, but hopefully it's close enough! This fic features lots of snuggles.

Tommy stayed calm when he heard a firefighter had been seriously injured and air support was needed. He didn't panic when Chimney was the one to start relaying information to him and the flight medics. Even when he heard the words “Firefighter Evan Buckley of the 118” and “impaled” he focused on getting the bird from point A to point B.

When he landed the chopper, Tommy stared straight ahead and let the medics do whatever needed to be done to get Evan ready for transport.

He thought he heard Chimney ask if he should really be the one flying right now. He wanted to say, “Who else is gonna do it? I'm the only pilot here.”

Instead, he simply replied with a yes, then took off with the knowledge that his Evan was being worked on behind him.

He didn't ask how the patient was doing. He didn't listen to whatever the medics said. He did his job and got them to the hospital.

He didn't see Evan's injury until the surgeon met them at the helipad. A large metal rod sticking out of his abdomen. His turnouts had been pulled off of him, undershirt cut open. Blood, both dry and fresh, covering his body.

He had a pulse. Tommy did hear that.

But he looked lifeless.

He looked-

Tommy stopped himself from going there. He heard his coworkers say something about sending another pilot to pick up the chopper. That Tommy should go to the waiting room. He was the emergency contact anyway.

Tommy went. Sat and waited and waited, staring at the white and mint green wall in front of him. At some point, the rest of the 118 filtered in. Then Maddie, Karen, and Athena.

Eddie was on one side of him, Maddie on the other.

He looked down once to find coffee in his hand, but wasn't sure how it got there or who gave it to him.

Eventually, Evan came out of surgery. A success, the doctor said. It'd be a long recovery, but he'd make it.

The first time Evan opened his eyes, Tommy was beside him holding his hand. When Evan's face lit up into a smile, Tommy felt like his whole world just got put back together.

He stayed by Evan's side throughout recovery. Had to be forced into going home for a few hours every couple days for some real food and rest.

Tommy wasn't one for using his sick time, or his vacation time, so he used up what he could once Evan was home so he could continue to care for him until he was fully healed.

It took time, but eventually Evan got to the point where he could return to work on light duty. He couldn't go out on calls, but he could help around the station. After a couple months of barely leaving the house, he was more than ready to deal with paperwork, and cleaning, and cooking.

Three weeks after that, he was fully cleared. In one week, he'd be going out on calls again. Everything would be back to normal. When Evan called him with the news after his doctor's appointment, Tommy had congratulated him. Had picked up a cake after work and they'd celebrated together.

And then Tommy stayed awake all night long.

Evan curled up beside him, softly snoring with his breath hot on Tommy's side. Tommy's hand rubbed up and down his back all night. Right over his newest scar. He had a matching one on his abdomen. Right where the rod stabbed through his body and almost took his life.

No, Tommy didn't sleep that night.

He felt nauseous the next day. Evan noticed, of course, because Tommy was obsessed with his risotto and could barely get half of it down.

“You okay?” Buck asked as they cleared the table.

“Yeah, I think I might be getting a cold or something,” Tommy reasoned. “Sorry.”

Buck smiled at him even as he raised a hand to Tommy's forehead. “You don't have to be sorry for not feeling well. I don't feel a fever.” He moved his hands to Tommy's cheeks, then his neck, then ran his hands down his arms. Tommy knew the drill. The mere mention of not feeling one hundred percent would send Evan into a spiral, even if he did try to keep his face as nonchalant as possible.

“You feeling any congestion? Sore throat? Chills? Fatigue?”

Tommy took a step forward, rested his hands on Buck's cheeks and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I'm okay, Baby. Probably just tired.”

When they went to bed a few hours later, Tommy slept. For a couple hours, at least. He wished he hadn't though, because the nightmare he had felt more graphic than seeing Evan get taken away by the surgeon.

He woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. Thankfully, Evan was out like a light. Tommy got up and headed into the bathroom, turning on the sink to splash some cold water on his face.

He grabbed a washcloth and wet it, wiping the sweat off of him. Then, he pulled off his sweatpants and put on a new pair before getting back into bed.

Once he was back under the covers, he reached over and scooted his hand underneath Evan's body, nudging him until he turned and laid nearly half of his body directly on top of Tommy.

Tommy tugged the covers up until they were over Evan's shoulders, then he wrapped his arms around him and held him tight.

Evan smacked a couple times, burrowing his head further into Tommy's neck. Tommy closed his eyes, breathed him in. Felt Evan's heartbeat against his chest. Listened as his breathing evened back out.

He closed his eyes, but he didn't fall back to sleep.

The next day they both had work, but Tommy ended up getting distracted so many times that his captain wouldn't let him fly. Tommy couldn't even argue with the decision.

They next day, when they both got off shift, Evan arrived a little later than Tommy with burritos in hand.

“They're from your favorite food truck,” Buck told him with a smile. “You haven't been eating much lately, so I wanted you to have something good.”

Tommy didn't have the heart to tell him that the thought of eating made him feel like throwing up. He choked down every single bite of his burrito, then managed to pull Evan into the bedroom for a nap.

Well, sex first, then a nap.

As he laid on Evan's chest, one arm curled up beside him and the other over Evan's pec, he glanced down at the scar. How it raised ever so slightly from the rest of his skin, bright pink against the white.

His chest ached. His eyes burned. The call that he'd forced in one ear and out the other repeated over and over now. “We need an ETA on air support on the Marriott fire downtown! Firefighter Evan Buckley of the 118 has been seriously injured. He fell and was impaled by a metal object. Goes through to his back. Unclear at this time if any major organs were hit, but he's losing a lot of blood and his heartbeat is irregular.”

Tommy didn't realize he'd started crying until Evan stiffened underneath him.

“Tommy?” he asked, his voice soft but concerned. “Babe, what's wrong?” He tried to move them so he could look at Tommy, but Tommy just clung onto him tighter.

He squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a stunted, shaky breath. “Nothing. S'nothing.”

“Well th- that's obviously not true.” He ran his hands through Tommy's hair, then over his shoulders and down his back. “Come on, talk to me. Please.”

Tommy gave himself a second to calm down. He wiped his eyes before he slowly sat up to face Evan. Evan scooted up the bed so he was leaning against the headboard. He took Tommy's hand, moving his head to meet Tommy's eyes as he tried to look away. “Tommy.” He gave his hand a squeeze. “Please, I'm worried.”

“I... I was so scared.” He breathed out the words like he was admitting to some wrongdoing. “Evan, when you... When I heard it was you over the radio, I was terrified.”

Buck pulled Tommy toward him, wrapping him back up in his arms. “I knew something was wrong. I talked to Cap about it. He said not to push.”

“I was trying to be strong for you. I'm not the one who got hurt.”

“You don't ever have to be strong for me, Tommy. You're allowed to feel things.”

Tommy leaned back enough to be able to look at Evan. “I just put myself in survival mode,” he said. “It was all about getting you better. I could focus on that and not worry about anything else. But, now that you are better- which I'm very thankful for- it's... it scares me. I don't ever wanna see you like that again.”

“Me getting the all clear is what did it, isn't it?”

Tommy nodded. “I think it's always been there, the fear. But it definitely got worse as soon as I found out.”

“Why didn't you tell me, Tommy? We're supposed to- to share stuff like this with each other.”

“I didn't want you to think I wasn't supportive of you going back to work. Because I am supportive of it. I know you're excited, and I'm excited for you. I just- I really love you, Evan.”

Buck smiled. He leaned over and pressed his lips to Tommy's in a chaste kiss. “I really love you, Tommy.”

Tommy pulled Evan to him this time, holding him in his arms. “I have no doubt that you'll be as safe as you can possibly be,” Tommy said, his hand finding its way to the scar on Evan's back. “But I'm gonna be worried for a while.”

“I think that means you care,” Buck teased.

“I really, really care.”

“I like that you care.” Buck smacked a kiss onto Tommy's chest. “If it helps, I worry about you every time I hear you're going up.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He thought about it for a second. “It does help.”

Buck smiled against his skin. “Good. You think you can sleep now?”

Tommy scooted down until his head rested against the pillow, his and Evan's legs tangling together. “I think I can try.”

[thewritetofreespeech]

Little Red Corvette

Summary: taking the car from Mammon’s latest Devilgram story for a different kind of ‘ride’.

tags: sex in a car, heterosexual sex, blow jobs, fingering, cursing, spitters are quitters, female reader

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After your private pool party, and finding a hotel near the coast like Mammon wanted, the two of you decide to enjoy your little red hot rod a little while longer and take a drive up the sea side. It had been beautiful during the day, but it was dazzling at night.

You pull off after a 20-30 minute drive from your hotel. Finding a little lookout point that overlooked the beach, and the sea, and the biggest brightest moon you had ever seen.

“It’s beautiful!” You gush after you park. The engine cutting off and giving way to just the distant silence of the waves and few cicadas.

“I’m glad ya like it. I wanted this to be a special trip for you.” Mammon said. Reaching across the console and taking your hand. “Because you’re special to me, [Y/N].”

You smile at Mammon and lean back over the console at him to give him a kiss. Which he gladly returned. Your kissing slowly becomes more passionate. If the windows & the top were up you would be fogging up the windows like any good 90's romcom. Then you feel his hand on your thigh.

"Do you want to go back to the hotel?" You ask when you break away. Feeling his fingers inch further up your leg to the hem of your cover up, and making no effort to stop him.

"Ugggghhh....I can't wait that long..." Mammon whined. Looking at you like he could feel his balls turning blue just thinking about it. Then his face broke out in a grin. "Let's do it here."

"Here??" You repeat. Your face turning red in the moonlight at the suggestion. "Someone might see us."

"No they won't. No one is around." He reasoned. "Come on," he urged as he leaned over the gear shaft to nuzzle and kiss your neck, "don't you wanna do it in this nice fancy car. It would be so hot."

You have to admit, it did sound hot. Having hot sex, with your hot boyfriend, in this hot fire engine red sports car, was a triple threat of hotness. When were you going to get this chance again? You couldn't say no.

You climb into the back with Mammon, who grins all the way behind you at getting his way.

Despite his remarks earlier, he is kind enough to pull the top up for some privacy. Making the space that much more intimate for you. "[Y/N]...." He moaned as you kissed freely now in the back. "I want ya so bad. Gods below, how can a human like you do this to me." You half except him to say 'The Great Mammon's but he seem genuinely mesmerized and almost in pain with how badly he wanted you.

Not that you could say much else. Since you said yes, your panties were wetter than ever. You wanted him badly too.

He kissed your cheek, then moved down toward your neck. You moan and squirm under him when he nipped playfully at your ear. You hear him moan in return when your hands slip under his Hawaiian shirt across the hard planes of his pecs and abs. Mapping out the lines with your finger tips like they were brail. Eventually making it down to his lower abs, and brushing over his erection standing up in his trunks. “Mmmm...[Y/N]....”

You shift around a little (not exactly easy in this sporty little car, but you manage) so that Mammon was on his back against the plush seats and laid out. This was the only way this was going to work with how tall he was. Plus, you wanted to try something.

“W-What are you doing?” Mammon asked. Voice shaky, but clearly aroused, as he watched you slither back to the farthest corner you could manage and undo his belt.

“Isn’t it obvious?” You ask with a smirk you hope he can see in the moonlight. Then you lean down and lick his cock.

The demon immediately arched and moaned against the simple touch. Mammon was always so expressive when you were together like this. He might deny his feelings, or play them off like no big deal or a joke, but his body can’t lie. He was already quivering and panting as you wrap your lips around him. “[Y/N]....that feels so good....”

You hum out something like a thank you around his cock; sending another shiver down Mammon. You suck him off the way he liked. Licking the shaft. Taking him all the way back for a moment before pulling back towards the tip. Fondling his balls. His cock tasted like the chlorine from the pool, and somehow still salt from the sea by being near the beach all day. It was an intoxicating flavor, mixed with his natural musk, that you start to squirm against his knee you had to prop yourself up on to make this position work.

“Ya feeling it too baby?” Mammon asked. His voice in harsh pants now as he was getting close. “Does sucking my cock turn you on?” You nod in between bobbing over his cock. Before you’d be embarrassed to admit it, but now? What was the point in hiding it. “Fuck, watching you blow me and get turned on by it is sending me into overdrive babe. I’m gonna cum soon. You gonna take it for me babe? Drink it down?” You moan around him as Mammon’s fingers played with your hair. Possibly in affirmative. Possibly just because it felt good. Either way, it was enough to send him over the edge and he was cumming erratically into your mouth.

You swallow it down in one big gulp. One because he seemed to want you to, and two, you didn’t want this fine luxury automobile stained. It does seem to turn him on as Mammon whimpered quietly when he saw your mouth come off his cock clean. Grabbing you by the shoulders and crushing you against him for a kiss like he hadn’t seen you in ages.

“Now it’s your turn.”

You let out a weak, open mouth moan, when Mammon slipped his fingers in past your bathing suit bottoms and into you. “Fuck baby. You’re so wet it feels like we’re still in the pool. Ah shit! We should have done it in the pool. Do you think we can get back in? Maybe break in? I can hold you up around my waist while we float around with my cock inside you.” You moan and buck against his fingers at the idea. When had he become such an exhibitionist?

His fingers tease your clit and hole for a little while longer, until you’re begging him to stop so he can fuck you. He’s more than happy to oblige. Cock still out from when you tended to it, and rehard, all he had to do was take his fingers out of you and move your suit bottoms to the side to be inside you.

You moan and arch your back at the feeling of his shaft inside you. Adjusting to it for a moment before you were rocking against Mammon. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you hear the car squeak in tandem with your thrusts. The shocks putting up their best effort to keep up with the ‘rocky course’ you’d set them on. There isn’t a lot of room, so Mammon has to let you do the work. He’s pinned, under your thighs and at mercy to your rolling hips, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His hands hold onto your hips for support as he watched you ride his cock in the dark, dim light of the moon still spilling in from the windshield. Your hands braced against his chest for additional support.

Soon enough, you’re cumming around him. Worked up by the erotic scenario and his fingers, it doesn’t take you long. Mammon, on the other hand, takes longer since he’d cum once before. He ‘takes care of himself’ in a way though, after you collapse against him in orgasmic bliss. Holding you tight and close as he thrust hard and fast into your over stimulated pussy. Nearly making you cum again.

After he was done, cumming in you again, he lifted up your head from his shoulder to give you a soft, lazy kiss. “Let’s get back babe.” He said, after you’ve both caught your breath and savored the moment for a while.

It’s less romantic trying to get back to the front of the car, and out of your tangled limbs. Apparently there is no way to do it gracefully. But, you manage, and Mammon started up the car and put the top back down. Letting the fresh air in and smell of sex out. You drive back along the coast towards your hotel. Enjoying the smell of sea air and bright night sky. With Mammon.

[thefloorisbalaclava]

I had a dream about fishing last night (and I hate fishing) but it made me think of mechanic Frankie taking reader up to his secret cabin that he owns that they had no idea about for a first real weekend getaway, just them, and reached them how to fish. And he’s sitting there relaxing looking over at them and just thinking “wow, I get to be this happy again.” 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: You check Frankie out quite a few times in this, kissing, we’re getting there (if you know what i mean), Frankie doubting himself. Also please don’t kill me for the ending. I have another ask I’m saving it for.

The girl scout story in this fic is completely true lol.

A/N: This got a little longer than I expected clocking in at a little over 2.5k but it’s all just fun and flirty and a little sexy too.

[mechanic!frankie masterlist]

Frankie was proud of himself. After years of being single, of not even dating, he was a boyfriend and a damn good one if he went by what you told him. You loved all the dates and places he took you, but there was one place he still hadn’t shown you. He was afraid to.

He wanted to take you away for the weekend, but he was afraid that it was too soon to ask you for something like that. He didn’t want to scare you away by asking you to join him at his cabin this weekend. Maybe you would think that he wanted something from you. Yes, that something. The thought alone made his face get hot and he quickly pushed it from his mind. It wasn’t what he wanted from you at all even if you two were up there alone. Just waking up beside you sounded nice.

“Frankie, are you okay?” you asked, nudging him gently. “Your ice cream is melting.”

He looked down. “Oh!” He quickly brought the cone to his mouth and licked the mess from the side of the cone and his hand. You looked away, pretending to be distracted by the birds in the sky.

“Something on your mind?” You looked at him out the corner of your eye to make sure his tongue was back in his mouth. When you saw that it was, you turned to him and touched his thigh for reassurance.

“No...well, yeah, but...uhhh...” He sighed and looked down at his ice cream again. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Well, ask me.” You waited with bated breath. When he didn’t speak, you checked your watch. “You’re gonna have to head back to the garage soon. You wanna talk about it later?”

“No. If I don’t do it now then I never will.” He took a deep breath and looked you in the eye. “Would you maybe want to...go away this weekend? W-With me?”

“Go away? Where?” you asked excitedly.

“I have a cabin near the lake. Maybe we can...fish and stuff,” he said nervously. “You don’t have to. I know this is weird. I shouldn’t be asking you to go away with me so soon and-”

“I’d love to go,” you told him then licked your ice cream. His eyes wandered to your lips then back up to your eyes. He was quiet until he realized what you said.

“Wait...what?”

“I said I want to go to your cabin this weekend. I need a little getaway. It will be nice to really have you to myself,” you said. You squeezed your eyes shut. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It sounds selfish.”

“Selfish? I’m flattered,” he chuckled. “You can be as selfish with me as you like.”

You turned to him again. “I can’t wait to see your cabin.”

“I can’t wait to show you.”

It had been so long since Frankie had been up to his cabin with someone. After his wife died, he rarely made the drive and when he did, it was to be alone. He would sit there and wallow the entire time, missing her, missing what he had. Now he had you—someone to share it with and happy to do so.

He waited by your door as you scrambled around grabbing a few more things. You finally walked over to him, bag in hand, and smiled. “I think I’m ready now.”

“I’ll take that for you.” He took the bag you were holding, sneaking in a quick kiss as he did.

“Thank you, sir.” You walked out side-by-side and he carefully placed your bag in the back of his truck.

“It’s a little over an hour away. I hope you don’t mind long drives,” he said as he climbed into the truck.

“Are you kidding? I love long drives.”

He beamed at you. How did he get so lucky to find someone who loved the things he did again? Better yet, what did he do to deserve this again? He put on his aviators and started the truck as you sat back and smiled out the window.

On the drive, Frankie discovered that he would never hear a better sound than your laugh. He would never tire of the way your voice went up a few octaves when you got excited. No one had made him smile that way in so long.

“Oh my God, babe look...horses!” You grabbed his arm excitedly. He wondered if you realized you had called him babe.

“I see ‘em,” he chuckled. You turned to him and looked him up and down. “What?”

“I like that shirt on you.” Your eyes trailed down to his neck and bit of exposed chest since he hadn’t buttoned the shirt up completely. The shirt was black with what looked like palm trees and water patterned all over. He had the sleeves rolled up, so you got a good look at his forearms as well. You realized that you had been ogling the poor man and quickly looked up only to see a smirk on his lips.

“I can buy you one just like it if you want,” he offered.

“Nah, I’d rather just see it on you.” Since when were you so flirty?

Frankie had never felt better about himself. As he carried the bags into the cabin, he couldn’t stop smiling. He stopped to look at himself in the mirror as you looked around outside. The shirt did fit him pretty well and the undone buttons gave him sort of a bad boy look. He pushed the aviators up onto his head and winked at himself.

“Frankie!” you called, and he jumped, clearing his throat as you walked into the cabin.

“Yeah?”

“It’s so beautiful up here.” You ran into his arms and hugged him. “Thank you for bringing me.”

He smiled as he put his arms around you. “Thank you for letting me.”

“So...fishing first?” you asked, pulling back to look into his eyes.

“Yeah, if you want. You don’t want to rest first?”

“Nope. I wanna see everything.” You walked back outside and waited for him. “Are we walking to the lake?”

“Sure, just let me grab the stuff. By the way, I didn’t stop for bait so we might have to dig for our own,” he warned.

“Okay! Need me to carry anything?”

“No ma’am.”

You watched as he grabbed the fishing poles and then reached for something higher up. You had no idea what it was because you were too busy ogling the man again—the little bit of his lower back that was exposed as he reached up, the way the shirt stretched over his shoulders and back, the sinew of his tanned forearms.

“You coming?” he asked, and you blinked a few times.

“I-what? I mean, yeah.” You had to take a few quick steps to catch up to him so that you could walk beside him. You both kept catching each other staring before looking away, laughing. When the lake came into view, you gasped.

“Like it?”

“It’s perfect, Frankie.” You glanced back at him happily and he smiled.

“Before we do anything else, we gotta get bait. Good thing it rained a few days ago.” He placed the fishing rods down gently on the dock before walking back and looking under rocks and digging in the dirt for worms. “There’s a bunch over here,” he called, and you ran over holding a few of your own.

“Got some too.” You placed them in the small bucket Frankie carried.

Once you both had enough, Frankie walked out onto the dock and kicked off his shoes and socks before rolling his jeans up. You did the same then closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. The air was so clean and fresh.

“Do you know how to fish?” he asked.

“Well, at Girl Scouts camp we used to find long, sturdy sticks and tie fishing line to them then tie on the hook. One time, we couldn’t find worms, so I playfully took some bread and put that on the hook, and I actually caught a fish!”

“Girl Scouts camp, huh? How long ago was that?” he joked.

“Hey!” You nudged him as he laughed. You loved making him smile and laugh just to see that dimple—the deepest dimple you had ever seen.

“Well, would you like me to show you how to use a fishing rod?” he asked, and you nodded. “Okay...do you mind if I...” He moved behind you and put the fishing rod in your hand.

“N-No, I don’t mind.” You could feel his warmth radiating against your back. With each breath he took, you could feel his chest and stomach move against you.

“Right...so...” His voice was so close to your ear, you wanted to turn so badly but then his lips would be right there, and it would be so tempting. “Get yourself a good grip.” He guided your hand and squeezed it lightly. “Like so...”

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Stay just like that.” He moved away and you already missed his warmth. He knelt to put a worm on your hook then stood behind you again. “Pull back nice and slow and...” He moved your arms back with his then swung forward expertly. “There we go.”

“Now what?”

“Now we wait.” He wrapped his arms around you and the dock swayed with the water, making you both sway along with it. It was relaxing and comforting and what made it even better was that his arms were around you.

You wished you two could stay that way forever.

You stomped into the cabin, pouting like a petulant child.

“Sweetheart, there’s no reason to be upset. Even pros don’t catch fish all the time,” he said, kicking off his boots by the door.

“But...I wanted to,” you complained. When you turned to him, he was grinning. “It’s not funny.” But it was and you both started laughing.

“Maybe next time,” he told you.

“Next time? You wanna bring me again?” you asked.

“Yeah, of course.” He stood there looking at you and you at him. How many times were you going to stare at him today? “Still like this shirt on me?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” you murmured as you made your way over to him and kissed him. Hard. He made a sound of surprise but kissed back in earnest. He held you close, his soft lips claiming yours. You made him stumble backwards until he hit one of the wooden columns in the middle of the room. He grunted and his hands moved slowly to your lower back. Your fingers tangled in his curls, and you pressed your body against his even more.

Frankie couldn’t remember the last time he had been kissed that way or even wanted to kiss someone that way. Your body fit so perfectly against his that he had quietly wondered if you were made for him. He’d never forget the way you gasped against his lips when his hands slid under your shirt and touched that soft skin for the first time. He’d never forget how your lips looked as you pulled away and just looked at him before slowly moving your thumb along his lips.

“You have...lovely lips,” you told him before kissing him again.

He was feeling things he hadn’t felt in so long and... he was embarrassed. As you pulled away to kiss along his jaw and down his neck, he felt as though he would stop breathing.

“Wait...wait...,” he breathed, and you stopped immediately.

“I-I’m sorry, Frankie.” You backed away, looking down at the floor.

“I just...I need some air.” He swallowed hard then walked past you and out the door. He took a deep breath then cursed quietly as he kicked at a rock in front of him. “You fucking idiot.”

You walked upstairs full of regret. You had initiated that kiss and it had made him so uncomfortable that he had to leave the cabin.

As you showered, you thought of all the ways you could make things right again if he even wanted to keep seeing you after this. That thought scared you the most. You didn’t want to lose Frankie, but you couldn’t help but think that maybe you did.

It was a good thing you had separate rooms because that would give him the space he needed away from you. You were so embarrassed, so ashamed of yourself. You made sure to stay in the room for the rest of the day, settling into bed when the moon was high in the sky.

As soon as you closed your eyes, Frankie knocked on your door and you sat up. “Yes?”

“May I come in?” he asked.

“Sure.” You rolled out of bed and threw a hoodie on over your pajamas. The door opened and Frankie stood in the doorway, filling it with his broadness. “Come in.”

“I’d like to explain myself,” he started.

“Frankie, you don’t have to do that. I overstepped and I apologize.”

“Overstepped? No, I just got nervous. I panicked. It’s been so long since I felt...that way. I was embarrassed, still am. But I appreciate that you stopped when I needed you to.” He smiled and you nodded.

“Of course I did. I would never want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It wasn’t that I was uncomfortable.”

“Oh?”

“I just knew what it would lead to and...it’s been so long for me. I don’t want to disappoint you,” he admitted. His face was on fire.

“Disappoint me? You could never do that, Frankie.” You moved closer to him slowly.

“The truth is that I feel like I need to learn how to do that all over again and I should know, you know? I was married. Three years though...” He shook his head.

“There’s no rush. I’d be happy just having you hold me until I fall asleep.”

He scoffed at himself. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You do.”

This time he walked up to you and kissed you. “I want to be worthy of you,” he said against your lips.

“You are.”

“I want...to make love to you,” he confessed.

You pulled away and looked him in the eye. “You can...” He kissed you again before you could speak. When he stopped, you spoke. “...but only if you are comfortable. Remember, there’s no rush.”

“Can we just take it slow, take our time?” he asked.

“Of course we can.”

“Thank you,” he said before kissing you some more. You don’t know how long you two stood there just kissing, all you knew was that you could do this every day for the rest of your life. “So...I may be a little rusty, but I’m pretty sure I’d like to be doing this in bed. If that’s okay.”

You grabbed his hand and led him to the bed. You both sat on it and looked at each other before laughing. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He cupped your face with one hand. “I’m ready.”

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*If your url is crossed out its because tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason. sorry!

[theladyismyshepard]

37 kill for Daniela the red head, She kills one of the servents because of jealousy but the maiden is into it?? Maybe kinda nsfw

Sorry for the wait, my friend

I Always Feel Like Somebody’s Watching Me (NSFW)

TW: Violence

The sun was beating down on your back as you tended to the garden that you grew in the back courtyard. You had appealed to the Dimitrescus the benefits of planting your own vegetables and fruits and possibly the occasional pretty flower here or there. The Lady seemed uninterested in the thought altogether, making it clear that her mind was reserved for more stimulating subjects. Bela seemed halfhearted with her thoughtfulness, quickly zoning out. Cassandra had rolled her eyes and walked away after the word “garden”. Daniela was smiling though, her eyes glittery before she nodded along almost vehemently.

“I agree,” she said unabashed, ignoring her mother’s arched brow and Bela’s scoff. “Think of the ingredients we could grow ourselves instead of sending for delivery every other week.”

“Daniela, dear,” started Alcina, sighing almost exasperatedly, “Do you plan on going out and tending to this “garden”, hmm?”

You wanted to interject, it was the perfect moment to take responsibility for the care of the garden, and possibly even the grounds just to improve your worth around the castle. Yet, it required a lack in manners to interrupt a Lady when she’s speaking, and Alcina had a severe standard when it came to manners. And so you were forced to go with the smart move and bite your tongue as Daniela’s face dropped. That didn’t stop you from attempting to gain eye contact to give her a beseeching look.

“I’m sure we can find someone.” insisted Daniela, her eyes cutting to you before snapping back to her mother. “Someone very dependable,”

“I can do it,” you piped up, taking the opportunity, eyes dropping to the floor once Alcina’s gaze fell onto you.

“The question is will you,” drawled Alcina, eyes narrow as they looked you up and down. “As in, will I allow a human thing as yourself to control anything that is mine?”

You would have fell to your knees beneath the weight of the Lady’s attention had it not been for a certain redhead to stepped closer to you. You wanted to grab her hand, pull her close, wrap yourself around her for comfort, but you don’t. You never act on it, and she never dragged you to her bedroom cackling and giggling wildly as she did with other maids when she needed to get off. Though you were also the only one who didn’t emerge scarred and torn up.

“Of course, my Lady,” you conceded, bowing your head to show a sign of submission.

“Mother,” said Bela quietly, calmly interjecting, and waited until Alcina turned to address her. “I also think that a garden would be beneficial.”

Daniela had clapped happily when she realized her sister was aiding her in swaying their mother. Your eyes couldn’t settle between the three of the Dimitrescus. Alcina cocked her head to the side, adopting a fake look of thoughtfulness to cover how unimpressed she was.

“Oh, you do, darling?”

“Yes,” pressed Bela before her mother could continue on. “Imagine the access to ingredients for remedies to give the livestock. We could even grow foreign plants required for different potions!”

Fuck the fruits and vegetables, I guess.

And that was how the Lady was worn down and forced to give into her daughters desires. The garden didn’t necessarily consist of the produces that you originally planned for, but it got you out of the castle for extended points of time, and you weren’t complaining one bit. Castle Dimitrescu was a rather large estate, so there was plenty of room for the several varieties of roots, plants, and flowers that the Dimitrescus requested you take care of.

The heat of the sun had you pulling at the hem of your shirt to bring it up and wipe the sweat from your brow. The warm breeze hit you squarely on your exposed midsection, and you felt the dripping sweat drying grossly against your flesh. It felt as though eyes were upon you and when you let go of your shirt, ready to turn to check the windows of the castle, a person standing next to you nearly had you jumping out of your skin.

“Oh!” gasped the woman — a maid, “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“It’s alright,” you assured, breathless and attempting to return your heart rate back to normal. “What’re you doing out here?”

Being outside was a luxury that none of the other maids could afford, so you were confused as to how this maid, Elle, had managed to avoid the lingering eyes that were everywhere. Her eyes averted as a slight blush came to her cheeks, and that’s when you saw the glass of water in her hand and your brain put two and two together. Oh.

“It’s hot today,” said Elle nonchalantly, even shrugging. “I figured you might need this.”

“Thank you,” you replied earnestly, grabbing the glass and taking greedy sips before you handed it back. “I appreciate it.”

“Well, I can’t have you fainting and bringing attention to yourself, now can I?” joked Elle, smiling bashfully.

You could’ve sworn that eyes were upon you, and you even went as far as to turn and check the windows, and while you thought you saw one of the curtains shifting, it also could’ve been a trick on your eyes. You furrowed your brow but turned back to Elle, who was looking at you expectantly, and for what, you weren’t sure. You smiled warmly.

“Thank you again, Elle, but I don’t want to hold you up any longer than I have.” You warned, making a face to emphasize, and she nodded in disappointment but reached forward to squeeze your hand.

“Stay safe,” she said, the maids’ usual words of departure.

“Stay safe,”

Eyes were watching you, but you couldn’t see from where, and that was the most dangerous predator: the one who hides before striking, and there was one predator who always had her watchful eye on you. Daniela. You gulped at the thought of Daniela catching another maid outside just to talk to you... no one, not even you were allowed to bend any of the rules, not even once... not when you were so easily replaced. Hopefully if you just went back to attending to the garden (rather stiffly), you could pretend that nothing would be amiss when you went back inside.

***

There was tension hanging in the air, thick enough to choke, and it had your spine as straight as a rod as you trudged through the pristine castle with your overall dirtiness, your shoes abandoned at the door. It was oddly quiet, and when the maids spotted you, they turned away quick, eyes wide with fright. Every step you took towards any of them, the maids took about six or seven steps away from you. Castle Dimitrescu might’ve been weird, but that was a new one...

You gave up on making conversation and instead wandered off to find a clean uniform to change out of the more comfortable wear you wore to tend to the ingredients. There was the nagging feeling that something was off in the air... Where were the Lady’s daughters? Their signature cackles failed to echo off the walls, and it left an uneasy silence in its wake. Now that you thought about it, you weren’t running into Elle either as you wandered deeper into the castle and found the maids’ quarters.

You quickly changed and made yourself presentable for your next task, and then you were again walking through the silent halls as you made your way to the kitchen. There was no real warmth to the kitchen, not when the stove had gone untouched for as long as you had been there. It wasn’t your place to question things around there, but you couldn’t help but to ask questions when you stepped inside and there was a silver platter with the cover still hiding what was underneath. What had you puzzled was the note that simply read your name propped right up against the cover.

You craned your neck when you felt eyes upon you yet again, but nobody was there... you knew better though and that’s what had needles prickling your skin and a cold sweat to break out. All that was missing was the giggling, but this really seemed like one of Daniela’s games she enjoyed playing. You turned back to the platter, and reached for the handle of the lid. After a shaky moment of building yourself up, you ripped the cover off like a bandaid, and froze, arm still raised.

Placed neatly upon the silver platter was Elle’s severed head. Her eyes were closed, and for that, you were grateful... you were too ashamed to look her in the eye seeing as this was all your fault. As your breathing hollowed out, that was when you finally heard a deep chuckle, one that had you going rigid... this wasn’t the Daniela that you had gotten used to, but it was one you were aware she could possess. Was she directing it towards you? You dropped the lid with a clatter.

“I didn’t like her very much.” said Daniela simply, and you gulped. “She liked you too much.”

You couldn’t miss the edge in her voice on the word. You finally blinked (your eyes suddenly burned) and looked away from the platter to connect eyes with the redhead. She wasn’t smiling and that was never a good sign. You forced a smile, one that you were scared was too obviously false.

“I didn’t like her either.” You choked out, fully turning your body away.

“You didn’t?” asked Daniela, her voice suddenly small and seeking reassurance, and you were struggling to keep up with her complete 180.

“Daniela...” You couldn’t say what you really wanted to... She was just bringing me water! “Why does it really matter to you so much?”

“Because you are mine!” She snapped, and you frowned.

“Doesn’t every maid here belong to you?” You countered, though you had to admit, you have more leeway than others did.

“They belong to the family, but you, you are mine, darling.” purred Daniela, stalking forward very slowly until she was before you. “No one else can even look at you the way I do.”

“But the other maids that you’ve...” You cringed, unwilling to finish, but Daniela picked up on what you were trying to say.

“I feed from them and that is all... Getting them a little scared makes the blood just a bit sweeter.” chuckled Daniela, and you frowned yet again.

“I thought you-”

“Slept with them?” Daniela drawled, now it was her turn to frown at you. “As tempting as it was, I think there’s one delicacy that I’m saving my pallet for.”

Her eyes roamed over your body with no holds barred, and you weren’t sure how you felt about the shiver that tingled down your spine. The fact that there was a severed head behind you was kinda throwing you for a loop. Daniela had her index finger and her middle finger tiptoeing up your arm until she was gingerly holding the side of your neck with obvious care. You gazed into her eyes and you were thoroughly entranced by the red headed beauty that would kill for you.

“Do you love me?” You whispered, almost afraid that what you were asking was a stupid question. Daniela’s face softened.

“I absolutely adore you, my love,” cooed Daniela, pulling you into a searing kiss that had your heart stuttering in your chest, and when the need for air had you pulling back, she already had her eyes open and watching you. “No one can take you away from me.”

Any sane person would hear the threat for what it really was, but there was nothing sane about the feelings she evoked from you just by being near you, even with Elle’s head served up right beside you. There was something about her possessiveness that could make you either feel very secured, or somewhat aroused, and you could hardly think of anything else but the fingers scratching at the hair at the base of your neck.

“I doubt anyone would be capable of taking me away from you.” You mused, and it was true. Bless the soul who tried to free you from the clutches of Daniela.

“Hm,” she hummed, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as her eyes cut over every inch of your face. “Perhaps I should leave my mark for all to see?”

What surprised you the most was it seemed as though she was genuinely asking you. Her hand was still scratching the back of your neck, and her free hand reached up to rub soothing circles along your jugular with the pad of her thumb. Daniela’s compulsive attitude can lead her to doing whatever the hell she wanted without fear, but here she was, asking for your permission to drink from you. This redhead never failed to be full of surprises, and you found that you kinda liked that Daniela was so crazy for you.

“I belong to you,” You said quietly, unwilling to break the atmosphere that was enveloping the two of you, and you knew you said the right thing when her eyes shone with nothing but adoration and if you looked closer, love.

Daniela continued to cup the back of your neck with one hand, and used the other to hold you carefully by your shoulder, and she gently guided you to expose your throat just a bit more before she slowly bit into your throat. You gasped at the initial sting of your flesh giving way beneath the power of her teeth, but you allowed her to continue what she needed to do and permitted the subtle pull at your bloodstream. You felt the vibration of her own moan against your skin and it had you lightheaded.

“Daniela,” you groaned, feeling her teeth still inside of your skin with every syllable, and it also felt good when the hand on your shoulder rubbed down your arm and up your back.

“Does that feel good, darling?” pressed Daniela, unlatching just long enough to pull back and bat her eyelashes at you. “Do you love this as much as I do?”

Her tongue flattened against your bite mark, cleaning you of any trickling blood before she moved to the opposite side. She placed an open mouthed kiss there before she latched on once more, prompting your whole body to flinch within her grasp, but trust Daniela to hold on tight. It felt as though there would be a couple bruises by the time the next morning rolled around, but something told you that was a good thing to have within Castle Dimitrescu. It was like your own charm to ward off the evil that could lurk around the many hidden corridors.

You felt her pushing you back up against the table, and your foot brushed against the lid, causing it to scratch against the floor with an unflattering sound. The small of your back connected with the table, leaving you no more room to go backwards. Your hands flew to the edge as you used the table as support as Daniela basically leaned her full weight into you as she fed and marked you.

Your eyes flew open when she abruptly pulled away, her chin smeared with your blood and her eyes crazed with desire, but also soft with emotion and it was directed right at you. She never broke eye contact as she slowly dropped to her knees before you, and your breathing became irregular as she reached forward to push the end of your uniform up higher and higher until you had to shiver at how exposed you felt.

“Do you love me?” asked Daniela suddenly, bringing your wandering mind to a complete halt, and you looked down into her wide, almost innocent eyes as she stared earnestly up at you. “I never heard you say it to me.”

“I love you more than life itself,” You responded and you were surprised at just how honest it felt... You could die tomorrow and you’d have felt content enough to just allow it.

Daniela’s megawatt grin was so wide that you knew there was no way of it coming off anytime soon, not with the pure happiness radiating from it, and certainly not with the way it reached itself to her eyes. She giggled madly and soon it was the only indication of her because she disappeared beneath the skirt of your uniform and you jumped at the warm tongue that was persistent in searching your body. Your knuckles turned white as your grip on the table tightened and you lost yourself to the wetness of Daniela’s tongue on you, and you found that it was true...

No one could ever steal you away from the perfection that was Daniela. Not when she was the only one that could turn you on with a familiar severed head just inches away..

[hizashis-lil-bunbun]

No Rest for the Wicked- HardDom!Dabi X Fem! Brat Reader

Prompt: Dabi just wants to take a nap but everything goes wrong

I asked a friend in one of my discord groups for a random writing prompt when I was up late. Something about this one activated my inner ✨brat✨

Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.3k

Kinks/Warnings: brat taming, degradation, pain play, spanking, belting, mild dacryphilia, bondage, edging and denial, hints of dubcon

Banner made by the always lovely @ladyshinigami!

••••••••••••••

Exhausted.

That was the best way to sum up Dabi’s mood as he trudged through the bar fronting the League’s headquarters. Shigaraki had sent him out on a mission with orders to “stake out and take out” a small band of up-and-coming heroes. It had been easy enough to find them (newbies can never resist being flashy), but making sure they were all disposed of was another matter. A matter only made more complicated by a few rogue civilians that happened to spot him. It had taken him two full days to track everyone down, leaving him covered in blood, soot, and burns. In short, Dabi needed a break.

“Well, well, well.” Came the nasally voice of their fearless leader, “The prodigal son returns! Took you long enough, Dabi. Hope that means you didn’t fuck up the mission.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Dabi snaps back, too tired and sore to care about his tone. Not that he’d be any kinder to Shigaraki if he wasn’t. “I did what you asked and left no witnesses. Now piss off before I turn you into a smoldering pile.”

Shigaraki didn’t rise to Dabi’s bait, opting to simply flip him the bird before going back to whatever game console he was currently obsessed with. Dabi returns the gesture in kind, glowering as he disappears behind the bar and into the League’s living quarters. Their warehouse provides more than enough space for everyone to have their own room, and the boss even allowed them to decorate and furnish them as they pleased. Wasn’t that generous? Dabi plods down the hallway to his assigned room and kicks open the door only to find it was occupied. By you.

“Dabi?” You question for a moment before your eyes light up with excitement. “Dabi! You’re back!”

As a fellow Stain devotee, you’d sought out the LOV and been initiated as a member a mere six months ago. And two months later, you’d been initiated into Dabi’s bed. You wouldn’t exactly call yourselves “lovers.” Love was few and far between in a hornet’s nest of villains. But you’d certainly become something more than the occasional lay.

He grunts as he stalks into the room, shedding his coat and boots as he went. Dabi was never big on grand displays of affection. And in his current state, that small show of acknowledgment may as well have been equivalent to a bear hug.

“I missed you.” You chirp back, undeterred by his gruff response. “How was the mission?”

“Long and shitty.” Came his terse reply as he strips off the rest of his clothes and grabs a towel from a nearby wall hook. “I need a fucking shower.”

He wraps the towel around his waist before he sets about searching for body wash and a first aid kit. Greedy eyes roam the plane of his toned torso, eager to touch the scarred and stapled flesh you’d spent many a night mapping out. Before joining the League, you’d never had an opinion one way or the other on touch or physical intimacy. You didn’t dislike it by any means; it was just something people did, fuck buddies or otherwise. But now that you’d shared a bed with Dabi, your perspective had changed. His rough touch was your drug of choice, intoxicating in all the best ways. And with him being gone for almost 72 hours? It was safe to say you were jonesing for a hit.

“Oooh, sounds like fun.” You purr, sprawling out on the mattress in a catlike stretch. “Want me to join you? I think we could use a little… quality time together.”

He snorts derisively at that, straightening up once he’d found his supplies and fixing you with a deep scowl. So pretty even when he’s pissed. You bat your eyelashes in return.

“Don’t get cute, dollface. Once I get cleaned up I’m passing out for the next century.”

Before you can shoot off another coquettish remark, he turns on his heel and marches out the door in the direction of the communal showers. You huff and clamber out of bed to follow him, determined that he wouldn’t get away so easily.

“C’mon Dabi!” You whine, trotting along behind him as he stalks down the hallway. “I haven’t seen you in days! Are you really just gonna give me the cold shoulder?”

“Yup.” He snaps back, shooting you a harsh glare over said shoulder before barging through the bathroom door. From the other side you can hear his bark of “Move it, psycho!” followed by an indignant squeak from whom you can only assume to be Toga. You huff and stamp your foot like a petulant child, turning on your heel to flounce off in the direction of the League’s bar front.

“Bastard.” You seethe under your breath, “Who does he think he is, ignoring me like that? It’s his fault I’m so pent up. If I tried ignoring him when he was all hot and bothered–!”

You pause for a moment as a lightbulb goes off in your head. A single impish thought flashes through your mind and it causes your lips to curl into a Cheshire grin. He wants to play games? You’ll give him games.

You continue your trek into the dimly-lit, woodpandeled speakeasy, a renewed vigor in your stride as you make a beeline for the bar top. Kurogiri is standing behind it as per usual, wiping out a pint glass like the faithful bartender he pretends to be. You sidle up to the bar and place both hands on the oaken surface, adopting a sweet, too-innocent lilt to your voice.

“Kuro-baby.” You purr, the cutesy pet name causing the misty specter to look up from his task. “Can I have a glass of water, please? With lots of ice, if you don’t mind.”

Wordlessly, Kurogiri sets down the glass and picks up a shorter one, using it to scoop up a generous portion of ice from the freezer below before filling it nearly to the brim from the tap. If he has any suspicion of you, he’s very good at hiding it. The same can’t be said for Shigaraki, sitting a few stools down from you and still tapping away at the buttons of his console.

“Fucking with Staples again?” He questions disinterestedly, followed by a hiss of annoyance when the game lets out a series of gunshots. He must have gotten himself killed again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You shoot back airily, swiping the glass from Kurogiri’s outstretched hand and hopping off your own barstool.

“It’s your funeral!” He calls after you, waving you off with one hand. You snicker as you march back into the living quarters, one hand wrapped around the chilled glass and the other flattened over the top to ensure you won’t spill a drop along the way. Soon you find yourself back in front of the bathroom door and, suppressing the urge to giggle, you slowly push through it and into the steamy room beyond. In spite of the hideout’s outward appearance, the place is surprisingly clean and well-kempt (all thanks to den mother Kurogiri). Two sinks stand against the left-hand side of the wall, with two doors opposite them leading to the toilets. Next to the sinks are the showers: three open-faced, tile cubes barely covered by flimsy plastic curtains. Toga is standing in front of the nearest sink, wearing a skimpy pair of Hello Kitty pajamas and washing the blood and goop from her latest transformation out of her navy, pleated skirt. She looks up at you when you enter and you quickly put one finger to your lips, smirking as you point between the glass and the running shower beyond. Toga lets loose a sadistic giggle of her own before hastily shushing herself when you hear Dabi’s bark of “Pipe down out there!”

As you move past her, you can see her mouth the words, “You’re so dead, big sis.”

You can feel a jolt of adrenaline course through your veins as you sneak up to the edge of the tiled wall separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom, the glass in your hand shaking briefly. A small amount of water sloshes over the rim and spatters onto the floor, the sound barely overshadowed by the shower.

“Doll?”

His low, rumbling voice coming from the other side of the curtain sends another shiver down your spine.

“What are you up to out there?” He growls dangerously, as if he has a sixth sense when it comes to you and your shenanigans. For just a moment, the rational part of your brain takes over and makes you question your actions. Dabi’s already in a foul mood, and getting worse by the second by the sound of it. Maybe if you hold off and behave like a good girl–

Your body seems to move of its own accord. The next thing you know, the contents of the glass are sailing through the air, arching high over the plastic curtain rod and landing with a messy splat onto your unwitting victim on the other side.

“What the fu–!” Dabi’s curse is cut off by yours and Toga’s mad giggling as you sprint out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Passing by a very confused-looking Spinner, you dart inside Dabi’s room and slam the door, locking it for good measure. Seconds later, he’s pounding on it, using enough force that you’re convinced it might splinter and break off its hinges.

“Open this door right now and make this easier on yourself!” He roars, furiously jiggling the handle.

You let him pound away for a few more seconds, in part to allow yourself time to catch your breath but mostly to delay the unenviable punishment. With a deep, steadying breath, you plaster on a mildly amused expression, undo the lock, and pull open the door. Dabi is visibly seething, water dripping from his hair and cascading in rivulets down his toned chest onto the towel slung low on his hips. His brows are knitted together in rage, turquoise eyes flashing dangerously while one hand is still raised in a fist.

“Oh hey, babe. Done with the shower al–?”

His hands are around your throat before you can blink, your sassy remark devolving into a high-pitched squeak.

“You little bitch.” He spits at you, forcibly backing you further into the room as he advances. “Was that your idea of a joke?”

“N-no.” You gasp in response, voice slightly raspy from the pressure on your jugular. “I just thought–“

“Thought what exactly?” Dabi growls, kicking the door shut behind him with one foot before giving your shoulders a hard shove and pushing you onto the bed. You land with a slight bounce, the momentum giving you just enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Well?” He hisses, venom dripping from the word as he glares down at you.

“I was worried.” You start slowly, tone almost loving as you gaze up at him with big, doe eyes. “You seemed so tense when you got back. And don’t think I didn’t notice those new burns on your arms. So I thought, since the mission was so hard on you…”

Your face suddenly splits into a shit-eating grin.

“I thought you might need to cool down for a minute.”

Dabi blinks for a second, seemingly struck dumb by your remark. And then his hands are back on you in an instant, roughly flipping you over to lie chest-down with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Of all the stupid–“

Your shirt is ripped over your head from behind.

“Immature–“

There goes the bra, clasps and straps lost to a wildfire of blue flames as it falls away from your body in a charred heap.

“Bratty little schemes.”

Your leggings and panties are harshly yanked down, slipped off, and discarded into some unknown corner of the room. You feel cool air hit your legs and backside, moments before a harsh slap lands on your right cheek. With a yelp, you cast a wide-eyed glance over your shoulder at the menacing presence behind you; a pillar of rage and sadistic urges looming over your naked form.

“You wanted my attention that badly, dollface? Well I’m sorry to say you’ve got it now.”

Before you can react beyond a pained, needy whimper, Dabi hooks his right arm under your thighs to haul you up and onto the bed. He lays his full weight across your back and reaches around and underneath the farthest edge of the bed to produce a simple, black cuff, attached to the nylon spreader running along the underside of the mattress. Giving it a few cursory tugs, he grabs ahold of your right wrist and yanks it towards the corresponding corner, attaching the device with practiced speed and precision. You continue to writhe and pant below him, muttering a litany of curses and “no’s” as he does the same to the opposite side. You’re now bound by both wrists, unable to do more than thrash wildly on the mattress in a humiliating, spread eagle position.

“Seems like you need a reminder of who’s in charge around here.” He snarls in your ear, pushing himself off of you and marching over to his discarded pile of clothing. You can hear the soft rustle of fabric, followed by the telltale clink of metal on metal that makes your eyes go wide.

“Y-you wouldn’t dare…” You start breathlessly, just before the first blinding sting of leather greets your exposed skin, right at the juncture where the soft swell of your ass meets the tender flesh of your thighs.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Dabi says mockingly, his tone dripping with false pity and saccharine sweetness as he takes his place at the edge of the bed once more. “I don’t have any problems dealing with a mouthy… little… brat like you.”

His words are punctuated by three more vicious blows, this time striking the meatiest part of your ass and sending the pliant flesh jiggling. The metal rivets in his belt only add to the pain, biting into your rapidly heating flesh and causing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. Shifting your hips in a futile attempt to get away from Dabi and his newfound torture device, you roll partly onto your side and look over at him with watery, pleading eyes.

“S-sir… Dabi, please!” You sputter out, voice already wavering as your resolve crumbles beneath the stinging sensation. But Dabi’s not in the mood for bargaining. Instead, he growls as he wraps an arm around your waist and shoves his left knee underneath your belly, hiking your ass further into the air.

“Hold still!” He barks at you, another crack of his belt sending a fresh wave of searing pain along your already raw skin. You scream in agony, unable to do more than wriggle and squirm against his hold.

“Start counting, brat.” He demands huskily, your only warning before the next punishing spank meets your burning flesh.

“One!” You gasp out, “I’m sorry! Please–!”

Another blow lands, somehow harder than all the others, revisiting the spot where ass and thigh meet and causing you to wail in pain.

“Too late for apologies, dollface. The only thing I wanna hear from that slutty little mouth is counting. Understand me?”

The arm looped around your waist tightens in warning, and you hiccup before sputtering out a shaky, “T-two.”

“That’s more like it.”

He continues spanking you at a steady pace, the only respite coming when he pauses to hear you choke out the next number. By ten strokes, you’re bawling. By fifteen, you’re practically brain dead, unable to quell the sobs that wrack through your body or think beyond the next count. He mercifully stops at twenty, dropping the belt and loosening his own grip on you. All you can focus on is the burning pain radiating out from your tanned backside, sobbing as you bury your face into the pillow below you for comfort. Dabi’s own breathing is heavy and ragged, and he takes a few deep, measured breaths to steady himself. After a few moments, that hand that once held his belt is carefully laid on the curve of your ass, and you gasp both at the gentle touch and the shock of prickly pain it brings. Judging by the way he strokes the heated flesh, you’re sure the silver eyelets have left a series of bruises behind.

“S-s-sir.” You blubber, “I’m... I…”

“Shhhh, quiet down.” He says softly, voice uncharacteristically tender as he runs his hand along the width of your heated cheeks. “It’s over now. You did so well.”

The unexpected praise makes you whimper beneath his affections, devolving into a quiet moan as his hand travels even lower, fingers coming to rest at the entrance to your heated core. He begins to gently massage at your folds, middle finger slipping inside to find you impossibly wet and clenching around the digit.

“You filthy little thing…” He breathes out on a chuckle, “Are you really that turned on by me beating the hell out of your cute little ass?”

His finger delves deeper, pussy eagerly sucking him in as you keen below him. His free hand begins to lightly scratch up and down your back, goosebumps rising in the wake of each careful caress. Without thinking, you shift further onto your knees, fighting through the pain to push against his hand.

“Please, Sir.” You moan wantonly, “More. Please.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi slips a second finger inside of you and begins to languidly pump them in and out. Pain and pleasure meld together in a sinful symphony, pants and whimpers coming from you as you rock your abused body against his own scarred flesh. He adjusts the angle and crooks his fingers downwards, curling them just shy of that sensitive bundle of nerves you know would have you seeing stars. Your back arches as you hungrily push against him, dignity forgotten in the face of pure, carnal desire.

“Getting impatient, are we?” He growls teasingly, fingers suddenly slipping out from your sopping core and wrenching a high-pitched whine from the back of your throat. He moves off the bed entirely, ordering you to stay put as he walks over to the nearby dresser and opens up the top drawer. Like the cuffs would allow you to do anything otherwise.

“Ah, here we go.” He says after a few seconds of rummaging, striding back over to the bed and taking up residence behind you. You feel the mattress dip under his weight seconds before his hands find your hips, roughly hauling them upwards and forcing your face further into the pillows. You shriek as he grabs ahold of your left cheek and squeezes harshly, pain shooting up your spine like a bolt of summer lightning. Something hard and cool prods at your quivering entrance, briefly brushing against your clit before being plunged inside of you. The sudden stretch feels at once too much and deeply satiating, sending burning, pleasurable heat licking across your oversensitized nerves. Once the toy is sunk to the hilt, Dabi gives a short grunt of satisfaction before sliding off the bed and circling around to lean over your quivering form. You turn your head to face him and he smirks at the sight of your fucked out expression: eyes red and puffy, cheeks streaked with half-dried tears, lips swollen from the bluntness of your own teeth.

“Aren’t you a sight?” He hums lowly, brushing away an errant strand of hair to plant a condescending kiss to your temple. “Such a needy little slut for me.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi pats your cheek, straightens up, and turns towards the door.

“Wait!” You squeak out, squirming against your restraints as you watch his retreating back. “You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

“That’s the plan, dollface.” He shoots back, casting you a wicked grin over his left shoulder as he pulls the door open. “At least until I finish my shower.”

[quickspinner]

Neighborly

I had a bad case of writers block and rabbit brain trying to work on my wips yesterday, so I went and dug through my prompt lists, sat down with the sprint timer, and scrawled out this little bit of nonsense. I'm not sure about the final result but it broke the block, and I figured I might as well share it, so I hope you enjoy!

AO3

Rating: T

Marinette's been crushing on her cute neighbor for weeks, but she's never gotten the courage to speak more than a few flustered words to him. Now it might be too late--he's at her door begging for the use of her shower to get ready for his big date.

Marinette stared at the man standing at her door. 

“I’m sorry?” she said faintly, and the man smiled at her. That didn’t help the situation at all, as it made her knees wobbly. 

“Weird ask, I know,” he said, ruffling a hand through his blue-tinted hair. “It’s just that I’m supposed to have a date tonight and my shower’s been out for two days. Maintenance has quit answering my calls and I’m getting desperate. I really like this girl and I don’t want to give the wrong impression.” 

“Oh,” Marinette said, voice still weak, and then she plastered a plastic smile on her face. “O-of course you can! What are neighbors for, right? Um—” 

“Luka,” he supplied, still smiling. Marinette already knew that, of course. She knew an embarrassing amount of information about this man, considering they had only spoken in passing. The first time, he’d caught her when her shoe had broken in the hallway, and she’d pitched straight into him somehow managing to stop her fall and haul her back upright against him with only one strong arm. He hadn’t even lost the groceries he’d been carrying in the other. He’d smiled at her and told her to be careful with that soft velvet voice and she’d looked up into blue eyes that seemed far too gentle for his handsome, angular face and— 

Marinette suddenly realized it was her turn to talk and that she was taking too long. “Um M-Marinette, I’m. I’m Marinette,” she stammered.  

“Nice to finally officially meet you Marinette,” Luka said easily, as if she wasn’t the most awkward person he’d ever spoken to, as if she hadn’t run away from him after a few awkward words every time they’d bumped into each other—literally or otherwise. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll pop back over and grab my things, and be back in a few minutes?”

“Oh, um. Y-yeah, yeah, of course,” she babbled, and he turned away, raising a hand slightly. 

“Great, I’ll be back in a few then.” 

Marinette shut the door numbly, and then walked over to her couch and buried her face in a pillow. She screamed, kicking her feet, and then tossed the pillow away, moaning as she dragged her hands down her face. 

It wasn’t enough that the super hot musician with gorgeous shoulders and dreamy eyes was coming over to use her shower. He had to need her shower because he had a date . Marinette wanted to be his date! She’d been half-stalking him trying to work up the courage—well. Not really stalking him, just...observing. She just noticed things, that was all, like how he had a smile and a question for everybody, the way he fed the stray cats that lived behind the building, and always held open doors no matter who was behind him, and how hard his chest was beneath the baggy layers he wore, and—oh, that chest was going to be in her bathroom and—her bathroom! 

Marinette’s eyes flew wide and she nearly tripped over her own feet, flinging herself off the couch, running to the bathroom to grab anything too girly or potentially embarrassing and shove it under the sink. Fortunately her bathroom wasn’t dirty (she wasn’t an animal after all), just cluttered, and she frantically grabbed the underthings she’d draped over the shower rod to dry and ran them to her room, shoving them frantically under her pillow before going back to make absolutely sure she hadn’t missed any or left anything embarrassing. She put a clean towel on the rack and threw the dirty one over her arm and triple-checked to make sure there was no hair in the shower drain. She heard the knock on the door and jerked up, banging her head on the faucet of the tub. She yelped, dizzy with the pain for a moment. 

“Marinette?” Luka called, as she tried to extract herself from the bathtub with one hand clutched to her scalp. She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her; that hurt. 

“Are you all right?” Luka asked, and Marinette whirled around wide-eyed to find him standing in the bathroom doorway. “I heard you yell and I let myself in, I hope that’s okay. Did you hurt yourself? Are you bleeding?” He dropped the backpack slung over his shoulder onto the floor and came over to her, gently tugging her hand away from her head. 

“I don’t think so,” Marinette gritted. “I was just...trying to clean up a bit, and…” She gestured at the faucet and Luka winced in sympathy.

“Ouch,” he muttered as he parted her hair with gentle fingers. He was so nice, Marinette mourned. Although...he did smell like he needed that shower. She held her breath and tried not to make a face. “It looks okay,” he said, stepping back away from her. “You didn’t have to clean for me.” 

Marinette gave an embarrassed shrug. “Wouldn’t you?” she asked dryly, and blushed when Luka laughed.

“Probably,” he conceded with a grin. “Thanks. I really didn’t mean to put you to inconvenience.”

“It’s no big deal,” Marinette said, finally mustering a smile. “Besides, how could I leave you in the lurch? Big date and all. I don’t need any more bad karma on my dating life.” 

Luka’s eyebrows rose, and Marinette flushed, cursing her stupid mouth that never shut up when it should. “So I’ll, um—” she gestured behind Luka to the door, “get out of here, so you can. You know.” 

“Oh, sorry.” Luka moved out of her way, pressing himself against the sink, and Marinette squeezed past him and out of the door. “Thanks again, I really appreciate it.”

“This girl must be something special,” Marinette smiled as she backed into the small hallway. “For you to go to all this trouble instead of rescheduling.”

“She is,” Luka grinned. “She’s amazing. I think so, anyway. I don’t know her very well yet, but she’s awfully sweet and super cute.” The grin on his face turned a little goofy. “I’ve been smitten since I met her, honestly.” 

“Oh,” Marinette kept her smile in place, trying to ignore the cold feeling in her stomach. “Oh, that’s really sweet. Um, well I don’t want to make you late, so I’ll just...music! I’ll go turn on some music.” That way she wouldn’t hear the incredibly cute soon-to-be-naked boy in her bathroom. “Um, take your time, let me know if you need anything.”

Luka’s grin widened a little. “Thanks Marinette.” He shut the door, and Marinette marched herself back to the living room to scream into another pillow. 

After a few deep breaths and a lot of nervous fumbling, she got her music player running. Jagged Stone should be enough, right? Loud enough to cover—she heard the curtain rings slide across the rod. The shower started running and Luka’s deep sigh of relief. Poor guy , she thought, he must have been miserable . She put the music player on and sat for a moment, chewing her thumbnail nervously. 

After a few minutes she sat up straighter, listening. Was that—over the sound of the running water and Jagged Stone wailing through her sound system, she heard another voice. Luka was...singing? He was singing along with the song that was playing. Marinette giggled, and moved to the other end of the couch, listening. He had a nice voice, she thought wistfully. She’d seen him with a guitar on his back in the halls. She wondered if some of the music she occasionally heard through his door in the hall was music he made, rather than the radio as she’d assumed. 

She flopped on the arm of the couch and groaned. He was so cool, and she was such a disaster. She would have never been brave enough to ask to use a stranger’s shower, no matter how miserable and disgusting she was. 

Poor guy , she thought again. He must have been really desperate.

She sat up, and picked up her phone, looking at it in her hands. Maybe she could...well, it might be stupid but it couldn’t hurt to just ask, right?

Marinette dialed the building maintenance number. “Hi Pierre,” she chirped brightly when the grumpy old technician picked up the phone. “It’s Marinette in 34 B? How are you doing? 

“Miss Marinette!” The gruff tone softened. “I’m doing well, doing well. Tickets lined up like crazy, though. Everything seems to be breaking at once these days.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Marinette said, putting on a tone of great sympathy. “Maybe I shouldn’t bother you then—”

“Now, now, none of that. What can I do for you?” 

“It’s not actually me,” Marinette said, “It’s my neighbor across the hall, Luka? His shower’s been out for a while now and he came over tonight to see if he could use mine—”

“What?” barked old Pierre, and Marinette grinned to herself. “That punk with the piercings? You shouldn’t be letting him traipse through your apartment Miss Marinette. Guys like that always try to take advantage.”

“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t do that,” Marinette said innocently. “I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything like that. I was calling to see when his shower might be fixed, but if you’re so busy, maybe I should just give him my spare key so he can—”

“No, no,” Pierre said quickly. “I’ve got his ticket right here, see, he was next on the list. His shower will be fixed tomorrow, so don’t be making any foolish offers Miss Marinette. You’re too nice for your own good, you know.” 

“Oh, it never hurts to be nice, Pierre,” Marinette giggled. “I’m planning on making some chocolate chip scones tomorrow to take to a friend, so if you do come to fix Luka’s shower, stop on by, I’ll save a few of them for you.”

“Well, I’ll stop by if I have time,” Pierre said gruffly. “Not that sweets are much to a man my age, but if you made them…” 

“Great, I hope I’ll see you!” Marinette giggled. “Thanks so much Pierre, you’re an angel.” She hung up, grinning to herself.

“I can’t believe it. You’re magic.” 

Marinette jumped half out of her skin and whirled around. Luka grinned at her sheepishly, but she hardly noticed, because while he was wearing pants—a different, more fitted pair than what he’d had on when he arrived—his torso was bare, and her fluffy pink towel hung around his shoulders, catching only most of the drips falling from his blue hair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, and I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I just wanted to ask if you had a hair dryer I can borrow. I forgot to grab mine.” 

“Oh, um, sure,” Marinette said, jumping up. “I’ll just...I’ll get it, if that’s okay.” She blushed, thinking of all the things she had shoved in the cabinet before he came. 

“Sure.” Luka moved back out of her way, and she shimmied past him into the bathroom. She blinked a moment at the amount of paraphernalia spread on her counter. She’d never thought guys used that much product, but she shook herself and bent over to dig in the cabinet, trying to block it with her body so Luka couldn’t see inside. It took some effort to find the hair dryer, which had been shoved against the back of the cabinet in her frenzied tidying, but by some miracle she extracted it without dumping all of the piled up junk onto the floor. Sighing in relief, she straightened and turned. “Got it!” 

Luka was looking at the ceiling. His darkly tanned skin was flushed from the hot shower and the line of his neck made her swallow. “Luka?” she repeated, trying not to squeak. 

His dropped his gaze back to her, and she froze under the intensity in that look for a moment. Then he blinked and smiled, softening, and Marinette felt she could move again. She offered him the hair dryer and he took it. “Thanks, Marinette,” he said. “And thanks for getting Pierre’s ass in gear. He hates me, so I figured it’d be a week at least before I could get him to come out.” 

“Oh, that.” Marinette shrugged, and grinned mischievously. “I have a lot of experience dealing with grouchy old men.” She winked, and to her mild surprise, the color in Luka’s cheeks deepened. He cleared his throat. 

“Well, thanks for making the effort, I really appreciate it.” 

“Why does he hate you?” Marinette frowned, as Luka’s words caught up to her. 

Luka nodded vaguely in the direction of the back of the building. “We got into it over me feeding the strays. He was nattering on about disease and just breeding more and blah, blah, blah.” Luka rolled his eyes. “If he’d actually listen for five minutes...anyway, I have a friend, the blond that was with me that one time, you remember? He runs a trap-and-release program for feral cats, gets them vaccinated and fixed and all that and then lets them back out into their home territory. The cats behind our building are probably as safe as your average indoor cat, in terms of disease.” 

“Oh,” Marinette gasped, awed. “That’s really cool.” 

Luka grinned. “He’s pretty passionate about it. He did all the real work, trapping and transport and all that. I just make sure they have a good meal. May I?” He gestured towards the sink, and Marinette jumped.

“Oh, of course, please. I’m sorry, I’m going to make you late with all this chattering—” Marinette babbled as she and Luka did a slightly awkward dance to let him in and her out of the bathroom. He smelled much better now, she noticed giddily as they had to squeeze together. She only barely managed not to squeal when he took her arm lightly to guide her around him. 

“By the way,” he called once she was out, and she glanced back to see him unscrewing the lid on one of the sink jars. “Do you have any suggestions for good places to eat close by?” He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. “I’m always looking to try new things.” 

“U-um—” Finding it hard to think while staring at his bare back, Marinette turned away and tapped a finger to her lips in thought. “What kind of food do you like?”

“Anything,” Luka replied, running fingers coated in some kind of gel through his hair. “I like all kinds of things.”

“What does she like?” 

“I don’t know yet,” Luka admitted. 

Marinette considered. “Well, my favorite is this Italian place about two blocks down, but Italian is chancy on a first date. Messy, you know. She might not be comfortable.” Marinette raised her voice as Luka turned on the hair dryer. “There’s an Indian place that’s a little farther away, and there’s a really cute little patisserie right next to it, that could be romantic. Oh, and there’s a park right there, if you feel like a nighttime stroll.” She frowned. “You didn’t already figure this stuff out?”

“I’m not really a planner,” Luka laughed, his deep voice carrying easily even over the noise of the dryer. “I had some ideas, but sometimes the universe throws you an Indian place and a cute patisserie, with a moonlight stroll in the bargain.” He winked at Marinette. “It pays to keep an open mind.” 

Marinette started to smile, and then remembered she was helping him plan a date with someone else, and turned away again. “Okay, well, you’ll have to let me know how it goes,” she said quickly as she went down the hallway. Her eyes were stinging and she took a deep breath as she blinked. Stupid , she scolded herself. She didn’t even know him, because just like always she’d never found the guts to actually talk to him, besides a hello and good night! and one very rushed um, cat food was on sale and I noticed it was the brand you buy so...here! SEEYOULATERBYE! He was her neighbor and she hadn’t even asked his name before today, only seen it on the mail that had been misdelivered to her box instead of his. All she had was little stolen scraps, because she hadn’t been brave enough to ask for more.

Ugh she was such a loser, it was no wonder Luka had never even—well, he had said a word to her, actually. Words like Are you all right? and Can I help you with that? and Wow, thanks, that’s so cool of you . Because he was sweet and nice as well as good looking, and if she’d had any guts at all maybe she could have— 

“Marinette?” 

She whirled, and Luka was standing there, his bag at his feet, closing the last two buttons of a black dress shirt. “Are you all right?” he asked as he began rolling the sleeves up to bare his forearms. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” 

“What? No, of course not.” Marinette clamped her teeth down on her tongue before she could blurt something like I have shirtless men in my home all the time . Luka was looking at her with a slightly furrowed brow.  

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I should have gone back to my place to finish up, I wasn’t—I mean I didn’t mean to impose or anything.” 

Marinette took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then gave him a genuine smile. “You didn’t. Really, Luka, I wasn’t bothered. I just, um. I got emotional about something for a moment there, but it wasn’t your fault.” 

Luka nodded. “Something about bad dating karma?” he guessed, voice so gentle it made her ache. 

“More or less.” Marinette tried to smile.

“Well,” Luka sighed, finishing the second sleeve. “Honestly I haven’t been too lucky in that department myself. I was hoping tonight would change that, but...maybe...maybe it isn’t the best time after all.” 

“What?” Marinette cried, staring at him. “Why? Luka, you seemed like you liked this girl so much, and you’re all dressed up.” She stepped to him and adjusted the set of his collar without thinking. “You look so good, it’ll be great. She won’t be able to resist you. Believe me, I know it’s scary to put yourself out there, but won’t you regret it if you don’t?” I do .  

Luka caught her wrists gently. “Yeah, I really think I would.” He grinned. “Now I just need to ask her.” 

Marinette blinked up at him. “You didn’t ask her?” she asked, bewildered. “Isn’t it going to be kind of short notice?” She frowned. “You said you had a date tonight.” 

Luka dipped his head in a kinda-sorta motion. “I said I was supposed to have a date tonight,” he chuckled. “And I would have—or at least I hope so—if I’d asked you out two days ago when I planned. But then I got home from work and of course I was sweaty and gross and then my shower wouldn’t work, and I couldn’t talk to you while I was disgusting. Not when you’re always so pretty and neat and put together.” 

Marinette’s cheeks flushed. 

“And then Pierre didn’t show and he didn’t show and he didn’t show,” Luka rolled his eyes. “And if I didn’t ask you out today, I’d owe my buddy that runs the cat rescue my favorite signed Jagged Stone album. He’s been bugging me about asking you out for like a month.” He grinned. “Ever since you brought me the cat food? He could see how much I liked you and he decided then and there we were meant to be, and somehow I let him talk me into this stupid—bet or dare or whatever, that if I didn’t man up by today...well. I would’ve asked you anyway one way or another.” 

Marinette’s mouth dropped open, and she was sure her face must be on fire.

“So, now that I’m presentable,” Luka grinned slowly. “Will you go out to dinner with me tonight? I heard about this really good Indian place. Maybe afterwards we could grab dessert and take a walk in the park? I’d really like to get to know you better.” 

Marinette gasped, and then her lips pursed into a pout. Luka laughed. “You’re mean,” she told him, kicking his shin lightly.

Luka’s shoulders hunched a little, and he looked guilty. “I didn’t mean to be. I’m sorry for teasing.” He blushed. “I guess I was nerving myself up a bit, telling you how much I liked you without you knowing, but I didn’t think about how it would come across. I didn’t mean to upset you. No pressure, okay?” He slid his hands from her wrists to her hands and lowered them between them. “If you don’t want to, no hard feelings. Just, like you said. I’d regret it if I didn’t try.” 

“But—” Marinette let go of his hands as her own flew to her hair. “I’m not dressed for a date!” 

Luka chuckled. “You look gorgeous to me. But I can wait if you want to change.” 

Marinette reddened. “I—w-well, I mean...I mean I guess we could—” Luka laid a finger on her lips.

“Breathe,” he told her, clearly trying not to laugh. “You’re really cute, you know that?”  

That didn’t help her efforts to calm down, but she did manage to breathe, despite the very distracting slide of his finger as it left her lips. “Fine,” she said finally. “But you better be prepared because I’m going all out for our second date.” 

Luka’s grin went wide and bright and more than a little silly. “I can’t wait.”   

ETA:  Okay, yes, I know this was a bit mean for Marinette. I did actually really waffle about it while I was writing it and I almost scrapped it a couple times, but the whole point of the timer is to keep me on task and stop the second guessing and overthinking that was sabotaging me, so I ran with it. I did ultimately decide to keep it because really, they haven't had a chance to really talk or anything here, and so Luka doesn't really know that Marinette's into him. He's aware there's some attraction between them, but he doesn't know how hard she's crushing. So really, he's just a bit insecure himself and psyching himself up a bit for The Moment. So I justify it to myself anyway. As soon as he's able to actually take in her mood he's aware he's messed up. If you can't forgive him, that's okay. Mari will get him back later.

Fiction Master Post

[lucky-catttt]

Maxwell Lord’s Aphrodite - Pt 2

Summary: When Maxwell Lord’s world comes crashing down, you, his personal assistant bring him back from the pits of despair.

Pairings: Maxwell Lord x Reader (female), Maxwell Lord x You

Rating: Mature 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS ALLOWED TO READ.

Word Count: 3,885

Warnings: Prepare to put a towel down or go touch some grass after, either or LOL Mention of genitals, oral sex, squirting, face fucking, choking, names, foreplay, degradation, aftercare, BDSM, sexism/sexual harrassment.

A/N: This is my first fan-fic, so the writing might not be fantastic, but if you have any pointers/advice please tell me! I’ve also added images and gifs to help readers imagine the scenarios and reactions!

“So what kind of proposal were we thinking of that would save Black Gold corporation?” Max quizzes, leaning back against his chair. You pause to think while finishing your pastry. “Well” you begin “This space is huge, around 4,300 square feet. The lease Black Gold is renting this office floor has no major restrictions on it, so you could potentially sub-let the space on the floor for a monthly or fixed term lease to people who work remotely or teams that don’t want to commit to a larger office space. It's becoming more common because of the GFC, people can't commit to large long term leases for whole office floors anymore. You could also rent out the boardroom by the hour & also lease the private manager offices to businesses that want their own private room. And we already have a reception near the lifts, just re-hire them and make them pretend they work for all the businesses on the floor, answering their calls, doing admin work like scanning and faxing etc. As far as the business’s clients that show up are concerned, each business looks like they own the whole floor.

If we do a cost analysis and then get a small investor to cover the startup costs, we could guarantee them a return if businesses pay contract deposits or pay their lease in advance up front. Plus the landlord we owe money to. And with the top floor with amazing views and location, we can charge top dollar” Max stares at you in disbelief. “Wow, are you sure you don’t wanna be CEO?” He laughs, still in shock. You laugh, blushing. “I started working on a business proposal for one of my university assessments, if we customise it for this project we could pitch it to some investors and banks and speak to the landlord about it as well” You reply. “I could kiss you right now.” Maxwell sighs, gripping his fist. “Please do” you giggle, leaning towards him. Max reaches out both hands to cup your face, before planting a passionate kiss on your lips. “Well, I guess we have a lot of work to do!” Max yells, before striding towards the bathroom to take a shower. Two weeks go by and the proposal is ready. Max calls you from the company car, on the way to your house to pick you up before the big investors meeting. “I’ll be right outside your place in a few minutes my sweet” He coos, beaming with excitement to see you. As his car pulls up, you collect your compendium, presentation cards and your pointer rod. Struggling with all you have to carry, Alfred rushes out of the car and up the steps to the front door, collecting all of your belongings. 

Maxwell peers over the top of his shades but the sun from behind your house blinds him. He shuffles across the seat and opens the car door, the sun now hiding from his view. As he removes his shades and looks up the stairs towards your front door, he sees you standing there, fixing your outfit. He’s stunned. 

It might be 1984, but you’re wearing a stunning outfit pulled straight from the 50s. A black suit dress with a pleat in the front with a thin gold belt around your waist. You accented the look with strap Mary jane heels, a black and gold handbag and a neat beret fascinator. Your hair was curled, accentuated with bright red lipstick and a single set of pearl earrings.

Max looks like he’s about to drop to his knees in awe, but his knees bend into a lengthy stride up the stairs, rushing to your side. “A heavenly vision of beauty'' Max gasps, giving you a kiss on the cheek in an attempt to preserve your makeup. He puts out his arm and you wrap your hands around it, as he leads you down your stairs to the car, staring at you the whole time, letting the universe guide his steps as this absolute goddess graces his presence. You both slide into the back seat of Max’s company car, his large hand immediately passing along your back and resting on your hip and ass, pulling you as close to him as possible. “I dont know how this presentation is going to go, but I can be absolutely certain that myself and every other person in that room will be enraptured by your presence”. he murmurs into your neck, squeezing your ass.

Max was wearing a pinstripe royal blue suit with black laced oxfords. His matching tie and pocket square peeking out. “I would kiss you right now but i don't want to get lipstick on your face just before our meeting” you blush, rubbing your nose against his. “I know. We have all the time in the world after” Max replies, running his nose down your neck, breathing gently against your skin.

 “We should probably prepare for the meeting, Max” you chuckle, seeing the office building not far up the road. You pull out your compendium and flip to an architectural blueprint of the office floor. 

“I had this drawn up by an architectural drafter last week. As you can see the large blank space is your office and private room, you already have the glass frosted for privacy. All the other office cubicles will be converted to private offices, as well as boardrooms, co-working areas and remote working hot spots.” Max’s eyes widen with surprise at the level of detail. “How did you get this done? I certainly don't remember commissioning this'' rubbing his chin. “I paid for it” you respond, nonchalantly. “You spent your money, for me?” Max inquires, now in disbelief. “Of course. I told you I would help you, Max. Consider it an investment”. You wink, flipping through more pages of the presentation. Just when Max thought he couldn't fall more in love with you than he already has, your hard work and giving nature makes his heart swell even larger to make room. After a few minutes the car pulls up to the investor’s office building. “Before we go in there, I want to ask you something.” Your eyes widen with intrigue. “While we're there, I’m not sure how these businessmen will react to a woman being anything more than my personal assistant. I’m not intimidated by you at all, but I suspect some of them might be” He continues, his eyes falling to your lap as he holds your hands. “Max, this project is my dream, but it’s your company, so i’m giving it to you to present. You’re the only person I trust with this”. 

As Maxwell begins to get himself together, you take a seat adjacent to where Max is standing. Although your knees are together with one ankle behind the other, you can feel some of the businessmen closest to you looking you up and down like a piece of meat. You quickly turn to face Max, giving him your undivided attention. “Well, I know you’re all very busy, so lets get started” Max smiles, wringing his palms together. The businessmen listen intently to Max’s pitch for the restructure of Black Gold corporation, before they begin to ask questions on financials. You begin to notice the men losing interest and Max starting to lose his confidence. He looks at you, his expression half pleading and half embarrassed. Without any hesitation, you stand up from your chair, striding over to Max’s side, picking up the pointing rod from the easel and pulling it to full length with one swift pull. 

The men all sit upright at attention from the sound of the rod. “If I may, Maxwell” you butt in, politely. “Gentleman” You steady the pointer rod against the chart on the easel “the profit figures on the project are as follows; 36 external view offices, charged at $3,000 per month each, generating $108,000 gross profit. The 25 internal offices with no view will be $500 per month, generating $12,500. We also have hot-desks with memberships starting at $20 per month. If companies want us to answer their phones, do their mail, bring them coffee, do their shopping, take their dry-cleaning, walk their dogs or bring them lunch, that's an additional fee. Essentially, we are looking at a monthly profit turnover of $150,000+. Our current lease fee is $50,000 a month with about $15,000 in body corporate and utilities, leaving $85,000 per month net profit, $225 thousand per quarter and over a million annually. We currently are looking for a combined setup cost of around $500,000. The more you invest, the bigger your return.” You swing the pointer road and rest it on your shoulder. 

Silence fills the room and you panic. Your assertiveness may have turned them off, so you pretend to be ditzy and dip one of your feet inwards. The men who are all sitting up at attention, look between each other and nod. Your charm and business acumen seemed to have put them under some kind of spell. “Thanks for your time gentleman. If you have any questions please feel free to call” you finish, walking around to hand each of them Max’s business card. The men begin to chat amongst themselves, before one of them approaches Maxwell. They introduce themselves and begin chatting about the pitch “You should be very proud of your assistant Maxwell” they chuckle “she seems very switched on and driven”. Max shoots you a smiling glance, before turning back “Yeah, I’m actually going to make her the CFO” he responds. “Well, we’ll deliberate here and be back in touch with our offer”. The meeting finally wraps up and you both head back downstairs where Alfred is waiting with the car door already open. You both slide inside and Max wraps his arms around you before passionately kissing your lips as the car drives back to his office.

“You want to make me the.. CFO?” you pant, breaking from the kiss. “Yes” Max smiles, staring into your eyes. “You have worked so hard and today at the presentation..I know you’re the woman for the job. Do you want it?” You blush, holding his face “Well how can I say no?”. The company car finally pulls up back at the office and you both head through the lobby and into the lift. Max stands behind you with his arms wrapped around you and his head on your shoulder, talking about the enormous amount of work that will potentially need to be done if this deal goes through. As the lift doors open into the reception area, you both step out and Max hears the phone in his office start to ring. You give him an excited smile, encouraging him to go take the call in private. He begins striding through the empty office before making it to his office, pushing the doors open and heading over to his desk.

You take your time walking back to his office, giving Max time to finish his phone call. As you approach his office doors, you hear the click of the receiver as he hangs up. You watch Max’s shadow behind the frosted glass walk up to the doors and swing them open, a neutral look on his face. You look puzzled, thinking it was bad news before he burst out laughing with a smile, swinging you over his shoulder and carrying you to his bedroom. “You did it baby!” He yells, slapping your backside before throwing you both down onto the bed. “We did!?” you scream, a wave of relief and excitement washing over you. “Yes! I’m so proud of you. You saved Black Gold corporation. You saved me.” Max smiles, brushing a lock of curls away from your face before cupping your cheek and passionately kissing you. 

You kick off your shoes, belt and take off your beret fascinator as Max removes his suit jacket, suspenders and belt, before kissing each other again. “I was so turned on by you today” Max moans, writhing his hands all over your body, before ripping the bust of your dress open, the two buttons pinging off onto the carpet. “Watching your voluptuous ass in that dress walking into that boardroom and how you commanded the room’s attention, took control and sealed the deal. I wanted to put you over that boardroom table and worship you like the goddess you are. But I guess I can do that now”. Something about wearing your favourite suit of his, the unwavering progressive support of women and eagerness to pleasure you unlocks your most ravenous sexual desires. You stop Max, sitting up at the foot of the bed. He gets up from laying down and looks at you, worried he said or did something wrong. “Whats wrong my love?” he asks, looking concerned. ****MAJOR SMUT WARNING AHEAD**** “Max… you’ve shown me the romantic love making version which was so beautiful, but I want to make you feel worshipped” Max gives you an interesting glance. “You’re such a giving person but I want to give back. You’ve suffered neglect and mistreatment most of your life. I want to give you a different kind of passionate sex. I have fantasies and wild ideas that I think will give you immense pleasure. I want you to….” You stop yourself, not sure how he will react. Max's eyes widened with intrigue. “Go on?” Max squeezes your hand. “Well” you begin. The passionate fire is burning hotter and hotter within you. “I want you…” you hitch up your skirt and sit across Max’s lap, with one leg over each side “to straddle my chest and fuck my throat while I rub my clit” you get closer to Max’s face, pulling on his tie “And I want to cum while you’re throat fucking and choking me with your cock” you begin to undo his tie “And then I want you to cum in the back of my throat and make me swallow it”. There’s dead silence, so you bat your eyelash extensions, throwing a sexy yet innocent gaze followed by “hmmm?”. Max’s mind goes completely blank, the blood rushing from every inch of his body straight to his cock, which you feel hardened against your crotch as you straddle him. “Uhh wow honey that sounds very dangerous.” Max chokes, embarrassed he's getting turned on at the idea of hurting you. 

“For you or me?” You giggle, biting your lip. “For you” Max says, wrapping his arms around you. “Are you sure that’s something you want me to do to you Hermosa?”. “Yes Maxwell. I love the way you worship and pleasure me, but I want you to feel the same way. I have a kink when it comes to being dominated. Seeing my man so turned on and using his strength and body to please himself using me, makes me feel incredible. I know you would never hurt me, it’s something I would love for you to experience” You answer before kissing his neck. “You really are too good to me, princessa” Max sighs, running his hands down your back to your ass, squeezing both cheeks. “Of course, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, Max” you give him a reassuring look, worried you might have overstepped. “No baby, I’d love to, if that’s what will bring you the most pleasure” He coos, kissing your neck.

You begin to take off your dress, revealing under a black and gold laced lingerie set. “Black and Gold” you chuckle, watching Max’s eyes widen at the level of detail. “How did I get so lucky?” Max pants, pulling off his shirt and pants, leaving his boxers to contain his rock hard cock. You go to reach for Max’s crotch when his hand stops you. “Before we do this” Max begins “I want you to stop me at any time if it hurts or you can’t breathe or you just don’t want to do it anymore. That is the most important thing to me”. You nod and smile at Max, leaning in to kiss him, before your hands start to remove his boxers.

You reach down and begin to tease his cock, tracing your fingers tips against the tip. With your other hand you guide Max’s hand down, placing it at the top of your panties. As he starts to put his hands under your panties, he notices there’s a hole in them. Max stops to inspect. “Crotchless panties? Me vuelves loco” Max pants before he begin kissing and biting all over your body.

You’re in for it now. Like a virus, you’ve taken over Max’s brain, flooding it with animalistic desire and passion. A switch has been flipped and hell bent on blowing your mind, leaving all of his inhibitions and reservations about what he’s about to do to you at the door. Max climbs on top of you, wrapping his large hand around your throat, gently squeezing as you gasp for air. “Is this what you want?” He growls into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe before kissing down your neck. You manage to nod before moaning, indicating that you’re enjoying it. He’s never treated a woman like this before, but he manages to find the personality and words seemingly from thin air, like it was repressed all this time. “Start touching yourself for me now” Max commands. You slide your hand down into your panties and start rubbing your clit, sparks flying through your body and the slick now leaking out of your pussy. He groans at the sight of you touching yourself. Max moves up the bed before straddling over your chest. With your head propped up on some pillows, you look in Max’s eyes and ready your mouth and jaw for his throbbing cock. Max thumbs your bottom lip before grabbing just under your jaw to keep your face steady. “Open wide like the good little whore that you are” he hisses, smacking the tip of his precum soaked cock on your face.

The degrading name only makes you wetter, as you furiously rub your clitoris whilst pinned under Max’s legs. You moan as Max pushes his cock into your mouth and down your throat. “Oh my god my love your mouth feels incredible” Max moans, his character from before severely altered by the pleasurable sensation. He realises his mistake and compensates by pushing his cock as far as it will fit into your mouth and throat. “That’s it, take it all” he smirks, exhaling with a moan. You use two fingers to scoop up some of your slick and rub it into your clitoris, which is now super sensitive. Your stifled moans humming against Max’s veiny cock cause it to twitch. With your hips bucking from pleasuring yourself, Max takes both of his hands and puts them on your cheeks. “Fuck your mouth feels so good” Max moans, slowly thrusting back and forth out of your mouth, his cock touching your uvula and causing you to gag with each stroke. Your eyes begin to roll back in your skull as you continue to moan & choke, your swollen clitoris edging closer and closer to orgasm. “You like this huh? You like it when Daddy fills your throat up and fucks it?” Max hisses, wrapping your hair in between his fingers, gripping hard as his thrusts gain more momentum. Thick strings of spit is now spilling out of your mouth, down your chin and onto your breasts. “You look

The taste of Max’s precum coating the back of your tongue. You’re fighting to contain your orgasm but Max’s cock and brutal punishing words are sending you dangerously close to the edge. “Mmmmm, mmmmm!” You choke, tears welling in your eyes as you’re trying to nod and send Max a pleasured innocent gaze, driving him wild. You concentrate on breathing through your nose, each time Max’s cock leaves the back of your throat for a split second, giving you enough time to take in air. You decide to start moving your flattened tongue against the shaft, rubbing against the tip as it passes back and forth. Max let’s out a groan “You’re such a good little putá for papá”. There’s no holding back now, you increase your moans to signal that you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. “Cum for me” Max hisses, continuing the ecstasy inducing tempo of thrusts into your mouth and throat. You continue to rub your clit and gesture for Max to keep his cock still inside your mouth and throat for this moment, riding the crashing wave of your orgasm, squirting furiously onto your legs and sheets below. The writhing and shaking of your body underneath him, the sound of your squirting and muffled cries and moans from behind his cock is too much and brings him closer much faster than he ever anticipated. The eye-watering sensation causes the tears to flow down your cheeks, causing your mascara to run.

As your orgasm begins to subside you gesture for Max to continue thrusting, which he does as he moves his large hands to cup your face. “That felt fucking amazing” Max moans, continuing his fast and hard strokes. Your gaze, burning with passion and framed within smudged running eyeliner locks with Max’s, his domineering yet still showing affection. “I’m gonna cum” Max pants, keeping the pace as his grip on your face grows tighter. “Fuckkkk!!!” He shouts, holding your head still as he holds one final thrust as far in as it will go. Your eyes roll back into your head again as you feel the warm thick ropes of cum spurt onto the back of your throat. It was lucky you had taken a large enough breath before that moment, enough to sustain you for the few seconds Max held his cock still inside your mouth, throbbing and pulsing as he moans and shudders, cursing in Spanish. Coming back to reality, Max immediately pulls his softening cock from your mouth and wraps his large hands on the top and bottom of your face, closing your jaw shut. “Now Swallow” he commands, bending down so that his face inches from yours. With a cheeky gaze you oblige and swallow the remains of his cum tangled in your throat, before opening your jaw to allow him to inspect if there was any left. “My good little leche putá” he whispers, before spitting in your wide open mouth.

As if like breaking character on a movie set, Max immediately reverts back to his original self, climbing off to the side to lay next to you. “Was that good for you my love? How do you feel?” Max asks, worried he’s harmed your physical and mental state. “Incredible” you pant, smiling, lying in a pool of your own squirt. Breathing a sigh of relief, Max quickly brings up the blankets to cover you both, embracing you and peppering your spit, mascara and tear soaked face with kisses. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Max quizzes, checking your chest and throat over. “No” you reply, your throat somewhat hoarse. “Okay good. I love you so much” Max sighs, brushing your hair out of your face and kissing your forehead. “I love you too, Max”.

————————

I got impatient and wanted to post it now so I guess this chapter is finished 💀

@anaaaispunk @mandoalorian @pintsizemama

[airplanned]

All the Trashy Novels Part 25

Part 1...Part 24

It smut.

***

Link waited outside the dining room as the princess had a private lunch with her father.  "He's just going to chide me for my lack of spiritual progress," she'd said, waving a dismissive hand.  "But who knows, maybe he'll be pleased at how well we're getting along."  She'd flashed him a grin that made his stomach drop.  "How terrible could it be?"

Link wasn't sure if she'd been trying to convince him or herself.

When she walked out of the room forty-five minutes later, her back was ram-rod straight and her jaw clenched just as tight.  Her eyes were wide and her face was pale, and she walked straight past him as if in a silent, secret panic.  It had apparently gone very badly.

He followed her all the way out to the gardens, where she let her stiff posture drop in favor of freaking the fuck out.  Her fingers dug into her hair as she paced.  "He took it.  He took it.  What am I going to do?  He took it."

"What did he take?"

"The slate!  He says I'm wasting my time with it, and then he took it!"

He frowned.  Slowly, he said, "The Sheikah said that they were close to building a new--"

"No. No.  You don't understand."

"I understand it will make your research har--"

"I took another picture."

He froze.  "You what?"

Her hands pressed tight over her mouth as she stared at him with begging eyes.  She looked like she might cry from frustration and embarrassment. 

Oh no.

Link's mind raced.  "He doesn't know how to work the slate," he assured.

"Right.  Right.  Yes."  

"He probably wouldn't even try to use it."

"Of course."

They stared at each other.

"I'm going to go get it," he said, and turned on his heel.  He shouted over his shoulder, "Stay out of trouble."

He had a few options.  First, he could sneak in and steal it.  The problem with that was that getting caught would be disastrous, and even if he wasn't caught, the king would immediately suspect the princess, and in a way, he would be right.  Secondly, he could ask for it.  Of course, there was no reason at all that Link should have the Sheikah slate.  He wasn't a researcher. 

He needed a researcher.  

He headed straight for the guest rooms where the Sheikah were staying.  Purah glared at him when she opened the door.

"I thought you got the hint that I'm mad at you."

Link ignored her.  "The king confiscated the Sheikah Slate.  If you asked him to give it to you for your research, he'll give it to you to get it out of the castle.  Then you can sneak it back to Her Highness."

Purah was already grabbing her jacket, shouldering into it as she walked and straightening it at the shoulders.  "Is he in his study?"

Link didn't know.

They headed for his study.  Link made himself scare in the library stacks and waited as Purah was allowed to speak to the king.  She was gone for ten minutes.  When she reappeared, she walked straight past him and he hurried to follow her.

"For the Goddess' sake, tell her to keep this hidden," she snapped, passing it back over her shoulder.  Link had to rush forward to grab it.

"Don't talk to me any more this trip," she called.

Link stopped and took a deep breath.  Then he changed direction toward the princess' study.

She was pacing, one hand on her hip, a fingernail in her mouth, and she hurried to him when she saw him.  He held out the slate, and she sagged as she took it, closing her eyes as if offering a prayer of thanks.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"He thinks Purah has it.  You need to keep it hidden."

She nodded and sunk into her chair.

He shifted some papers and dropped onto the bench.  He gave her a minute before asking, "You took another picture?"

She frowned at him, then narrowed her eyes.  "Maybe."

"Was it better than the last one?"

Her nostrils flared, and she crossed the space between them and plopped down on the bench beside him.  She flipped through the slate and then thrust it into his hands.

It was a bit like being slapped.  He didn't know what to focus on.  The way her robe slipped down her shoulder.  The way that exposed a thin, off-center slice of skin from her shoulder to her chest wrappings, then down her belly to her panties, and down her thigh to where she stood on her knees on her bed.  He was distracted by the small bit of lace panties, by the small divot just above along the side of her abdomen.  He would lick both of those.  He would take her robe by its draping sleeves and hold them tight at the small of her back, pulling it off her shoulders, holding back her hands.  He was distracted by how she held her hair out of the way to show off her neck.  He was distracted by how she bit into the flesh of her lip, holding a blue hair tie in her mouth as if she were about to use it.  It looked like one of his hair ties.  The though made his mouth dry.  Then his vision drew back down to her body.

He crossed his leg to rest his ankle on his knee.

"Well?" she mocked.  "Better than the last one?"

He should really hand it back.  Just...just stop looking at it and give it back.

Instead he pulled his eyes from the slate to give her a look.  "Are you goading me?"

"What if I am?"

"What if it worked?"

She lifted an eyebrow in challenge.

He pressed a hand to the front of his pants, the relief nearly as strong as the pull to continue.  But he stared at her and narrowed his eyes.

For a split second, she showed surprise, but then her eyes narrowed dangerously, and then she was on him, throwing a leg over his lap and shoving him back and sideways on the bench until she was in the same pose as the picture, giving him a far hungrier look than she'd given her own image.  He gripped tight to her thigh and rubbed the butt of his hand harder against his cock, the heat building in his stomach as the heat grew in her cheeks, his breath coming faster as her chest heaved.  Then she was yanking at his shirt, and he was sitting up to help and somehow they tossed the Master Sword aside and got his shirt out of the way, and then she was tugging at his pants, and he was lifting his hips, and she was yanking them down enough for his cock to spring loose, and she was shoving him back, her hands running over his chest, and he groaned as he was finally able to take himself in hand and pump.  Her eyes on him were both embarrassing and hot as fuck, especially the way she bit her lip and moaned.  Especially when one of her hands started dragging up her body.  Her sides, her breast, her throat, absently, as if she were too distracted to notice, as if she were too turned on to care.  It ratcheted him higher, tighter, closer.  Then her furious eyes darted up to his in challenge, and it ended him.  His release came in two ropey bursts that seemed to drag up from so deep it might have been from the souls of heroes past.

He blinked stars from his eyes and panted.  As he came back into his body, back into his senses, he came back to the most bitter tasting embarrassment.

The princess' eyes were wide, as she stared down at him, and Link wanted nothing more than for lightning to strike him dead.  She stood as if he'd burned her, and he moved to tuck his cock away, but then she was back, pushing him back down and wiping his abs ineffectively with one of the rags she used to clean guardian parts.

"I've got it," he panted.  "Don't get messy."

She let him, and when he was done he looked up to stare at her.  

She pressed two fingers to the fading mark on his shoulder.  Then she handed him his shirt.

"Better than the last picture," he said.

She hummed.  "I think there's room for improvement."

***

Part 26

[ihearthes]

Golden Rod

(inspired by Golden MV)

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (2nd person) Rating: Smut (18+ only) Word Count: 2829

“Thanks for the ride, Ryan!” you call, waving at Lambert’s assistant as he drives away to the garages on the Vesta. “Ciao!” 

Excited to show Harry your new lingerie, you enter the villa where the team has been staying. “Is he done for the day, Ben?” The words are muffled behind the cloth mask you’ve insisted is essential despite the drop in Italy’s coronavirus cases. 

The Fulwell 73 producer points upstairs without a word before bending over the video footage he’s scouring with the director. The opulent surroundings have been modernized, and you grin while mounting the stairs to the top floor where the master suite consumes the entire space. From the expansive open windows, you view the Tyrrhenian Sea, causing you to literally pinch yourself. How had life blessed you in such a way? Giddy, you continue up the stone steps.

Kicking off your sandals, you curl your toes into the cool, smooth tile. Fuck. This had been the perfect day. Swimming in the infinity pool during the morning with endless fresh fruits at your fingertips whenever you stepped out of the water to feel the warm sun on your skin. A socially distanced lunch of Insalata Di Mare Campanese (Seafood Salad) with Molly in a local restaurant. A trip to the stores with the adorable stylist Ryan -- where he’d introduced you to a new designer of gloriously sexy lingerie! 

You’d bought four pieces. 

Harry was going to love all of them, and you couldn’t wait to showcase them in your own private fashion show on the secure top floor of the Italian villa. 

Stopping in the marbled bathroom, you draw in a deep breath at the chill on your heated feet. Quickly, you wash your hands, singing “Happy Birthday” twice like you’d been taught to ensure 20 seconds has elapsed. No way were you going to be responsible for inadvertently passing along the virus to your boyfriend during the Golden music video shoot. He’d end up missing out on filming the music video and the upcoming Don’t Worry Darling if he tested positive. Carefully removing your mask, you toss it into the laundry hamper before washing your hands a second time. 

Tiptoeing out of the bath, you wonder where the man of the hour might be. Napping? Nope. Not in the bed. On the loggia, you spy Harry settled in a chair, staring into space. 

“Can’t blame you, Styles. That’s one hell of a view.” Gazing over the colorful boats moored in the sea near the coast, your eyes feast on the sky with its tints of reds, pinks, yellows, and oranges as the sun begins to sink into the water. Honestly, you expect to hear a sizzle as the bright ball of gases descends into the blue serenity of the sea. 

“Indeed.” His quiet voice doesn’t sound normal for Harry, and you approach slowly, like one might a wounded deer. Wouldn’t want to frighten him away. 

“Harry!” The gasp leaves your throat, and you press your hand to your mouth to capture the sound too late as it has already escaped. “What the hell happened to your knee?”

He shrugs, finally glancing in your direction. “Skinned it. Hi, love. Did you have a good day?”

“I had a beautiful day, but what the fuck did you do to your knee?” Crouching down, you examine the spot where blood is flowing. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but enough that you want to clean it. “My poor baby,” you coo, “Let me clean that for you.”

Rising, you glide to the bathroom again. 

“Bring some ice too, love,” he requests, tacking on a “please” at the last minute. 

Stopping in the suite’s tiny kitchen, you search the small freezer for ice as requested. Ransacking the cabinets in the bathroom, you manage to locate cotton balls, an antiseptic, and a bandage. Returning to Harry, you kneel at his feet. “This might sting a bit.” Cautiously, you cover the cotton ball with the antiseptic and press it to his wound. 

He winces, but the only sound he releases is a mild hiss. 

“Sorry, baby.”

“It’s not a big deal, love.”

As the blood vanishes with its absorption into the cotton ball, you agree with him. The wound is relatively minor. Should form a scab in the next day or so. Carefully, you remove the adhesive from the bandage and press it over the small scratch. 

“Don’t worry, darling,” you tease, “you’ll heal soon enough.”

“Gonna run that one into the ground, aren’t you?” he jokes. 

“Might as well,” your shrug, grinning. “Don’t worry, H. You’re so golden.” His smile gives away his mirth at the pun. “Soon enough, you’ll be done filming, and moving on to something else. And I’ll give you hell about whatever the next thing is too.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he confesses with intense eye contact, and your insides start to flutter. 

As an afterthought, you hold up a bag of frozen peas. “No ice, H. I’m so American that I forgot Europeans don’t do much ice. Will this do?”

“Sure.” Grabbing the bag of peas, he smirks before placing it on his crotch. 

You raise an eyebrow. “Your dick needs ice?”

His eyes rake over you. “Kind of went running without an athletic supporter today.” 

Planting your hands on your hips, you glare at him. “Why would you damage the goods like that?”

Raising his shoulders, he grins, “The fans will love it.”

Your lower lip juts out as you pout at him. “Does that mean it’s off limits to me?”

“It’s sore, love. Not broken.” Harry emphasizes, but that doesn’t make you feel any better. 

“But I’ve got lingerie,” you state clearly. 

He sits up quickly, shifting the bag of frozen peas on his crotch. “You do?”

“Yep.” You allow the ‘P’ to pop. “Ryan introduced me to a new designer. I bought four sets.”

“Fuck,” he breathes. 

“Not with your dick wounded,” you remind him with a tiny hitch in your breathy voice. 

“Fuck,” he repeats. 

“Should I model the first one or wait until tomorrow?” You’re definitely pushing the envelope here, yet how dare he give fans priority to his most precious bits?!

Eyes darkening, he sweeps his gaze over your light trousers and loose shirt. “Ummmm...now please.”

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t want you to hurt your dick more.”

The exasperated roll of his eyes makes you smile. “I wanna see, love.” 

Examining him, you come to the conclusion that he’s an adult and knows what he wants. With a nod, you grasp the handle of the bag from the designer. “Be right back!” Hurrying to the bedroom, you set the bag down before rummaging in it for the most sedate look: a white lacy baby doll bit that hits mid-thigh and comes with a long peignoir. Putting on frilly high heeled slipper with it, you strut in front of him with the robe tightly covering your body, watching as his eyes darken. 

“Like this one?”

“Shit, love. It’s…” 

When you part the edges to reveal the concoction underneath, Harry has to catch his breath, shifting in the seat as he adjusts the frozen peas. 

“Hot?” you taunt.

“Mhm. Come here, and check my temperature.” His voice is throaty, and you recognize the signs quite easily. 

“Nope. Three more to go before I get within touching distance, H. Sorry.”

“Dammit,” He mockingly shakes his head. “You know I could easily see all of them on separate nights. Let’s just start with this one.”

Purposely, you push your lip out in a pout. “But then the other lingerie would get jealous, and Ryan went to a lot of effort to get me a private viewing. After all, this stuff isn’t available to the general public.”

“No?” He sighs, and you catch the hitch in his comment. “Bring on the second one then.”

Confidently, you swagger from the room. With shaky hands, you withdraw the bright red lace camisole and boy short. Is this the appropriate one to wear next? The red might just push him over the edge. Best to stay out of his reach then. Smirking, you pull the outfit on and waltz onto the balcony with a twirl, your hair on pointe as its curls bounced with you. 

“Holy fuck. That’s the second one?” His strangled cry makes you laugh in joy. 

“How’s that cock feeling now?” you gesture in the direction of his crotch. 

“The peas have melted I believe.”

“Mhm. Maybe you should go get something else from the freezer then.”

“Nah. I’d rather you come get this bag for me. I might be too injured to walk inside.”

“Oh, you’re so funny. I know this game. I get close to you, and the other two lingerie outfits never see the light of day. Nope. You want more frozen food for your genitals, you can get it yourself.” Laughing, you smack your rounded ass as you amble into the bedroom again. 

“Fuck!” Harry yells behind you. 

The dialogue combined with the strutting has your pussy feeling damp as the waves of arousal rush over you. Sure you’d fucked last night, but today was a new day, and you wanted to feel that dick inside you -- regardless of the damage he did by jogging in the city for the video. 

The third one is pink -- and you’re well aware from experience how much Harry loves pink. The baby doll dress is silk and lands just at the top of your thighs with a black lace bodice that laces in the middle. Kind of laces anyway. Plenty of boob still visible. Or barely hidden. Whichever you prefer.

“Oh my god. You’re killing me!” Harry whines as you parade just out of his reach. When he starts to rise, you shake a finger at him. 

“No, no, H. You need to recuperate from running today. Better stay seated.”

He chokes as you twist around to show him all sides, including the g-string with its bare backside. 

“You’re evil!” he calls as you dance back into the bedroom. 

This is the final one, and you prepare carefully. It takes extra time to put on, and you smile as you observe your image in the room’s mirror. Deftly, you slip a couple of condoms in the bodice of the bralette. 

You find a playlist of romantic Italian music and set it to play on the Bluetooth speaker in the bedroom, ensuring the volume is high enough to be heard on the loggia. 

Harry gasps the moment he sees you. “You’re not wearing anything under that!”

Playfully you glance down at the last lingerie set. “Oh, damn. I guess when I put the garter skirt and stockings on, I must have forgotten the panties. Forgive me?”

His head bobs up and down as he gulps. 

“Now,” you murmur, approaching him. Grasping a pillow from a nearby chair, you plop it on the floor in front of him, settling on your knees there. “I think the best thing is if I take a look at this dick to make sure you didn’t do too much damage.”

Removing the no-longer-frozen peas, you toss the bag to the side. No one will be eating those. Ever. Silently, Harry waits while you carefully peel down the top of his elasticized shorts and remove his cock. You have to catch your breath every time you get to glimpse it, and today is no exception. 

Your mouth waters, and you lick your lips as you hold his rigid length in your hand, your eyes flickering up to his where he’s staring intently at you. Maintaining eye contact, you run your tongue over the tip of his cock, paying extra attention to the slit there. 

“Mmmm,” you murmur. “The tip seems to be okay. Let me check the length.”

Using your saliva as lubrication, you run your hands down his shaft to his balls. “Doesn’t appear to be broken,” you smirk, “In fact, seems pretty solid and firm to me.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, “Might want to apply some suction there, love, just in case.”

You don’t really care what he means by that last phrase. You’re more than happy to test out the equipment to ensure that it’s in full working order. Spreading his legs more firmly, you lean in, sliding his entire dick into your mouth until the tip hits the back of your throat. Harry grasps the hair at the back of your hand, bunching it in his hand as he guides you along his length. You hear him sigh, and you’re confident he’s tilted his head back and closed his eyes, but when you glance at him, you find that his eyes are still on your lips. 

Fuck. It turns you on even more, and you can feel your pussy dripping onto the pillow. You make a mental note to remove the cover and wash it before leaving the villa. 

As your lips glide along him, you’re frustrated at not having full access to him. As you apply suction to his tip, you pop off him with an audible sound. Both of your hands reach for the waistband of his shorts, and you gently encourage him -- “Lift your bum, H” -- so you can fully remove the garment, throwing it over your shoulder and hoping it doesn’t sail into the pool below. Harry smiles, adjusting his stance into the biggest man spread you’ve ever seen. 

Before you return to your ministrations on his cock, you grasps your chin, drawing your face forward and upwards until he can lock lips with you. 

“Not much longer, love, or I’ll explode.”

“I don’t mind,” you purr. 

“Mhm. But if we’re fully going to test the equipment, then that should include more than a bj.”

“Ah, I see,” you grin. “But of course. We want to be thorough.” 

First, though, you are compelled to play with his balls, so you take him into your mouth again, adding one hand to his length while the fingers on the other play with the balls underneath. Fuck. You could do this all day. Breathing through your nose, you deepthroat him and suck for a solid ten seconds before you release him completely. 

With a grin, you stand, kicking aside the pillow. “Hmmmmm...trying to decide the best way to do this.” Your voice has a catch in it, and you wipe your mouth before bending over and capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Tongue darting forward, you taste him, allowing him to suckle your tongue briefly. 

As you come up for air, Harry moves his legs together while slipping his hand between yours and nudging your legs apart. With one finger he teases your clit, flicking it from side to side as he watches your face and eases another digit inside you. Oh hell. This feels…

“Fuck, H.”

“You’re so tight, baby. Come sit here. Let’s test out the equipment. Make sure everything works properly.”

At his invitation, you step forward as he shifts his bum down on the chair a bit. 

“Shit. I forgot…”

With his words, you remove the first condom from your bralette where it has conveniently been nuzzling your nipple, the hard corner of the foil packet hardening your nip. 

Grasping his dick, he uses the tip to slap at your pussy a few times before using your internal juices to lubricate himself. Your eyes roll back into your head as the two of you work together so you can slide onto him without any additional moments wasted. 

When you’re fully seated on his dick, you grind just for a moment. 

“Hmmmm...seems sturdy enough,” you pant. 

“Oh, you’re so funny,” he drawls, but his eyes roll back in his head when you glide along his length, your stockinged thighs surrounded by his large hands. “Fuck, love.”

“Working on it,” you laugh breathlessly as the rhythm becomes easier. His hands move to your arse as he assists you in riding him. 

Draping your arms over his shoulders, you shake your tits in his face, and he grins as he bends his head to press a kiss at the juncture of your boobs. 

As your climax begins to arrive, your movements become less steady and more sporadic. Harry, knowing you as he does, reaches between your bodies to tease your clit as you throw your head back and cry out two thrusts before his seed spurts into the condom and his eyes roll back into his head. Spent, you collapse on his chest, still joined. 

“I think,” you whisper as you kiss his neck while playing with the curls at the nape of your neck, “we can agree that the equipment still works just fine. No damage here.” Picking up your head, you glare at him. “But no more, H! What’s mine is mine. The fans get enough of you.”

He laughs as his arms surround you, and he buries his head in your shoulder. 

“Of course, love. Whatever you say.”

A/N:  Reblogs are love, my readers.  If you liked this even just a little tiny bit, please take a second to reblog so that others might find it.  Getting likes is nice, but it doesn’t help me grow my readership.  Thanks for your consideration!

[panicinart]

🔞Nsfw alphabet🔞

🍪 06 Billy Lenz 🍪

This was at the beginning just a giant ramble on my part but then I decided to just make it a nsfw alphabet since a lot of the things I already wrote fit under the category's. Because not all 100% fit in it I changed a few things on the templates I found and made more or less one of my own, i guess it's more detailed???

also i feel on one part really fucking awkward and uncomfortable because of the backstory he has :/ I just ignored it hope that's okay UwU

Idk, I hope you guys enjoy it !

Edit: I sadly can't add a under the cut thingy apparantly it's broken on mobile and I'm only on mobile for tumblr. Sorry :(

A = Aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

🍪The after glow makes him feel more vulnerable then the whole act itself, kinda like post nut clarity. Please be soft and gentle with him. Wait a few minutes until he gathered himself and ask if it's okay to touch him.

🍪If he assures you it's okay 👏HUG👏THIS👏MAN👏. A big and gentle bear hug, small kisses around the eyebrows, cheek and forehead, he will MELT in your arms like sweet honey.

🍪He will nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck a bit, you will also hear some soft muttering from him. Nothing that really makes sense, but it's clear that they are small declarations of love.

B = Body part (how is their body build? any favorite body part of them and their partner?)

🍪He has a bit of a belly, enough to squeeze but not enough to get a full hand. He also has a good a amount of muscle, especially on the arm and shoulder area.

🍪To be honest Billy doesn't really have any favorite body part of himself, since the day of his trauma he doesn't really concentrate on how his body is, how it feels, what he likes or doesn't like. But if His s/o has any favorite body part on him and they tell Billy what it is, it will make his day and watches out to keep it healthy and the way his partner likes it.

🍪Billy really likes his partners cheeks and eyes. Your cheeks color themself into a pretty pinkish red when embarrassed or flustered, and your eyes are a gateway to your many emotions, they also have such a pretty, warm and welcoming twinkling in them when you look at him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

🍪More on the translucent type and heavy on the tongue. It is a normal amount and the taste a bit bitter. At first it has a strong taste but fades away quite quickly.

🍪It's also more watery and a bit sticky kinda like honey.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, do they have a dirty secret?)

🍪My guy has bit of a masochistic tendency, he ignores it and doesn't want to talk about it. You will finde out eventually how deep the rabbit hole goes.

🍪He also wishes to be more on the submissive side for Intimacy but his own mind doesn't allow it. The risk on geting a PTSD flashback and panic attack is to high, so it just stays as a fantasy.

E = Experience (do they know what they're doing?)

This is the part I ignore because I fell REALLY uncomfortable about it

F = Favorite position (which position(s) do the like the most?)

🍪He likes it too keep it traditional, plain old missionary style, but anything were he is on top and has full few of your body is good! It will just take some time until he is willing to try new positions.

G = Goofy (are they more serious or do the like to clown around?)

🍪Dead serious, no laughing no joking. If you joke around you can see his distaste on his face, he also makes an annoyed click noise with his tongue and roll his eyes.

🍪It's more because it makes him feel like you don't take it seriously, the way he shows himself for you the amount of trust he shows, it all makes him feel like you don't respect it or take it for granted.

🍪But that doesn't mean you can't laugh around if something awkwardly funny happens, like bumping heads or geting too tangled up. If Billy is in a good mood you might catch a smirk on his face.

H = Hair (any hair down there? How do they groom it?)

🍪The hair is relatively strong and straight, it isn't really long and well kept. It's the same color as the hair on the head.

🍪If it gets too out of hand he will trim it with a razor.

I = Intimacy (how are they during sex in a romantic aspect?)

🍪The hands wander a bit and massages any place Billy can reach (usually the arms and hips). He also always keeps eye contact, you don't need to do it back, but his intense stare will always be on you.

🍪Kisses, gentle touches, him nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck happens quite frequently. He also might stop for a second to admire your beauty.

J = Jack off / Jill off (how do they masturbate and how often?)

🍪He goes straight to it, fast and relatively rough pumps he usually uses his hands but somehow he got his fry fingers on a simple fleshlight, he sometimes uses it.

🍪Will clean up IMMEDIATELY

🍪It's really rare Billy jack's off and often he just ignores the glimpse of horniness he has. So maeby once or twice a month max.

K = Kink (any kinks?)

🍪At the beginning my guy is very vanilla but Billy finds what he enjoys very quickly.

🍪One kink you both indulge is mutual masturbatetion. Sometimes he doesn't feel secure enough for sex so it's a good way to please the need of intimacy. Plus watching his partner touching themself and making a small show for him is really hot.

🍪You have 3 guesses what comes next. Yep it's voyeurism, he isn't that much into it like OG Billy but he still enjoys it nonetheless. Just walk around with barely any clothes and do your usual stuff, you will catch him starring at you from a corner with a heavy blush on his cheeks.

🍪He is also into cockwarming, Billy often keeps his dick inside his s/o for a while after he came. He loves how close it makes him feel towards you and the comforting warmth you give.

🍪Orgasm denial on himself, you don't even need to start it he probably already started it himself, but you can encourage Billy to hold it back longer.

🍪He also enjoys edging, he indulges in it more often then he likes to admit

For some reason I headcanon that he is also into sounding but it's a guilty pleasure of his

L = Location (were do they like to have sex?)

🍪Bed, it's nice warm and comfy. But with some time he also is willing to have sex on the couch.

M = Motivation (what turns them on/gets them going?)

🍪The jaw and back of the ear is a great place to give kisses and soft touches, it's calming and reassuring for him, but also a turn on.

🍪The inner thighs is also a place if you want to turn him on but good god the man has some self control.

🍪Billy absolutely melts when his partner cuddles up to him, he might stiffen up a bit but the cute expression you have and the way you snuggle up to him warms his cold crusty heart (and it also makes his body go brrrrr).

🍪If his partner, like mentioned before, walks around with bairly any clothes, phew, he will lighten up like a Christmas tree.

N= No (what's a turn off/they don't want to do?)

🍪Anything were the consent isn't clear or maeby questionable (consensual noncon).

🍪He also refuses to hurt his partner even if they ask for it, the only thing you might get is a soft slap on the inner thigh if you act bratty.

🍪Billy being submissive is a no too, he needs to be in control and therefore is always the dom.

O = Oral (do they like to give or receive? How is their skill? How do they react during receiving?)

🍪He is really good at oral! The tounge is quite thick and a bit longer then the norm so he reaches all the right places and it will take a really long time until his jaw aches.

🍪It's also a way he pleasures his partner if the needed inner security isn't there, he just goes down on you until you scream in pleasure and beg him to stop.

🍪Billy is a bit embarrassed if you suggest to him to go down, but accepts it after a while of thinking, and let me tell you, he is a MESS.

🍪He really tries to stay calm and stoic, but his heavy breathing and restlessness say otherwise. He also often chokes out a moan and gulps heavily.

🍪When he cums his head falls back and lets out a shameless moan, with a desperate attempt to keep face Billy claps a hand on his mouth to stifle out the moan.

P = Pace (how is their thrusting? Hard, fast, deep ect)

🍪Slow and more on the sensual side but it is clear as day that he is nervous and cramps up. His whole body is tense and in between he just freezes up. Give him time, the best is to mimic his pace.

🍪It's very nice and calming. He might be bad at showing affection but you can feel the passion and love he gives every touch and move. The thrust are slow and rhythmic but also hard and deep.

Q = Quickie (do they like Quickies, if yes how often?)

🍪He doesn't like it, sex is a way to express his love and passion for you it's never about lust, quickies don't give him the time to show you his affection.

R = Risk (any risk their willing to do?)

🍪He can be the bottom if asked, you both need clear instructions on what to do and what not. Safe words is also a must + a lot of Aftercare.

S = Stamina (how long can they go? How long do they last?)

🍪It's usually 2 rounds but they're loooong. Billy's self control is going strong and one round can last up to 30-45 min if you both want to take your precious time. If you both are going hard on the orgasm denial he can last up to a hour.

T = Toys (any toys they like? If yes, what toys do they like on themselves and on their partner?)

🍪He doesn't really have an opinion on them, they exist, he used / tryd out a few but he is kind of meh about it.

🍪The only toy he uses is a see-through simple fleshlight.

🍪Billy is also okay with his s/o using toys on themselves, he encourages it a bit since he's not always able to meet their needs.

🍪If you want him to use toys on you, you need to ask and explain what they do. He knows simple dildos and vibrators but if they don't look like traditional dicks he is lost and doesn't know what it is for / how to use it. (Billy is kinda iffy about bondage stuff and things that can hurt his partner).

Use a sounding rod, but sssshhh you don't have that info from me

U = Unfair (are they a tease? How do they react if teased?)

🍪Sometimes he is a smug bastard that likes to tease you and wait until his partner begs him to continue, especially if he goes down. But that's really it.

🍪If Billy is the one that is getting teased he can take that shit like a champ. But after a while his walls break and he becomes a blushy mess, depending with what you tease him he will look away shyly. But don't go overboard.

V = Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

🍪 Billy rarely talks or makes any noise if not non, so you need to learn how to read his body language, it's okay if you don't succeed at the beginning, the man is hard to read.

🍪 The only noise you get from him are deep growly grunts, huff's if you're really good he will choke up a moan.

W = Wild card (random nsfw headcanon(s))

🍪Oof sex going to take a loooooonnnng time until he feels comfy with it. The trauma in his past is the main reason why he feels so conflicted with it.

🍪It probably will take MONTHS when not a year until he feels comfortable with it (and doesn't shove away his horniness) but when it happens it's very spontaneous. Nothing that he plans.

🍪When you both managed to get undress fully, foreplay is a must! Not only can you both learn what is the right place to touch and what not, it's also a good way to show him a positive side of sex and that it isn't just a game of lust.

🍪Also small note here it's normal that he dips out of sex, he could get a flashback or just doesn't feel comfortable with it anymore. If that happens, just give him space maeby a cup of hot chocolate and if he allows it some back rubs to calm down. Assure him it's okay and he doesn't need to pressure himself. You both probably need like 2 or 3 times until it goes to the meat of the things.

🍪Usually a top dom, if you both are together for a longer time he might goes bottom dom, but these moments are rare.

🍪The giving and receiving in general is mostly balanced but honestly only because he needs the reassurance of your love so baldy, if it wasn't for that, he would mostly do the work,(the control it gives him helps to fight against any nervousness and fear that there might be hiding).

🍪So if your a bit of a pillow princess / prince / heir to the throne you got the right partner!

X = X-ray (what's going on under those clothes?)

*cracks knuckles* 'aight, let's fucking go

🍪Billy is shorter then average not by much, but oh boy he is THICK. This makes him roughly about 5,2 inches in length and 6.5 girth when erect.

The avrage American dick is in length 6 inches and girth 5, as comparison

🍪He has two notable veins on the underside, their sensitive so give it a good lick, you will feel him shudder.

🍪His junk also hangs a bit, about a 50° degree angle, it varies a bit depends how aroused he is.

🍪And it is also yellow like the rest of Billy's body, just not that intense and on the tip, it has less of a yellow and more of a caucasian skin color.

Y = Yearning (how high is their libido?)

🍪 He isn't that interested in sex so it's pretty low. I headcanon him as demisexual.

🍪On is own he may have sex once a month or so.

Z = Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep?)

🍪Billy's s/o will fall asleep faster then him, always. He uses this moment to play with his partners hair or give them a few kisses.

[leftonraed]

The Night We Met - Episode 5

pairing : Taehyung x OC   genre : bodyguard!au, singleparent!au, idol!au   word count :  2.9k summary — You and Taehyung get closer which isn’t to his manager’s liking. Prologue | ep.1 | ep.2 | ep.3 | ep.4 | ep.5 | ep.6 | ep.7 

You walk along the corridor, looking after Taehyung and Hina. You find them in the room assigned to her the duration of the small vacation.

You stop at the doorstep, bringing your arms to your chest as you cross them. They’re both seated around a small coffee table along three of her soft toys gathered to have tea.

“He’e, biscuits. Hey!” Hina chirps handing a plate with plastic cookies to him.

“Sorry, I was busy listening to miss Maggie’s hot tea.”

He offers a happy smile and effortlessly takes all of them in a handful which has her staring at him in a judgemental way. “Not all, siwy!”

You can’t help the smile etching on your face.

“Tuffy wants some too. He’re you go.” She continues putting one biscuits in front of her pale blue elephant.

“My bad Tuffy,” Taehyung is prompt to apologize looking at the soft toy while his niece proceeds to fill their cups for the second time. “I didn’t eat well earlier.”

She seats down and stretches her hand to hand him another cookie.

He shakes his hand, “don’t worry about me. You should eat yours as well Princess Hina.”

“No, mine’s he’e. It’s Snowball’s.”

“Are you sure he won’t mind?” He inquires, looking embarrassed at the tilted turtle next to her, seconds away from falling down his chair.

“Yes,” she assures, sipping from her cup. “He told me.”

He repositions the toy. “That’s very kind of you Snowball. I’ll make sure to remember it next time we have tea together.”

You surely took him for the type to play along children’s games but never would’ve imagined him doing his bit this seriously. When Hina complained about not having her doll’s tea set brought along and he promised to get her a new one, you figured he didn’t do it because he could afford it, getting her one meant opportunities to share even more moments together because he cherished her that much.

The sound of plastic dishes toppling snaps you out of your head. Hina has tripped over dress in her attempt to stand up, bringing half of the table content with her in her fall.

“Do you need help Princess?” Taehyung inquires, stifling a laugh, still clinging to his cup and cookie. He cocks his head to the side when he hears her let out a tiny whimper. “Hina?”

Worryness frowns his face a little and he nimbly gets her back on her feet, holding her to him massaging her leg she complains about.

You feel warmth spreading in your chest the longer you stare them, at him around her. They belong together.

You’re not aware of it but you must have made a sound because they’re both looking at you. It’s your face that is now heating.

You straighten your back. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I’ve come to inform you the car is ready my lady.”

You make eye contact with Taehyung and feel your body giving up on you and you’re positive he’s noticing your blush. He smiles.

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

“You should buy it if you like it.” You hear Taehyung say to you a few feet away from where you.

“Huh?” You jerk your body in surprise, not expecting him to see you browsing clothes. You watch him walk closer and take the dress you’re holding from you to give it a closer look.

“So this is how you’d dress...” He observes to himself.

You find yourself staring longer than needed at his mouth when he slowly drags his bottom lip between his teeth and you feel yourself rising in temperature. “I- I- I don’t-, I’m not-”

He looks down at you, smiling softly at your sudden stuttering. Why is she suddenly acting cute, he thinks. “Take it. Let me buy it as a gift.”

You breath, getting a grip on yourself and refusing to meet his eyes. “No.”

“It’s okay.”

“This is... not appropriate…” You trail in a small voice.

“Pff, what are you mumbling? Come on, I really want to. You’d look pretty in it.”

You gaze up at the compliment but he doesn’t seem embarrassed. Taehyung can’t help to find amusing the quick change in roles. He knows you’d look more than pretty but you seem flustered enough.

“I really don’t want it.”

“You’re lying…” He smiles. “I’ll take it off your pay if that’s what you want.”

“Hmm,” you pout, eyes drawn back to the dress as he takes it off the rod. “I’ll make sure you do.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sings walking away.

“Where is Hina anyway? I thought you were looking after her.” You scold, following and face still flaming.

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

Taehyung has just finished cleaning up Hina’s mess from her eating dinner and turned on the stove to cook the one he’s made for you two when his phone is heard ringing. He takes it to identify the caller.

“I’ll shower her.” You quickly say before he gets to say anything, allowing him to get some respite.

“You sure?” He looks back and sees you already walking away with Hina in your arms smiling and waving at him.

He smiles to himself and sits down on the couch, only now realizing how much he’s needing it. He lets out a sigh and answers the call.

“Hey, mom.” —

“No, not this one,” Hina slurs, knuckling one eye as you pick out several pajamas.

You fold back the cloth after her rejection. “What about this one?”

You look down at her. She’s barely holding herself up as she squeezes her eyes and eventually nods her head. You chuckle to yourself and quickly dress her up before she catches a cold.

Hina lifts her arms out of habit and you straighten yourself up, gently swaying her as you softly hum your favorite lullaby to her.

You walk in the living-room at the same time Taehyung’s getting the fuming dish out. Plates, glasses and cutlery are already ready so you directly go take a seat in front of his while he places the meal between you.

You look up at him and immediately grasp something bothering him. You take in a big breath.

“This looks actually really good. I kinda expected not to eat anything tonight.” You trail in a sarcastic tone.

You manage to pull a half-hearted lopsided smile.

“Did everything go well with Hina?”

You hum an approval taking a first bite of the home-cooked meal. “Think I broke my record. Three minutes and I could've sworn hearing snore.” You’re sure it’s not entirely coming from your empty stomach and can’t help the short pleasant moan you let out as you start chewing.

You catch Taehyung giving you a relieved and thankful look.

“Not eating?”

He nods and moves his hand to hold his fork but you feel he may have lost his appetite.

You try not to stare too much and every time he’s not looking back. You’ve never seen him looking this down as far as you can recollect. He’s had his collected and isolated moments but you know this right now is not one of them. He’s changed mood so abruptly.

You’re so lost in your thoughts, his sudden speaking has you almost jumping in your seat. “I might actually believe you. This isn’t too bad.”

Taehyung finds it curious the way you're gazing back silently. He smiles shyly and looks back down at his plate. He hates it how he’s not able to enjoy this quiet and intimate moment with you.

You put down your fork to reach for your glass of water. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle. “You seem to be the only one thinking that.”

“Not true.” You peak his interest. “I know a little snoring cutiekins that can vouch for it.”

His fork makes a sudden noise when it slips his grasp. He frowns a little.

“What happened Tae? Who called you?”

“My parents.” He pauses. “They’re still thinking I’m not fit to raise her.”

“Why?” You’re frowning too. “They didn’t seem convinced enough last time we visited. Your father was really supportive. I don’t understand.”

“I think the thing they’re reassessing is… not me but my job.”

You sit up and look away, “so I’m the one who didn’t convince them?”

He gazes up at you with confused eyes. “No, I don’t think you’re the problem. No, it’s- It’s just… I mean, you’re planning to look after us your whole life. I mean work for me.”

“Of course not.” You trail softly looking back. “But you’re going to better yourself. You’ve barely got acquainted with each other.”

“They say Hina starting preschool this year is bad timing.”

“I… I don’t mean to be rude but how would they know?”

“Well, they’ve already had an idea about how hectic my schedule can get.”

You cross your arms on your chest. “But you’re planning to adapt it, right?”

“Of course, I just... “

“Need to adopt her officially and make it public.” You continue for him. “How do you feel about you looking after her?”

“I feel good about it. I mean it feels right and I don’t want it another way.”

“So get yourself heard.” Taehyung looks down in surprise at your hand grabbing his. “You’re not a child taking care of one. You know what you want. Stop letting others think and speak for you. If you don’t fight for Hina you’ll come to regret it.”

You go silent and become aware of your gesture when he doesn’t say anything back. You slowly remove your hand and freeze when he suddenly grabs it hurriedly. You only then notice the tears in his thankful eyes.

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

It’s been a couple of months since Hina started her first preschool year and you and Taehyung have fondly been watching her blooming weeks after weeks in her new environment. There hasn’t been a day, she hasn’t had plenty of anecdotes to tell.

As much as you’re taking pleasure in witnessing her go through her learning, you feel as much contentment from seeing Taehyung discover that new side of rearing.

“Hello!” Hina bursts her way inside the penthouse as usual, excited to find Taehyung after a long day spent apart.

“Hey sugarplum,” he grins just as delighted.

You close the door behind you bringing Hina’s tiny backpack along with the couple of errands you ran for him. You don’t have to look at Taehyung to notice just how exhausted he must be. It’s been a week since his latest comeback and getting back to a busy schedule, which still has had some changes to it, isn’t as easy as he’d expected it.

You haven’t talked about the issue his parents raised ever since that night and didn’t want to seem intrusive but you just hoped he’d grin and bear it the time needed.

“_______ will also be there.”

You perk at the sound of your name looking at them from the kitchen where you’re storing things away.

You see Hina’s eyes brighten at the news you’re unaware of. “Weally?”

She joggs towards you and looks up with hopeful eyes as her tiny fists clutch your pants.

“Pwomise?”

“Promise what?” You frown confused as you look between Taehyung and her.

“Come see her end of year show,” he explains stretching an arm on the couch. “She’ll be singing songs.”

“Say yes.” She hops still clinging around your knees.

You feel your chest get overwhelmed with a familiar surge of warmth, binding you tightly from within and it makes your face all tingly. “If you invite, I’ll c-”

“Yes, yes, yes. I invite you.” She bounces happily.

You reach to pat her head, smiling at her shyly. “Yes, I’ll come.”

Taehyung grins effortlessly at the two of you and thinks that moments like this are worth all the effort in the world.

Hina joins him again and you hear them making sure she doesn’t reveal to you the song she’ll be performing and how she has to train seriously because he might assess her singing. You’re convinced he doesn’t need you or your words, he’ll be doing just fine.

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

Taehyung involuntarily puts an end to your happy mood when he reveals he’s had you do the groceries because Hwiin is expected later tonight to share dinner. You don’t ask him but he tells you to stay in case you’d be thinking of leaving. The thought makes you smile but it doesn’t last when you think about the time you’ll have to go through in her company.

The doorbell rings unpleasantly and you let Taehyung welcome her while you remain in the kitchen finishing preparing everything you’ll be needing.

You shortly greet her when she comes in, waving at her with a knife in your hand and noticing the surprise on her face she sees you.

“We’re just getting started with dinner so you can wait here with Hina,” Taehyung explains as he helps her with her coat and bag.

“Alright.” She speaks in a high-pitched tone as she gets closer to Hina sitting on the carpet and playing with her toys. “Hello Hina.”

The little girl replies quietly.

Hwiin still struggles to find the right words or gestures when it comes to her but she comforts herself as she can acknowledging the fact she’s not making her cry anymore.

She tries not to be too invasive and settles for switching between her phone and watching T.V.

She’s surprised by Taehyung’s sudden appearance when he brings Hina some grapes.

“You want some too?” He smiles politely.

“No I’m good, thank you.” If you looked at her, you'd find her racking her brain to quickly find a way to start a conversation with him but he’s back giving you instruction on the use of ingredients.

She resigns herself a moment until something worth saying eventually comes to her mind but when she looks his way, she finds him bent down, your arms framing his neck and your faces close, very close.

Are they- Right in front of me? She tenses.

She freezes at the sight and doesn’t immediately see that you’re actually tying the front part of his hair to keep from falling in his eyes.

She promptly looks away as if it physically hurt her and stared in space. She hears his laugh and it tugs at his heart. She can’t overlook the bonds you’ve forged, they exist and helped make his house home-like.

Her eyes are dragged yet again where you are and she watches quietly as you manoeuvre Hina on your hip to give her a peek at what you’re cooking. She feels in the way and it hurts.

You’re in charge of feeding Hina while Taehyung focuses on finding conversation topics, sparing you the small talk. Although the little has all your attention, you notice Hwiin strange silence.

She’d usually take the opportunity to be all over him, monopolizing him to herself claiming her behavior was justified by professional reasons.

“Let me take care of it,” he interjects when she stands up to help clear up the table.

“Thank you,” she smiles half-heartedly. “I have to make a quick phone call, I’ll be right back.”

She grabs her phone from the couch where she’s left it and looks back as she heads for the bathroom down the corridor. She sees Hina grabbing onto you to lead you to the ice cream she’s struggling to open on her own.

She finally opts for Hina’s bedroom and leaves the door barely ajar after checking one more time the coast is clear.

She thumbs a number and waits for an answer.

“Hello? Mrs Hiroshi? I’m Hwiin, do you remember me?” She asks in a hushed voice. “I’m doing good thank you. Listen, I don’t have plenty of time.”

She turns away from the door and walks away a little.

“I called to tell you I’ve been thinking about the suggestion we’ve come up with a couple of weeks ago. Yes, the social worker one.” She nods to herself. “I think it could work out.”

Hwiin looks over her shoulder when she thinks she’s heard a noise. “Let me take care of it. I’ll contact them myself. Yes, don’t worry. I’ll keep you in touch.”

She can see a shadow right on the other side of the door and hurries to finish her call. “I have to hang up. We’ll talk again later.”

She walks to the door warily, directing a frowning gaze where the shadow remains still and stretches her arm. She yanks the door open violently and sees nothing behind it.

She holds back a scream when Hina runs in at full speed.

“Hina, you scared me.” She laughs uneasily watching her plop on her bed.

She looks up at her, her big eyes hidden behind her long fringe. “What you doing in my woom?”

“Me? Nothing,” Hwiin dismisses with her hands on her knees. This doesn’t feel natural at all, she thinks. “I just wanted to see it. You have such a beautiful room.”

Hina stares up at the smile Hwiin gives her. She decides to walk out first, followed closely by. Her heart is still thumping hard and loudly in her ears as she joins you and Taehyung in the living-room where you’re sitting nearby each other.

She grins at him, sitting on his other side just as closely and makes sure to avoid your eyes.

/////////////////!\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Feedback is much appreciated Reblog if you wish to read more

[animemangasoul]

You Are Wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summery: Summery: Qui-Gon lives and Mace gets a new Padawan.

[In which Qui-Gon repudiates Obi-Wan and Mace isn't about to let the kid leave the order without a fight.]

Chapter: 8/10?

His mission debrief was held in private with only himself standing in the middle and Master Yoda sitting across from him. Feemor was grateful for that. It was a small thing, a tiny gesture of consideration but it meant a lot to him and Feemor was sure his Great Grandmaster was aware of it, after all, Yoda had always been kind to him and that hadn't changed even after Qui-Gon Jinn disowned him.

So standing there; ignoring his throbbing knee for all it was worth, he carefully and with enough detail to suffice, summed up his mission.

The disastrous mission that nearly cost him everything. Might still be costing him everything. With the haunting voice at the back of his mind, echoing a constant reminder off his stripped humanity, of his lost dignity of……

When he closed his eyes at night, he could still hear it. The roars, the thirst for blood, the calling of death. He could still feel the grim of filth under his nails, the rot of expiration on his skin and he could taste it, the pain.

He'd fought in the Pits for over a year and a half and it clung to him like the stink of penance yet to be absolved.

After all, how could he call himself a Jedi if he'd killed to survive?

And yet….. here he was, back in old Jedi robes, skin clean, shaved head although marred with scars, actually alive with dust of blonde locks peaking out and hiding his damaged scalp.

He was tainted, Feemor knew that all too well. Maybe if he'd been a Shadow he would have been able to set aside the disgust, the horror, the guilt, but…. He wasn't. He was just an ordinary Jedi Master who'd gotten himself into more than he could handle and then felt too honour bond not to do the logical thing. The smart thing. He'd let his emotions rule him and now…now he was giving his report as if…. As if what he'd done, what he'd sacrificed had all been part of the mission.

"Hard on yourself you are," Master Yoda spoke up, breaking him out of his spiraling thoughts. "Believe this you might not, but the right thing you did. Saved those Padawans and force sensitive kids you did with the choice you made."

Feemor swallowed thickly, eyes blinking furiously to hold back the stinging of tears. The pride in Master Yoda's voice was obvious as the sun was bright and any other day, any other time in his life Feemor would have soaked it in like a starving wild animal thrown a piece of meat . But after everything….. After his failed mission….. After all that he'd been through. The praise felt like hot coal against his skin and he found himself recoiling away from it. Eyes drilling into his boots, bottom lip catching between his teeth.

How had everything gone so wrong?

The mission had been simple. Track down missing lightsabers currently being sold in the black-market by a notorious black-market dealer, known to have belonged to the Coruscant Temple's missing Padawans. Report back and let the Shadows handle the rest. Simple enough. Or it should have been. It's after all the reason why he took it in the first place.

Coming back from a grueling long mission on the outer-rim, Feemor had taken it as a chance to finally get that break he'd been putting off for so long. He would go, track down the dealer, report back and let a Shadow take over.

Simple enough.

Simple….enough.

But it wasn't. Because loathe as he was to admit it, Feemor was nothing if not Qui-Gon Jinn's former Padawan and if there was anything that their lineage was infamous for was their ability to get into more trouble than was imaginable. The simplicity of the mission should have clued him in from the very beginning. But it hadn't and that was his first mistake.

And now here he was, unable to breathe a single minute without remembering the hands touching his skin, without recalling the foul breaths of those masked men, sizing him up like nothing more than the slave he'd become. Unable to go a day without remembering the fear, the terror of even taking something as innocent as a nap for you never knew……

["Left, you could have," Master Yoda had said when he'd come off the ship yesterday. "Choose to stay you did."]

And he had. He had chosen it. No one had forced his hand. No one had been there to force him. The slice of a knife, the burns of hot metal rods, the combats of death, he'd endured it all for a chance to track down the kids. Kids he'd found out weren't actually dead but being……

He'd chosen to stay in the darkness. Freedom had been in touch. Fresh air, warm clothes, home, it had all been so very close. He'd managed to escape the clutches of Mir'randa, managed to collect his lightsaber, info chip in hand, just a step away from his passage out of the accursed planet. He could have taken it, but he hadn't because at the end of it all. Despite everything he'd been through, everything he would continue to endure, he was a Jedi. So when he'd sensed the new shipment.

The force sensitive shipments.

The choice became obvious. So painfully obvious.

They'd been kids after all. Some unknown, unfamiliar but most of them….. They'd been theirs. Jedi Padawans. Their missing Jedi Padawans, and now those kids, terrified, hurt, having been through force knows what were about to be pulled into the very nightmare Feemor wanted to escape, and what had he done?

He'd watched as his window of escape closed. Watched as his last hope off the planet disappeared with a single droid; carrying a single chip meant for the Jedi temple and he'd made his way back inside. Back into the darkness. Back to the clutches of Mir'randa, back to being less than human. Less than a Jedi. Knowing this might very well be the last time he'd be able to sense the force dancing and flittering around him because this time around he knew his force-suppressant collar would likely be impossible to remove.

And for what?

For…..

What……

Gritting his teeth, Feemor dug his fingernails into his palm, the jolt of pain bringing him back to reality. Back from there.

"Sit down, you should." Feemor choked down a strangled noise of despair and shook his head, left knee straining under him.

"No thank you, Master." For he would be damned if he let himself show weakness. Not when he'd failed so spectacularly. Not when he'd only manage to save seven of them. Just seven. Four Padawans and three force sensitive kids.

Only seven when there had been sixteen.

He'd only managed to save seven……seven kids out of sixteen.

His stomach turned. An image of the Pit flashing through his mind for a single agonizing moment before he brutally shoved it to the back of his mind with the rest of his darkest deeds.

Seven.

"Will that be all, Master Yoda?" He managed to keep his voice stable even as his knee screamed, his heart thudded like the dreams of war and his scars ached with every breath. "Because I need to find my former Master and have a long overdue conversation with him."

A flicker of amusement danced across his Great Grandmaster's eyes before it was drowned out by concern yet again. If the concern was for him, for Qui-Gon, for Obi-Wan? Feemor didn't quite know. But he appreciated non-the-less. "A talking to he needs," the old troll rumbled, gimer-stick hitting the ground twice. "But first to the Halls you need to go. Grateful I am for the people of Dugmulo for taking care of you and the young children, but a secondary check up by our own, ease my heart it would."

Feemor smiled, it made his cheeks ache, strain. "Of course Master," he said, clasping his hands under his robes and giving a shallow bow; his knee protested but he refused to let it bother him. "I'll do that right away."

After all, he had all the time in the world now, didn't he?

He'd busted the ring, he'd shut down Mir'randa's Games, he'd…..yes, yes he'd failed to save them all but he'd saved some and those he hadn't been able to, he….. those Padawans, their bodies, he'd recovered them for the proper Jedi burial they deserved and for the others, Master Yoda had secured a journey back to their own families as their last resting place. Had it broken something fundamentally vital within him to do so? Perhaps. Had it cost him sleepless nights fraught with horrors brought on his creaking shoulders, horrors he'd been subjected to and caused himself to keep them all alive for just one more day. Yes, of course, yes. But…..

It was all over now, wasn't it?

He'd come back. He was home. Where he belonged. It had taken weeks.

After the Pit, after the Jedi came to the rescue, weeks of bacta tanks and treatments and several weeks more to ensure the safety and security of those kids who still----

He swallowed thickly, refusing to allow himself to collapse in front of his Grandmaster, no matter how much that might help liberate the choking guilt clawing at his throat because how could any of these kids trust him still after everything they'd seen him do? After the scars and burns and tears and blood. After seeing the filthy arena filled with the bodies of their fallen under the same sky as the cheers of their spectators?

How did anything he'd done to get the word out, to stop the trafficking, how did any of that lessen his desperate actions to keep them alive for another day, another week, another month, year…..how did it make up for it?

But he had all the time in the world now.

All the time.

And he'd come back for a reason. For Obi-Wan Kenobi. Because with all his newly acquired scars, still, no matter how, somehow being repudiated by Qui-Gon ran the deepest.

So what could he do but try and help his Padawan brother the only way he knew how? Running off to go fix what his former Master had somehow managed to break in his absence. As if Xanatos hadn't been enough of a nightmare to deal with as it was.

Maybe after he took care of that he could answer back Kuflo's insisting messages and Androlet's updates on how things were going Dugmulo. Maybe, maybe.

The Halls would just have to wait a little while longer. Because if he could do one right thing today, maybe it would be his first act to wipe away the blood marring his soul.

He took a step back from Master Yoda and turned to the door, wincing at the strain that simple action put on his knee; saying a soft goodbye.

"May the force be with you Great Grandpadawan."

Feemor's lips twitched, it didn't reach quite reach his eyes. "May the force be with you as well, Master." And with that, he left.

One foot in front of the other. Eyes focused on nothing but the path ahead. Ignoring the murmurs around him, the gossip, the looks of concern at his bandaged appearance and his limp. He ignored it all. Only allowing himself the briefest glimmer of satisfaction at the positive mutters on one Obi-Wan Kenobi that he caught every now and then. Apparently being the new Padawan of the Master of the Order was something to behold.

It did hurt a bit, Feemor silently had to admit to himself, not having had the chance to take on the kid himself.

After all, that was the primary reason why he'd wanted to rush back to begin with, despite initially deciding to supervise the imprisonment of the Gamers, but it hurt less knowing that the kid hadn't been thrown to the side for too long. That he hadn't been alone, confused, broken hearted for months as he wondered what he'd done wrong to be discarded like his time with Qui-Gon meant nothing that he was worthle…..clenching his fists tight enough to leave dents, Feemor gritted his teeth.

This wasn't about him. Going down this path would only lead to his suffering. Only reopen old wounds he was not quite ready to acknowledged. So he needed to focus on the here and now. This wasn't about him.

It was about Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon and little Skywalker and what he, Feemor could do to make things better. That was it. Nothing more. After all, hadn't he already lost his chance to get to know his Padawan brother with his own indecisions? He could have gotten to know him any time he'd wanted, but he had….he'd been so angry, so hurt, and he'd refused to have anything to do with the must innocent party in all of it. And that wasn't, shouldn't be an excuse.

So Master Windu was fine. Great even. The perfect Master probably. The one who stepped up when no one else would.

And…. He…..Feemor….he was not well. Not anymore. So taking on a Padawan brother who probably didn't even know who he was, that was just a recipe for disaster. So this was good. 'Yes,' he told himself firmly, taking one step after the other as he traced his steps from the council chambers to the Room of Thousand Fountains. 'This is good. Master Windu is a perfect choice so all I can do for Obi-Wan now,' when his knee nearly buckled under him, he again regretted not putting on the brace. 'Is to find Master Jinn and set things straight. For the betterment of everyone.'

'One problem with that plan though,' he grimaced, slamming a hand against the nearest wall for stability. Taking a moment to be grateful he was in an empty hallway and no one was there to witness his momentary weakness.

Frowning down at his right leg, he bared his teeth in frustration. Looked like his knee would refuse to carry him all the way to his destination after all.

"Kriff it," he hissed, teeth biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. "Kriff it all."

The agony coursing through his leg was almost unbearable. It had stiffened significantly on his walk over to the Council debriefing and Feemor should have known then that he wasn't going to make it but……

Weakness Is Death

That had been a mantra, his mantra that he'd lived by for what felt like forever. Instilled it in the kids. Bad'kuu, Kuflo, Gaa'ah, Androlet…. Everyone. He'd said it so many times it was all he knew how to say to them anymore. Weakness is death. To show a vulnerability was to allow yourself to be broken. To be scrapped from the inside out. The fingers. The touching, the prodding, the dragging…….

Weakness Is Death.

So Feemor refused to show it. To wear the brace, not in front of Yoda. Not in front of those who'd already seen his failures. Not when he needed to be strong and honorable to show…. To show he hadn't fallen.

He hadn't even been allowed to come back until several Jedi Masters had confirmed he hadn't turned. He was good. He was still a good Jedi, tainted yes,  but not fallen. Not yet. And what a relief that revelation had been. To know that despite everything he'd done, he could still call himself a Jedi. But he wasn't delusional enough not to know he was still under keen observation. Falter once, fall one time and it was all over.

So, no knee brace.

He'd managed to make due in the Pit. Fighting with a bad knee was disadvantage enough without him broadcasting that fact to the entire arena. Spectators and fighters alike. He'd always had a weak right knee ever since that disastrous first mission he took as a Master, but it hadn't been too hard to deal with at first, even if he'd had to take up Jar'kai to make up for his lack of mobility when it acted up.

Jar'Kai had been a way for him to compensate for his damaged knee at first, nearly two years in the Pit however, and it had solidified itself as the only form he could trust to keep him safe. To keep him alive.

Protect yourself for no one else will protect you under the skies of Miiir.

Sinking to the floor, eyes blinking back the sudden wetness burning at the edges, Feemor allowed himself a moment to just loathe it all. The regret, the pain, the failure, the shame. And then he breathed in and let it go.

It wouldn't do to dwell on the unchangeable.

Shoulders sagging he let his head drop back with a gentle thud against the wall behind him and he let his eyes fall shut. It all felt rather heavy. Being back here, being back home.

Maybe a moment to rest his eyes would be enough. Just a moment. Until the pain dulled. Then he'd go see Master Jinn, talk to him about missing his recent appointments with the mind healers and maybe…..maybe finally get the chance to talk things out. Yeah, maybe.

But a moment turned into two. And two turned into three and before Feemor could help it, he was clutching at his knee with both hands. The agony unparalleled.

It burned like thousand knives being sliced through his skin simultaneously. Feemor grimaced, head throbbing with the nausea bubbling in the pit of his stomach, screaming at him in aguish. 'Make it stop,' he thought, squeezing harder, fingers digging into the joints, face ashen and bottom lip bleeding. 'Kriff, make it stop.'

And then, it did. Not by much, not even half way but enough to bring a sense of clarity to him. And it was only when his mind wasn't being clouded by the bolt of sheer agony dancing through his body; paralyzing him in place, that he noticed the cold hand resting across his forehead and one atop of his joined hands. Soothing sense of warmth intermingling with his force signature and somewhat dulling the pain coursing through his veins. And Feemor breathed, raising his eyes to come face to face with one Obi-Wan Kenobi.

----------

"Stop," he ordered when he finally found his voice behind the sudden lump in his throat, gently pushing those hands away even as he instantly missed the soothing force healing that came with them. But Obi-Wan looked like death warmed over himself and Feemor would be force damned if he let his first action back home be to hospitalize his Padawan brother. "Thank you, but I'm okay."

The young man kneeling in front of him didn't look convinced, brows furrowing slightly and lips pursed, but he did back away, choosing to sit down next to him; grunting as he adjusted himself against the wall, cane coming to rest by his side. Feemor raised a brow in question, making his Padawan brother laugh lightly.

"Anakin had his first lightsaber practice today," he said in answer, tapping his cane lightly. "I still have a hard time getting around so---" His smile is hallow and Feemor felt it echo in his soul.

"Yeah," he muttered back, looking down at his knee, toes curling with each pulsating burst of electric pain shooting down his leg. He shouldn't have walked on it for so long. "I get it."

"I suppose you do."

Feemor snorted. "When you say Anakin?"

"Skywalker, yes." Obi-Wan's voice was much more lighter this time. "He was….really excited about it and asked me to come so I did. I was on my way back when I----" here he trailed off, but Feemor knew exactly what he was trying not to say, and it made him flush with embarrassment.

"When you found me lying on the floor trying to tear my leg off with my bare hands?"

"Well," Obi-Wan muttered. "I wouldn't exactly say, lying." Feemor stared and Obi-Wan snorted. "Okay, you looked pretty helpless."

"Hey, you don't look so great yourself."

The answering grin was a lot brighter and more real than Feemor had expected and it tugged at his heart. Because somehow despite the dark circles under the kid's eyes, despite the paleness and the fragility to his frame, somehow, when he smiled, really smiled, Feemor could almost drown in the regret of all the wonderful years he'd missed with this kid. The years he could have known him if he had been less of a coward.

Checking up on him religiously didn't make up for not being there for him. For not protecting him against what was likely Qui-Gon's darkest years. To not be a buffer, a confidant, to be a brother. In that sense, Feemor supposed he was a lot like his former Master. Who was just as guilty in tracking his movement as he was in tracking Obi-Wan's without ever taking the first step in meeting the other party half way.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

His not so Padawan brother. Or all the more his Padawan brother for being tossed aside like himself.

Running a bandaged hand over his head; still feeling that momentary flicker of surprise at brushing against tufts of growing out blonde hair, the broken Jedi Master breathed in deeply and let it all out.

"Feemor," he said, pointing at himself. "My name is Feemor Einar."

Obi-Wan's eyes glittered. "I know."

"Oh?"

The Padawan nodded, fingers tapping away at his wooden cane. "You're the talk of the Temple."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan's voice was neutral as anything and Feemor silently allowed himself to be impressed. He'd never been very good at keeping his emotions in check. "Sounds to me like you stopped a force sensitive trafficking ring and ended a barbaric gladiator tournaments in one single mission."

Feemor couldn't quite suppress the flinch at those words, and it made him burn with shame. "Not soon enough I'm afraid."

"I didn't mean---" Obi-Wan started, clearly noticing his sudden change in demeanor. The harshness in his force signature, the darkness and Feemor internally cursed himself for losing his grasp over his emotions, for his Padawan brother should never sound so uncertain and worried around him. "I didn't mean to bring it up I only heard----"

"It's okay," Feemor cut him off, careful to keep his voice gentle this time despite how his soul screamed and his heart longed for him to hide away for all eternity. "I didn't mean……" He sighed. "It's just been….tough."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yeah."

Digging his nail into the crack between the tiles, Feemor focused on the pressure on his barely growing in nails and opened his mouth, keeping his voice playfully light. "I hear you're pretty famous around these parts yourself."

A beat and then another, silence filling up slowly between them and it's all Feemor could do to try and find a way to backtrack and try again? Figure out another way? Help? When his Padawan brother, pressed himself even tighter against the wall and clutched at his cane. "You could say that," he whispered, tone strained and part way broken. "You could say that."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

A single shake of the head.

Feemor hummed softly in understanding. "Then Obi-Wan Kenobi, it's a pleasure to officially meet you."

A huff. "Likewise Master Einar."

"You know who I really am, don't you?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Not for long. Just after," The kid pulled at his braid. "Thanks for the bead by the way."

Dragging his focus away from his knee, Feemor nodded. "Of course."

A welcoming silence fell between them this time and Feemor was content with it. To sit there with his Padawan brother, after everything, just sit there with him. Not moving, not doing anything. And enjoy his company even if he didn't quite know how to connect with him yet. Even if they still had so much to talk about. And it's not like he didn't have a good reason. After all, the simple thought of trying to stand on his busted leg made his stomach do nauseating flips. But he couldn't stay here forever, not when he needed to see Qui-Gon and sort this all out, not when he still had that medical check up and the kids back at----

So when Obi-Wan bumped his cane against his shoulder and said "You look like you need this more than me," it's all Feemor can do not to drag the haunted looking kid into a desperate hug meant to suffocate with affection. Instead he grinned, taking the offered cane but still remaining seated.

"About Qui-Gon---"

"What about him?"

"I'm sorry that he did that to you."

Obi-Wan paused. And then, "I'm sorry he that to you too."

Feemor nodded back. "Thank you." And he meant it. Of course he meant it for there were very few who could truly understand what he'd been through and sympathize, even if he would never wish this on the kid given a choice, he was still so very grateful for the shared understanding no matter how much it grated on his dignity to admit so. "And I know it doesn't mean much, but I promise you Obi-Wan it wasn't your fault. Master Jinn, he's just…." He should really be getting up, but----. "He lashes out when he's cornered and that reflects badly on him and not you." He really really needed to get up and or he might never get up at all today and yet----. "You are wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi, I promise you that."

He should get up, but when the kid took a sharp intake of breath, then tentatively rested his head on his shoulder after a brief second of hesitation; auburn hair brushing under his chin, Feemor couldn't quite make himself do what he had to do because there was something that was so much more important right here, right now. "I'm going to punch him in the face." He didn't know why those words came out, but he meant them. And---

Obi-Wan laughed, it sounded a little bit broken and a little bit wet but it put a smile on Feemor's face and this one didn't quite ache as much. "Good luck with that."

"Thanks," he said, shifting closer so the kid could rest on his shoulder more comfortably. "I'll make it a good one."

Obi-Wan bumped their shoulders together and Feemor bumped him back, eyes feeling suspiciously damp.

Repudiated Padawans of Qui-Gon Jinn ought to stick together after all.

The End

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

[hiscyarika]

Landslide: Chapter Two

Word Count: 4.0k

Summary: Reader attends Danny’s wedding. Javier tries again to make amends. 

Warning(s): Angst, Spanish (Translations at the end of the chapter)

A/N: Here’s the second chapter! I’m really excited to share this next part with you guys to see what you think. Thank you SO MUCH for the lovely responses to Chapter One. I’ve had so many lovely comments and I’m still working on responding to them all. A very special thanks goes out to @murdermewithbooks​ for translating all of the Spanish lines and @aerynwrites​ for beta reading! Thank you both so much! This chapter wouldn’t be what it is without you! Ily! ❤️

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Chapter One

(Gif by @underbetelgeuse​, originally from this post) Please let me know if you’d rather me not use the gif. I’ll remove it immediately! No questions asked.

You wake with the sun as it shines through your curtains, a thin stream of light that so unfortunately hits you right in the eyes. With a soft groan, you rub the sleep from your eyes and roll from your side onto your back. Your foot knocks against something heavy, and you startle as it falls to the ground with a loud thud. Your suitcase.

“Fuck,” you curse, letting out a huff of air.

After giving yourself a few more seconds to just lie there, you push yourself up and out of bed. The ache from last night lingers still, making any movement just a bit more difficult. Your sleep, though deep and dreamless, was still not quite enough to fend off the physical exhaustion of dealing with your own emotions. But you won’t allow yourself to lie in bed all day wallowing in your own self-pity.

Once you’re standing, you look down at the packed suitcase on the floor, scowling at it for just a second. It needs to be unpacked and everything needs to go back to its place, but you elect to leave it for later. Instead, you trudge out of your room and into the bathroom just down the hall. You hope that maybe a shower will loosen up your muscles and give you the energy that you need for the day.

You flip the light on, shaking your head as you catch sight of yourself in the mirror above the sink. There’s dried mascara down your cheeks and all around your eyes. Your hair is tangled and sticking out at odd angles. To call your appearance haggard would be kind.

You sigh softly and turn around. The rings of the shower curtain scrape across the metal rod as you pull it closed. You wince at the sound, reaching in and turning on the hot water. While the water heats up, you undress yourself, leaving your clothes in a heap on the floor. You’ll worry about getting the apartment cleaned up once you’ve washed away the remnants of last night.

By the time you step into the shower, the heat is already starting to fog up the mirror. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you step under the hot spray. Already you can feel the tension seeping out of your body, flowing down the drain with the water. You close your eyes, giving yourself this moment to unwind. It’s the least you can afford yourself after seeing Javier again.

You reach out with one hand, bracing yourself against the shower wall as your encounter with him from yesterday plays back in your mind. The same panic begins to creep into your chest, but is soon replaced by anger.  “It’s...It’s been a while,” he’d said. It makes your blood boil. Ten years and that was the only thing he could think to say to you. And then he’d had the nerve to call you querida, as if you’d still be his sweetheart after what he’d done.

You’ll see him at the wedding. It’s a bitter truth that you have to come to terms with and a troubling thought you would rather not dwell on. If it weren’t a Peña family wedding, you would just stay home. But no matter how much you hate the idea of being around Javier and subjecting yourself to the gossip that will inevitably follow, you won’t neglect such an important occasion.

You stand up straight again when you feel the water beginning to cool, and you make relatively quick work of getting yourself cleaned up. After shutting off the water, you pull the curtain back and step out of the shower, wrapping yourself in the towel hanging over the bar on the wall. You feel better, lighter now that you’ve gotten to freshen up and rouse yourself.

Damp feet padding gently across the floor, you go back to your bedroom, dressing yourself in a pair of jeans and a shirt, something comfortable enough to wear while you do some work around the apartment. You then haul the suitcase back onto your bed and unzip it. The clothes and other various items you’d stuffed in there come almost spilling out and you shake your head.

You start with your clothes, hanging your shirts back up and folding other garments to be put back in their respective drawers. Once that’s done, you take another pile of things to be put back in your desk. Before long, the suitcase is empty and stored back underneath your bed.

Now that you’ve given yourself a place to start, you carry on putting your bedroom back together. As things return to their rightful places, you find yourself oddly soothed. It’s calming to restore order in any way that you can.

This is one thing that you have complete control over.

—

Javier sits on the back porch steps of his father’s house, sipping silently at the beer in his hand. It’s barely the afternoon, but he doesn’t care. He hardly slept last night, and what little sleep he did get was restless, plagued by the images of your face twisted in anger and the sound of your voice, a clear warning to him as if the look in your eyes hadn’t been enough. He knows he screwed up—in more ways than one. But when brought face-to-face with you again for the first time since he left, his mind went blank. He’d said the first words that came to him, though they were just about the worst thing he could have come up with.

Behind him, the door opens and shuts again, and the wooden boards creak beneath his father’s footsteps. “¿Estás bien, mijo? Has estado muy callado hoy,” Chucho says, and Javier doesn’t even turn to face the older man as he speaks. Instead, he takes another long sip from the bottle in his hand.

“No me dijiste que estaba en pueblo,” he answers flatly.

Chucho sighs, settling himself in his rocking chair. “No ha estado de regreso por mucho tiempo. She got rejected from a publisher in Washington,” he answers gently.

Javier shakes his head. He’d once held the privilege of being able to read the things you wrote. Back then, he didn’t see how you would ever struggle to be a published author, and he’s sure that through the years you’ve only improved upon your writing skills. "Yo la ví, Papá." She...She hates me,” he finally breathes, and he feels his chest swelling with a grief he knows he shouldn’t feel. You have every right to hate him. It’s his own fault.

“¿Hablaste con ella?,” his father asks.

Javier hangs his head, putting his beer down on the step. “No me dejó hablar con ella. Lo intenté." Part of him wishes that he would have followed you out of Anita’s store, but he knows that wouldn’t have ended well.

“Ella estará en la boda de Danny,” Chucho says, and Javier’s head snaps up. He turns to look at his father in disbelief. Surely you won’t show up now, not when you know that he’s in town. You want nothing to do with him. You’ve made that abundantly clear and Javier doesn’t blame you for even a second. “Tal vez ella va a hablar contigo entonces,” his father continues.

Javier is quiet for a moment. He considers what might happen if he were to approach you. The last thing he wants to do is cause a scene, but like he told you, he needs you to understand what happened all those years ago. Even if it doesn’t change anything, you still deserve to know why he left you the way he did.

“Eso espero,” he whispers, taking another long drink from his beer and wishing that it were something much stronger.

—

You suck in a deep breath as you walk up the front stairs of the little white church. As you step inside, you realize that you haven’t been here since your own wedding, not even for a regular church service. It’s almost unnerving to be back, but you brush off your own discomfort. The ceremony won’t be long.

You pause in the foyer for just a moment, looking back down the hall where the dressing room is. You know Danny’s bride is back there, preparing for one of the best days of her life. Just like you had been so many years ago. The only comfort you find is knowing that today won’t end with the same heartbreak.

Before you can dwell on it any longer, you feel a gentle, warm hand on your shoulder. A genuine smile graces your lips as you turn and see Javier’s father.

“Mijita,” he greets you, pulling you into a gentle hug. You close your eyes for a moment, suddenly feeling much more calm than you had just seconds ago. Chucho has always been soothing that way, ever since you and Javier were just little kids running around on the ranch. You’ve always felt safe with him.

“How have you been, Pops? I haven’t seen you in forever,” you say, your smiling brightening at the fatherly kiss he pecks to your cheek. He releases you then, reaching up to straighten the signature Stetson that he wears.

His hands go to his hips as he stands in front of you. It’s no secret where Javier picked the habit up from. “I’ve been just fine, mijita. I was sorry to hear about the publisher in Seattle,” he replies. You feel a bit of heat come to your cheeks then. It never ceases to amaze you just how many people your parents manage to tell about your shortcomings with your novels.

You shake your head, letting out a soft breath. “It’s alright. It just meant I got to come back home. It’s nice to see everyone here,” you tell him, and you mean it. You’ve always enjoyed being around for Peña family events. There’s never a dull moment and you always seem to have the best time.

Chucho nods in agreement, though his expression softens. There’s compassion in his eyes as he looks into yours. “We’re all happy you’re here. It means a lot that you came,” he says. He then takes one of your hands in both of his. “I know it’s not easy...being in this place and having him back home.”

“Did he tell you we ran into each other?,” you whisper, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Javier is standing right outside the door, talking to his aunt.

“He told me he saw you, and that you wouldn’t let him talk to you,” Chucho replies, though his tone is still gentle, not at all scolding you for the reaction you’d had.

Your gaze falls to the floor. You don’t know how much you want to tell Chucho, even though you know he’d never say a word to Javier about any of it if you didn’t want him to. “I just… Pops, I can’t…” You trail off, knowing that now is not the time to explore your feelings about seeing Javier again.

Chucho squeezes your hand gently, shaking his head. “You don’t have to explain to me, mijita. I understand. Just...know that he wants to make things right. Even if the only thing he can do is explain himself,” he tells you. The words send a pang through your chest. You’re still not ready to hear that explanation. You’ve spent ten years trying to come up with a reason for Javier to abandon you. And even after so long, you don’t think your heart has prepared itself for the truth.

He must see the panic welling up in your eyes. “You don’t have to do anything that you’re not ready to. It’s alright,” he assures you.

Luckily, music begins to float into the foyer from the sanctuary, saving you from having to say much else. “You’re right,” you breathe. “But that’s something to worry about later,” you say, forcing a smile. Chucho lets go of your hands then, allowing you to follow the rest of the guests that have begun to file into the other room.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

He just smiles and tips his hat.

—

The wedding was a beautiful, quiet affair. You’re glad that you went, despite having every reason not to. It was good for you to see that happy endings still exist, even if you haven’t managed to get to your own quite yet.

There’s a small group of guests that make the short walk to the reception hall together. You join them, conversing about the ceremony and all the lovely details. Each breath comes a little easier than the last as you distance yourself from the church. By the time you do make it to the reception hall, you’re ready to have a good time. And so long as the Peñas are involved, you know that you will.

You step inside the building, feeling a rush of cool air wash over you. The air conditioning is a welcome change to the outside heat wave. The festivities have already begun, and you smile when you see everyone dancing and mingling and enjoying the good food that Javier’s aunts had most certainly spent forever making. You head over to the long stretch of tables yourself, your stomach rumbling in anticipation.

As you fill your plate, you chat with another one of the cousins, Luis, who moves down the opposite side, briefly catching up with each other. There’s not a single mention of Javier, which you’re grateful for. Luis invites you to sit at the same table as his family, and you follow, taking a seat next to his young boy.

Not long after you sit, however, you begin to feel a pair of eyes on your back. You don’t have to look behind you to know that it’s Javier. You’d made a point to sit far behind him and Chucho at the wedding, but there is no escape from his gaze here.

For a short while, you’re able to sit peacefully and ignore Javier’s stare burning into your back. But the feeling is unrelenting, and though you try to keep a conversation with Luis and his wife, it’s not enough to distract you forever. Eventually, you stand from the table, excusing yourself. You take your plate over to one of the trash cans, disposing of it before you head for the door, just needing a moment to clear your head.

You finally steal a glance in Javier’s direction. Sure enough, his eyes are trained on you.

You turn your back on him immediately, heading out the same door you entered from.

The sun hits right in your face as you step outside. To escape the heat, you go down the walkway to the corner of the building where the shade tree is. You find immediate relief under the broad green leaves.

You take in a deep breath, but just before you can let it all out, you hear him call your name.

“Goddamn it,” you mutter to yourself.

You turn around to watch as Javier walks towards you. There’s no hesitation in his steps, but you do see apprehension in his eyes as he comes closer. He stops just a few feet away from you, his hands on his hips as he looks at you.

“Don’t do this here, Javier,” you warn. “Go back inside and enjoy your cousin’s wedding reception.”

He narrows his eyes. “What? Are we both supposed to just pretend that the other doesn’t exist while you mingle with my family?,” he asks. You feel your anger spike at his words.

You take a quick step forward, your finger pointed at his chest. “Watch it, Peña. Just because we never got married doesn’t mean that they’re not my family too. They’ve certainly been more present in my life than you have,” you seethe, appalled that he would even insinuate that you aren’t just as much part of the family as he is.

He huffs in frustration, raking his fingers through his hair. “Fuck. That wasn’t...That wasn’t what I meant,” he sighs. “I just meant that we can’t keep doing this. You won’t even look at me.”

“Yeah, well, did you ever think that maybe I don’t want to?,” you retort.

“Can we please just talk about this?,” he pleads.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t care anymore, Javi. We’re just another notch on each other’s bedposts, okay?” It’s a lie. Every word is a lie that burns on its way out, but you have to tell him something—anything—that will get him to leave you alone and go back inside.

He laughs bitterly. He can see right through you. He’s always been able to. “That’s a fucking lie and you know it. You wouldn’t act like this if you didn’t care,” he bites back.

“Please just go back inside,” you say, your voice dropping to a near-whisper. Your tone suddenly lacks any force as you lose the will to keep this argument going.

His arms drop loosely to his sides. His shoulders fall from where they’d been so tense and straight. “Lo siento,” he breathes, bringing one hand up to grip his shoulder for a moment. “I’ll go,” he murmurs, turning around and heading back into the reception hall.

You turn away from the building, closing your eyes for a moment to fend off another wave of emotions. This isn’t the time or the place for it.

After you’ve composed yourself, you too return to the festivities. But when you walk back inside, you notice that mixed in with the music and laughter, there are a lot of glances in your direction followed by hushed whispers. Many others look between you and Javier as they talk amongst themselves. You already know what they’re saying. They’ve been saying a lot of the same things for ten years. Your wedding day went down infamously in Laredo’s history.

It takes you just a second to decide that it’s time for you to go. You won’t take the attention away from Danny and his new bride. Your eyes search the room for Chucho, and you let out a soft breath of relief when you see that Javier is not with him.

He stands as you walk over to him. Just like Javier, he can read you like a book. “I’m sorry he upset you, mijita,” he says, but you shake your head. You won’t have Chucho apologizing for Javier’s behavior or the emotions that you feel so intensely.

“I’m just gonna go, Pops. Give the bride and groom my love for me,” you reply.

Chucho smiles sadly at you, but nods in understanding. He takes his thumb, gently lifting your chin so that you’re looking him straight in the eye. “Always keep your head up, mijita,” he murmurs soothingly.

His words cause tears to spring to your eyes, but you manage a smile for his sake. “Te quiero, Pops,” you whisper.

“Te quiero mucho, my girl,” he tells you.

—

Javier is silent as he sits in the passenger seat of his father’s truck, his elbow against the door and his head leaning against his closed fist. It’s dark now, and he chooses to focus on the beams of the headlights on the road. He can feel his father’s gentle gaze every few seconds. It’s only a matter of time before he speaks.

“I already know what you’re going to say,” Javier finally says, relenting to his father’s silent pressing. He’s tired. He doesn’t really have the energy for this conversation, but it’ll happen anyway even if he doesn’t initiate it.

“No you don’t,” Chucho replies. He turns down a dead-end road, one that Javier recognizes all-too-well. He’s not at all surprised when the truck comes to a stop. Javier sighs, settling further back into the seat and turning to look the older man in the eye.

“No sé qué hacer. No quiere hablar conmigo,” he admits. He closes his eyes, running a hand roughly down his face.

“La lastimaste, Javier.”

“Lo sé, Papá.”

“No,” he says more forcefully, “no sabes.”

“Well maybe if she’d talk to me I would understand,” Javier snaps, though he immediately regrets the short loss of his temper. He knows that his father doesn’t mean to anger him.

Chucho sighs. “She’s spent so long trying to forget. And here you are, when she leasts expects it. And the first thing you do is demand to talk to her.”

“You told me to talk to her,” Javier counters.

“No. I said maybe she would talk to you.” He sighs at the correction, knowing that there is certainly a difference.

Javier huffs softly, shaking his head. “Well, we both know that’s not going to happen.” He has no faith that he’ll ever be able to fix things with you, no matter how much he wants to.

“Ten years is a long time, my son. What you did...time couldn’t heal that. I’ll never forget that day as long as I live…,” his father starts, and Javier feels his chest constrict as his father trails off. He’s gone this long without knowing what happened the day he left. He doesn’t want to hear about it now.

“Por favor, Papá. No lo hagas,” he pleads.

Chucho pays him no mind, continuing anyway. “I was the one to tell her you were gone. And at that time I didn’t know that you had left for Colombia. I wouldn’t find that out until I got back to the house that night. I held her while she cried, Javier. While she sobbed and begged to know what she’d done to make you leave.” There’s a sad, wistful look in the old man’s eyes as he relives the memory.

Javier is quiet for some time, letting the words sink into his heart and pull him down in that dark state of mind he’s known too well since the day he left Laredo. He doesn’t want to think about you that way. He doesn’t want to imagine you in that kind of pain, especially not the pain that he caused you. It’s too much for him to bear.

“Ella nunca me va a perdonar por eso.” His words are hardly audible. He hangs his head, looking down at the floorboards of the truck.

His father shrugs. “Ella podría. These things take time, Javier. You can’t expect it to be better overnight,” Chucho replies, offering some hope even when mending the rift seems like a hopeless endeavor.

Javier crosses his arms over his chest, not believing that there is any chance. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be gone soon, anyway, and then she won’t have to worry about it.” He looks out the front of the truck then, watching the trees sway gently in the night wind.

“Ah, si. Huyendo de vuelta a Colombia,” his father muses.

“No estoy huyendo,” Javier shoots back defensively. He sits up straight in his seat again, his shoulders squared.

“Tal vez no, pero lo estás usando como un escape.” As much as he wants to, he can’t deny his father’s words. He’s right, just like he always is.

“We have to take down Cali,” he responds instead.

Chucho shakes his head, putting a gentle hand on Javier’s shoulder. It makes him relax just the slightest bit. “Eso no es una vida, mijo. Colombia ya te ha cambiado lo suficiente. Tú no eres el hombre que eras antes de irte,” he says.

He’s right about that too, but Javier would rather stare death in the face a thousand times than see the hurt in your eyes once more.

“Yo sé,” he whispers.

-

Spanish Translations

“¿Estás bien, mijo? Has estado muy callado hoy.” - “Are you alright, son? You’ve been very quiet today.”

“No me dijiste que estaba en pueblo.” - “You didn’t tell me she was in town.”

“No ha estado de regreso por mucho tiempo.” - “She hasn’t been back for very long.”

"Yo la ví, Papá." - “I saw her, Dad.”

“¿Hablaste con ella?” - “Did you talk to her?”

“No me dejó hablar con ella. Lo intenté." - “She won’t let me talk to her. I tried.”

“Ella estará en la boda de Danny.” - “She’ll be at Danny’s wedding.”

“Tal vez ella va a hablar contigo entonces.” - “Maybe she’ll talk to you then.”

“Eso espero.” - I hope so.

“Mijita” - My daughter (nickname)

“Lo siento.” - “I’m sorry.”

“No sé qué hacer. No quiere hablar conmigo.” - “I don’t know what to do. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“La lastimaste, Javier.” - “You hurt her, Javier.”

“Lo sé, Papá.” - “I know, Dad.”

“No...no sabes.” - “No, you don’t (know).”

“Por favor, Papá. No lo hagas.” - “Please, Dad. Don’t do this.”

“Ella nunca me va a perdonar por eso.” - “She’ll never forgive me for that.”

“Ah, si. Huyendo de vuelta a Colombia.” - “Ah, right. Running back to Colombia.”

“No estoy huyendo.” - “I’m not running.”

“Tal vez no, pero lo estás usando como un escape.” - “Maybe not, but you are using it as an escape.”

“Eso no es una vida, mijo. Colombia ya te ha cambiado lo suficiente. Tú no eres el hombre que eras antes de irte.” - “That’s no life, my son. Colombia has changed you enough already. You are not the man you were before you left.”

“Yo sé.” - “I know.”

-

Chapter Three

-

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[lettersnorth]

It didn't surprise Aislinn an onze that Mivo'to had up and disappeared on his attendings one sun. Nor was she all that concerned. He had knocked himself out due to a miscalculation. It certainly wasn't the worst thing the clinic had seen. And he had clearly recovered. Win-win all around. She got to work stripping the sheets from the bed and cleaning  up the now vacant room.

Cravendy wandered into the clinic in search of fresh bandages and ointment. She could still feel the pressure pushing down on her bones, the smell of ceruleum burning after the explosion...and it didn't seem like it was going to go away any time soon. When she stepped in, she noticed Lin and called out to her on instinct. "Lin!"

An armful of sheets, Aislinn rounded the divider just as Cravendy called out. She halted, surprise flitting over her face for a brief moment before her expression pulled back to neutral. "Cravendy." she nodded a greeting and then scooted around the Seawolf to the waiting laundry basket. "What brings you in here? Everything alright?" she asked as she shoved the ball of sheets down into the overfull basket. Guess the wash was next on her list.

Cravendy awkwardly pressed herself against the infirmary partition to give Lin more space to walk, and got the feeling that she's not exactly a welcome sight. At best, a nuisance to entertain while there were chores to be done. With a shrug, she headed over to the cabinets and began pulling out all kinds of medical supplies. "Oh, ye know. Smartin' after the battle, lookin' for somethin' to make it all feel better. What about yerself? 'ow are ye 'oldin' up?"

"Me?" Aislinn asked as she straightened and brushed a flyaway wisp of hair from her eyes. "Aside from pulling Mivo'to out before the whole place went up I didn't do a damned thing that woulda caused me to be banged up." She eyed the collection Cravendy was haphazardly pulling from the potions cabinets and picked up a bulbous glass jar filled with a warm, golden liquid. This, she passed to Cravendy. "Drink two spoonfuls of this. Three if it doesn't take the edge off." she then nodded to the drawer below the cabinet. "You need a patch up? Afraid G'lewra is out so if you do, I can do it the mundane way. Or you can wait for her to aether-heal it."

“Could ye?” Cravs muttered as she gave Lin a curious stare. “I’m used to patchin’ myself up at this point but...I bet ye could get the ‘urt out faster.”

Cravendy grabbed the jar of golden liquid before heading back to take a seat. She twisted the medicine open and gave it a good sniff or two. "Bleh. Anyway, even if ye didn't do a thing, it's not every day ye survive an explosion. So, well, there's that. That and..." Cravs trailed off. "Well. I was surprised ye didn't use yer fancy math shields."

Aislinn paused, shooting the Seawolf a look of concern as she pulled the needed bandages and supplies from the drawers. The pain must be bad if Cravendy wasn't willing to wait. She went and joined the woman on the couch, setting a tray of the necessary items next to her. Careful not to meet the Seawolf's eye, she gave a half shrug at the observation. Silence reigned as she gingerly gestured for Cravendy to show her the burns. It filled the space until finally, with her time at the hot spring fresh in her mind, she let go a sigh and broke it. "I can't." she admitted, finally. "I can't use my shields or...any of it. Not since....not for awhile."

Cravendy unbuttoned her shirt, revealing bandages tied across her chest and around her back. There's also a significant scar on her lower abdomen that looks like it's healing weird, but healing nonetheless. "I applied ointment a few days ago, but it's 'ard to reapply it to my back. If ye could..."

Cravendy trailed off at Lin's admission, unsure what to say. She was originally going to poke fun at the situation, joke that Lin needs to practice the basics again. "Oh. Well, uh. What're ye doin' about that, then?"

The conversation was momentarily forgotten as Lin gathered the full measure of Cravendy's injuries. "Gods above, Cravendy. Why the hell didn't you come in the moment  you got back? Or say -anything- out there in the field. I coulda done something -then-!" To be fair, Cravendy had done a decent job, all things considered. She obviously wasn't new at this. Even so, the oddly healing scar drew Aislinn's attention and she carefully inspected it closer, her aether sense stretching out. She could, at least, still do that much.

"I assumed everyone got just as roasted! Figured, I could still move, so I could treat my own wounds. Bah, this was a mistake..." Cravs leaned a little away from Lin, nervous to show vulnerability. But when she noticed Lin drawn to the scar on her stomach, Cravs brought a finger to her lips. "Risin' gave me that one. Don't tell 'er though."

Cravendy tugged her shirt around herself so she's wrapped from the elbow down for the sake of modesty, though it really doesn't add much. "Anyway, ye were sayin'? About yer magic bein' broken?"

Aislinn jerked her chin up as Cravendy began to draw away, the look on her face all but daring the Seawolf to just try and keep it up. Small as she was, she wasn't letting Cravendy out of there without proper treatment. "No. Waiting to come here was the mistake." she chided. She shook her head in exasperation at the mention of the weird wound coming from Rising.

She could only imagine what raucous bout had caused that. "I have this way about me," she said, quickly surmising that if she kept talking, Cravendy would stay put. "Of absorbing curses. Cursed energy, hexes..." she trailed off as she motioned for Cravendy to turn around so she could get the ointment on her back. "Turns out, a person can only do that for so long until all that bad energy needs a place to go. It's made my aether...a touch unstable. I *could* cast a spell. I just don't know what'll come out."

Cravendy saw the face Lin was making - the same sort a parent would give a fussy toddler - and pouted. But she was already here, bandages exposed, back turned and ointment ready. It'd be even more dumb to get up and leave after getting so far. "Fine, but be thorough, eh? I want to be better by the time we 'ave to get blown up again."

Cravendy obliged to whatever Lin needed her to do in order to work and listened quietly, face forward and staring unfocused into the room. "Weird. So if I put ye in my room, would ye absorb all of the bad vibes? In the east, there's all this shit about Feng Shui and harmonizin' with yer surroundings."

Cravendy glanced back at Lin to see if her joke landed.

Aislinn blanched at the thought, even though she knew it was more than likely that Cravendy was just being a smart-ass. "Who knows...probably. Apparently I've been walking around for years just absorbing ambient refuse. Now I'm full up. Or close to it. It's...painful to be close to anything like that. Like I'm burning up from the inside. That's when I first realized something wasn't right." she said quietly as she cut away the old bandage and carefully pulled it back with delicate fingers.

Cravendy let out a disappointed breath at Lin's reaction and went back to looking forward. "That sounds...painful. I wish I could 'elp, but don't know the first thing when it comes to magical ailments. But I will say, ye should 'ang back until ye get this under control. Last thing ye need is suckin' up more bad energy and makin' worse."

Cravendy scowled as she revisited what Lin had just said. Burning up. Absorbing curses. A worrisome theory forms. "'ey, uh. When did this start? Just casually one day?"

"That's me, a walking bad luck charm." Aislinn muttered as she dressed the new bandages and applied them to Cravendy's back. "Don't worry, I've asked someone to fill in for me on the next job in Coerthas while I try and get this problem sorted." The ointment was cooling and numbing all at the same time and would dull the pain of the burns as the medicinal herbs got to work healing the skin underneath. Aislinn was quiet long enough that it was obvious she was trying to decide how to skirt the question.

She started reassembling the supplies back on the tray. When she rose to her feet, she figured the only way any of this between her and Cravendy was going to work was if she stopped hedging and just be honest. No matter what. "Probably ramped up while we were trying to find the Helm." she said as she took the tray over to the sink.

Cravendy tensed when the ointment is first applied, but breathes a sigh of relief quickly after. "Ah, thanks, already feels better. And the person coverin' for ye...is it that string bean fella I saw ye talkin' with in the library? What's 'e like? Don't often see 'im around. Guy looks painfully serious, the kind to take offense at small talk."

Cravendy was silent for a while after, staring at the partition rod as if it's the most interesting thing in the world. Finally, loudly and suddenly, she groaned. "Shit.”

"Shit! That really pisses me off!" Cravs stood up, shirt still dangling around her arms, and paced around in a circle. "Fuck! Goddamnit. Ahhh, bloody...Lin, why didn't ye say somethin' earlier?!"

Turning away from the basin, Aislinn leaned back against the sink with a faint air of amusement. "Aye, the string bean fella." she waved a hand up through the air. Anything more she might have had to say on the subject was lost in the wake of Cravendy's agitation. Caught up short, her eyes flicked away and then back to her. "Because I didn't know what the problem was. Only that these sudden burning sensations would flare up every so often. And then once I did, it was all said and done. What good would it have done to bring it up to you after the fact except to put you in a state like this?" she gestured to the anxious pacing the Seawolf was currently succumbing to.

Cravendy wanted badly to grab Lin by the shoulders and shake some sense into her, or maybe, just shake her until somehow she got better. Cravs nearly snarled, hearing reason in Lin's words but not having it. She clenched and unclenched her fists, not sure what to do with this sudden anger.

"Even worse, ye die a slow an’ painful death! I like to know when I've messed up so I can do somethin' about it!" Cravs huffed. You could practically see the steam hiss out of her ears.

In the face of Cravendy's anger, Aislinn breathed easy, slow breaths. Matching the Seawolf's temper had never worked for either of them in the past. It was on the tip of her tongue. The correction that if this would kill her, it wouldn't be slow but violent and sudden. She decided that really was besides the point right now. "How did -you- mess up? You weren't there. And what would you do about it?" she asked, trying to get Cravendy to see reason.

"Ye don't understand. This whole shitty business with the Helm...If I didn't suggest raidin' that Garlean ship. If I 'ad the balls to stick around and save my crew. If I didn't summon 'er, then, maybe..." Cravs breathed heavily until she was light-headed, but it worked to calm her down. She fell back down into the couch with a hand over her face to cover her reaction. "...Shit, I don't know. Maybe ye'd find some other stupid way to get yer fill of cursed energy and die anyway. I don't know. Maybe.”

Cravendy spoke, words muffled in her palm. "Lin, I. The fireball. That..." Cravs shook her head. "...doesn't matter. I don't know what I'll do about it, just that I'll do /something/ about it."

Aislinn heaved a sigh and pushed off from the sink, coming to join Cravendy on the couch. "And then you'd be dead, right? Isn't that how it all worked? Honestly, it was only a matter of time. It was always going to catch up to me at some point. The Helm business just ushered it along." she paused. "Which isn't to say that fireball that Wyda hit me with didn't hurt like hell. Hard not to take something like that personally." she said, in a rare attempt to lighten the mood.

She turned to look at Cravendy, mustering a smile. "Look. I'm working on it. A friend and I are tracking down someone in Ishgard that'll know about my problem. And...hopefully what to do about it."

Cravendy puffed up her chest, about to come up with a rebuttal to Lin's answer. As usual, she came up empty, and then similarly let out a tired sigh. "Feh, yer always so logical, even about all heavy shit like this. I....guess that's what I like ye for though. Just - just. I don't know. Leave the stupid to me."

Cravendy would take comfort in the fact that Lin was actively looking for someone to diagnose the issue, though this would linger in the back of her mind for long after. With or without Lin's blessings, she'd find a way to help. This was either going to lead to great success, or equally great disaster.

[icollectyoursins]

NSFW Prosciutto headcanons

Pseudo_Possom on AO3 said: “This is beautiful... I’m not on tumblr, but may I request some Prosciutto NSFW headcanons that are also kinda wholesome? I need more slightly wholesome ham in my life.”

I have been looking forward to writing this since I got the request. I love me some juicy ham! It started wholesome, then slowly went down to the nastier things, then back to wholesome.

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Breeding, lingerie, cock warming, riding, fingering, oral, handjobs, sounding, pegging, panty sniffing, jerking off, mentions of porn, vouyerism/glory holes (Receiving oral as well as watching S/O do that with someone else), cuckolding (I guess), threesome, sloppy seconds, cuddles as after care, also baths.

Word Count: 2,110

Alrighty, where do I start? This man loves to breed to S/O. Just adores seeing his seed leaking out of them in a slow stream. Now, unlike other characters I have done headcanons for, he is not one to go for too many rounds, so expect lots of sweet, warm, littered-with-kisses cuddles. If he’s pent up, he’ll usually go for more, but he tends to last long enough to make up for multiple rounds so he doesn’t see the need.

If you two are able and are trying to have a child, he is so tender. Pulling you into his arms, making a nest of pillows around you (this man has 10 on his bed, convince me otherwise) and just massaging your stomach whispering about how he can’t wait to see you grow. 

I dunno, I just think this man is soft for his S/O which only becomes more apparent when he’s filled them with his seed. 

Kissing Prosciutto would be fucking ascending. Equal parts passionate and sweet. His lips are so soft against yours and the smell of his cologne seems to just envelope you. He buys only the best for both himself and you, so of course he’s soft. He tastes the tiniest bit like mint. Not overwhelming or strong, just subtle. And a sweet mint. 

Your first time with him can either go one of two ways: it’s either a rough, quick but still hot and heavy fuck in the back of his car before he drops you off at home, or it’s desperate, deep and gentle thrusts into you that rock the entire bed. Just the image of him crawling back into the front seat, adjusting his shirt and pants has me fucking drooling

Oh. Surprise him with lingerie. Casually walking out of the bathroom in a revealing body suit or stockings and garter belt. Prosciutto is weak. If you’ve been together for a while, he’s more vulnerable with his arousal and adoration, mouth dropping open and just staring. If it’s a new relationship, he’ll try to hide it by either giving you a chaste compliment that sounds a little derogatory if you read into it too much or getting suave with it, trying to flip the table so you’re the one being seduced. 

     You ran your fingers over the delicate fabric clinging to your body, admiring your form in the mirror. Lace and straps wrapped around you, sitting in all the right places, complimenting your figure. 

     “Piccola/Piccolino, are you here?” Prosciutto called out to you as he entered your shared bedroom, immediately noticing your missing presence. You grinned to yourself in the en-suit bathroom. He called out your name, taking off his jacket and tossing it on the bed. While he adjusted his clothes, making himself more comfortable, you slowly made your way out. 

     “I’m here,” you said smoothly, leaning against the door frame. He quickly glanced at you in the mirror, expecting you to be in pajamas and ready for bed. A double take was made when he saw what you were wearing. 

     Prosciutto’s mouth had dropped open slightly as he turned around to look at you. He muttered something under his breath that you didn’t quite hear. All you did was chuckle at his amazement as he slowly made his way to you, hands creeping up your sides once before sliding back down to grope your behind.

     “What is this?” He mused. “For me, piccola /piccolino? You spoil me, you know.” You smiled at him sweetly, gently cupping his face with your hand before leaning in to kiss him. Hungrily, he pulled you closer, quickly getting more aggressive, biting your lower lip and roughly exploring your mouth with his tongue.

     Prosciutto pulled away, staring at you with a sinful glare.

     “Look at you,” he growled, breathing heavily. Suddenly, he pulled your arm, then pinned you against the wall. His voice rumbled in your ear as his lips grazed your neck. “You’re not going to be able to walk out of his room.”

If he’s feeling lazy and you’re feeling randy, he is 100% down to let you just ride him into the sofa while he’s watching TV or just cock warm him. I think he just enjoys the intimacy, you know? Like, he’s finally able to let some of his barriers go that he just completely relaxes. Not to say he can’t be rough, he absolutely can, but he enjoys the soft moments just as much as he loves the rough sessions.

Alright, oral. He’s... okay at giving, sitting in between being good and bad. I don’t see him being super into giving oral (ie. eating someone out or blowjobs) unless he’s bottoming that night which, of course, rarely happens because of his pride. Receiving, however! Loves it. Give him a quick blow before he goes into a meeting and he’ll probably have your mouth on his mind for the rest of the day. Tease him with your tongue and you might have him begging. He would do anything to get those lips around him. 

For the more relaxed moments of sex I can picture him being tender and soft with his praise, running his hands through your hair, calling you beautiful or moaning out “belissima” when you take his entire length. Pros cums instantly if you make eye contact while slowly swallowing him whole, then pull back to the tip. He’s practically drooling when you clean the cum off of him. After, he’ll cup your face pulling you into a sweet kiss before returning the favor and getting you off with his hand/fingers.

With more rougher sessions, he’s fucking your face. You head is pinned against the wall and he’s just destroying your throat in the best way. When he gets close, he’ll cum on your face or chest, calling you every dirty word he could possibly think of. Needless to say, you’ll both be left a wreck after that.

Now, while he may not be a master of oral, he absolutely has fingering down to an art form! On S/O’s with a vagina especially (not that he isn’t good at hand jobs, as well, I think he just has a slight preference). *blurb below is fem!reader*

     Long fingers curled up into your sweet spot making you cry out, arching your back. Prosciutto pushed you back down onto the bed again, picking up the pace as punishment. His thumb came to you clit, rubbing back and forth with a force that seemed to blind you. His name fell from your lips an endless amount of times as you lost control, legs kicking out against the sheets. You begged him to let you cum.

     “No.” He said sternly. You whined in protest. “You can take it.” 

Well, now that that’s out of the way! Hand jobs. I can’t get the picture of you being tied down to a chair, naked while he’s completely dressed (save for his jacket which was tossed somewhere else). He’s rubbing your length as softly as he could to keep you from cumming too soon. When you get close, he casually pulls away, adjusting his clothes. Dude just likes denial, what can I say?

I have that this written in my notes forever: sounding. Mmm. Tying him down on the bed or even just ordering him not to move while you liberally apply lube to the tip of his cock and then slowly spreading the opening with a thin rod. Oh! The way he would writhe. Delicious.

Pegging this man would be heavenly. The first time he would be so shocked, almost kind of offended you brought it up, but then he would start looking at porn of it because you peaked his curiosity (not that he’d ever admit it) and then... he just wants to do it all of the sudden. You’re gentle, of course, but even just the smallest buck of your hips has him melting. Nothing but putty in your hands, freely and wildly moaning.

Now you’ve got him hooked. Wanna play a more dominant role? Order him to do something. Don’t just say “get on your knees.” Order him. Drag a crop along his cheek. You will absolutely make him weak so he’ll either drop to his knees and do whatever you say, or (more commonly) he’ll be a tough nut to crack and make you work for his submission. 

Alright, this one... this is a gross one that he will probably never admit to anyone, but I read somewhere that he’d sniff his S/O panties while jerking off and my mind fucking exploded. Even just inhaling the scene from your shirts or pillow case gets him going. Come home early to moans coming from the bedroom and getting just the tiniest peek of your clothing pressed to his face while he furiously rubs his cock. *Chef’s fucking kiss*

He would never EVER admit to it though because it’s something Melone or Illuso would do and he has more class than that. Or looks like he does.

Prosciutto probably watches a lot of porn, lets be real. Not as much as the two previously mentioned or Formaggio, but still a lot. He does it to research more than actually get off, looking at some of the weirder things that Melone is into (which mostly feet, but there are a few gems in there) like dominatrix things, swings, glory holes, that kind of thing. He tends to favour the glory holes, if he’s being completely honest. 

If you’re into roleplaying being strangers and meeting up at a glory hole he will probably cum more than he ever has in his life. After the “hook up” he’ll give you nothing but praise and kisses for the rest of the night.

Or, if you’re okay with actually doing it with strangers, he’ll watch (or film it for later) then fuck whatever part of your body was used just to boost his pride by saying shit like “they were good, but you like this more” or “time for a real man to fuck you. You really only feel good with me, right?” Just nasty stuff like that.

     Prosciutto’s eyes grew wide as he watched your lips wrap around the unfamiliar cock in front of you, eagerly sucking in more of it. You looked at him out the corner of your eye, just to make sure he was still looking. He moans quietly, palming himself through his pants while still trying to keep steady, hoping the video would turn out okay. He wasn’t really paying attention to camera angles. 

     You got more bold, wrapping your hand around the cock that was now lubed up with your spit. Now, you bobbed on it in sync with your strokes. The man on the other side of the wall quickly came into your mouth. You showed the camera the load, mouth open wide, then you swallowed it, showing your empty mouth again. 

     Your partner practically scrambled to turn the video off, pulling his pants down as fast as he could. He turned you around, wasting no time thrusting himself into you. “Fuck. You really know how to make a man jealous, don’t you?” You cry out as he starts fucking into you relentlessly.

Would be more into threesomes if he wasn’t surrounded by La Squadra. Although, the idea of putting Melone in his place does sound rather nice and watching you do it? Even more so. What? No, he doesn’t actually want to fuck Melone, he just thinks he’d look good forced to cum on his cock over and over again... okay, maybe he wants to fuck him, but it’s not like that-

Alright, I wrote about this in the Demon!Risotto x Reader x Demon!Prosciutto thing but sloppy seconds are so good. Doesn’t really care who’s cum it is (save for Pesci and Illuso because he would never let Illuso do that to you, just rubs him the wrong way), he just loves the look, the feel; everything that comes with sliding his cock into your already full hole and watching it leak out over the sides of his length.

Not the king of after care, but good. Prosciutto loves to take long lavish baths with you or going to the spa just to make yourselves feel nice and pretty after doing something raunchy and “gross.” Grabs you two water if you need it, massages any sore spots on your body, just general stuff. 

More reluctant to receive after care because of his pride, but will eventually cave and let you rub his sides or whatever, then he just melts. You’re just so warm against him and he’s so tired. He falls asleep quicker than he usually does and wakes up feeling a little more chipper than usual.

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Translations: piccola /piccolino -baby girl/baby boy belissima-beautiful