#please feel absolutely no need to match length in any way

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Desperate | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hello hello hello! I’ve got some good, old-fashioned angst here for ya.

Word Count: 8.4k

Warnings: hella angst. Touch starved Bucky and reader. Some slight NSFW vibes, but nothing graphic.

Bucky didn’t seem to notice when you told him you had to step away for a moment. He remained focused on his clean up duties in the kitchen; he didn’t raise his head or look your way. In fact, he didn’t seem to be noticing you much at all, lately. But as you eyed your ensemble in the full-length mirror in your bedroom, you knew you’d win back his attention.

This was his absolute favorite lingerie of yours. The set that made him so feral, drove him so insane with lust, that he’d broken the headboard last time you wore it. After that, the two of you agreed you’d save it for special occasions only; otherwise, the apartment you shared would need to be entirely refurnished. And though tonight was just a normal, run of the mill Friday night, you needed to pull out the big guns.  

The black leather bustier- the one that made Bucky destroy furniture- hugged your figure perfectly. It’s plunging V-neck ended just above your navel. And the lacy details perfectly mirrored the cheeky black underwear Bucky gifted you last Valentine’s Day. A matching garter belt was the piece de resistance, and it held in place the thigh high stockings that drove Bucky wild. 

You gave yourself one final look before slipping on a pair of black stilettos and stalking out of the room. This was it- the perfect formula for recapturing Bucky’s gaze. 

He’d been distant lately. Almost cold. He hadn’t touched you- in even the most innocent sense- in nineteen days. It had been even longer since you were last able to steal a kiss. And the two of you hadn’t had sex in three weeks, which was unheard of.

Usually, Bucky gave his physical affections freely. He loved touching you, kissing you, holding you. He wanted to play with your hair, hold your hand, kiss your forehead- anything- as long as it meant he got to touch you. To feel you. When he had a rough day, your arms provided him with safety and comfort. And when a mission stole you from his side, your lips welcomed him home. He poured his love for you into every touch, leaving his fingerprints all over your soul.

To him, any moment spent without your skin pressed against his was a moment wasted. 

And your sex life was mind-blowing, to say the least. Bucky’s stamina and eagerness to please you left you breathless and seeing stars almost every night of the week. After a few rounds with him, you found yourself unable to speak, unable to think. The only thing that had the power to permeate your hazy, lust-filled mind was him. Your hunger, your need for him could never be sated, and fucking him only made you want him more. But he was more than happy to give himself over to you. He could pull two or seven orgasms from you before you even knew what hit you. And that was just his warmup. 

But the last three weeks had been completely void of any debauchery. Bucky didn’t slip into your shower or slide his hand up your skirt. He didn’t even grab your ass when you walked by wearing leggings. It was a startling difference that filled the apartment with a biting, bitter cold, chilling you to the bone. But Bucky said- he swore- he was fine. That he was just tired. Or stressed. Or busy with work. And while you knew his work-life was intense, it never before stopped him from jumping at the chance to make you scream. 

And it wasn’t just the lack of erotic touches that gnawed at you. It was the loss of all physical affections. He didn’t reach for your hand in the store. Didn’t pull you into his chest at night. Didn’t kiss you goodbye in the morning. It left you agonized. Miserable. Empty. 

Every day, you wondered what could’ve possibly caused Bucky to pull away. What could make him withdraw from you so suddenly. Worry ate away at you, slowly devouring you whole. He seemed to work late almost every night these past few weeks. And when he was home, your attempts to talk to him about the issue went nowhere. 

You thought he’d gotten past his urge to hide his troubles from you. It took time, but he learned to be honest. To communicate. And when you were finally confident that he’d stopped hiding his struggles, you learned to stop reading into his every mannerism. His every muscle twitch. His every vocal change. If he said he was okay, he was okay. And after working together- he trusted you to listen, and you trusted him to tell you the truth.

And over the last few weeks, he did, indeed, say that he was okay. That there was nothing lurking beneath his surface. And so, you did as he asked, and you believed him.

But after three weeks of nothing- no roaming hands, no bite marks, no early morning quickies- you were hungry for him. Aching for him. You feared that your bottled-up lust would actually drive you crazy. And so, you decided reach for your secret weapon. 

You found Bucky right where you’d left him: leaning over the kitchen sink, taking care of the dishes from dinner. 

You kept your tone light, innocent, casual. “Hey, Buck.”

“Hey, baby.” He didn’t look up. 

“Um, do you think you could help me with something real quick, Sergeant?” Sergeant. It was devious. Wicked, really. The sound of his title coming out of your mouth always got his heart racing, always made the blood drain from his brain and travel elsewhere.

But he didn’t fall for it.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Just give me one second, I’m-” Finally, he looked up.

His words died in throat, his mind went blank. The pan he’d been scrubbing fell into the sink with a loud crash. Want filled his eyes. He could’ve sworn his mouth started watering. 

“What do you think, Sarge? You wanna come over here and,” you ran a few fingers up your thigh, “help me out?” 

You braced yourself, knowing Bucky was about to pounce. You figured you had less than five seconds before he swept you off your feet and hoisted up over his shoulder. He’d fireman-carried you to bed that way more times than you could count, and you knew this would be one of those nights. 

But five seconds became ten. And then fifteen. And then twenty. And all he’d done was stare at you. 

“Buck?” you took a few steps in his direction. “I thought we could have some dessert.”

He struggled to form coherent thoughts or piece sentences together. “Um, well, I was-” he gestured to the mess in the sink, “I was gonna do the dishes.”

“I know, baby,” you placed a light hand on his shoulder. “But I think you can finish them after- I mean, later.”

Bucky should’ve jumped at the opportunity. He should’ve taken you apart right there on the kitchen counter. But he didn’t. He didn’t even touch you. 

He cleared his throat, “I’m- I’m just gonna do ‘em now.”

Without a word, you turned on your stiletto and retreated to the bedroom. 

Humiliation flared in your chest. Tears gathered in your eyes. And your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out the rest of the world. Suddenly, you felt stupid. Foolish. Part of you wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment. 

Bucky had every right to refuse your advances- that wasn’t the issue. It was his complete and utter lack of affection for you. If he didn’t want to have sex with you ever again, you’d (probably) survive. But the harsh and sudden halt of any and all physical affection was eating you alive.

You kicked off your heels the moment you entered the bedroom and found yourself stomping toward the bathroom. You needed to get away. To hide. To protect yourself from any further mortification. The bathroom door slammed shut behind you, and you leaned against the cool wood, hoping to find some peace. But the bathroom mirror only doubled your shame. And as you stared at yourself, clad in what you thought to be Bucky’s favorite lingerie, your breathing hitched in your chest. 

This whole venture was so idiotic. So thoroughly and excruciatingly mortifying. It felt like the final nail in the coffin. If Bucky didn’t want you in your best lingerie, he must not want you at all.

The hoodie you’d slipped out of only minutes ago sat crumpled in a pile on the counter, and eagerly you shimmied into it. Anything to cover up your failed attempt at seduction. 

What was wrong with Bucky? Was he not interested in you anymore? Did he find you unattractive? If he wasn’t seeking sex with you, he had to be getting it from someone else, didn’t he? Who was it? Who-

A gentle knock yanked you out of your spiral.

“Sweetheart…” Bucky called through the door. He tried the handle and found it locked. “Can you come out, baby? Please?”

No part of you wanted to leave the safety of the bathroom. Something deep within you feared that this would be it- the tipping point, the moment of truth. If you did as Bucky asked and ventured out of the bathroom, there was a chance that Bucky would drop some major, soul-crushing truth on you. 

Maybe he’d spent the last three weeks trying to figure out how to break up with you, and this was his perfect opportunity. Maybe he’d break your heart and ruin your life the second you opened the bathroom door. If you could just stay in here- forever- maybe he wouldn’t dump you. Maybe you could delay your heartbreak and extend whatever feelings he once had for you, just for a little while.

But if he didn’t want you anymore, what was the point of prolonging the inevitable? 

With a huff, you dabbed at your eyes with your sleeve and opened the door.

There stood Bucky, looking hopeless. Lost. Miserable. He was propped against the door frame with slumped shoulders and a downtrodden expression- but perked up a bit when you opened the door. A sad smile stretched across his face, and he stood up straight, but his frown returned as you brushed right past him. 

“Baby, can we please talk about this?” He almost begged. 

There was a heavy desperation in his voice. Panic blazed through his chest. Something told him he might be losing you.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you!” You removed your garter belt and slipped off one of your stockings. “I’ve been trying to talk to you about this for weeks! And you just keep saying you’re 'fine'. Or that you’re tired. Or that there’s 'nothing to talk about'- when there clearly is!”

Normally, Bucky could always make you feel better with a hug. Anytime the two of you got into a fight, a long, warm embrace helped ease both of you into open, honest communication. But Bucky didn't reach for you. He opted to keep his distance. To allow you some space.

But space was the last thing you wanted. 

“Look, if there’s something going on and you’re not interested in having sex, that’s fine,” you told him. “I get it. It happens sometimes. But the-” you yanked your other thigh high off and tossed it to the side. “The total embargo on physical touch is really fucking with my head.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, your hands shook with wrath. “Buck, you’re never home anymore- you’re always ‘working late’.” You let out a sharp exhale, “and when you are home, it’s like you’re on another planet. You keep your distance from me- you won’t even sit next to me on the couch.”

All Bucky could do was nod. Everything you said was true; there wasn’t a point in arguing.

And as the weight of Bucky’s sudden frigidity finally hit you, your fury was snuffed out. Rage no longer pulsed through your veins with each beat of your heart. Grief took its place. It forced its way into your heart, into your bones. You could’ve sworn you felt fractures spider-webbing their way through your ribs. 

Tears trickled slowly down your cheeks at first, but a downpour followed soon after. “Are you- are you not attracted to me anymore?” You asked between heaving sobs. “Do you not want me? Did I do something?”

“Sweetheart, I-”

“Is there…” your voice cracked. Saying it was too much; part of you feared that vocalizing your fear would make it come true. As though another woman would materialize simply because you asked whether she existed. “Is there someone else?”

The question sucked all of the oxygen out of the room. Bucky stared at you with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape. You did your best to get a handle on your shaky breaths and pained wails; if Bucky was about to reveal an affair, you didn’t want to seem so broken. So hopeless. So pathetic. You didn’t want to give him any ammo to take back to his side piece. Any dramatic tales that would make her howl with laughter.

But he didn’t admit to having a mistress. He, instead, let loose a few tears himself. Knowing that he’d made you question his loyalties, that you’d actually feared he’d been unfaithful, made him want to die.  

“Oh my god,” His voice wavered under the hefty weight of his pain,“Baby-” 

“Is there someone better?”

“No.” He couldn’t fathom the suggestion that there was someone- anyone- out there better than you. “There is no one better.”

He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to be near you. In three quick strides, he arrived in your vicinity. But he remained just out of your reach. Everything in him begged - screamed- to hold you close. To kiss you. To take your hand, at the very least. His fingers twitched with the need to touch you. But he refrained. 

 “There’s no one else- of course, there’s not. There will never be anyone else. I still want you, I will always want you. I love you.” 

The overwhelming urge to remove himself from your space barked at him. It screamed and hollered from the deep recesses of his mind. And he knew he should listen. But he couldn’t- not when you were falling apart in front of him. Not when he’d made you feel unwanted, unattractive, and unloved.

“You didn’t do anything, doll,” he hated himself for doing this to you. For making you doubt his love. For reducing you to a sobbing, heaving shell of yourself. “I’m still attracted to you- I’m so attracted to you. You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”

His reassurances helped assuage some of the fear, some of the worry. But only a small portion. Because even though he’d refuted all of your hypotheses and accusations, he still hadn’t given you a reason. And he still hadn’t touched you. 

“Then what’s-” you forced yourself to take a moment to think. To breathe. To get your head on straight. “What’s the problem? What’s going on with you?”

Bucky didn’t answer. He didn’t make eye contact. He simply stared at the area rug, tracing its border with his eyes. And though he knew you needed his touch, needed his affection, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Couldn’t bring himself to slip his hand into yours or cradle your face in his hands. 

His silence sliced through you and tore you open. You could’ve sworn you were bleeding out. 

“Buck, I miss you-” It was needy. Ugly. But you didn’t care. “Please, just be honest with me. I’m worried about you. And this isn’t normal for us, so-”

His words came out so low, so hushed, that you struggled to hear him. “I just haven’t been able to shake what happened last time.”

He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. He gave a small shake of his head. His hands balled into tight fists. He’d thought about what happened over and over and over again. He thought about it every day for the last three weeks. Relived the panic, the fear. And every night when he tried to fall asleep, the scene played out on an endless loop inside his mind. Horrifying nightmares plagued him each time he closed his eyes. He woke up shaking, covered in a cold sweat. There was no escaping it.

---Three weeks ago---

Things started around 8pm. It was all innocent enough, with Bucky spooning you as the two of you rewatched New Girl. But Bucky let his hands roam, as he so often did. And after only one episode, his hand had snaked up your shirt. His warm palm rested against your breast as his fingers swept over your skin. He teased your nipple once, twice. It was all the motivation you needed.

At his prompting, you pushed your body back against his, allowing your ass to grind against him. A low, animalistic moan vibrated deep within his chest. All bets were off after that. 

Before you could even blink, Bucky had you in his arms. He palmed your ass and positioned your legs around his waist as he set off down the hall toward the bedroom. His lips hungrily devoured yours. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging on the strands every now and again. He let more depraved sounds loose and you happily swallowed them all. 

Time lost all meaning after Bucky laid you out on the bed. The world outside of your bedroom ceased to exist- only Bucky remained. The two of you were a frantic, needy tangle of pounding hearts and sweat-slick skin. Teeth marks adorned his chest. Scratches adorned his back and shoulders. And Bucky devoted all of his time, all of his energy, all of him to pleasing you.

He took his time, slowly working you over as though it were his job. He loved teasing you, love watching you squirm. And when he had you absolutely begging, he gave you exactly what you wanted. In fact, he kept giving it to you- and had no intention to stop. 

He’d lost track of time. Lost count of how many times he made you come. All he knew was that double digits had been reached- and that was a long time ago. Was it an hour ago? Or three? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he had his best girl falling apart at the seams. Over and over and over again. 

He made sure to check in with you after every bout of world-shattering ecstasy, and you always gave him the green light. As time passed, your sentences turned into solitary words, which devolved into incoherent, needy sounds. But you always gave him a fervent nod, ensuring that you absolutely wanted- needed- him to continue. 

Even as sweat dampened the hair around your face, even as your lips grew swollen- you wanted more. More Bucky- there was never enough of him. It didn’t matter that he’d carried you to bed hours ago, you were insatiable. If he fucked you for a full twenty-four hours, it still wouldn’t have been enough.

At one point, you ended up in his lap, riding him like your life depended on it. He was seated upright on the edge of the bed, his chest pressed to yours. And by the depraved sounds and shaky breaths that fell from your lips, he knew you were close to yet another heart-stopping moment of bliss. His right arm snaked around your back, holding you firmly in place. He forced his vibranium fist down into the mattress; it gave him the extra leverage he needed to fuck into you even deeper. To push you over the edge. 

With a strangled scream, your orgasm crested over you. Your eyes squeezed shut. Sharp inhales filled your chest. Your mouth hung open. Every muscle in your body went rigid. Tense. Slight tremors rocked you every few moments- it was exactly what Bucky wanted. 

“Oh, that’s my girl,” praises dripped from his lips like honey.  A debauched moan vibrated out of his chest. “So good for me, always so good for me, baby.”

He watched as your eyes rolled back in your head. And with a final exhale, your limp body slumped forward, your face landing against Bucky’s chest. He put his movements on pause and allowed you to recover. To catch your breath. To rest.

He smoothed his cold, metallic hand up and down your spine. “You doing okay, sweetheart? You tired?” He dotted a kiss to your hair, “We can call it a night.”

You didn’t say a word.

“Baby,” he scratched gently at your shoulder blade. “Can you answer me?” 

But you remained silent.

Concern coursed through his veins. He feared he’d gone too far. That he’d pushed you past your limits. And if you were upset, he needed to do whatever he could to help you through. As gently as he could, he used both of his hands to lift your head from his chest. 

What he found sent a wave of chills rushing over his skin. 

You were out cold. Completely unconscious. 

Bucky found himself operating on autopilot. He removed you from his lap and laid you flat on the bed. His fingers searched your neck for a pulse. Your name fell from his lips in a horrified, desperate prayer. 

A breakdown loomed on the horizon, darkening everything around him. His hands shook, his chest tightened. The copper-penny taste of blood exploded across his tongue as he sunk his teeth into his cheek. But he couldn’t fall apart- not when your life depended on it. 

And massive sigh of relief left his chest when he felt your strong, steady pulse beating beneath his fingertips. 

And once he knew that you were, indeed, alive, he allowed himself to fall apart- but only for a moment. Tears dripped down his face and splashed against your chest as he loomed over you. He breathlessly told you he was sorry. That he loved you. That he didn’t mean to hurt you. 

But that was all he permitted. You still needed him, even if you weren’t in dire straits. And so, he forced his emotion behind a wall and pressed on. 

No part of him wanted to leave your side, but it was a necessary evil. He sped through the apartment and into the kitchen, digging in the freezer for ice packs. And when he found the two you required, he snagged a couple dish towels from the drawer by the sink and raced back to the bedroom. 

“Hey, I’m- I’m back, baby,” he said to your unconscious body. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I just had to get-” he held up the icepacks. Even if you couldn’t hear him, he wanted you to know that he’d never- under any circumstances- abandon you when you needed him. 

He wrapped each ice pack in a towel and tucked one behind your neck while the other rested on your chest. And then, all he could do was wait. 

He hovered over you, watching for any signs of waking, any signs of distress. His hands smoothed over your hair and drifted across your cheek. His fingers monitored your pulse every few seconds. His lips left kisses against your forehead. And though he knew that your life wasn’t in danger, it didn’t quell the shaking in his hands. Didn’t stop the waves of nausea cresting over him. 

And he didn’t take a full inhale until your eyelids finally began to flutter open. 

He watched closely as you finally blinked your way back into consciousness. Everything was kind of fuzzy, a bit hazy around the edges. A quiet ringing filled your ears. A slight tremor rendered your hands unsteady. And the world around you seemed to tilt and twist without warning.

But Bucky was right there, anchoring you to the earth. He let a gentle hand rest against your cheek. 

“Hi, baby,” his voice was soft, sweet, comforting.

But you couldn’t respond even if you wanted to, as your synapses refused to get their shit together. Words collided and melted together, dripping into amorphous puddles inside your mind. You swore someone had stuffed your head full of cotton. Everything felt far away; the entire world was muffled somehow, as though you were trapped behind fifty feet of glass.

Concern bled into Bucky’s words, “Sweetheart, are you alright?” 

And it wasn’t easy, but you finally remembered how to think. How to speak. You chipped away at the thick pane of glass separating you from Bucky, and finally answered. 

“’m okay…” You reached for Bucky’s face and allowed your fingers to gently trace down his jawline. His stubble pricked at your skin. His warm breath fanned your face. 

And without warning, tears slipped from your eyes. Rivulets coursed down the sides of your face and dripped into your hair. It was a sudden, jarring shift that sent Bucky’s heart leaping into his throat. 

“Oh, no- oh, sweetheart,” he gently cradled your face in his hands. “Baby, you’re okay- everything’s okay. You’re fine. You’re safe.” 

He did everything in his power to bring you some sense of peace, but the tears refused to stop. And he found himself desperately, hopelessly, trying to comfort you. He tripped over himself again and again, apologizing endlessly. And when that didn’t work, he changed tactics. He spelled out what happened for you in clear, easy to understand terms, ridding you of the dreaded unknown. He promised that you were only out for a minute or two. That you were perfectly safe.  

He left gentle touches against your skin and dotted kisses to your cheeks and hairline- just like you always did for him when he fell to pieces. And if it worked for him, he hoped it might work for you.

He wasn’t sure what brought an end to your waterworks- his reassurances or his touch- but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that you’d finally stopped crying. That your breathing was returning to normal. The sharp pain radiating through his chest dulled a little bit as he dried your last few tears. Finally, your hands stopped trembling. And your heartrate slowly regressed to its mean. He thanked a startling number of deities that you were alive and seemed to be improving.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “How do you feel, baby? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Um…” you dried your damp lashes on the backs of your hands. “I’m cold.”

“Shit- sorry,” Bucky snatched your icepacks from their respective positions and threw them to the floor. 

Guilt bloomed in his chest; he should’ve removed the ice the second you woke up. Should’ve covered you with a blanket. Should’ve used his body to keep yours warm. Should’ve- 

He didn’t have time to spiral into guilt and shame and ‘should haves’. 

He leaned over the side of the bed and located his discarded hoodie, the one you’d yanked over his head only a few hours ago in your insatiable pursuit of his body.

“Hey, here you go, doll,” he gently helped you wriggle into the soft fabric and covered you with the bedspread. And once he was confident that you were comfortable, he slid under the blanket with you and vowed to give you all of his body heat. 

The second he laid down next to you, you rolled onto your side and buried your face in his chest. He curled his body protectively around yours; he wasn’t going to let anything else happen to you tonight. Or ever. His hand swept up and down the length of your spine on a seemingly endless loop. He whispered ‘I love yous’ and “I’m sorrys” until he thought he might go hoarse.

And when your world fell properly into place and you finally felt like yourself again, you plucked your head from his chest.

“Hi,” you reached upward and let your fingers slowly drift across his cheek bones. The slope of his nose. His lips.

“Hi, baby.” He couldn’t fight the smile that pulled at his features. This was the version of you he knew. The version that, only a few minutes ago, hungrily egged him on in his pursuit of your pleasure. “You doing okay?”

You gave him a confident nod, “Yeah, I’m okay now.” Your lips drifted across his, “Sorry, it kinda took me a minute to come back to myself, you know?”

“That’s okay, doll,” he let he tips of his fingers ghost over your spine. “Don’t apologize.”

“And I really didn’t mean for there to be any,” you gave Bucky some unenthusiastic jazz hands, “any theatrics tonight. Sorry about the drama.”

Bucky gave a shake of his head, “No, baby, it’s okay. I’m…” he traced your features with his cold, gentle fingers. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Yeah, I’m totally fine,” you shrugged. “It was weird though, right? This has never happened to me before- I’ve never passed out during sex.” You gazed at him with a spark of lust in your eyes, “You know, I’m actually impressed. You made me come so many times that I actually blacked out. None of my ex-boyfriends can say that.”

You let out a quiet laugh that Bucky didn’t return. He didn’t find it funny- he didn’t find any of this funny. But he put on a smile for your benefit.

“Oh, and sorry about all the crying,” you sighed. “I don’t know what that was about.”

“That’s alright- it happens,” he shrugged. “You went from really high highs and then fell to some pretty low lows. It’s just got to do with the chemicals in your brain, nothing to apologize for.” He trailed kisses across your forehead and down your nose, “Plus, you were probably scared. Or freaked out, at least.”

The guilt sunk its teeth into every fiber of Bucky’s being. And as you nestled closer to him, a tidal wave of revulsion nearly dragged him from the bed. He should’ve known better. Should’ve exercised better judgment. You weren’t like him; you didn’t have the enhanced energy and stamina to match his. He shouldn’t have pushed you to the edge like that. Shouldn’t have carried you past your limits. 

Normally, he’d do anything to be near you. He wanted- needed- to touch you as much as possible. And if he couldn’t touch you, he at least had to be close to you. But the voice in his head screamed at him, telling him to vacate your vicinity. And the overwhelming, urgent need to put some space between his body and yours yanked him out of bed. 

“Baby, I’m gonna go get you some water, okay? And a snack,” he headed for the door, “you stay there, I’ll be right back.”

It was the perfect excuse. He really did need to provide you with sustenance and hydration after your black out- but a trip to the kitchen also provided him with a reason to remove himself from your side. He counted it as a win-win.

And from that moment on, he did his best- his very best- to keep his hands off of you. To stay as far away as possible. To ensure that you would be safe. 

He couldn’t risk your well-being, not again.

------

It wasn’t quite what you expected him to say. And though it was a far better reason than the affair you concocted for him during your downward spiral, it still didn’t make much sense. 

“Last time?” 

What exactly happened last time? You wracked your brain, searching your memories for some terrible event- but you came up empty. And just as you were about to call bullshit on Bucky’s reasoning, you stumbled upon the memory of your innocuous, minute-long black out. 

“Oh, the thing with me passing out?”  

Bucky gave a solemn nod. At the thought of it, his face lost all color, all warmth. A sickly shade of gray tainted his skin.

“Buck, I know that was kind of weird and not at all ideal, but it was fine,” you shrugged, “It wasn’t a big deal.”

You took a cautious step toward him, and much to your dismay, he countered with a step back. 

“If anything, it was a fluke.” Again, you took a step in his direction. And again, he backed away. 

Bucky feared what might happen when you backed him into a corner, when his spine hit the wall. He knew he’d have to slip from your grasp and vacate the room. That he’d have to find an escape. But he knew it would hurt you. After weeks of no warmth, no touching, no physical intimacy, you were barely hanging on by a thread. And if he ran from the room, it would surely cause that thread to snap. But wasn’t that better than the snapping of your neck? Or your spine? Wasn’t it better for you to hurt emotionally, rather than physically?

“Buck, it’s never happened before, and I highly doubt it will ever happen again,” you said. “I didn’t sleep well the night before, and I had a long day leading up to that. I didn’t eat breakfast or lunch, I was dehydrated, and I’d been sick the week prior. It was a perfect storm of circumstances that made me pass out. Not you.” 

You intertwined your fingers, locking them together in search of any kind of touch. Any physical reassurance. “Seriously, Buck, that will never happen again. I promise.”

Bucky knew of one surefire way to ensure it would never, ever happen again. All he had to do was keep his distance. If he could refrain from touching you, if he could keep his hands to himself, you’d be safe.

But you’d be miserable- he knew you would. And as he gave you a long once-over, a sharp pain shot through him like lightning. Tear tracks trailed down your cheeks. Your eyes were red and puffy. Dark circles stained your under eyes- you hadn’t been sleeping, had you? No, you’d been staying up all night, worrying about Bucky. About the state of your relationship. 

And when he noticed the way you’d tangled your hands together, the way your right thumb stroked against the back of your left hand, he could’ve sworn he’d been stabbed through the chest. You were so desperate for affection, so robbed of touch, that you were trying- and failing- to self-soothe. 

“I know it was scary for you,” he finally said. “And I know you’re the one who passed out, so I’m not trying to make this about me- I swear. But it was…” He, too, found himself absentmindedly searching for physical comforts. He slowly raked a hand through his hair a few times, but it didn’t have the same effect; only your hands could bring him peace. “It was scary for me, too.”

A pang of anxiety rocketed through you. How could you have been so selfish? So heartless toward Bucky’s plight? Of course, he’d been scared. Of course, the events of that night affected him, too. And you knew that if the situation were reversed, you would’ve been paralyzed with fear. With worry. 

You’d just gotten so swept up, so overwhelmed by the loss of his hands. His lips. His arms. It darkened your periphery and gave you tunnel-vision. All you could see- all you could feel- was the cold. The emptiness. The fear of losing him.

“Shit, baby, I’m-” you reached for Bucky but recoiled. “I’m so sorry. You just- you said you were fine. Every time I asked, you swore everything was okay. So I thought-”

“I know…” Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek. He let his head droop, allowed his gaze to drop to the floor. And he stayed that way. For a while.

His hands dug deep into his pockets and his shoulders fell forward ever so slightly. He found himself awash in regret. Longing. Loneliness. He knew it was his fault; he’d done this to himself. He’d chosen to isolate, to pull away. But it was the safest option for you, wasn’t it? And your safety came before anything and everything else- full stop. 

“It took me a long time,” he finally said, “it took me a long time to be able to touch you. I couldn’t bring myself to do it for…” He silently thought back on that time, adding up the days where he kept his hands to himself- but they were far too numerous. “For a while. Do you remember that?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but I- I guess I always figured it was just some old-fashioned, chivalrous, nineteen-forties type of thing…”

“Well, that was,” a small smile flickered across his face, “that was part of it. But the real reason is that I was too scared. To touch you, I mean.” His smile disappeared. His features suddenly fell. His eyes darkened. “Sometimes, I don’t know my own strength, you know? And I was too- I was so afraid that I’d hurt you, baby.” 

“Oh…” You hadn’t thought of it that way. 

“I had to kind of overcome that fear, and it took time. I think it took me over a month just to hold your hand- and even then, it was only for a second.”

Bucky’s words had an endless darkness to them- a darkness you were well acquainted with by now. When he was really down, when he was going through a particularly miserable time, his voice took on the pitch-black tone of the abyss. And when he found himself drowning in the obsidian sea, it was your hands that guided him out. You’d hold him close to your body, wrapping him in the safety of your embrace- and slowly, he’d wade out of his agony. 

But this time was different. 

No matter desperately you longed to touch him, to comfort him, to save him- you couldn’t. He didn’t want your hands, your body anywhere near him. Of course, he did want you close- he just wouldn’t allow it. 

“But you know I’ve never been afraid of you, right?” Your arm twitched with want. Almost on autopilot, your hand tried to reach out and touch him, but you forbade it. “I’ve never thought that you’d hurt me-”

“I know.” He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. You never saw him as a monster or a threat- you never saw him the way he saw himself. “But when we first started dating, I was having these nightmares. I actually had them for the first year of our relationship- at the least…”

Your heart sank. He had enough nightmares as it was; and to know that you’d somehow delivered him a fresh crop of terror made you nauseous.

“Every night when I went to sleep, I’d have these awful dreams…” His eyes took on a hollow quality as he hurdled backward and fell into his memories. “They always started out okay- they seemed like normal dreams. In some of them, we were hugging. In others, we were having sex. And everything was fine. But then, you’d start-” He dragged a few fingers across his bottom lip and down his chin, “you’d start bleeding out of your mouth. Your eyes would roll back in your head. And you’d collapse. You’d die in my arms. Every time.”

A small gasp filled your lungs, “Buck…” It was your most basic, most intrinsic instinct to comfort Bucky with soft, gentle touches. Your hands were his homing signal, and when he got lost in the dark labyrinth of his past, you automatically guided him to safety. You couldn’t remember a time when you’d ever caged that reflex- until now. He stood in front of you, completely despondent, and you couldn’t do a damn thing to help him.

“And the other night- it was exactly like one of my nightmares. You went completely limp, baby, and your eyes rolled back in your head. You were unresponsive. I was so scared, I…” He almost didn’t want to say the words. Didn’t want to tempt the universe by voicing his greatest fear. “I thought I killed you. I thought I’d held you too tight and crushed your spine, or something. I had to-” He cleared his throat, forcing the oncoming emotion away, “I actually had to feel for a pulse to make sure you were still alive.”

“Baby, I- I didn’t know that.” He’d conveniently left that out when he walked you through what happened. He’d sidestepped his horror and his trauma and put you first, as he always did. “But you’d never hurt me- you couldn’t.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not on purpose. But I thought I’d gone too far in the heat of the moment, and…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. “Even though you didn’t pass out because of me, I’m still- I can’t get over it. I can’t stop thinking about it. It was like one of my nightmares had come to life- it hit way too close to home.” He pressed his palms to his eyes for a moment and forced himself to catch his breath. Only when he felt his heartrate return to normal did he speak again. “So, I’ve been scared- too scared to touch you.”

It shattered you. All Bucky did- all he’d ever wanted to do- was protect you. And though he’d spent the last three weeks aching for his best girl, he didn’t dare lay a finger on you- all in the name of your safety. Sure, his execution wasn’t the best, but his intentions were pure and kind, as they always were. 

“But I know I didn’t… I didn’t handle this the right way. And I’m sorry- I’m so sorry I pulled away,” he tripped over himself again and again, desperately begging for your understanding. For your forgiveness. “I know you’re not happy- believe me, I’m not happy either. I’ve been miserable this whole time- I miss you so much, sweetheart. And I never wanted to hurt you like this. I just didn’t…” He gave a small shake of his head, “I didn’t want to hurt you physically, either. And I didn’t know what to do. So, I figured that keeping my hands off of you was safest. But I didn’t mean to upset you.”

All the work he’d done, all the effort he’d put into fixing his self-image had crumbled in one fell swoop- all because you didn’t have the wherewithal to eat breakfast and stay hydrated three weeks ago. Bucky’s normally upright posture was sloped, his shoulders curved forward. He had the same hollow look in his eye that he had when you’d first met him. And now that he’d spent more than five minutes with you, you noticed all of the fingernails on his right hand were bitten down to the quick.

“Shit. Buck, I’m- I’m so sorry, baby.” You dried your cheeks on the sleeve of your hoodie. “I fucked up…”

“No, no. This is all on me- I fucked up. I basically abandoned you.” His voice took on a harsh, sharp edge he only ever reserved for use against himself. You knew the inside of his head was a horror scene, full of admonishing comments and self-flagellation. You wished you could rescue him from his own mind. 

But his tone softened when he spoke about you, “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart-”

“Buck, I accused you of cheating,” you nearly scoffed. It was ridiculous. Completely absurd. That you believed for even a moment that Bucky could actually have a mistress proved just how out of your mind you were. But grief, you figured, was capable of making people believe crazy things. “That was absolutely wrong of me. And I didn’t even-” you shook your head. “I didn’t even think that the other night might have affected you-”

“You were upset, and rightfully so.” He absolved you of any blame, any guilt. “Plus, you were the one who blacked out, not me. My feelings on the subject aren’t nearly as important as yours.”

“But you witnessed it. And it scared you. A lot.” You hated knowing that he’d been too horrified, too paralyzed with fear to even hold your hand. And the fact that he’d dealt with all of it alone was enough to force you to your knees. “I should’ve known better- I should’ve known you were upset. I’m so sorry, Buck. This was so unfair to you, I-”

He held up a hand, halting your words. “You can’t read my mind, sweetheart. And I could’ve communicated better.” He flashed you a sad smile, “That’s something I said I’d work on- communication. And I’m getting better at it, but I’m not perfect yet.”

“I’m not either, so… I guess we both have some stuff to work on. I probably shouldn’t go around alleging that you had an affair out of the blue.” You crossed your arms over your chest, hugging them tight to your body. Even if Bucky wasn’t sleeping with someone else, he still hadn’t allowed himself to touch you. And you were no match for the bone-chilling cold that had settled into the apartment.

“Um, okay, you know what? We can actually- let’s completely forget I said anything about this. Just put it out of your mind, alright?” This time, it was you who retreated. You who stepped away. 

“Sweetheart, wait-” Bucky adopted your role as the pursuer. He took a few strides in your direction, anxious to close the gap between you. He felt you slipping through his fingers, like he may never regain what the two of you used to have. 

“No, Buck, it’s okay. We’re okay. I just want you to do whatever works for you. I don’t want you to be hurting all the time, I don’t want you to be scared.” Again and again, you stroked your thumbs over your upper arms, but it didn’t bring you a hint of comfort. “And if that- if that means you can never touch me again, I’ll understand-”

“That’s not what I want- that’s absolutely not what I want,” Bucky’s eyes were wide. Almost crazed. It was as though the thought of never touching you again threatened to push him to the brink of madness. “I just need to… I need to take it slow. I have to start back at square one, like I did when I first met you. Is that okay? Can you- ”

“Whatever you need, I’m on board.” It was an automatic, instinctual response. Your voice was steady and even, free from any breaks or signs of uncertainty. You’d do anything for him, anything to ease his mind. “We can move as slowly as you need- there’s no rush.”

“But are you… are you sure?” His words dripped with anxiety, with fear. “Cause I can- I can try to get over it. I don’t want you to be miserable, doll. I can-”

“Buck, it’s okay.”

“Baby, I feel like I might…” He nearly doubled over, “I’m afraid I’m gonna lose you over this.”

“You won’t- I promise, you won’t.” Another surge of need coursed through you, begging you to wrap Bucky in an embrace, but you kept your hands to yourself. You’d never push him, would never dream of making him uncomfortable. “You will never lose me. I’m here for you, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care how long it takes.”

And you meant it. Now that Bucky let you in on his secret, you understood that there had to be some distance. Some space. Of course, you’d still miss the physical intimacy. The sleepy mornings spent with your body draped across his chest. The late nights full of depravity and lust. But with the looming darkness of a possible affair banished, you could wait.

Though, you didn’t have to wait long at all.

Because Bucky vanquished space remaining between your body and his. He strode eagerly, anxiously across the room and raised his right hand, desperate to feel you again. But just as his palm grew close to your cheek, he faltered. His brain struggled to reign him in, to put a pause on his possibly dangerous plan. Only millimeters remained between his skin and yours, but he couldn’t find it in him to close the final gap. 

“It’s okay,” you said. “Take your time.”

It was the final push he needed. And finally, he touched you again. His palm lightly ghosted over your cheek, and tears instantly crested over your lash line. The feeling of relief, of home, was almost intoxicating. It was the lightest, softest touch- almost imperceptible. But to you- to Bucky- it was like a fireworks show. 

And after testing the waters with his feather-light touch, he found himself nearly begging for more. 

He allowed his palm to actually rest against your face, to cup your cheek the way he always did. And it acted like an instant pain reliever. The excruciating ache in your chest relented, and your muscles slackened as they released their knots. An all-encompassing warmth wrapped around your entire body, finally ridding you of the vicious cold you’d suffered through all these weeks. This was the warmth you knew you couldn’t live without, the warmth only Bucky could provide. 

His knees almost buckled beneath him, but he wouldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t allow anything to take this moment from either of you. All this time, he’d felt unmoored, adrift, lost in a dark, endless sea. And no matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t seem to find his way back to shore. But with his skin pressed against yours, he finally felt steady. Stable. You provided him with a guiding light. An anchor. He felt more like himself than he had in the last three weeks, all because of you.

Your tears dampened Bucky’s skin, but he didn’t mind. He brushed them gently away with a light sweep of his thumb. 

“Can I?” you motioned to the tears trailing down his cheek.

And after a moment of thought, he gave you a nod. Your hand drifted lightly over his skin to mop up his tears, but your touch only brought on more waterworks. He was so starved of your affection that even the lightest touch made him whimper. He let out a soft, grateful sound that knocked the breath from your chest. 

The two of you remained there a while, soaking in the sensation of the other. Bucky didn’t dare to hug you, and kissing you was still off limits. But his palm remained flush with your cheek for as long as you allowed- and you had no urge to ever remove it.  

You knew there was a long road ahead for him, but you didn’t mind. Starting back at square one with him was something you could handle. Something the two of you could handle together.

“It’s kind of a bummer that I didn’t get to make good use of your…” Bucky gestured to your discarded garter belt and thigh-highs, “outfit.”

You let loose a laugh that vibrated under his palm- the sensation sent a wave of warmth cresting over him.

“It’s alright, Buck. I’ll wear it again, I promise.” You leaned into his touch, greedily searching for more of him. “You can take as much time as you need, okay? I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

———————————

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @anything-more-than-human

[cloudwisp]

⭒ 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 ꒰ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢 𝟏𝟖+ ꒱

You’re an absolute goddess draped over him like this, with your arms loosely wrapped around his neck as Wriothesley feels you press another light kiss to his throat. A little shudder passes through him when he twitches inside you, and he thinks the attention you’re giving him is beyond sweet but you are tormenting him when you stay unmoving with his cock buried in your cunt to the hilt.

You have to be doing this on purpose and it’s taking every bit of control and restraint from him not taking over and thrusting his hips into you. Yet Wriothesley lets out a shaky breath through parted lips when you lay your beautiful soft lips over the dark lines of his scar. His grip is a bit firmer than usual on the flesh of your backside and his fingers dig into your skin, a silent plea for you to ride him so he can properly feel you.

“Please,” he murmurs. “Move. For me. Don’t you care for my feelings?” He manages a smirk, but there’s a mixture of desperation and primal desire behind his eyes. You and him both know that he could lift your weight with ease and bounce you on his length if he wanted to. But something about this frustrates him in a good way, like he’s torn between the pleasure of having you right where he wants and you not doing as he wishes.

“Of course I care, baby.” You pull yourself back just enough to look at him, hands now resting on his shoulders. He groans at the feel of you shifting in his lap when you lean forward to peck his lips softly. “Very much so.” He hums into the simple kiss, his eyes almost rolling into the back of his head. The smallest of friction is making his head spin and he doesn’t know if he can last much longer if you continue to keep this up with his patience quickly running thin.

Wriothesley pouts slightly, looking almost petulant and you can feel his muscles tense beneath you from how sensitive he’s growing and how much he’s absolutely aching right now. His body starts to move on its own grinding up against you for any semblance of relief from your relentless teasing. “Darling... Please,” he insists again, the neediness in his voice starting to bleed into his tone. “You’re driving me insane. I need you to move, princess.”

You let out a cute giggle. He can see from your expression that you’re enjoying this way too much, and the remark fizzles on his tongue from the way your tight walls clench around him and it sends him over the moon. You've never seen him like this, completely at your mercy and you almost don't want to stop just to see his reaction when you push him further to the edge... but you're not so awful and cruel.

“You did say please twice. I suppose I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer than you already have.” You roll your hips into a circle then arch your back to build momentum and sensation leading to an up and down motion. He immediately melts under your touch letting out a small sigh as he bucks his hips to match your pace. Your breath hitches when you’re reminded of his overwhelming thickness, feeling every ridge and vein from how painfully hard he is when you slide along his length.

“That's my good girl.” Wriothesley praises you breathlessly between his grunts and your moans filling the room. His warm breath seared against your skin as his strong arms came around your waist and bring you flush against his chest, nipping gently at your jawline and neck. His hands move to settle on your hips to ensure each movement goes nice and deep to reach that sweet spot, and you can make out the smirk in his voice when he suddenly tells you,

“But you could be faster, can’t you sweetheart?”

[fartcloudfartcloud]

Logan x Reader based on this video because holy fucking shit

Nothing crazy just porn, a little bit of like dom/sub dynamic i think, lots of teasing, 1 (one) slap as per the video, abrupt cut off cause the video cuts off sorry I got lazy

Logan knew he had you all to himself. He didn't need any fancy strings or bowties to prove that to anyone.

He also knew that if he outstretched your arms to the sides and told you to keep them there, you would without a word. well, maybe a word or two at some point, but you would never falter.

So devoted, always doing just as your told.

Unfortunately for you, though, Logan also knew you looked absolutely jaw dropping in some chrome, particularly the kind that held you in place and left you no space to argue.

That's how he's gotten you here, each of your wrists bound by their own set of cuffs, then bound to the matching bed post. The bed was wide, and the cuffs gave you only enough room to lift your head in inch or two without pulling your arms off.

His thick, muscled legs are split over your waist, his cock bouncing off your sternum as he bends in half to sloppily make out with you.

You were flushed red and panting, something about having the privilege of tasting his tongue and feeling the warmth of his cock all at the same time lending to be all too much.

He pulled off with a wet pop, a string of saliva connected you two as you pant into eachothers mouths. He hovers just slightly above you, letting you desperately chase his lips as he keeps them just slightly out of your reach, teasing you as you cry out.

You whimper out a soft "Logan..." before hes diving in and devouring your lips again. Hes bashful like this, his hands gently caressing down your cheek and cupping your face, hold your chin up as he pulls away.

His eyes are on your face, but yours are quickly falling down to the member inches from your mouth. You crave it like an addict, your fix being dangled in front of you like some sort of cruel torture method. it has you whining, please Logan, wanna taste, and sticking your tongue out, just short of making contact.

He laughs, rocking his hips a few times and allowing his rock-hard length to bounce between your tits in a memorizing pattern before he's up on his knees, hastily trying to force himself down your throat.

You have to arch your back in an odd way to let him slip down your esophagus, trying to give him as much space as possible in your mouth.

You're really only able to take his tip in short strokes before he's bringing his palm down and tipping your head back. Your pretty eyes now beam up at him like stars as he teases your mouth with his cock, bouncing the tip off your tongue and lips as he lightly brushes his fingertips over your cheeks and chest.

You try to chase it, to use what little movement you have to pop him back into the heat of your mouth, but his teasing doesn't relent.

You poute and whine, his length now out of your reach. His hand gently rests under your jaw, tilting your empty mouth and eyes up to be face to face with him again, it's intimate and arousing and God do you need his cock bad.

"Just cant get enough, huh?" He murmurs. You kiss the palm that holds you as you nod, you and him sharing a tender, loving glance.

With him like this, you float for a moment. His tender touches and your submissive spot under him making your mind go fuzzy.

Until his palm is cracking down across your cheek, gasping as you head whips to the side.

Immediately, Logan is all over you, both his big hands cuping your face as he murmurs apologies and taunts. I'm sorry baby, gotta teach ya, getting greedy on me, all come tumbling from his lips.

You're more focused on feeling his lips on yours again, your cheek tingling and your mind now replaced with only thoughts of him. You lick his lips as he mumbles, getting one swipe in before his tongue joins the mix.

he only gives you one sloppy kiss before hes back on his knees, this time haulting in place as he allows you to do the work.

It's better like this. Even with so little space for movement, you manage to start working him down your throat. He gulps, and his hands are in your hair, letting you take it for a few more thrusts before he's pulling out again.

"just can't get enough of you," he murmurs as you resume your sloppy kisses, your tongues tasting eachother as his hips now desperately buck against your stomach.

He groans and pants into your mouth, truly unable to get enough of eachother before hes crawling down your body, making his way to where you need him most.

"I can't wait, baby," he cries, tugging down your pants. That much is clear, his aching red cock bouncing and leaving little trails along his navel as he moves. -

[starkeyvhs]

kill bill

PAIRING: rafe cameron x dark!fem!kook!reader

SUMMARY: your ex-boyfriend has a new girlfriend, so you take matters in your own hands.

WORD COUNT: ~6k

WARNINGS: MAJOR DARK CONTENT WARNING! DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! murder; blood; gore; reader is extremely possessive over rafe, gaslights him, short tempered, toxic, selfish, gets jealous very easily, physically unable to grieve, very very sick and twisted; they have an extremely toxic relationship; mentions of two ocs; suggestive content (absolutely no smut), reader likes to mark rafe; consumption of alcohol, hardcore drugs and cigarettes; minimal usage of nicknames like babe and baby; reader often exercises her ownership over rafe vocally; rafe chokes reader (but not so much she passes out), locks her in a room; minimal swearing; like one mention of y/n (I tried to avoid it as much as I could); detailed descriptions of a funeral; grieving; I always beta read my fics but if you find any minor grammatical/spelling error please ignore :) + let me know if you think I missed anything (I crossed checked everything twice)

EDITH SPEAKS: I hardcore believe we need more sick and twisted reader instead of the usual sweetheart one (nothing wrong with that, btw!) because it’s so much fun writing a complex female character. I had the time of my life writing this, and I hope you love reading this too <3 please please heed all warnings, this fic is really really dark, and I wouldn’t want anyone to be triggered by the content in any way (the warnings are there for a reason!) please reblog if you liked reading this, and feedback is always appreciated 🥀 massive thank you to my baes raye and zya who heard my brainrot for this fic all the damn time <3 (I love having fic writers besties 🥰)

masterlist / join my taglist / requests / moodboard from my old blog

It’s dark.

For some reason, it feels darker than usual.

Maybe because it’s a new moon, the indigo sky is completely devoid of the pale moonlight, which is usually the source of light at night.

Or maybe, the reason for it feeling darker isn’t literal.

Maybe it’s metaphorical.

Your gaze drops down to your hand, your gloved fingertips digging into the engravings on the handle of the knife, the tips of the nails settling between the grooves. The tip of your index finger is trapped in a curvy groove, your finger repetitively moving up and down, up and down, up and down through the curve.

You take a step back, the sound of the rubble crunching under your feet with a certain wetness echoes in the dark alleyway.

With your free hand, you lift up the hem of your dress, revealing the cover of the knife strapped to your upper thigh by a garter. The length of the dress hides the garter at all times, keeping it completely out of view. You slowly slide the knife back into its covering, letting it still in place, and allowing the dress to cover your thigh back again.

Your gaze begins to trail along your arm, the streaks of blood staining your skin red, matching the deep red of your dress. You flex your fingers under the single streak of street light entering the alleyway, illuminating the dried blood rubbed on your fingertips and knuckles.

Slowly, you let your eyesight travel down more and more, until you’re looking down at your feet.

Your feet stand in a dark pool of blood, almost seeming black in the darkness of the eerie alleyway. With the way only a single street light is responsible for the only light source, it almost seems like a scene from a black and white horror movie.

The metallic smell of blood fills up your nostrils entirely as you take another step back, gently kicking the foot in your way to the side.

“Oh poor Amber…” You mumble softly, taking a step closer to her face and bending down to her level, watching her soulless eyes gazing up at the bricked wall behind you. Her soft, pearly white slip satin dress is flushed with a deep burgundy, the slit through which your knife pierced her porcelain like skin is wide and open, right above her chest.

Your gloved fingertips trail over her cheekbone, so pale and so cold, as you feel the lifelessness under your skin. It’s almost pitiful if you think about it: the way poor Amber could’ve avoided all of this only if she knew to keep her hands off what you own.

She wouldn’t have to experience such a horrible end to her life, stabbed in a hidden alleyway, her dainty arms spread on her sides, her lifeless fingers grasping onto the last bit of memories of his touches, only if she knew better than to attempt to exercise her ownership over something clearly taken by you.

Oh well, you slowly get up from your crouched position, sparing a last glance at her body lying in the pool of her own blood.

Maybe it feels darker than usual because your own hands picked up a knife and drove it straight through the girl’s heart.

Do you regret it?

Absolutely the fuck not.

And why would you, if it means you get to have Rafe Cameron back again?

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

SEVEN MONTHS AGO

The strobe lights flash all around the otherwise dark party mansion, the bass of the loud music thumping in your eardrums. The party is as crowded as it can be, sweaty bodies rubbing up against each other tantalizingly on the dance floor, causing the all too familiar smell of sweat mixed in with weed, alcohol and what not to settle heavily in the building.

There’s so much happening around you, the dance floor if fully occupied, there’s a game of beer pong being played over-enthusiastically at one end, a corner table surrounded by mostly boys busy with their hardcore drugs at another end, the bar right behind you with all the alcohol you can ever need; yet your hardened gaze is fixed on Rafe, and the girl he’s having a conversation with a few feet away from you.

“I’ll be back in a moment, babe,” He had mumbled against your hair, giving your thigh a firm pat before leaving his place next to you at the bar counter. You were confused for a moment as to where he was going suddenly, but then you saw him approach a girl completely unknown to you, give her a hug and get involved in a conversation.

Now, over ten minutes have passed and he still hasn’t left her side. You can’t hear them talk due to the loud music, but you can watch them laugh, the conversation so engaging it’s like they both have forgotten a world outside them exists too.

Your hand resting on your thigh is beginning to press harder against your flesh, your fingers digging into your skin, causing a sharp pain to spread on your skin, but you do nothing to reduce it. Your jaw clenches tightly at the sight of Rafe and the girl, streaks of possessiveness flaring up in every nook and cranny of your soul.

But the moment the girl’s fingers reach out to nudge his arm, you know you have had more than enough.

In a swift movement, you get up from your occupied barstool and make your way over to Rafe.

As you approach Rafe, you reach your hand out for his arm, letting your fingers curl around his bicep to grab his attention. The girl talking to him suddenly stops speaking as she spots you right next to him, and the way your hand is around his arm, your fingers digging into his skin.

“Oh hey babe,” Rafe says, very discreetly trying to get you to loosen his grip on him by moving his arm subtly, but of course, you’re too busy glaring at the girl to even realize the borderline iron tight grip you have on his bicep.

Rafe senses the tension in you — it’s not hard to miss the way it’s oozing off you.

“Oh uh,” he clears his throat, gesturing to the girl. “This is Keely, she moved away two years ago but now she’s visiting the island for–”

“Yeah I don’t care,” you swiftly cut him off, giving his arm a sharp tug and dragging him away from Keely. Before Rafe can even say anything to Keely, you are tugging him away from the crowd, away from the party, leading him up the stairs of the party mansion.

“Where… babe what are you doing?” Rafe asks, his tone incredulous as he tries his best to pry your hands off his arm, but your grip only seems to be getting tighter by the second. He can catch a glimpse of his arm, and the way his skin has started to pinken under your bruising grip.

You don’t say anything, just lead him up the stairs silently. You reach the hallway on the second floor, and the first door you open is an empty bedroom. You push Rafe inside and close the door behind you two, locking it.

“Babe what are you–” Rafe tries to speak, but with another nudge to his shoulders the back of his legs stumble against the edge of the bed and he flops on his back onto the mattress.

You are quick to follow as you get on top of him and sit in his lap, straddling his waist. You look down at him, your palms laying flat against his chest.

Without any words, you dip down and capture his lips in a searing kiss, your lips moving with a fiery fervor against his. Rafe doesn’t even have a moment to process what’s going on, but his body naturally responds to you, his hands coming to grip onto your hips and squeezing them tightly.

“Fuck baby…” he murmurs hoarsely as your lips leave his to trail over his jawline and finding the side of his neck. A sharp gasp escapes his mouth as your teeth suddenly sink into his flesh, your tongue running over the mark to soothe the burning sensation.

Instinctively, Rafe’s grip tightens on your hips, his eyes squeezing close. Your movements are unrelentless, your teeth biting down into whatever patch of skin of his neck you can succumb onto, your tongue running over the marks, and your lips sucking on the skin.

“You’re mine you hear me?” Comes out your voice in a whisper against his skin as you begin to travel over to the other side of his neck, not stopping for even a second to give him a break.

“Yeah yeah I’m yours I’m–” another sharp gasp leaves his lips as your lips find a particularly sensitive spot on his neck right above his pulse point and suck on it. He can feel the bruises beginning to form, bruises so deep he knows they won’t fade soon.

He knows you like to leave marks on him. Since you and him started dating, he was often seen with a bruise or two on the side of his neck, or peeking from under the collar of his shirt on his collarbone. They were always small, and never too dark.

But today? Today he feels you aren’t doing to let a single inch of his skin bare from your marks.

One of your hands slips into his hair and you pull his head back, baring his slender throat to you. You lean down and press your lips to his throat, kissing and sucking on the skin the same way you did to the sides of his neck.

Rafe’s blunt fingertips begin to dig into your hips, his lips parted as heavy exhales escape him.

“Is… is this about Keely?” He breathes, feeling your fingers slightly tighten in his hair, causing him to let out a barely audible whine.

“What if it is?” You mumble against his skin, biting down on his throat which elicits a sharp gasp from him. He writhes a little under you, as if trying to escape you, but you let your full weight fall on Rafe’s waist, making it impossible for him to move.

“Baby she’s…” he pants. “She’s just an old friend… nothing else…”

Your hand on his chest reaches for the top button of his shirt and your fingers pop it open, revealing more skin to you. Your mouth is quick to follow suit, your lips attacking the newly visible skin.

“She needs to know you’re mine,” you mutter against his skin, your voice lowering an octave. “Who the fuck–” you bite down on the skin right under the hollow of his throat, emphasizing your words, causing Rafe’s upper body to buck up involuntarily, “–does she think she is huh? Touching my man that way?”

“T…touching…?” Rafe breathes. “She didn’t… she never touched me–”

“She did,” Your voice is sharp, leaving no room for any argument. Your mouth goes back to its work, your fingers popping the second button open to bare you more skin of his to mark.

“You’re mine, Rafe,” you mutter against his skin, “always.”

Rafe’s breathing speeds up more — if that’s even possible, as he feels the next buttons of his shirt getting unbuttoned too.

“Say it,” comes out your voice, sharp and low. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m–” he breathes, “I’m all yours baby, all yours… always and forever…”

You let your lips curl up into a faint smirk, the movements of your mouth slightly slowing down as you only kiss along the skin of his chest. At the slowing of your pace, Rafe’s fingers begin to loosen their grip on your hips, his short bursts of breathing slowly coming under control.

You slowly lift your head up and sit up in his lap, your fingers slipping out of his hair. You gently trace your fingertips over the sides of his neck, feeling the red, swollen bruises forming on his skin, which you know will only become more pronounced as the time passes. Your fingertips trail down to his chest, feeling the indents in his skin from the bruises and the bite marks. Something about feeling the bruises on his neck and not just seeing them begins to calm down the stoking fire of possessiveness on you.

It’s like you’ve branded him as yours.

“You look so perfect like this baby…” You coo softly, the gentle tracing of your fingertips a sharp contrast to just a few seconds ago when your teeth were on the verge of breaking through his skin. “So beautiful, so perfect, so mine…”

Rafe watches you through half hooded eyes, his breath only beginning to come under his control. He can feel his chest heaving from his heavy breathing and your touch over it, a sharp tingling sensation spreading over his skin wherever your mouth had been.

He can see it; the look of satisfaction in your eyes as if you’ve won a big prize. Your eyes rake over him, taking in all the bruises that stand out against his light skin.

“This… this should be enough to show her that you aren’t up for grabs,” you mumble to yourself quietly, still tracing over the marks and bruises over him.

Rafe shudders under the feeling of your fingertips tracing over his bruises, the skin reddened and getting more and more sensitive with each touch and nip of the air.

“You haven’t got anything to worry about baby…” he says slowly, almost cautiously. “I belong to you, forever,”

Your piercing eyes find his, the eye contact so strong it sends a chill down his spine.

“Yeah, yeah you are,” you mumble softly, before leaning down to let your lips connect to his skin again.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

FIVE MONTHS AGO

Rafe stands next to the dining table with Wheezie and Sarah as Ward and Rose greet their guests for the night, their noises of greetings and laughter floating over to the three siblings in the dining room. The noise of their chatter only increases as the group approaches the dining table, spotting the three Cameron kids waiting for them.

Next to Ward and Rose are Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, with their daughter Amber. Ward and Mr. Lawrence are the bestest of friends; business wise and casual wise. Their businesses work hand in hand, and their families meet often for dinners and night outs.

Rose politely guides everyone to the dining table and everyone takes a seat, Amber’s seat being right next to Rafe’s.

“Hey Rafe,” she smiles, adjusting in her seat as she takes her purse off and hangs it on the back of her chair.

“Hey,” he says back, his voice quiet as he watches the food being served on the table.

He can feel Amber’s gaze on him; he has always had a hunch that she likes him with the way she looks away with a subtle blush on her cheeks when he catches her staring. Or with how she’s always talking so sweetly to him.

Or maybe his hunch is wrong.

Just like he’s the Kook prince, she’s the Kook princess. She’s known for being an absolute sweetheart, kind to anyone and everyone she meets. Even though she already has millions attached to her name, she’s volunteering at elderly homes, soup kitchens, beach clean ups and what not. She donates to charities whenever she can, and always sponsored them back in their days at the Kook Academy.

Rafe is quiet as the food is served, his plate kept in front of him. Everyone on the table is immersed in chatter, Amber distracted by Sarah and Wheezie, but he’s silent.

He takes small bites of the chicken he’s served, nibbling on the end of his fork as his mind goes to you, and the horrible, horrible fight you both had.

“It’s getting out of hand, y/n! You’re always on my heels, never letting me breathe!” Rafe snaps, trying to create as much distance between you and him.

Your eyes widen, an almost crazy look in them as you walk closer to him. “‘never letting me breathe’ is that so? I care about you Rafe! I love you!” You retort, attempting to reach out for his hand but he pulls back before you can touch him in any sort of way.

Your touch doesn’t feel loving, it feels like a burn to his skin.

“If you loved me, you would believe me that I was out with my friends, not with some girls! You think any girl will approach me when I’ve got these–” he frantically gestures to the marks all over his neck, “–all over my neck? Huh?”

“I leave those marks cause you’re mine!” Your voice comes out as strong, sharp yells now, echoing in the hallway of your house.

“Stop- stop saying that shit! I’m not yours! I don’t want to be yours anymore! You don’t fucking own me!” Rafe spits.

Now, he shouldn’t have said that.

You take another step closer to him, causing his back to hit against a door of a room in the hallway, completely caged by the door behind him and you in front of him.

He can see the look on your face, the way your eye is almost twitching, the way you let out soft pants; he has pissed you off.

“Yes I do,” your voice comes out low, and cold. “Yes, I own you, always and forever.”

“No you don’t!” Rafe snaps back. One of his hands reaches back for the door knob, his fingers curling around the cool metal. “I’m done with this shit! I’m done with you!”

You inch even closer to him, your chest almost touching his, leaving barely any space between you two.

“You think you can let me go this easily, huh?” You sneer, looking him dead in the eye.

Rafe’s hand on the door knob only tightens further, his knuckles almost turning white in the process. He’s done with this, he’s done being controlled by you, done letting you exercise ownership over him, and he’s done being in this loveless relationship.

In a swift movement, Rafe’s free hand comes to wrap around your throat, causing your eyes to widen and your lips to part, a choked gasp escaping you. Your hands reach for his fingers gripping your throat so harshly, feebly attempting to pry his fingers off. But his hold is strong, so strong.

You feel the amount of air in your lungs lessening with each passing second, your movements becoming weaker as the moments pass. You try to speak, anything, try to kick him off, but your body is just getting weaker.

Your tear rimmed eyes meet Rafe’s, whose own cheeks begin to streak with the tears that start to fall down. They aren’t tears of sadness, they’re tears of frustration, because he’s done with this shit.

“I’m done with you, you hear me?” He mutters through his tears, his voice frustrated and shaky. “Done with this entire thing.”

You try to fight back, to argue, to do anything, but nothing works. Rafe’s hand on the door knob pulls the knob down, opening the door. It reveals the store room, and in a single movement, he pushes you inside, a choked gasp leaving you, and he quickly shuts the door and turns the lock.

“Open the fucking door!” Come out your muffled yells from inside, and he can hear you sputtering, trying to catch your breath after being at a loss of it for the past minute.

Your hands bang against the wooden door, the sound loud in the empty hallway.

Rafe steps back from the door, hearing the loud banging on the door, the sound thumping in his ears along with his loud heartbeat.

For a moment, it seems like everything goes silent except the loud banging in his ear, pulsating throughout every nerve in his brain.

This is the first time he ever did anything to defy you, defy your so-called “love” for him.

And god, does he feel… good. Strong. He never knew he would be able to stand up against you. But now, he has you locked in the store room of your own home.

It feels exhilarating.

“Open the fucking door Rafe!” Your voice comes from inside the store room again, zapping Rafe out of his thoughts. He swallows harshly, his arms frozen on his sides as he slowly takes another step back.

With the way you’re banging at the door and are yelling, he can tell you’re getting impatient.

But he’s not going to do anything about it.

He’s done getting pushed around by you.

Taking another step back, he begins to back out of the hallway, ignoring your constant muffled yelling and banging at the door. He can hear you rattling the lock, desperately trying to escape the store room.

He tries his best to push away the sounds of you and your attempts to escape out of his mind as he takes shaky steps back from the hallway, slowly and slowly inching away from you. He takes a deep breath, and finally, turns around, his back to the store room, and he makes his way out of the hallway, approaching the main door of your home.

Without thinking twice, he opens the door and steps out, letting the door slam shut behind him, his mind pushing away the distant voice of yours yelling at him to open the door.

“Rafe? Rafe are you okay?”

Rafe snaps out of his thoughts and looks up from his plate to his side, seeing Amber gently shaking his shoulder. He looks back down to his plate and see he barely ate any of it, just nibbled on the piece of chicken, the veggies lying untouched.

“Uh,” he clears his throat, gently moving his shoulder which causes Amber’s hand to fall back to her side. “Yeah yeah I’m good uh… excuse me,” he politely excuses himself and gets up from his chair, leaving the dining table. Sarah and Wheezie glance at him with concern, but Rose and Ward don’t really seem to give this matter much light.

Amber watches Rafe leave the dining room, adjusting his turtle neck once as he makes his way out to the balcony, closing the wooden door behind himself.

Her eyes remain fixed on the path which Rafe had just followed, every cell of her body itching to follow him.

Just a few seconds later, she excuses herself from the table too and makes her way to the closed door of the balcony.

As the door opens and she steps out, Rafe diverts his attention to the door, a cigarette smoking away in his hand.

“Hey,” Amber says softly, giving him a gentle smile as she lets the door knob slip from her hand, the door closing with a gentle click. She makes her way over to Rafe, standing next to him in front of the balcony railing, her eyes fixing on the cigarette slotted between his fingers.

“Hey,” Rafe says back looking back out at the view from the balcony. His free hand comes to sneak under the turtle neck, scratching the side of his neck. “God this is itchy,” he mumbles under his breath, slightly frustrated.

“It’s too hot for a turtle neck anyway,” Amber says, her brows furrowed. “It must be irritating your skin,”

“Yeah,” Rafe mutters, taking a deep drag of his cigarette and letting out a plume of smoke. He knows better than to take the turtle neck off though, the thought of revealing the dark bruises left by you causes a small shudder to go down his spine — knowing Amber will be extremely concerned and will press on the matter.

Even then, his fingers reach out to itch under the turtle neck again, the material really irritating his skin. He pushes the fabric aside to grant him more skin to itch, but just as he does that, Amber catches the sight of the bruises marked on his skin; and these ones just so happen to be the darkest ones he has.

“Oh my god,” her soft voice comes out laced with concern as she steps closer to him, her fingers wanting to reach out to soothe his skin with her gentle touch. “What happened are you okay? That looks really bad,”

Rafe looks down at her, her frame almost comically smaller than his. He can see the concern etched on her face, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips downturned in a frown.

“I’m… I’m fine,” he mutters, focusing back out at the view from the balcony, taking another hit of his cigarette.

“Are you sure? Cause that looks really bad Rafe,” she murmurs, gently placing a hand on his arm, looking up at him.

The moment she touches her arm, he tenses for a fraction of second, but then immediately relaxes. There is something about her touch that you don’t have; that tenderness and the warmth that has always been missing from your touch. And her voice, it’s gentle. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you talk to him in such a gentle voice.

“Did someone beat you up?” She asks, her voice soft.

Beat him up? Oh, he wishes.

His mind goes back to you, the way he locked you in the store room. He knows there’s a window in the room, and knowing you, he also knows you definitely escaped from that window.

“No, someone didn’t beat me up,” He says back, his voice losing any edge it may have, taking a completely tender tone. There’s something so soothing about the way she’s talking to him, and it just makes him want to open up to him about anything and everything.

“Someone didn’t beat you up? Then how did you get them?” She asks. God, he thinks. Her concern, her gentleness, her touch… He’s losing himself in it, a little too quickly.

Maybe it’s because he’s been deprived of this gentleness for way too long.

“You won’t believe me if I told you the answer,” he says, his gaze looking down at her to meet her eyes.

“You’re concerning me Rafe, really,” she mutters, her fingers still wrapped around his arm. And Rafe doesn’t want her to let go.

He takes another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke roll off his lips.

“It’s my girlfriend– but, but I ended things with her today,” he mutters.

He gauges her reaction; her widened eyes, her lips parting twice to say something but no words coming out.

She knows about his girlfriend, well, everyone does, but he didn’t know about this.

“She did this to you?” Amber mutters incredulously. “That’s… that’s kind of crazy,”

“Kind of?” Rafe says amusedly. “It’s very crazy. I was…” he takes a deep breath, looking up from her and back out at the scenery. “I was suffocated with her. I was never able to express myself. She was extremely possessive, always wanting to… mark me as hers a certain way. It was hard to leave her but I did it, I finally did it today,”

Amber’s facial expressions contort to one of slightly relaxed, though the concern is still evident.

“Wow,” she mutters. “I’m very glad you were able to break things off with her, you don’t deserve to be treated this way Rafe, no one does,”

He turns back down to look at her, his eyes sinking into hers. They’re so warm and beautiful, a kind blue just like his. There’s gentleness in her words and the way she’s still holding onto his arm.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, “that… that means a lot to me you know? I’m… I’m just glad I was able to escape her,”

“Yeah,” she says softly, her fingers rubbing small circles on his forearm. It seems more or less like an instinctive movement, as if this is how she always likes to soothe someone.

And damn, is he starved for some gentle loving just like this.

A silence falls over them, Rafe’s eyes not flickering away from hers. She’s looking up at him, her doe eyes wide but extremely comforting, her gentle rubbing on his arm relaxing him to an infinite extent.

As if a gravitation pull exerts it’s force on him, he finds himself leaning closer to her, his eyes now training down over her lips. They’re so soft looking, so full, and he has a very strong urge to taste them.

Amber doesn’t pull back, she’s watching him lean closer, her own body reacting and leaning closer to him. Midway, Rafe’s lips are just a hair’s breadth from hers, and he takes the leap, pressing his lips to hers.

For a moment, no one moves, their lips joined in a gentle press. But then, Amber takes the initiative, gently moving her lips against his.

Rafe responds, his hand which isn’t holding the cigarette coming to gently cup her cheek, his thumb stroking the skin. Her hands reach up to wrap around his neck, the kiss soft, slow and incredibly tender.

Rafe gently pulls back, creating just the slightest distance between him and her. He rests his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as he soaks in the moment.

No words are exchanged between them, but he knows they both feel a mutual understanding.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

PRESENT

The rain begins to pour down harder, the drops of water on the grassy lawn gleaming under the occasional strike of lightning. Black umbrellas matching the black outfits are put up by almost everyone, covering everyone’s head by the shelter.

Except one.

Rafe is on his knees right next to the coffin, his fingers gripping the edge of it so tightly his knuckles are beginning to turn white. His head bows down to rest on the edge in between his hands, quiet sobs erupting out of his throat. The raindrops trail over his clothes, making him sopping wet, but he doesn’t care – even when he’s been politely asked to get under an umbrella to cover himself.

Everyone knew well about Rafe’s and Amber’s relationship. God, they loved them. Rafe, the Kook prince, and Amber, the Kook princess. Their fathers; bestest of friends. It’s like people could imagine them getting married even when they weren’t of age. The children of the most powerful men of Outer Banks were meant to take over the island together.

But the dreams were shattered like frail glass when Amber’s death was announced. And it wasn’t some untimely death — it was a murder. A clear gash was present at her chest right where she was stabbed.

Police investigations were started, Rafe paid an incessant amount of money to get the best of detectives on the case, but the murderer was good.

Too damn good.

The murderer didn’t leave a single trace of their presence. They were sharp and quick. It was just a flash of lightning, and the knife was driven in Amber’s chest, and she was declared dead.

The investigations started months ago, and even now, any path they take to find out about the murderer is a dead end.

Almost the entire Figure 8 is invited to the funeral; including you.

You stand at the very end of the crowd, black clothes on your body and a black umbrella over your head, protecting you from the rain.

Your eyes scan over the procession, watching the funeral ceremony taking place in the burial ground where Amber’s coffin is meant to be buried. You can hear the quiet sobs from the front, from Amber’s family, her siblings and cousins, her friends, and from Rafe.

Your gaze zeroes on him as a man begins to gently pull Rafe up from his knees and to get him away from the coffin, because it’s time to take the coffin away for the burial. You see Rafe protesting, his hands reaching out to catch a glimpse of Amber; it doesn’t matter if it’s her coffin. He just wants to feel her, one last time, before she leaves his life completely.

His sobs get louder, dry screams erupting from his throat as the coffin gets carried away. Amber’s mother carefully approaches him and takes him in her arms, her own eyes squeezed tightly shut as tears stream down her cheeks.

As time passes, everyone begins to disperse the burial ground, even Amber’s family, except for Rafe. Her family gently pleads with him to leave too, but he refuses. ‘Just five more minutes’ is what he mumbles in his voice hoarse from all his sobbing to Amber’s mother, who squeezes his hand in return and lets him stay.

And now, everyone has left, but you’re still standing in the same position, watching Rafe, who’s sitting on the wet grass, the rain which is now reduced to a drizzle still showering over him.

You carefully make your way over to him and get down on your knees next to him, letting your umbrella cover him too.

He looks up when he realizes he’s not feeling the raindrops fall on him anymore, his teary eyes finding yours. Completely drowned in the whirlpool of his emotions, he didn’t realize you are still there.

It’s silent for a few moments as Rafe sits with him hugging his knees close to his chest, his head resting on them. You sit next to him, making sure to keep him protected from the rain.

“Rafe…” you murmur after a few more moments of utter silence pass over you both. You gently place a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up at you — his bloodshot eyes drooping from tiredness.

Another moment of silence passes by, the space around you filled only with the sound of the raindrops pattering on your umbrella. The rain seems to slow down even more, the gloomy clouds beginning to light up.

You can see Rafe’s facade beginning to crumble, his need to be comforted washing over the need to be alone and away from you, and ever so slowly, he leans closer to you, resting his head on your shoulder.

You let your free arm quickly wrap around his shoulders and you pull him closer, your hand rubbing over his back.

The sobs he had started to bury inside himself start sputtering out, his body squeezing closer to you, every fiber of his being craving comfort as he buries his face in his neck and lets himself go, his tears falling against the skin of your neck.

“Shhh Rafe you’re okay, I’m here, I’m here for you,” you mumble softly in his ear. His hands come to wrap around your frame tightly, as if you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

You finally have him in your arms again, the only arms he should ever be in, the only arms that should be comforting him, the only arms that should ever hold him.

You lean down and press a soft kiss to his forehead to comfort him more as you repeat soft words to soothe him as much as you can. When Rafe makes no move to pull himself away from you, you slightly tighten your hold around his shoulders and pull him closer to you.

You let him hold you however he desires, and cry how much he wants.

As you keep on rubbing your hand over his back to soothe him, your gaze looks out at the stretch of the burial ground, your eyes following the path along which Amber’s coffin was carried.

You take in a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you let the reality of the situation settle in you.

Amber’s out of Rafe’s life, and he is back where he belongs.

A small satisfied smile quirks the corners of your lips all the while Rafe’s face remains tucked in the crook of your neck, his hands holding onto you as if you’re his last lifeline.

Game over, Amber.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

taglist: @oxpogues4lifexo / @rafedrewandjjs

specific tags for this fic: @ietss / @mileyraes / @ilyrafe / @runningfrom2am / @congratsloserr

@ladyinbl00d / @zyafics / @karmasloverrr / @rafesgiirl

[jennaslittlesidepiece]

Toronto Film Festival | Jenna Ortega

Pairings: Jenna x Reader

Summary: Jenna fucks you before the premiere of Finestkind at Toronto Film festival.

A/N: This is my second fic, still please be kind to me

Jenna glanced at herself in the mirror, admiring her reflection in the outfit she had chosen for the Toronto Film Festival. It was an elegant red pant suit made and tailored perfectly to fit every curve of her body. Her eyes then wandered over to you, taking in your stunning appearance in the little black dress she’d picked out for you. A mischievous smile formed on her plump lips as desire surged through her body.

Unable to resist the temptation, Jenna walked closer you and pressed her body against yours, her hands sliding sensually over your curves. Her dick pressing against you. With a soft moan, she whispered in your ear, "You look absolutely irresistible in that dress. I just can't help but want to take it off and fuck you right here, right now."

Jenna's slender fingers trailed down your body, slipping under the hem of the dress, caressing the skin between your thighs. Her dark brown eyes meeting yours in the full length mirror, filled with desire and longing. 

She slowly turn you around and kissed you softly and slowly. Her hand found its way to the back of your head, tangling in your hair, while the other hand trailed down your back, pulling you closer.

As the intensity of the kiss grew, Jenna's hand trailed down your body, reaching between your legs. With a teasing touch, she pressed her hand against your aching centre, her fingers moving with expert precision.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Jenna guided you towards the sink, bending you over so that you were facing the mirror. The cold surface pressed against your sensitive body, sending shivers down your spine.

Jenna's breath hitched as she whispered in your ear, "Let's make this moment unforgettable before we head out to the festival hmm?"

“Fuck, Jenna! Right now? We need to leave in 30 minutes” you half protested, instinctively pressing yourself further into her. Without a word, she smirked and nodded, her dark brown eyes locked with yours in the mirror. “Yes, right now.”

With a swift motion, Jenna lifted the hem of your dress and positioned herself behind you, her hands gripping your waist firmly. Slowly, she guided her throbbing cock to your slick entrance, the head of her shaft eagerly seeking entry. With a deep breath, she pressed forward, gradually filling you with her length.

The sensation was intense and overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and a hint of discomfort as she stretched you to accommodate her size. Jenna's grip tightened on your hips, her fingers digging into your skin as she began to thrust, the sensation of your wet heat enveloping her, causing a moan to escape her lips. “Ohh, fuck baby, so tight, feel so good around me” She breathed out as she began to move her hips.

Each thrust brought her deeper inside you, the friction intensifying each time. The sound of skin slapping against skin soon filled the bathroom, intermingling with your shared moans of ecstasy. You could feel the tension building within you, a coiling spring ready to unleash its power.

You could tell she was close too as Jenna's thrusts grew more urgent, her hips meeting yours with a hunger that matched your own. With every movement, she brushed against that sensitive spot inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating outward. The sensations grew more intense, pushing you both closer and closer to the edge of pleasure. “Mm Jenna…fuck.. m’gonna cum”

As the wave of climax crashed over you, your body spasmed, pleasure consuming every inch of your being. The room echoed with your cries of satisfaction, and Jenna’s breathless gasps as she reached the peak of her orgasm too.

Suddenly, her muscles clenched, and a low moan escaped her lips. You could feel her dick beginning to pulsate as she let go, releasing her warm cum deep inside you, waves of pleasure, spreading through her body like wildfire. She slowed down her thrusts as she rode out her orgasm, hands digging into your hips, pulling you back in to her as she emptied herself. The warmth of her release now dripping out of you and mixing with the wetness between your legs.

Breathing heavily, Jenna held you close, her forehead resting against your back as you both caught your breath. The mirror reflected the satisfaction and contentment in her dark brown eyes as she checked the time on her phone and whispered, "See, we still have ten minutes to spare. Just enough time to get you all cleaned up"

With a satisfied smile, Jenna helped you straighten your dress and fix her own appearance.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 4: It's My Party and I'll Eat Cake If I Want To

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter four of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (a few times), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect.  If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

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

Philadelphia 1935

"Stop fidgeting." Your mother snaps under her breath as you pull at the high collar of the monstrosity covering your body. Not one inch of skin is visible, the high collar, long sleeves, and knee-length skirt hid every shred of your body from view. It made you feel like you were drowning in chiffon all the while being choked to death.

"But mother it's itchy-"

"I don't care." She snarls, lip curling back. "It makes you look presentable and you need to focus on greeting your guests."

You sigh and look back over the groups of people that flood through the front doors of your home and into the living room. Waiters in sharp uniforms weave through the crowd with trays of appetizers, glasses of wine and champagne, and slices of birthday cake. Most of the guests were friends of your parents, and had begun flocking to the wet bar in the corner that your mother set up. Your brother and his new wife were standing in the corner of your large sitting room surrounded by groups of their friends.

Your sister-in-law smiles as she catches your eye. She was one of the nicest people you knew, perfectly matched with your older brother, who looked at her like she was his entire world. They had only courted for a month before they both realized it was love and against your parent's insistences for them to wait, had been married. But they were so blissfully happy together that it made your heart ache for the same.

You wondered if there would ever be a day that Ben looked at you that way.

"Good evening Mrs. y/l/n." Howard appears in the doorway, reaching out to kiss your mother's hand. He's wearing the same sand-colored suit as he was earlier in the park.

"Mr. Stine. Lovely to see you this evening." She curtsies graciously and glares at you to do the same. "We are happy you could make it tonight."

"I was honored to receive an invitation." His eyes drift to you. "Ms. y/l/n." He takes your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. His hand is clammy and you try not to make a face.

Ben still hadn't shown up. Which meant that he was either out drinking and he forgot, fighting with his father again, or he was waiting to make his grand entrance.

You really hoped that he hadn't forgotten. When he dropped you off at your home a few hours prior to the party, he said something about going to get a drink and changing. What you'd wanted to say was, didn't you have enough earlier, but you didn't.

The few hours before the party had been harrowing, filled with your mother snapping at you whenever you complained about her pulling the corset too tight, jerking your hair, or rubbing the lotions and ointments into your skin too roughly.

"Would you like to dance?" Howard asks you with a smile.

"Um-" You begin to say.

"Of course she would!" Your mother says all but shoving you forward into Howard's arms.

He leads you away to the sitting room. Your mother had the staff clear out all the furniture to make room for a string band in the corner and a dance-floor. There were already a few couples swaying back and forth to the soft tones that flitted through the air on wings.

Howard pulls you against him awkwardly, one of his hands tightening on your waist, the other clasping your left hand  in his sweaty right. Everything about dancing with him feels wrong. The way your bodies move together, the smell of his cologne is unfamiliar, the feeling of his hand on your waist, and the way his feet sporadically knock into yours, that are pinched tight in a pair of heels that make you taller than Howard. The dance you share is filled with silences that you can't avoid.

Silence.

"You look really nice." Howard tries.

"Thank you."

Silence.

"So, um- you like to paint." Howard says with a strained smile.

"I do."

Silence.

"Did you see President Roosevelt's plans for the Social Security Administration? I think that it will definitely help with taxation and the living situations in America!" Howard smiles.

"Um. No I didn't."

Silence.

It shouldn't be this hard to talk to other people. You think to yourself. When you and Ben talked, there were never any uncomfortable silences, if anything sometimes the silence was nice. The one between Howard and you felt like it was big enough for an oil tanker to pass through.

You heard a commotion at the front door and raise your eyes to look over Howard's head, and feel your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. Ben is standing there, his arm looped tightly with Missy Callahan.

Missy was your best friend in grade school, but you quickly realized that it wasn't your friendship she was interested in, it was Ben. And as soon as Ben realized that she was interested in him, he all but jumped at the chance. Ben and her spent time together on and off over the past few years since the three of you were thirteen. And as much as you wished that they wouldn't spend any time together, you couldn’t come up with a way to voice your displeasure to Ben without telling him that you loved him.

You tried not to compare the way she looked to you. Her beautiful blonde hair fell in effortless waves down her back, her figure was slim, her eyes an enchanting blue that captured anyone under her gaze, and her steps so graceful she seemed to float across the ground rather than walk. Her voice was musical and lofty, accentuated by her timeless features, perfect cupid bow mouth, and wide eyes that always seemed full of stars and innocence. Tonight she was wearing a sleek red dress that cupped her body in a way that made everyone else in the room look like they were wearing potato sacks.

Of course you knew she was more than innocent. You'd caught her on several occasions saying terrible things about you, but the feeling was mutual. Her snide comments about how you looked and what you wore used to hurt more than they did now. But when Ben was around, she was perfectly kind to you, overly sweet that it made you want to choke her out of frustration.

You watch the two of them come through the front door, and notice Ben's eyes survey the room. You fight the urge to duck and run to hide the horrible dress. You know that he's looking for you and deep down you hope also he doesn't see you with Howard. But at the same time you know that what you’re about to do is much worse.

"Howard." You force yourself smile at him, dropping your eyes to the man dancing with you.

"Yeah?"

"Will you twirl me?" You lean towards him as if he's everything you wanted. Deep down you feel like a terrible person for using him like this, but you didn't want to be lonely. And when Ben was with Missy, that's exactly how you felt, lonely.

"Of course." Howard's smile breaks your heart. He twirls you away, and as he does, you catch Ben's eyes momentarily. You see something flit through them that you notice is the same emotion he had earlier when your mother wrapped that coat over your shoulders earlier, but it's gone as soon as it appears.

When you land back against Howard's chest, you ignore how wrong he fits against you, and instead you giggle.

"So Howard, what do you like to do in your free time?" You ask him, ignoring the feeling of Ben's gaze on you.

"Well, I've been researching the steel industry and trying to predict how it will bounce back-" Howard begins to slip quickly into a monologue about the United States steel production and the possible growth in the coming years.

Oh boy. He continues to speak while you sway to the music and you immediately begin to regret everything you've done in the past few minutes. At least he can multi-task.

You hoped that Ben and Missy weren't still standing there watching you, if they were Missy was probably laughing at you.

Finally, Howard stops talking and leads you over to the living room where people have begun to clump up and talk with one another. A waiter walks over with a tray full of birthday cake and just as you reach for a slice Missy materializes on your right like the devil on your shoulder.

"Y/n!" She smiles wide, saying your name with fake cheer. "I had no idea you would be here!"

"It's my birthday party." You say, voice slipping into a monotone.

"Oh well Benjamin didn't say anything about why we were coming here. Just said party and well, here I am." You hate the way she says his name, like she's emphasizing the fact she has him and you don't. "What an interesting dress!" Her eyes skate down the abomination your mother picked out.

"Thanks." You reply through gritted teeth.

She leans forward to whisper in your ear. "Do you really think birthday cake is a good idea?"

Your cheeks blaze bright red and just as you open your mouth to tell her exactly where you’d like to shove the birthday cake, Ben appears beside her.

"Hey."

"Hi." You don't bother to make your voice cheery.

When I sent you a birthday invitation I didn't say you could bring a plus one, and especially not this bitch. You try to say with your eyes.

"Did you have a nice dance Howie?" Ben turns his eyes on Howard, who stiffens at the use of the nickname.

"Yes we did." You answer for him and take Howard’s hand.

Something flashes in Ben's eyes when you use the word "we."

"Oh Benjamin, I love this song! Let's dance." Missy says, grabbing Ben's wrist and pulling him away.

You stand there and watch them dance for a moment, noticing how closely they're pressed together, how Ben's grip on her waist tightens as they sway back and forth, how Missy's head rests against the smooth fabric of his black jacket. An irrational amount of jealousy crashes over you as you watch them dance together, but you can't look away. It's like a trainwreck.

Well, couldn't look away until Missy catches your eye and shoots you a smirk that makes you consider all the places in Philadelphia you can hide a body. The list is detailed and quite long, considering you'd been working on it for as long as you'd known Ben.

"Y/n?" Howard says.

"Hmm?" You turn to look at him. "Sorry I was-" Thinking about all the ways to kill Missy. "Lost in thought."

"I asked if you wanted a piece of cake." Howard smiles and you hate that you feel absolutely nothing when he does. There's no butterflies, no tightening in the center of your chest, no warmth tracing through your body like fingertips flaring against your skin. You hated that's what happened when Ben smiled at you.

You think about what Missy said about the birthday cake, looking once more at her statuesque figure that bends gracefully away from Ben as he dips her, and shove the thought away. "Sure."

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

You sit on the end of your bed, but you don't reach for your sketchpad, you were too angry for that.

Ben had barely said two words to you beside the hello that you shared when he came to your birthday party with the most odious girl alive, of course that didn't mean that you lost them in the crowds of people. And that also meant that you'd seen him and her making out in one of the dark corners of the living room.

Anger, frustration, and jealousy swirl together and congeal into a ball in the pit of your stomach. You were angry at Ben for bringing her, jealous of Missy that she was the one who got to be with Ben, and frustrated at yourself for your inability to tell Ben the truth.

Why can't tell him? You sigh. And then what? I tell him and he immediately cuts me out of his life? Your eyes trace the room around you and fall back on your bed. Your bedroom always seemed too big without him, the bed cold, and the  room dark. It made the whole in your heart open up when he wasn't there.

You hated how much you needed him and how much you depended on Ben showing up in your life. You wondered if he needed you too.

The memory of him and Missy in the corner, with his hands on her hips and his lips fused to hers, darts across your mind and makes you pluck a pillow from the head of your bed and scream into it.

It doesn't help.

"Hard day?" Someone asks.

"What are you doing here Ben?" You sigh, not needing to look up to know that its him.

He's standing with his feet on your window seat as he comes in from the ledge.

"Thought I'd stop by. We didn't get to talk much at the party." He shrugs.

You try not to look at how his lips are a little pinker than usual and how his hair is sticking up in the back like someone has run their fingers through it.

Damn Missy.

"Well I noticed you were plenty occupied. I guess it's hard to talk with your tongue shoved down Missy's throat." You huff, practically kicking off your shoes. It's a miracle that they don't hit him when he climbs down from the widow seat.

The image of him and Missy Callahan in the corner of your living room kissing flashes over your mind again and makes your temper flare red hot against your skin. The jealousy that electrifies in your veins you know is unwarranted. Ben wasn't yours. You didn't have a claim to him just because you were friends. Just friends. Great friends. And you knew that he didn't feel that way about you.

But how can he not see me as more? How can he spend so much time with me and only see me as a friend? You wanted to scream. All those times falling asleep talking with one another, all the times we woke up in the early morning pressed against one another. How can Ben not want to be more?

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound jealous Doll." Ben smirks.

"Of what? Missy Callahan? Please-" You blow a raspberry, even though it's unladylike and you know that if your mother was there she would slap you for doing so. "I don't know what you see in that vapid self-centered debutante. I doubt the two of you can find anything to talk about-"

"Well we don't do much talking. And you and Howard looked plenty cozy together." Ben's smirk turns more into a taunt and this time it makes you want to slap your best friend, but you hold yourself back. "But you sure sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous!" You snap, tugging at the collar of your dress in frustration, both at Ben and at the material in your hands. "Damn it!" You curse, not at Ben, but continue tug at the collar of the dress. Despite wanting to take it off, you hadn't been able to do it by yourself and your mother was busy ordering the waiters downstairs clean up, and it was getting harder to breathe and not to mention terribly hot.

"You doing okay there sweetheart?" Ben's smirk shifts to a worried expression.

"No I can't breathe." You choke out.

Ben immediately steps forward before you can stop him and unzips the back of your dress. It pools at your feet, making your breath catch, leaving you in the tight white corset that was causing you to asphyxiate. Although it went to your knees you still felt almost naked. Ben had only seen you in nightgowns, but it didn't mean that he hadn't felt your curves pressed against him in the morning when you woke up together.

The corset your mother insisted was necessary to shave down your hips, flatten your butt, and squeeze your breasts so tight against your chest that each time you took in a breath you weren't able to expel it.

Ben doesn't look away from your face, but it looks as if it's causing an amazing amount of effort for him to do so. "Do you want me to loosen it?" He rumbles. His jaw clenches with his words, and a darkness blooms in his eyes that sends a thrill down your spine.

"Yes." Your voice comes out more like a squeak than anything else.

Ben turns you in his arms slowly as if gauging your reaction, before you feel his fingertips trail down your spine as he begins to loosen the ties on the back. The tingle that follows his fingertips makes your chest as tight as the garment that squeezes you. You try not to think about how many times you imagined this exact scenario, with you and Ben in your bedroom together. Ben turns your body around so that you're looking up at him again, your faces so close that his lips are leveled directly where your hair sprouts from your forehead.

His hands remain on your waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles through the material where it rests on your hips, tracing the crest of your pelvis with each stroke, his eyes lock with yours. They are deep and dark and filled with promises that makes you shiver and you're sure he feels. Your own hands have come up between you to rest against his solid chest, admiring the muscle beneath his dark suit. You can't help but notice how he leans forward into your touch as you do and feel the rapid beat of his heart against the palms of your hands. It mirrors your own that feels as though it will break free and flutter away.

"Ben I-" You begin to say.

A loud knocking at your door makes you shove him backwards away from you so hard that Ben stumbles, tripping over the edge of your bed and onto the ground with a loud thud that you try to cover with a cough.

"Who is it?" You ask, voice frantic.

"It's your father."

Your wide eyes lock with Ben's, who doesn't look nearly afraid enough. "Get under the bed-" You whisper-yell.

"I love it when you order me around." Ben smirks as your cheeks flush and his eyes trace your figure one more time in a way that makes you burn.

"Ben!" You hiss.

He crawls under the bed and you grab your bathrobe, wrapping it around yourself before saying "Come in."

Your father enters, a glass of scotch clasped in his hand. His black suit is impeccable, perfectly tailored to him, as it should be, he was, after all, one of the most powerful men in Philadelphia.

His gaze sweeps the room for a moment as if looking for someone, tracing over your bed once, and you think you see the end of his lip quirk for a minute, but then it fades.

"Hi." You smile at him, your cheeks still flushed, heart beat pounding against your ribcage.

Don't look under the bed. Don't look under the bed. Don't look under the bed.

"I apologize for the intrusion, I just wanted to say goodnight." He crosses the room to hug you with one arm. You can smell the tobacco from his nightly smoke on his jacket. You and your father had always been a bit closer than you and your mother. Especially when you were younger and you'd sit in the parlor at his feet watching him smoke his pipe before bed. Over the past few years you hadn't been able to spend as much time together, and it made you sad to think that you were growing apart from him.

"Did you have a good birthday?"  He pushes back some of the hair that's fallen into your face with a warm smile.

"Yes I did. Ben got me some new brushes and I got to try them out today when we went to the park."

"That was nice of him." Your father smiles for a minute before he takes a sip from his scotch. "I saw you dancing with Howard Stine."

"Yeah. He's…" Boring. "Nice."

"Hmm." Your father nods. "He's from a good family. Your mother certainly thinks that he's suitable-" He pauses. "But I'm not sure he's right for you."

"It was just a dance. I don't think that makes anything official." You laugh.

Please let my future not end with Howard Stine.

Your father shrugs his shoulders and takes another sip of his scotch. "Your mother and I started with just a dance." The look in his eyes changes for a moment and you wonder if he's reliving the memory of them together. It was moments like this when you saw how much your father loved your mother. It was difficult for you to understand given everything that she'd said to you over the years, but it brought you joy that your father was happy. He shakes his head as if pushing it away. "You always seem happier after you've spent time with Benjamin."

Your cheeks flush bright red, knowing that Ben can hear the conversation. "We're just friends."

"Perhaps." His lips twitch. "So you did have fun at the park? Any new paintings?"

"A few."

"May I see?"

Usually you liked when your father looked at your work, but the thought that Ben was hiding under your bed and could be discovered at any minute, set you on edge.

"Sure." You walk around the bed to get your watercolor pad on your bedside table, before holding it out over the bed for your father. And just as he takes it, Ben's large hand fastens around your ankle. You clear your throat, kicking your foot to get him to let go, but he doesn't release it  and you can hear his muffled laugh.

"These are quite something." He flips through the pages, finally stopping on the one of Ben from this morning. "I can't believe he sat still long enough for you to paint him."

"Ben is difficult. ALL the time." You grit out, kicking with your foot again, but he doesn't let go. "And annoying." You grumble low enough for only Ben to hear.

"Yes. I believe that."  Your father hands you back the pad of paper. "But he certainly makes you happy, and that's all I want for you."

"Dad-"

He smiles, but shakes his head at you. "Goodnight darling." Your father turns to walk towards the door before he stops. "Your mother will be coming upstairs in a few minutes, perhaps Ben should not be here when she does." And then he leaves.

Your entire body flushes bright red with embarrassment. HOW DID HE KNOW THAT BEN WAS HERE?

Ben crawls out from under your bed holding back laughter.

"It's not funny!" You snap.

"Kinda funny." He smiles. "Do you think he's going to tell your mom?"

"No. I mean I hope not. I think if he does, she'd nail the window shut and cut the tree down." You stand there for a second. "But you should go if she's coming."

"I could hide in the closet this time, see if she can find me?" Ben jokes.

"It's not hide and go seek or Marco Polo!"

Ben laughs at you, before his expression turns serious. "Are you sure you want me to go?" You know that he's asking you that because he knows that no matter what your mother wants to speak to you about will not end well.

"I'm fine Ben. Go. It'll be okay." You smile despite your rising nerves.

"Okay."

He stands there for another beat, eyes dropping to your robe, and for a second you believe that he's thinking about how you looked a minute ago. Your cheeks flush at the memory, feeling his hands trace your spine to loosen the corset, and then how they felt on your waist. What would have happened if my father didn't come in?

"I'll see you tomorrow. I still have five days of freedom before boarding school number seven and I'd like to spend at least one at a baseball game." He finally says.

"Sounds boring."

"I can always take Missy." He replies smugly.

"And by boring I mean it sounds like everything I've ever wanted." You force a smile.

"That's what I thought."

But before he leaves, he pulls you into a hug.

"Goodnight y/n. Happy Birthday."

"Goodnight Ben." You say into his shoulder.

And then he vanishes out your window without another word, leaving you with the memory of what almost happened, and the rising dread that your mother was going to come in at any minute.

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

Thank you so much for reading! If you would like to be added to my taglist for this series let me know :)

Also, everyone say thank you to @deans-spinster-witch for giving me an idea for this chapter! ❤️

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch

[cupidssorbet]

COD CHARACTER DICK ANALYSIS.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ COD Characters x Reader.

Characters Included: John Price, Ghost “Simon” Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, and John “Soap” Mactavish.

Summary: Title says it all!

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Note: This is part 1 of not sure how many but I saw these kinds of things for other characters so I’m doing it for these guys! just know more prompts will be coming as well as other things! :)

Content/Includes: In the title! PS remember that this is just what I think and everyone has different opinions!

NOT PROOFED, MAJOR MAJOR INSPO TO @arachine because their dick series is my biggest inspo for this cod one so PLEASE PLEASE go check out their blog!!

PS IM FINALLY BACK AFTER BEING BUSY FOR SO LONG AND I DO PLAN ON BETTING TO ASKS AND OTHER PROMPTS!!

Enjoy! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ ✧

Price:

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Length: 8 inches flaccid and 9 erect, NOW HERE ME OUT, he’s 6’0 from what I learned on Google and I mean, do you see and HEAR this man? He’s a captain, he’s got those mutton chops, he’s absolutely got something that slaps his thigh when he walks.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Width: He’s not skinny, and he’s not split you open girthy, it’s that good median some where between that gives you that good stretch but isn’t painful.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Color: Price isn’t PALE pale so down south he’s got a little tan to it, his tip is just a bit darker compared to his dick, like if I have to give a hexcode AND I WILL, it’s #D29A7C.

+

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Grooming/Styling: Do you see those mutton chops?? He is neat and tidy, his carpet matches the drapes in a sense of being not messy or anything just neat and all put together.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Are they curved? Any veins?: VEINS, UGH, you can’t look me in the eyes and tell me he doesn’t got a few veins along the bottom and on the side. A few thick ones that rub just right when riding him, he’s also got not majorly noticeable curve but a slight curve to it.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Favorite way to use it: He’s a giver, I saw someone say this I wholeheartedly agree, he’s a giver, he likes you riding him and taking it as you please his hands on your hips as you set your pace.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Prompt:

“There ya go, slow— Oohh— Steady there love.” He breathed out with a slight chuckle, hands finding purchase right on your hips occasionally rubbing down your thighs. “Fuck— Doesn’t matter how many times I ride you I still can’t get over the stretch.” you laughed out as you slowly sank down with his help as he breathed all kinds of praises with that smile on his face.

Eventually you were buried to the hilt deep within him, your velvet heat clutching him, “God knew you could do it— Never fail to impress darling.” Price chuckled before you redirected his hand from your hips to your stomach the slight bulge in your lower catching him off guard, the groan that emitted from his throat was down right dirty. “God damn you know just how to rile me up, I suggest you hold on huh?” He chuckled deeply.

Ghost:

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Length: 7 flaccid, 8.5 hard, he is big but he’s not BIG, you feel me? He’s got that good even, and you best believe he knows how to use it. I mean hello?? Look at him? Anyways I stand by it, 7 flaccid, 8.5 hard.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Width: He’s a buff lad because we’re taking mw2/3 ghost with those man tits and big ass arms, he’s definitely thick, split you open thick in a sense.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Color: With his mask and such I would like to say he’s pale so his dick might be slightly pale as well his tip color though would be slightly darker like, #FAC3B3 & #D69786.

+

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Grooming/Styling: See I like to believe his hair is shorttt beneath his mask so he would also keep it kinda clipped and short not exactly long or like out there, he’d had it pretty maintained like a little scruff maybe.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Are they curved? Any veins?: Two words, God yes. Curved up just slightly with veins on the underside and one on the front side.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Favorite way to use it: He seems like the rough types and if he’s busy but needs you so and he’ll face fuck you while your head under his desk.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Prompt:

His grip was tight on your hair as you allowed him to move your head back and fourth as you braced your hands on his thighs. The obscenely wet sounds of your spit & precum shined lips gliding and wrapped around his cock.

“Look at you— *fuck* — such a mess around my cock huh? Little fuckin’ cocksleeve practically.” Ghost chuckled deeply in his chest as he lowered your mouth fully down onto his length causing a little gag from you as you gripped his thighs and he relished in this groaning at the sight and sound of you gagging around him as more drool spilled from your lips.

Gaz:

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Length: 6 flaccid but 7.5 erect, he’s got that good even ground not split you open or good lord how is it gonna fit big but enough that he makes you feel that full feeling you can’t get enough of.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Width: I don’t have a specific like width length in terms of measurements but I’d like to say he’s a good neutral, gives you that good feeling when fucking you.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Color: #C98767 & #AB6F4F , it’s got a little fade to the mushroom tip, the tip just being a bit darker towards the end.

+

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Grooming/Styling: He’s groomed, his hair is short like short so I’d think he’d keep it pretty much tamed with a little curl to it.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Are they curved? Any veins?: OOOO, yeah he got veins, more like one up from the bottoms and one on the top that goes into a fork. He’s just a litttleee curved.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Favorite way to use it: I feel like he likes to take you from the back, he’s a bit of an ass man, maybe some tummy and thighs honestly.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Prompt:

“God..” Gaz huffed out as his grip on your hips tightened, his gaze trailing down to your ass and the way it bounced everywhere time he thrusted in and out of your velvet heat. He couldn’t help but land a smack to it earning a, ‘Oh!’ From you and a groan from him. “You like that huh? Go on and tell me.” Gaz managed out punctuating the words with thrusts.

Soap:

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Length: 7 flaccid, maybe 7.5 ish not too big not too small, just the right ish amount for most. Because let’s be honest Soap isn’t big or small, right smack dab in the middle.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Width: I wanna say, he’s a bit girthy though, not twig thin but maybe the same width of a banana which is usually 1.5 to 2 inches, so take that how you will.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Color: I feel he’s pale around the base and a little darker to the tip, I don’t have exact set colors for soap because I can’t pin point exactly what colors but think pale to tanner.

+

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Grooming/Styling: I feel like, just by looking at his Mohawk and facial hair look it’s like messy but it’s not overly dramatic or grown out but it isn’t quite buzzed either so like a tamed bush in a sense.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Are they curved? Any veins?: CURVED AND VEINS, he’s got a vein on the under side curved to the tip and over to the top side slightly, as for curved it curves to the left just slightly and up a teeny bit.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Favorite way to use it: He’s a thigh & tit guy in my opinion, so, I feel he looovess thigh fucking.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Prompt:

You HAD been finishing up cleaning the dishes in your favorite PJ’s right before bed until your boyfriend came meandering out…then you found yourself on the bed, on your back, panting softly as you looked at where his cock tip poked out from between your thighs that just couldn’t keep his hands off.

“So..Fucking…Good.” Soap punctuated his words with deep thrusts, pearls of precums catching on your thighs as he thrusted.

[burntb4bydoll]

Tom Kaulitz x inexperienced!fem!reader

Warnings: a bit of scratching, hair pulling, slight size kink, PRAISE KINK, readers lowkey bratty and a crybaby💀, very soft dom Tom🤭 like fr tho hes WHIPPED.

“Please Tom! I just wanna try. You’re so mean!” You pout, furrowing your eyebrows at Tom. He sighs and grabs your chin with his thumb and pointer finger,

“Baby, thats enough. You’re not ready yet. You have no idea what you’re doing. We gotta work up to it.” That only made you pout harder. Whining, you climb on top of him to straddle his waist. You two were already undressed because you had already been messing around before you started to throw a little tantrum. You lean down to kiss him, moving your hips to grind your body into his. Toms breath hitched as he felt your wetness spreading over his length. (Im sorry physically can not type any other word for it. They all sound so gross)

“Look, Tommy. I can make you feel good,” you sigh, “Just please let me fuck you! Ill be such a good girl!” You sit back up, inspecting his facial expressions. He grabs your hips and sits up against the headboard so that you are sitting in his lap.

“Fuck. Ok fine, but I’m gonna help you. And thats not an option. Its not gonna be easy, sweetheart. Especially for someone who has no idea what to do.” You rolled your eyes at him. What could be so difficult about it? Hes over exaggerating. Tom sees your eye roll and gently grabs you by your hair, which was so gentle that he was basically just holding you by the back of your head. “what did I say about that attitude? You wont get fucked at all if you keep it up. You know I don’t wanna do that to you, baby.” Toms voice was soft as he looked at you with pure love in his eyes. You knew he wouldn’t actually do that, you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. But you decide to play along anyways.

“Sorry, Tommy. I’ll be good, promise.” You both know thats probably a lie, but he accepts it anyways. He lifts up your hips to position himself at your entrance, watching you the whole time to make sure you were okay. You slowly sink down on him, moaning at the new feeling. You didn’t think it was possible to feel him this deep inside of you. “Tom-! Oh my god, you’re so deep!” He shushes you, moving your hair out of the way so he had access to your neck. As he trailed kisses across your jaw, you had finally got him all the way inside.

“Good job, princess. Just sit still for a minute. That was a lot, huh?” He pulls away and smiles as he plays with your hair.

“Mhm… fuck. Ive never felt like this before. It’s weird.” You moan, looking down to see the outline of his dick (💀) showing on your lower stomach. He moves his hand down to press in it, making you whine and jolt from the pressure.

“God, you are so pretty. Look at this. You can actually see how deep I go.” Tom was absolutely mesmerized. He only looked away when you started to lightly bounce on him. Groaning, he holds your hips tightly. You started moving a little faster, grabbing him by his hair to steady yourself. His nails dug into your skin, leaving crescent shapes on your hips.

“There you go. Good girl~ you’re doing such a good job.” Tom coos. Your eyes feel heavy and tears of pleasure start to form in your eyes. Toms praising always gets you so worked up. After riding him for a while your legs start to burn. After your failed attempt to continue fucking your boyfriend, you collapsed onto his shoulder.

“I wanna keep going- its just…my legs hurt. Can you help me? Please, Tom. I need you to help me..” Your words are breathy and desperate, basically crying for him. Tom silences your pleas by kissing you. While you kiss he starts to thrust up into you, moving your hips for you to match his thrusts. He moans loudly at the change of pace, feeling himself grow closer to finishing. One of his hands leaves your hip to toy with your clit, causing you to whimper and shake.

“Come on, baby. Cum with me…I wanna feel that pretty cunt cum for me.” Both of you gasp as you reach your highs, hands gripping on to each other desperately. He makes sure to continue his movements on your clit so that you could ride out your orgasm for as long as possible. “Good girl, such a good girl. You take me so well” Tom mumbles as his movements come to a stop. A silence fell over the room as you calmed down, but it was quickly ruined by your giggles

“I told you I could do it! And most of it was by myself!” You state proudly, making him laugh at you.

[moronkombat]

Hi hi hello how my new favorite person on Tumblr doing? 🌝

May I ask for some fluff/nsfw alphabet for Shang Tsung, please👉👈

Absolutely love all your content <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aftercare may look a bit different than the conventional cradling embraces. Shang Tsung is more partial to observing the masterpiece he has created within you. He stands over you, that wry smirk seems so carved into him, and eyes scan over the mess you have become. He tells you this too, how beautiful you look and what a piece of art you are

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Shang Tsung's favorite feature is that witty smirk of his. He never wants to hide it and shows it off when certain little plans end in his favor. He wants others to know that he has won. Victories are his confidence and so he boasts them through taunting jeers

When it comes to his partner, Shang Tsung is enamored with their back, specifically the spine. How horribly divine it is to feel its ridges under the pad of a finger. Your grooves dip and bend as he traces them into your skin. It is an enchanting dream for him

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Truly depends on the mood and what he is wanting. However, he does have the rather wicked preference on cumming atop his partner's skin. So sticky and wet you look coated in liquified pearls. He smirks and spreads it around your naval, into your cheeks and chest. Such a pretty portrait you are

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Shang Tsung pleasures himself while watching his partner sleep. There is something just so exciting watching you unaware of his perversions. Never once does he touch you during this, simply observing you breath so lightly and unaware. He often finishes into his hand, watching his seed drip down the length of his fingers before he just so happens to let it drip drip drop onto your skin

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He never truly lets his partner know the level of experience possessed. Shang Tsung prefers to keep it vague and guessing. In truth he has experience but not too much to flaunt. He has enjoyed sex enough to learn what he prefers but also what another likes too

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Shang Tsung has a few preferences. Mainly he prefers his partner on top regularly or reverse and when you are on your side one leg hiked into the air. Likes to change positions frequently during sex with his partner

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I wouldn't call sex serious when with Shang Tsung but it is not humorous either. It is more of a teasing experience with him laying languid taunts to his parent and laughing at their reactions to his touch

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Exceptionally groomed and completely shaven. He finds it bothersome not to keep himself clean there and so he always makes it a point to remove any hair hidden under clothing

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Largely depends on the mood of moment. Shang Tsung largely prefers teasing experiences but let's say he is truly madly deeply in love with his partner, then he will make it romantic. If he is more obsessed with his partner the romance is a bit more warped and twisted

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Yes but infrequently. When he is feeling the urge, Shang Tsung merely seeks his parent out to sate his needs. If his partner is unavailable then he may engage but it is not very often. He typically has his ways of convincing his lover into the bedroom

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Restraints- Cannot get enough of using restraints during sex. Loves to tie his partner up in all the different ways he can. There is power and control when he pulls those bindings so tight. There is so escape unless he grants it and that is quite the treat

Leather- Shang Tsung adores leather and wants to use it on his partner and himself. He is very fond of the feeling of leather on his skin and he is even more entranced by the marks it leaves on yours

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

On a desk or another hard surface. He likes to indulge in his partner when he works on his research. It makes him feel even more powerful knowing he takes you in the same place he dominates the field of research. He also likes when his partner is suspended in the air with ropes and chains

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Shang Tsung is turned on by many things but he is most aroused by his partner's curves and hips. He wants to watch those hips sway and move. Predatory eyes watch you go and his head will turn to enjoy the show while you pass by. This hunter is quick to stalk his prey before he pounces and consumes

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

A big no for him is his partner hitting him in the bedroom. Shang Tsung has taken beatings throughout his life and to be struck brings up those memories and has him feeling rather pitiful

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Has no real preference over one or the other. Both give him a sense of power and control so it largely depends on how he feels like expressing that control and what will amuse him the most

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sex can vary from very fast and rough to very slow and taunting. Shang Tsung prefers to take his time with his partner. He wants them thoroughly used and satisfied. If you're going into the bedroom with him, expect to be there for awhile and to say your prayers because Shang Tsung loves to tease

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn't mind them and will engage in them at times. However, like stated previously, he enjoys taking his time with his partner and a quickie does not allow for that

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is anything but vanilla. He is always wanting to experiment with his partner. New positions, new kinks? He's up for them. He enjoys knowledge and knowledge includes bedroom practices. He's more than eager to try out all his finding on his partner. He makes sure they both have a grand time

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Shang Tsung doesn't have a time limit and will go until he and his partner are sated. While he may not be the most athletically built, his endurance is not something to be trifled with

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Shang Tsung owns a variety of toys but he does not use them on himself. They are rather exclusively for his partner and euphorically taunting you with them. He has quite the collection and is very keen on using them all on your body

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Tends to be terribly unfair during sex. He finds the whines and cries of his partner so very pleasant and so he will be sure to tease them relentless. It does not last forever, he still wants his partner to experience the greatness he is feeling. Still, his partner's reactions under his control provides no greater high

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Relatively quiet save for dirty whispers and chuckling. It is not often that he vocalizes his own pleasure. He would much rather hear yours

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

An avid fan of dirty talk and degradation. He will call you pathetic when you whine. But it is not an insult. Shang Tsung poses them as compliments

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His build is lean and toned. Muscles are not chiseled but they are defined if you were to feel them. He is more of a grower than a shower, with him presenting rather long when in the heat of the moment

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Higher than average when in a relationship with a partner. When single, it is rather low as he does not pay attention to those urges. When with a partner, however, he craves them carnally daily

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Is usually pretty tired after sex but will never fall asleep before his partner no matter how exhausted he is. He will wait until you do first and then follow

[zukka-fic-recs]

Hello! I am totally new to reading Zukka and would love some recommendations. If you've already done this, please feel free to just link to another post! I would love a few recs of what you consider to be "must-reads". I'm open to any length or rating (although I tend to read rated E), I would just love to start with a few that are phenomenal :)

Hi stavro!

Welcome to the wonderful world of Zukka fics!

Here's a Zukka starter pack for you, I limited it to 10 fics to stop it from getting too unwieldy, but it was really difficult to keep it so short tbh, so if you want more lmk!

Zukka Must-Reads

Blue by blacklipscurse

Available on Ao3, Complete (Part 1), Teen, Slowburn, Canon-Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Blue Spirit Zuko, Secret Indentities, Ba Sing Se, Angst, H/C, Homophobia, Physical Disability, Humour / Humor

Wordcount: 192,682

This fic is a whole damn phenomenon in this fandom and it's phenomenal to match! The way the characters are written really draws you in. It's a very emotive fic and I truly cannot emphasise how funny blacklipscurse's writing is, I laughed a lot. Especially at Zuko, and sometimes Sokka. 😅 There is a sequel but it's a WIP and Blue can stand alone. :)

absence of heat, excess of destiny by theycallmesuperboy / @baegarrick

Available on Ao3, Complete, Gen, Canon-Compliant, Alternate Universe - Soulmate, AU - Soulmate-Identifying Marks

Wordcount: 4,336

Absolute classic, and I love soulmate fics so for me this is top tier.

Real Slow by surveycorpsjean (Ao3) / zanimez (Tumblr)

Available on Ao3, Complete, Mature, Post-Canon, Fluff, Smut, H/C, Angst, Ambassador Sokka

Wordcount: 21,490

The way their relationship gently unfurls in this is very satisfying. Highly recommend!

Hallowed by HairCrescendo / @sword-and-stars

Available on Ao3, Complete, Explicit, Smut, Fluff

Wordcount: 4,615

Smouldering smut and fluffy feelings. I'd recommend all of HairCrescendo's work tbh, they're a fantastic writer and they have about a dozen more Explicit works. ;)

three words that become hard to say (I and love and you) by overcomeeithlongingfora_girl / @overcomewithlongingfora-girl

Available on Ao3, Complete, Explicit, Smut, Praise Kink, Subdrop, Domdrop, Light BDSM

Wordcount: 2,977

This fic is hothotHOT, and yet also so sweet and emotional it makes my heart hurt. Bring a fan and some tissues.

Courtesan by lesbianophelia / @mendontprotectyou

Available on Ao3, Complete, Explicit, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Light Praise Kink

Wordcount: 2,200

So scrumptious I just want to eat it. Prepare to feel things. 🔥

For Peace and Zuko by BeersForQueers / @omgbeersforqueers

Available on Ao3, Complete, Explicit, Slowburn, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Future Fic, Canon-Divergence

Wordcount: 43,277

Speaking of classics, honestly you could read anything and everything by BeersForQueers and I would recommend doing so! They're a longtime member of the fandom. They were there for this ship when it needed it most (I want you to know that I just blew a kiss to the sky). Having said that, For Peace and Zuko is one of my absolute favourites. The sequel Ice Cave makes for a lovely epilogue.

when the prison doors are opened by alternatedoom

Available on Ao3, Complete, Explicit, Underage, Sickfic, Angst, H/C, Voyeurism, Animal Killed for Food, FWB, Imprisonment, Dub-Con

Wordcount: 164,648

I don't know if this counts as slowburn given... ahem, the progression of things. On the emotional front, perhaps. Their relationship development is messy in a delicious way, really twists you around into such wonderful spirals... Idek if I'm making any sense, that's what this fic does to my mental capacity! Every character interaction is just so so good and the way the tension gets ratcheted up and then unwound is captivating. I could gush about this fic all day, but instead I'll just leave it at: it's really, really good and you should read it.

In the Soft Light by CSHfic and VSfic

Available on Ao3, Complete, Teen, Slowburn, Pining, Canon-Divergence, Alternate Universe - War Ended Early, Angst, H/C, Firelord Azulon, Miscommunication, Pining, Underage Drinking, AU - Moon Spirit Sokka, side Bakoda, Sickfic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Bed-Sharing

Wordcount: 83,904

Some of my absolute favourite authors in this fandom and all of their work is fantastic quality. In terms of spot-on characterisation, wonderful descriptions, plenty of humour to balance out the angst... Their writing is masterful, and this is one of my favourites of their fics. They have more mature/explicit works as well. ;) (Side-note: I absolutely adore Zuko in this fic).

(do you take this jerk to be) your one and only by jatersade

Available on Ao3, Complete, Teen, Slowburn, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Arranged Marriage, Bed-Sharing, Misunderstandings, Pining, AU - Royalty, Alternate Universe - 100 Year War Ended Early, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Wordcount: 55,846

I love the arranged marriage trope and I love it when authors play around with the gang's status as the children of royalty and world leaders, and this fic does all of that so well. Jatersade's pacing and the quality of their charecterisarion really elevates this fic.

---

I wanted to keep this list to complete fics, but I do have to mention feels like we only go backwards by oldpotatoe, because although it's a WIP it is iconic.

Also, a personal favourite of mine that has been discontinued (but didn't end on a cliffhanger or anything) is invisible string by wilteddaisy (taotu). I have it saved to my phone as a PDF for when I need a comfort read, that's how much I love it.

[kaminocasey]

Oh my, your post about Tech's soft voice got me swooning! (It's true though, he has a lovely voice) So, if it's alright with you, I'd like to make a request for a fluffy Tech x Reader fic. Maybe it's one of your first times sleeping in the same bed as Tech, and in the morning, he really doesn't want to let you go. He so rarely gets this kind of affection, so he's just holding you, whispering sweet nothings trying to get you to stay. Thank you so much, you deserve all the love and praise!

Hi! I'M SO SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! (Literally 9 months, I'm the worst lol, please forgive me!) I'm gonna try to get back to a point where I can open my requests again!

I got hit with massive writer's block for Tech and then After that finale, it got harder and harder to write for him lol. Hopefully this makes up for it? I got a sort of idea for a series... so Lemme know if you think it's something you guys would want??

Soft Mornings

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; smut-ish? suggestive themes

Taglist Form

You feel Tech’s warm body against yours before you open your eyes, snuggling against his chest more, your bottom brushing up against his length. 

“Good morning, darling.” He chuckles, softly, kissing your neck. 

Your previous night had been so perfect. Better than anything you could’ve ever imagined. Parts of it start to flood your memory, making your face go warm. 

“Good morning.” You bring his hand to your lips and he snuggles his nose into the crook of your neck. “How did you sleep?” 

You’d been slightly afraid that Tech wouldn’t be able to sleep well since he’s never slept next to another person before and you know how much he enjoys his space. But when you’d offered to go back to your bunk, he’d only pulled you close to him, bringing the covers up over the both of you and asked you to stay.

“I think I slept better than I’ve ever slept before.” He admits and then starts to smile. “I’m afraid I will not be able to sleep alone now.”  

“Oh no. How awful. Guess I better take up permanent residence here.” You laugh. 

He chuckles again and you roll over to face him. 

“Hi.” You smile up at him.

“Hello.” He smiles back, his voice still soft and raspy in a sleepy way, making you melt like putty. 

His hair is sticking up in different directions and you imagine yours is too, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Kissing him softly, you run your hands up to cup his face, which is starting to feel slightly stubbly from not having shaved in a few days. You take note of how good the five o’clock shadow looks on him.

“I’ve got work soon.” You sigh against his lips.

His sigh matches yours. “Don’t go.” 

You laugh, softly. “I have to.” He wraps his arms around your lower back, pulling you up against him. “I’m sure I could persuade you to stay.” 

“Try.” You whisper. 

He pushes you onto your back and hovers above you, smiling so softly down at you. “All I’ve wanted since meeting you is to wake up next to you. It’s a new feeling for me… But getting to wake up next to you, and seeing how absolutely endearing you are with ‘bedhead’ and your sleepy voice, makes me want nothing more than to do this every morning.”

You look up at him, wide eyed at his confession. Tech’s not been one for being forthright with his emotions, so this is new. And it melts your heart. You’d love to hear him tell you these sweet nothings every day. 

As if he can read your thoughts, he kisses you again. “I know I don’t speak about how I feel a lot… but I feel safe here… with you.” 

Your chest tightens and you pull him toward you, crushing your lips to his. He groans softly, his hand sliding down to grip your hip, anchoring you to him and the bed.

“Let me convince you to stay.” He murmurs, kissing your neck.

“I don’t need any more convincing.” You smile with a hum. “I’ll call in and we can stay in bed all day.” 

“Sounds lovely.” He nuzzles his nose against your jaw as he presses his growing length up against your already eager warmth, making you gasp softly.

“Maybe you could use… other incentives to make me stay.” You tease him and he chuckles, darkly, catching on immediately.

“Say no more, darling.” He nods as he shows you just how much he loves waking up next to you. 

You really could get used to this… perhaps one day, he’d leave the war and battles behind to be safe here in this bed with you… where nothing bad could happen to him, and you wouldn’t have to worry so much every time he leaves. 

Perhaps, he’ll choose these soft mornings with you, too.

TAGS:

EVERYTHING @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz  @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley

[ariundercovers]

Roundabout (When Paths Cross, Pt III - Javier Peña x Reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Afab!Reader (No use of y/n!)

Length: ~2.8k words

Series Summary: Chucho's been like a father figure to you since he helped you out of a sticky situation on your second day in Laredo. What happens when you finally meet his son, the former-DEA agent, who just happens to ignite you in a way that you haven't felt before?

Chapter Summary: The next Sunday. Fluff, flan, and the great beyond.

Chapter Warnings: its all fluff anf plot, no porn this time, Javi being a needy demon, spanish nicknames, idk what else its honestly pretty chill

If you're so inclined, please drop a like and a reply/reblog! I live for your feeback, and it keeps me going and keeps me writing. Did you like it? love it? hate it? I want to hear all of your thoughts!

PREVIOUS PART (II) HERE

Javi does, in fact, meet you for lunch that week. Twice. And then dinner on Friday. He’s a perfect gentleman, picking you up from your apartment and driving you to the restaurant. He holds every door for you, makes sure you’re seated first, tells you he’s paying and that he wants you to order anything on the menu you’d like. 

Normally, you’d take that kind of chivalry as a bit of an offense - some kind of lingering patriarchal worldview that you’d have absolutely no interest in - and yet, with Javi, you’re not opposed. In fact, you find that you genuinely enjoy it. Something about that shocks you even more than the way you jumped into his bed that first evening did, and even more than the warmth that blooms in your chest when he presses your knuckles to his lips. There’s just something about him, you think. Something you can’t quite put your finger on, but you already feel like you can’t live without.

Okay. It’s been a week. Get it together.

It feels like you’re in high school all over again, falling head over heels for anyone who showed an interest in you, no matter how bad they ended up being for you, or how much they annoyed you at first. 

Yeah. You’re falling. Hard. 

Fuck.

You’re getting ready to head over to Chucho’s for another Sunday meal when your phone rings. Picking it up, a beautiful baritone voice speaks into your ear that makes your knees a bit weak and a warmth bloom in your chest.

“Hola, Muñeca.” You sigh, like a lovestruck teenager, and move to sit down at the little armchair you keep in the corner of your room.

“Javier.” You can practically hear his smirk from the other side of the phone line, your own face graced with one to match.

“You’re coming tonight, right?”

“Like I always do, every Sunday. Unless… you don’t want me to?” You’re suddenly struck with a pang of worry in your gut, fear that perhaps things were moving too fast, that you’ve assumed some kind of exclusivity that the two of you have never discussed. You hadn’t stopped to think about what this might do to alter your standing weekly dinners at the Peña ranch. Javi chuckles in your ear and you settle immediately, reassured in an instant.

“No, darlin’, of course I want you to be there. I just thought I’d ask if you want to stay again? Maybe with a bit more planning this time? Doesn’t have to be with me, if you don’t want. We’ve still got the guest bedroom made up.” You smile and sigh, once again affronted by this gentlemanly way he has about him. Somehow, it’s not what you were expecting from a man like him. You were expecting something gruffer, with unfinished edges. Something more… machismo, really. He throws you for a loop at every corner.

“Yeah, of course. I’d love to. Any excuse not to come back to my empty apartment is a more than welcome one.” You can hear a little chuckle come through the receiver and then a heavy breath.

“Good. Can I come pick you up?”

You scoff and respond quickly. “I can drive myself, Javi. You don’t need to go out of your way for me like that.”

“It’s not out of my way if it means I get to spend more time with you, muñeca.” Sighing, you stand, pinching the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you start to pull out whatever clothes and items you’ll need for an overnight stay.

“Really, Javi. I’m alright. But I appreciate the offer. I’ll see you soon, okay? I’ll be out of the house in like… half an hour, I think.” 

He sighs lightly in the background but his words are laced with a touch of disappointment when he answers. “Hope you’re bringing some more of those pastelillos. Pops and I ate them all in less than 24 hours.”

“Ha! Of course you did. No pastelillos but something just as yummy, in my opinion.”

“Good. See you soon, then.” You pause your motions and smile softly to yourself, holding the phone once again.

“Yeah, See you soon. Bye, Javi.”

“Adios, muñeca.”

The receiver clicks off and you put down your phone, sighing dreamily as if you just stepped into a romance novel. He so successfully melted you by doing so little… it should really be more concerning to you, you think. 

Hastily, you pack up your bag and head to the kitchen where your homemade flan is cooling in the fridge. Pulling it out, you flip it onto the dish and scoop out the remaining caramel, grabbing up a can of dulce de leche and stuffing it in your bag before wrapping up the flan carefully and tightly. You flit around the house for a few minutes, tidying things up and making sure everything was in its place, lights were off, and cleaning up the few dishes lingering in the kitchen sink properly.

Taking a moment to visually scan the apartment, you open the door, hands very full, and shut it behind you before deadbolting it shut.

~ ~ ~ 

With the way your mind has you lost on some daydreaming tangent that is no doubt Javier-infused, it's no surprise that it feels like you blink and suddenly you’re standing in front of Chucho’s front door. You still blink back at it for a while before raising your hand to knock and being greeted by the old man, himself.

“Mija, I’m so glad you made it. Oh, here - let me take something, yes?” He takes the flan out of your hands and heads into the kitchen with it as you let yourself into the house, closing the door behind you. “Javi’s just finishing up a few chores around the ranch. He’ll be back in soon, I’m sure.”

You smile at Chucho and take a seat at the dining table as he brings you over a glass of water, taking the chair next to you. “Okay. No problem. You know he’s not the only thing I came here to see, right?” Chucho shrugs, a smirk on his face as he leans over and squeezes one of your hands with his own.

“Well… given the way he’s been moving around the house over the course of the week, I think I might’ve been knocked out of first place already.” You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks again, looking down into your glass in slight embarrassment before he quickly continues. “I don’t mean to make you feel embarrassed about it, mija. I’m glad, actually. He’s been so much less mopey. Much more pleasant to be around.”

“You noticed that in a week?” You’re shocked, to say the least, thrown a bit by Chucho’s admission. You knew how much you felt for Javi already, but you were surprised to hear he might be feeling similarly, to put it lightly.

“I did. Doesn’t take very long when it’s the right person.” The warmth in your cheeks spreads and you look back down before he squeezes your hand once again. “Mija… look at me, please.”  You do as he asks, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I want you to be careful. He went through a lot down there. I won’t pretend to know the extent of it, but… I don’t want to see you hurt, either. Just… just be careful. Okay?” 

Your brows scrunch together slightly and you nod, somber, but agreeing. “I will. I promise, Chucho.”

Naturally, it’s then that you hear the front door open and you turn in your chair to see one sweaty Javier Peña in his tight jeans and a pair of muddy cowboy boots, yanking them off and throwing them on the porch before he steps inside. He smiles at you immediately.

“Muñeca. Pops. ‘M gonna go shower. Be back out in no time.”  He squeezes your shoulder on his way to his room and your eyes follow him down the hallway as Chucho speaks up to you again.

“You’re good for him, mija. I just hope he’s good for you, too.”

~ ~ ~ 

Dinner goes by relatively uneventfully. You spend some time recounting your weeks - Chucho talks about the ranch and the problematic bull he’s been fighting for some time now, Javi talks about some of the things he’s been tinkering with on the property, especially the fences he’s been fixing up. You give them the low-down on what work’s been like over the last week and you can tell that they both listen very intently, even if they’re not up to date on museum lingo. You do your best to explain as needed.

When you’ve all finished, Javi gathers up the plates and you follow him into the kitchen, reaching into the fridge for your very precious flan. As you’re reaching forward, fingertips just grazing the plate, suddenly there are a pair of arms wrapped around your midsection and a set of lips attached to your neck. Your body shivers involuntarily and you squeak, surprised. 

“Javi!” You almost shout, just barely holding it back into a whisper in time. “You could’ve made me drop the whole thing!” He chuckles in your ear and presses a kiss behind it. His voice is sultry, hushed whispers in your ear as he speaks.

“But I didn’t. Been waiting to get my hands on you all night, muñeca. Making me wait a whole week has been like a living nightmare.” You chuckle at his words and press back into his embrace as his lips drop to the junction of your shoulder and neck. 

“Well you’ve gotta wait a little more, Javier. I am not risking Chucho turning over his shoulder and seeing anything.” You push him off of you and turn around to a dejected look on his face, like a kicked puppy dog. You roll your eyes at him and reach up to press a kiss on his cheek. “You’ll survive, I promise. Couple hours, tops.” He sighs back at you but acquiesces, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say, muñeca.”

You walk the flan back out to the dining area, setting it on the table as Javi follows behind with a set of plates, forks, and serving implements. You dole out a portion to each of you and sit down with a hesitant smile, waiting to see what they think of it. Chucho’s face lights up with the first bite, a smile on his lips that warms your heart.

“This tastes much like my wife’s did, mija. It’s wonderful.” 

You stop, tilting your head slightly at him as you study his expression closely. He’s never really talked about his wife before, at least not with any substance. You don’t know much about her, but you can certainly tell how much he loved her by the glimmer in his eyes at his admission.

“I’m glad you like it, Chucho. It’s always been one of my favorites.” Javi studies Chucho’s face similarly critically, and you think for a moment that you can see a twinkle in his eye that matches Chucho’s. If it didn’t feel overly intrusive, you’d consider asking them about her. You’d truly love to know, but it feels wrong. Like you’re sitting in on a moment that was never meant for you. You hold yourself, promising that you’ll bring it up sometime on a later date. Now isn’t the time.

Chucho eventually goes for seconds, as does Javi, and then you spend a few moments cleaning up from dessert. You’re standing at the kitchen sink, washing dishes with care, when Chucho comes up to you and rests a hand on your shoulder. 

“Mija, you know you don’t have to do those.”

“You tell me every time, Chucho. I always do them. It’s my pleasure.” He smiles at you and gives your shoulder a light squeeze.

“Alright. Well, I’m off to bed. This old man is tired, and I think the two of you could use some time without me lingering.” You stop, turning to him.

“You don’t have to do that. We’re fine. I’ve seen Javi, oh… four other times this week?” You laugh, but he just smiles back at you and nods.

“I know. Still. I’m off to bed.”  He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead before he’s walking in the opposite direction toward the master bedroom. You shake your head in slight disbelief and turn back to the dishes.

A few minutes later, Javi is pulling up beside you with a rag, taking each dish from your hands and drying it before putting it away. Between the two of you, you get through it all rather quickly and in no time at all you’re drying your hands and turning around to Javi’s arms caging you in against the countertop edge. Your eyes go wide and you take in a sharp breath, suppressing what could have easily been a squeak, but you manage to keep it down.

“Hi,” You say, like a doofus.

“Hi.” Javi responds.

His smile grows impossibly wider then, as he shifts further into your space, wrapping your lips up with his own. You hum into the kiss automatically, hands lifting to find his hips and then the center of his lower back.

“Has it really only been a week?” He asks in between kisses. You sigh, closing your eyes softly as he works his mouth down the side of your neck. It feels like heaven on your skin.

“Yeah. Just a week. Feels like it's been ages longer than that, though.”

Javi pauses and chuckles for a moment. “Oh, good. It’s not just me, then?” You laugh lightly at him in response and lift your hands to either side of his face, pulling his face up to look him in the eyes.

“Definitely not.” He swoops in then to kiss you once again, a warmth blooming in your abdomen that feels like it's been settled there all week long. You do not understand how you’re falling so hard, so quickly, for this man. It’s unnerving.

Suddenly your world feels upside down for a moment as he leans down, picks you up to set you on the counter, and presses his body further into yours as his hips come forward to meet the edge of the countertop. His lips never leave yours, keeping you firmly connected to him as he moves you. You wrap your thighs around his hips, pressing your chest tightly into his, and you melt into the kiss. 

It’s impossible not to.

When he pulls away, he has a starry look in his eyes that melts your heart into an even bigger puddle than it already is. One finger pushes a piece of your hair to the side, away from your face, and he offers you that big, dumb, lopsided grin of his.

“Before we get too carried away, there’s something I want to show you.”

You smile curiously at him and answer, “Oh, yeah?” 

He nods and sets you down off of the counter for just a moment before he’s grabbing your hand and leading you toward the backdoor. Pulling you onto the porch before he shuts the door behind you both, he takes a seat on a small bench near the grill and pulls you into his lap, angling you so you can look up towards the sky.

“You probably don’t get this kind of view in the northeast, I don’t think. It’s one of the best things about Laredo.” You don’t really know what he’s talking about at first until you really take a moment to take in your surroundings. In front of you is the most brilliant sky - the night is clear, with no clouds to obstruct your vision, and you can make out every tiny pinpoint of light in the distance as you look out over the river into the endless sea of stars above you.

“Javi… this is- oh wow.” You’re in awe of it - you’ve never seen so many stars, taking up so much of the sky above you. You’ve never had the pleasure of looking out into the great expanse of the universe like this. It makes you feel infinitesimally small, almost meaningless, but then Javi’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist ground you back to him, back to this moment. Back to everything you’re feeling for him all at once.

The two of you sit there just like that for a very long while, wrapped up in the embrace and in the vision above you. You actually see a shooting star cross nearly from one side of your peripheral vision to the other, lacinand you lace your fingers into his, squeezing tightly as his other hand rubs soft circles into your thigh.

“What do you think, muñeca? Think you can see yourself staying in Laredo for a while?” You smile at his question and lean back into him a bit further.

“Yeah, I think I can.”

~ ~ ~

a/n - next part should be out sooner than this one! Already working on it! love yall so much.

NEXT PART (IV) HERE

[hisui-dreamer]

could you possibly do some headcanons of some twst boys of your choice with a skinny reader?? if not its fine lol

his unconditional acceptance

Characters: Deuce, Azul, Epel, Silver

Synopsis: How does your lover treat you if you're insecure about being skinny?

Tags: reader is skinny, fluff, comfort, bot proofread

Word count: 936

Notes: Thanks for asking! I took this as a 'insecure about being skinny' sort of reader bc some of my friends are like that and I have more references hehe. Also gentle reminder that all body types are equally lovable and there's no need to change anything as long as you're comfortable! Variety in people exist and that's what makes people special &lt;3

Part 2 ✧ Masterlist

Deuce finds it a bit confusing that you would be insecure

he thinks you’re absolutely perfect and he’s still surprised you like him!

but without a doubt, he’s very supportive of you

he values hard work and self-improvement, so he understands the struggles of insecurity and would want to help you overcome them in any way he can

he can be a bit blunt at times but it’s always laced with genuine care and concern for your well-being

provides reassurance and encouragement, and incredibly patient in helping you build self-confidence

constantly reminds you that you are valued and loved just the way you are

his lack of tact and slip-ups may sometimes unintentionally hurt your feelings

but he’s super quick to apologize and make amends, please don’t be upset!

invites to go jogging with him so you can exercise some, and automatically matches his pace with yours

 gets you water and towels the instant you need it

he tries super hard to support you in whatever way he can

is also super willing to beat anyone up who dares comment on something they shouldn’t have

Deuce’s cheeks are flushed as he tries to meet your gaze. "Remember that you are so much stronger than you think. You have overcome challenges before, and you have the resilience to overcome these insecurities too. I'll be here to cheer you on every step of the way." He smiles genuinely, fiddling with his hair.

Azul loves you for who you are beyond your physical appearance

as someone who has struggled with his own self-esteem and acceptance of his body, he’s more sensitive about body image and is surprisingly empathetic (for a scammy businessman) towards others who also face body-related challenges

he feels a bit self-conscious about his own appearance in comparison to you at first

but he strives to be supportive, understanding, and accepting of your body size

he knows firsthand how hurtful it can be to be judged or bullied for you appearance

he puts his silver tongue to use and showers you with compliments and gifts so often you won’t have time to doubt yourself

hugs you and whispers words of affection in your ears

he won’t stop until you accept them

this man is willing to go to great lengths to please you and make you happy

loves getting you snacks whenever you feel hungry

and indulges you on any food cravings

also sometimes sends the leech twins to check up on you to see if you’ve eaten

"Oh Angelfish," Azul says as he pulls you into a comforting hug."You are deserving of love and acceptance, regardless of your size or appearance. You are so much more than your physical body, and I admire you for who you are on the inside."

Epel empathises with you a lot

he is more understanding and supportive towards your insecurities

he knows firsthand how it feels to be dissatisfied with your own body

makes you so many apple treats so you can munch on them whenever you’re hungry

he tries to boost your confidence by offering words of encouragement and reassurance

he doesn’t like showing you his weak side, but sometimes he shares his own struggles and how he has learned to cope with them

he will rant to you a lot about vil

it’s a team effort of growing to be comfortable in your own skin

you learn together to focus on their strengths and accomplishments

the two of you set realistic goals for self-improvement on daily habits together

it’s a cute relationship where you both learn and grow

listens patiently and offers gentle words of affirmation

loves giving hugs, holding hands, or just gentle physical reassurance

he’s so happy that you can find comfort in him

also tries to eat most of his meals with you so he can make sure you’re eating properly

Epel clutches both of your hands, his eyes firmly on yours. "I know it's hard when ya wanna change things 'bout yourself, but remember, you're my sweetheart, and I love ya just the way ya are. I wouldn't change a thing about ya. You're special and unique, and that's what makes ya truly beautiful in my eyes!" he exclaims.

Silver's super supportive of anything you do

make efforts to reassure you and boost your self-esteem, showing kindness and empathy towards your concerns

always listens to you talk about your worries attentively no matter how trivial it is

offers words of encouragement and tries taking actions to help you

this man tries super hard to fight off his sleep for you

when he does eventually fall asleep, his first thoughts are you and how you’re faring

takes on a role of being a protector and supporter for you, always trying to make you feel safe and secure in their relationship

he is patient and understanding towards your insecurities given his serious and reserved demeanour

patient and understanding, never rushing or pressuring you to change or be someone you’re not

accepts your insecurities and helps working towards building your confidence at your own pace

he’s your knight after all, he would definitely go above and beyond to ensure your well-being, both physically and emotionally

becomes more assertive in addressing any negative influences or situations that could affect your self-esteem

Silver knelt to the ground, placing his lips on your hand. "I am here to support you, my love, through thick and thin. Your size or shape does not matter to me, for it is your heart and soul that have captured mine," he promises as he looks up at you, his eyes full of love.

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

Part 2 ✧ Masterlist

[v3nusxsky]

i LOVE your fics. absolutely beautiful work 💋 can you do more sub rissa plsss maybe some jealous reader who is also a shapeshifter and shifts their yk 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

Happy to see you 18+

 *Authors note~ sub Larissa truly has my heart but it's so strange to write reader as a dominant due to me being naturally submissive*

Trigger warnings~ jealous dom r sub l daddy kink? Breeding kink

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

You're girlfriend was always dominant in her work life, it just comes with the territory of being a headmistress. Nevermore was her family, her home and her life's work. She'd do anything to protect it. Dating was hard for her, she wanted someone who would love and cherish the school in similar ways to her. Luckily when she appointed you as the new teacher for bounty, she found just that. The attraction for both of you had been instant. For you she was a stunningly tall goddess and you felt you paled in comparison, your sweet small almost nerdy disposition leaving you feeling slightly inadequate. But to her? You were absolutely perfect and she couldn't get you off her mind. For months you'd dance around each other not quite brave enough to ask the other on a date. But when you managed to pluck up that courage, you found it was the best thing you'd ever done. It gave you the most beautiful woman to call your own.

Maybe that's why you were so jealous, you saw here to easily be the most stunning human in any room, it was only natural others would be drawn to her too. But that didn't make it any easier. You knew she was yours and how loved you were by her. You felt completely secure in your relationship but the need to mark her as yours, claim her in some of the most carnal ways was often too much for you. An overwhelming need that you tried to push away not wanting to scare the women, hickeys in your line of work was a no go, well at least in visible places. But recently you'd worked out a different way.

As soon as you could you'd managed to drag her away for the night and take her to your shared quarters. As soon as the door was shut, your lips and hands were all over the headmistress who had absolutely no complaints in the actions whatsoever, even going as far to make everything easier to reach. Clearly for you this was a need and something she was more than happy to provide. She knew of your jealousy issues and how you often just needed to be made to feel secure and reminded of how loved you were.

It wasn't long before you'd completely stripped the headmistress of her clothing and walked her backwards till her knees hit the bed and she toppled onto her back. Your lips never left hers, her little moans and whines pleasing you as you focused on shifting a specific area of your body. "Rissa? Daddy has something for you, you gonna be good and take it for me?" You mumbled into her neck as you kisses up and down it nipping every now and then. Only then she realised what you had done, a loud needy whine left her, "daddy did you? Oh fuck" she whined as you stripped down to match her, your now impressive length standing to attention. The way Larissa's needy hungry eyes lingered over your new appendage added to your need to take her and take her now.

"Ris, you gonna be a good whore and take daddy's dick? Be my good girl" she mumbled against your breasts now, showering both with equal attention. "Be good so good please" she whimpered begging you instantly for what she wanted. Who were you to make her wait when she was such a good girl. You lined yourself up with her dripping core and slowly pushed your way in, her moaning at the intrusion as you stilled whispering words of praise as you placed one hand on the bed to steady yourself and the other up playing with her chest. "Please daddy please more" she whined and all you could do was give in to her pleads. "That's it sweet girl. Your taking me so well, feels so good Ris" you moaned back. This was addicting and you were sure it would happen again in the near future.

You could tell how needy she was when she came for you rather quickly, you helped her through it before slipping from her cunt and flipping you both over. You wanted her to ride you and she seemed to be on the same wavelength as you, happily moaning and moving to sink down on your dick. "Good girl, move sweet girl make daddy cum" you mumbled bring your mouth to her breast once more as she began to roll her hips.

You were close and you knew that, you couldn't help but feel that same carnal need to mark her. "Ris baby, can daddy breed you? Mark you make you mine?" You panted flushed with the efforts of helping her fuck herself against you.  Your cock stroking her walls as they fluttered around you. "Oh fuck daddy please daddy I'm yours" she whined and that was all the permission you needed. You fell first and Larissa straight after, you kept thrusting into her soaked hole until you were sure that she was finished. Slipping out of her and morphing back into your original state you quickly kept up to get a warm wet washcloth. Part of the routine, Larissa knew she had that time straight after to just be and you'd take care of her. A weird concept at the start, her usually dominant personality finding it hard to accept but now she couldn't get enough. After you finished cleaning her up, you crawled back up the bed to hold the woman you love, "you're mine Rissa no one else can have you" you murmured showering her in kisses. "Only yours y/n I love you so" she whispered before allowing sleep to claim her.

Word count~ 1023

[neverchecking]

You could consider this a request but the idea was too good to pass and I'm sure you'll be feral and foaming at the mouth if it wasn't in ur req box the moment it actually opens. So I'm writing this here for you to keep in your inbox before I forget and you'll mull it over and keep it preserved until it's time for requests to flood in again—

Remember Sadistic Reader? I bring u this: Dom! Sadistic! Reader x Sub! (Any of the chain) 🧍‍♀️

A reader who, after their little vixen side is revealed, it comes into play in the bedroom. ESPECIALLY in punishments. Maybe darling goddess wasn't pleased at the method they used to rid off a vermin, or rather maybe they were upset how nearly reckless their way of handling the pest was that they nearly got themselves caught. Sure, they didn't get hurt or get caught in the end, but their safety was on a tightrope and Reader couldn't help but be concerned and if the poor Link brushes it off as it's fine? Boi are they having it in the bedroom.

But the twisted part is that they probs did it purposely too, because they were much too starved for reader's attention. Too bad Reader knows this as well, oh they know. But did they really have to go through such unnecessary lengths? It's a bit unfortunate, but none of them really thinks it's as unfortunate anyway; Reader knows they enjoy being edged for a long time like the freaks they are until when the time that they deemed fit to let them come undone comes, and Reader will sit back and enjoy them wither under her touch until the sun rises.

She could only wonder how Hylia, much less Zelda even— would think of seeing their chosen champions a withering mess before them without her even lifting a finger to touch them. But whether or not the musing was said aloud only falls on deaf ears, leaving Reader to relish the show of seeing her feral handsome guard dog be reduced to a pathetic puppy.

(u can make it freakier and make this the entire chain being punished and Reader is just watching them—)

Alright I'm out bye—

Bestie. My cinnamon apple. The absolute gem of my life.

This. Every part of this. I didn't necessarily do request more imagine-

So, imagine Reader just giving them the look the second they step back into the inn they've chosen to stay at. A look that just spells danger in bright flashing letters along with a sharp frown that shoots of a matching flare.

Imagine the Link immediately knowing that he's in deep shit the moment he sees that look. His ears are going back and his shoulders are hunched. His steps immediately become slower and he debates dropping to his knees then and there, begging for forgiveness right then and there.

Imagine Reader silently watching him, assessing him, waiting to see his reaction. When he doesn't give her one, she's scoffing softly before turning on her heels, beckoning him to follow with one finger calling him forward.

Imagine Link stumbling over his feet, staying just one step behind his Goddess, watching her ever neutral expression. It doesn't shift though. Doesn't give away anything. It's frustratingly even and doesn't give him anything to go off of. Should he plead with her? Beg her? Kiss the very ground she walks on for just an ounce of mercy?

imagine the Link tries to brush it off, heaven forbid, or even go as far as insisting that it was no big deal. He's waving a hand flippantly all while feeling a bead of sweat tickle his spine. This feeling of not knowing eats him alive. He hates it. But he wouldn't dare question, much less talk back to his Goddess. That would be a field day for the rest of the chain.

imagine the Reader's gaze turns razor sharp and her steps suddenly stop. He's stumbling over himself in an effort to keep the distance between them. She's stepping closer and closer before her fingers, intricately delicate but just as iron clad, are pinching his cheeks and pulling him closer to her own face. There's a look in her eyes that tells him everything he needs to know. She knows.

Imagine the Link immediately bowing before her, his face scrunched in terror as he tries to think of a way to fix the situation. He knew he was being sloppy. He knew that it would come back to his Goddess because he ensured it would. He just didn't expect for it to feel this way. Of course, he never wanted to worry her, never- that would be sacrilegious- but he had just felt so...withdrawn from her presence. Like an addict who had gone too long without a hit. And It was brutal.

Imagine Reader is doing nothing but watching him for a tense second. Determining what punishment is worthy enough of this crime. She cannot be too cruel. That would make her no better than that wretched Hylia. Or, heaven and hell forbid, Zelda. No, this had to be as fair as it would be memorable. Something that could be seen as enjoyable at first before the overstimulation buzzed their veins and poisoned their minds.

Imagine Reader tying their hands to the bedposts, along with the Link's ankles before teasing them unlike ever before. Dragging feathers up and down their dripping shaft. Circling the head of their cock with a small shard of ice and watching it melt in delicious little drips. Maybe even letting candles burn and fall around the plain of their stomach, watching it harden before doing it again.

Imagine Reader doing this over and over and over again, until the Link is little more than a whimpering mess, pleading with her for forgiveness. Crying that he would never do it again, never dream of worrying her like he had done. Singing his hail Mary's and howling her hymns. Being nothing but a broken soul for her to weave and knit into whatever she wishes. Whatever suits her cause.

Imagine Reader tauntingly cooing over how shattered he is beneath her. How she had him so tightly wound around her finger, ready to snap the second she let him. How she knows he knows that he is nothing like the hero Hylia had crowned. That Zelda had deemed worthy. He is nothing to them, but everything to her. And she'll cherish their souls and hearts. He knows she will.

Imagine Reader making damn sure the lesson is truly sticking before letting up even just the slightest.

Imagine the rest of the chain (Minus Wind of course) being able to do nothing but watch. To simultaneously both learn the same lesson and acknowledge a new one.

One being that Their Goddess is just as benevolent as she can be strict. Never malicious, and never vindictive, but insistent on them learning and living with the knowledge that she views them as worthy. Not as Heroes, but as people. Her followers.

And she would never let anything happen to her followers.

Someone recommended calling this the Sweet but Psycho AU and I'm kinda digging it.

[gracie7209]

Amaryllis Chapter 6

Pairing: Frankie x f!Reader

WC: 9.2K

Rating: E

Warnings: Here we GO! We’ve made it to approximately the halfway point and the overall E rating for this story so minors DNI! I know some of this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea so heed the warnings… the beginning isn’t smutty and is definitely important so if you’d rather skip the smut just read for a bit and you’ll know when things shift— Also, Reader is hispanic (no physical description aside from accent and growing pregnant belly) and we dive a little deeper into her history— Fluff, smut, fingering, oral (m & f) receiving, pregnancy, pregnant sex, unprotected PIV (be safe y’all), normal bodily functions when pregnant i.e. lactation, reader’s horror at the realization, but Frankie doesn’t mind, lactation kink? Kind of? If you squint? Praise, dirty talk? They honestly don’t realize what they’re saying lol ummm I think that’s all, but please let me know if I missed something!

Summary: You see Frankie for the first time in two months. Emotions run high as he lays out his plan to deal with Tom.

A/N: I’m so nervous and excited to get this out…. We definitely still have a lot of story left to cover, but here is 9.2k worth of some much needed reprieve for these two. I’m sure there are mistakes aplenty, and I own them all. Everything started running together so before I just deleted the whole thing, I decided to say fuck it and post what I had. There’s also a good chance that I overused … and — but 🤷🏼‍♀️

Anywho, let me know what you think and as always thank you so much for reading!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When you walk in, you know exactly what is waiting for you. But seeing him, actually seeing him hits you harder than you anticipated.

He’s sitting in a chair set off to the side of the room. There’s a coffee table between his and another chair to match, but pushed back so it’s not in the way. There’s also a computer desk set up in the corner, to accommodate working guests. The kitchenette is small, but there’s a fridge, microwave, sink and even a full stove. The King size bed set to the back of the room is neatly made. Untouched, so you know Frankie hasn’t been here long. You know he lives in the City, so he must’ve booked the room for the sole purpose of your meeting. You look over and his eyes are trained on your form, looking at you from underneath his hat.

Frankie knew from your letter that you had agreed to meet with him, but he couldn’t help the intake of breath at seeing you. You’ve always been beautiful, so he’s not sure if it’s just the length of time since he’s seen you last or what it is completely, and even as cheesy as it sounds to himself, he feels his breathing basically stop. If only for a moment, but there’s been very few things in his life that have left him that way.

—Two months is a long time for anyone, but generally people don’t change very much physically in that amount of time. In this instance though, you are much further along than when he last saw you and he can’t help but think how absolutely perfect you are.

You make your way to the chair opposite him and sit down. He’s shifted now so that he is leaning toward you, but neither of you say a word.

He slowly reaches for your left hand. Asking permission without breaking the silent spell that’s cast itself upon you both. You graciously accept and he takes your small hand between both of his. His thumb lightly tracing over your knuckles. He’s looking at your hands now. The giant eye sore on your ring finger, his focus. He twists it around your finger absentmindedly. You both know how little meaning it truly has. At least any meaning that was worth something. A burden. A chain - tethering you to someone you’ve never held even the slightest bit of affection for, or received for that matter.

He spins it around until the face is no longer visible. Neither of you have spoken, but the silence is deafening; containing every single thing you both wish you could say.

You notice a small piece of hair falling over his eyes - still downcast on your hand in his. Without thinking, you swipe the hair to the side.

He stills at the contact—

Slowly he lets go of you entirely. You’ve touched him like this before, so surely he’s not upset?

He sits back and puts his right hand against his face; his palm almost covering his mouth and chin and his fingers rest near his jaw. His other hand is resting under his elbow… He rocks back, then forward slightly and his eyes find yours.

What is there to say? He knows the situation you’re in. He asked you to come here because he thinks he has a plan, but you know that nothing can be done in this situation. This situation that you thought of as a selfless act to protect you mother. How very childish of you..

But you had been. A child that is..

18 years old - a “legal adult.” Definitely not ready to be thrown into this world, evidenced by your idiotic decision to agree to this “deal” that has done nothing but hurt you. Not that you really had much choice in the matter at all. And Frankie… Oh Lord, Frankie knows most of the details, but you didn’t tell him everything. You worry that the look he’s giving you now will be replaced by that of pity or worse, disgust. That he won’t look at you like you’re everything— like he is now.

You are broken out of your thoughts by Frankie as he abruptly stands in front of you. You look up at him… A silent question on your face - ‘What do we do?’ ‘How do we fix this?’

He is looking down at you now… his breathing picking up slightly.

In this entire span of time, not one word has been uttered between you. He’s still looking down at you and you’re caught in his gaze. You don’t look away from him. Everything you want is right in front of you, but has never seemed further away. Being ignorant to a situation or just simply being unsure can make you sad and unhappy; this is true. But it’s nothing like knowing exactly what you want and also knowing that you can’t have it. There’s always hope that eventually you can change your mind or make a decision when you have a choice…. But this? It’s like being in a room surrounded by unbreakable glass with no doors. You see everything—everything you could possibly want, with absolutely no way to obtain it.

He shuffles around, turning away, then back again before finally resuming his place in the chair opposite you. His elbows are on his knees with his hands hanging loose between them.

After a moment, you take a deep breath and you stand up. He raises his eyes to you as you slowly make your way to stand directly in front of him.

You’ve got his full attention now. There’s maybe a few inches of space between his face and your much larger belly, that has grown significantly since you last saw him, and his focus is drawn to it. You take this opportunity to slowly brush your fingers along the side of his head… His eyes close as you push his hat back enough to card through his hair. You think to yourself how soft his hair is and how good it feels between your fingers. Both of his arms reach up and lightly brush your sides where they hover there. He won’t attempt to touch you in any way without your say so. He looks up at you now and your barely perceptible nod is all he needs before his hands lightly grasp your waist and he pulls you closer. He buries his face against your middle - Your belly getting in the way, but he pulls back slightly, and lays his right hand flush against it.

You feel like you are frozen… Not with fear, but with a feeling you can’t even begin to describe. All you know is that it is so good and so intense, that you never want it to end.

It’s at this moment, he leans forward and closes his eyes, whispering a kiss just above your belly button. The moment his lips touch the soft fabric of your shirt, you start to cry. Your tears are flowing unbidden down your cheeks, lightly splashing onto Frankie’s hair. He looks up and once he sees your tears, he stands and grabs both of your hands. He begins shushing you quietly. Whispering softly, “Shhh, shhh… It’s ok…. It’s ok….” as he pulls you in and wraps his arm around your head - bringing you to his chest while his other arm pulls you into his embrace. You reach up and place your hand on his chest, your face buried in his neck. Your other hand is against his back and you both just stay like that. You breathe each other in and let yourselves feel the warmth of the other. The sound of his heartbeat is a soothing rhythm to your racing mind. You reach your hand up to his neck and he is so warm. You hadn’t realized that after years without a loving touch, you are completely starved. Your hand continues moving up until you’re covering his cheek with your palm and you finally decide to look up. His eyes have been on you the entire time. Just waiting to see what you would do. He would hold you like this as long as you needed him to and he would cherish every second of feeling you against him.

He reaches up to cup your cheek. His thumb barely brushing your bottom lip and your lips part at the feeling. His thumb stops and just rests there as his fingers grasp your chin, tilting your head just a little higher. His eyes are still searching yours— Asking you, pleading with you to do something. Your hand moves to the back of his head, playing with the hair that lightly curls there.

He tilts his head down and closes his eyes as his forehead touches yours. You close your eyes and your breath hitches as the sheer intimacy of the situation hits you… It’s not just a sexual tension, although it’s there, sparking like a live wire ready to catch flame - But, no… This, right now, is more soul encompassing. Safe and Warm.

—

After what seems like no time at all, the anxious part of your mind remembers what brought you here… other than just being able to see him again. —“Frankie?” Your soft voice a question, barely perceptible over the sound of his heart.

“Hmm?” He breathes the sound into your hair.. not ready to separate just yet.

“What’s your plan?”

—Frankie’s eyes open at that, but he still doesn’t want to move. You hear him sigh, and he very reluctantly pulls away, not far, but enough so he can look down at you. His arms are still wrapped around you lightly. You’re angled to the left slightly to make room for your belly…

“I don’t know how much time we have.”

—“Don't worry about that querida. Pope has Tom all the way in the City and he’s going to keep me updated on how everything goes. That’s why I wanted to be here in town in case things went south, so you would be close to home and could get there quickly if needed.”

‘Home.’ You flinch at the word. You don’t even know what a home feels like anymore.

“Ok.”

After a moment, Frankie steps back and motions back over to the chairs he was sitting in when you got there — For this part he wants you to be sitting. He knows that you’re not going to be happy about it, but after talking to the guys, well Santi and Benny anyway. Besides Will, the only people who know Tom better than even he does, it seemed like the most plausible option that could get through to him. If anything or anyone could, it would be in an environment that Tom knew. In a situation and setting that he was normally in control of.

“So, Pope has this job that he’s been begging all of us to help him with for the last few months.”

“Who’s us?”

“Our old team. Aside from Pope, there’s me, Will and Benny, and our fearless leader, Tom ‘Redfly’ Davis. It’s not on the books as a normal job, but kind of a free will mission.”

The confusion is evident in your face, but you don’t question it. He’s got a plan, so you just have to let him get it out.

—“This is, uh, well… I don’t think you’re going to like it, but I’ve thought about it. Enough to think that there’s a chance anyway. I’ve talked to the guys about it also, sparing details of course. But I talked to the people who know Tom the best. Santi and Will have known him longer than even I have and Santi agrees that this is the best way to try and get Tom to ‘see the light’, if you will.”

-You’re still confused. You don’t want to interrupt him, so you keep looking at him. Hoping it will start to make sense to you.

—“This job…. It would uh, require all of us working together as a team. Maybe as a team, we can also convince him that what’s been happening is wrong.”

You’re not sure what you expected, but talking to Tom? That was his plan??

“No. No, no, no, no, no…. Frankie, just talking to him isn’t going to solve anything. Tom may be your Leader out there,” you point toward the window. “But here?” There are tears running down your cheeks now. You told Frankie about your situation, but you didn’t tell him how deep it goes. He doesn’t understand that talking is pointless. Your emotions get the best of you and the floodgates open.

“Here, Frankie…. Here, Tom owns me. I’m essentially property. Sold to the highest bidder, who would pledge to keep me safe. My Abuelo…” you shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut.

You breathe in, then out…. “My Abuelo promised me to him. After my Papá passed away, we went to live with him. I was young and the last thing I did was promise my Father that I would keep my Mamá safe and taken care of. I was an only child and she has always had problems with her health.”

—Frankie has been standing this whole time, so he slowly shifts to the chair and sits down. His face shows no emotion… he’s just taking in everything you have to say. You stumble a bit but eventually you work up enough courage to just spit it out.

“It was an arranged marriage, Frankie. Simply put, divorce is not an option. Especially now, being divorced and a single mother would be a disgrace to my family. My Abuelo knew Tom through family friends, Tom offered…. And so it just was….”

You look at Frankie and he is still stone faced. You continue despite the shame you feel at what happened next…

“Tom was handsome, had money, and was looking for someone to come home to when he was on deployments… You, well you know the rest.”

Your Abuelo had made it sound as though it was the perfect opportunity for you.

Frankie seems to take a moment to digest your words…

—“So what are you saying? That the only way out of this is ‘Til death do you part?’”

All you do is nod.

“But.. and please don’t think I’m being insensitive here, I’m just trying to understand.”

“Ok…”

“You don’t live in Cuba anymore. Things are different here. You’re allowed to marry and divorce as many times as you want! Hell, in some states you can marry multiple people at once!”

He’s breathing heavily. He doesn’t understand and can’t imagine why you would be such a stickler on this. Arranged marriages aren’t actually a thing here. Are they? Did you really not think you could leave a situation for any other reason than just not being happy??

“I don’t think you’re being insensitive. I know it sounds crazy.. It IS crazy. But Tom has done nothing but threaten to send her back to Cuba if I ever tried to leave. I could never let her go on her own. She needs me… and in Cuba, I would be divorced and now”— you motion to your pregnant belly, — “a single mother. I would be a disgrace to my family and I can’t do that to her. There has to be another way, but I don’t know what to do.”

—Frankie is thinking. There would be nothing to stop Tom. They could try to get him to have a change of heart. That was the plan… but for someone to be ok with the things he’s done and be complacent in it?

He had no idea that arranged marriages were even a thing. Some of the guys in their division would joke about mail order brides…. Women who (they claimed) would do just about anything for a Green Card, including marry a complete stranger with the promise of a cushy lifestyle. Frankie always thought it was pathetic how other men could be so shameless…

Not surprisingly though, he can recall Tom being in on those jokes… Imagining having someone sweet to warm his bed and cook his meals etc

He never dreamed that Tom would be capable of actually doing something like that. Not that those situations even remotely resembled what your life with Tom was like…. Just the fact that he treated you like property. That someone could feel about a person as though they were merely a possession to be used at their will rather than a living breathing human being.

No— Tom was a monster. And Frankie felt like a fool.

You were right. Talking wasn’t going to change anything.

So maybe they go on this mission and just… leave him there? What if? No… No Frankie wouldn’t think that way. There had to be a way to get you out of this.

—You see him thinking. His brow is furrowed and his hand is rubbing the bottom half of his jaw and the patchy scruff there… His eyes are focused on the coffee table. There was no way out of this. You knew it and Frankie was figuring it out too. He had been so sure in his plan. Santi and Benny had hyped him up that they could get through to Tom. The realization makes him feel sick.

Then suddenly he looks up at you.

His gaze is absolutely piercing as he stares you down. “So what then? There’s nothing we can do? You’re just stuck with this piece of shit you don’t even care about? Stuck with a man who treats you like garbage?”

—You’re looking at the floor now. Tracing the diamond pattern of the carpet to give yourself something to think about.

“I don’t know Frankie. Sometimes life isn’t fair. Sometimes we are forced to do things we really don’t want to do because not everything can be fixed. Not every story has a happy ending.”

“What’s your happy ending?” He says it so quickly and quietly that you almost miss it. When he says your name at the end you look up. “What? What did you say?”

“I asked, well I’m asking you, what would be your happy ending? If you could do things the way you wanted to, what would you do?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it because it was never a possibility.”

“And if it were? A possibility I mean? What would you do if you didn’t have to worry about Tom.?”

You have no idea honestly…. So you spout off with the first things that pop in your mind, aside from ‘You, you, you!!’ “Um, maybe, travel? Go see the world… make some friends? Maybe get a cat?”

Frankie chuckles at that… he knows Tom’s not a fan of animals in general. Really, he was the fucking worst. His stomach clenches at how this has taken such a shitty turn..

“What about right now? If you could do anything, what would you do?”

You think you know where Frankie’s taking this. At this moment, there is no bright side to your situation. No exit strategy, no get out of jail free card, no nothing. The future looks bleak, options are null and there’s only one thing that you want that you know you’ll never get…. And that’s Frankie.

You look over at him and smile. There could be no future with him. Tom would never allow it. And the thought crushes you. You’ve never been asked what you wanted for yourself if you had the choice and the answer is screaming at you Frankie! Frankie! Frankie!!

You’ve always sacrificed your wants and needs for someone else. You made a promise to take care of your mother and you would do everything you could to keep that promise. But that didn’t mean that you couldn’t have tonight. One little taste of something you’ll never be able to have again.. And tonight, Tom was taken care of.

He was out of town, probably already drunk and you know he fucks whatever he wants to when he feels like it. You’ve known for a long time now. You weren’t the type of person to cheat. You believed in the sanctity of marriage and what your vows meant. You didn’t love Tom, but you were stuck with him. But right now, for the first time in your life, you make the decision to be selfish.

Frankie is still looking at you and his expression is hard to read. He looks lost. The unfairness of the situation is making him angry, but he’s also soft. He wants you. He wants to do everything he’s not supposed to and everything he won’t be able to do again.

You both stand at the same time, and he comes to you. His hands find your cheeks and he asks “what do you want?” in a register of voice you’ve never heard from him before. It sounds desperate. His eyes are on yours and he asks again, softer, “what do you want??”

Your answer is immediate—

“You. Frankie…. I want you.”

“You already have me. You’ve had me since that first day at the diner. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Tom won’t let me see you. Who knows when we will get to see each other again?

“I don’t care. I’ll figure out a way. I got you here tonight didn’t I?”

“Yes but it’s been two months Frankie… in another two months I’ll be a mother and we won’t be able to sneak away like this. This isn’t fair!!”

He pulls you forward and puts his lips to your forehead. You lift your head and find his eyes. Your eyes move down slightly and you find his lips and you suck in a breath. He’s so close, you can feel his breath on your cheeks. He smells like a light soap and a very distinct smell that is just his. The slight tang of gasoline mixed with the vanilla from his truck.

His hand makes its way to your chin and he lifts you to his mouth slowly. His lips are soft, and light just like last time, but he quickly pours himself into you and they become bruising. He breathes you in and immediately starts moving his hands across your arms….

Tears are running down your cheeks and you decide that you’re done fighting this.

Frankie’s mouth opens to speak and you stop him as you forcefully pull his lips back to yours. You begin peppering his mouth with kisses, like you can’t get enough…. Frankie has your hand and is playing lightly with your fingers as he pushes you back slightly. His tongue finds yours in what has turned into a flurry of movements and neither one of you knows where to go with this so you each just kiss every bit of skin you can find on the other. Frankie’s kissing the side of your head as you kiss the patch in his beard that never can fill in completely.

You run your fingers through his hair, knocking his hat onto the floor as he begins to kiss down your neck, and your entire body is on fire.

Hormones or not, the man knows how to use his mouth and every bit of skin he’s touched is illuminated and tingling and you want him everywhere all at once.

Your hands start to grab for his jacket… pulling at his shirt and running your hands up and down his stomach. You’re completely buzzing for him.

You can’t remember there ever being a time that you’ve felt this way. Tom having been your one and only, because, up until now, you held true to your vows even though it was a sham….. Even though you didn’t love him, he was your husband and you tried to make it work in the beginning. Tom was the one who couldn’t care less.

It angers you even more that you really did put so much into your marriage. You did everything you could to be the wife he wanted. You thought that things would change, and that maybe one day you could love him. Instead, he used you and never once

Frankie made you feel Wanted. He wanted you. He wanted you and not just for selfish reasons. He never made you do anything you didn’t want to. He never made you feel guilty, or inadequate, or like you didn’t matter. You always mattered to Frankie. He respected you and respected your choices in all things. If you were to stop, right now, and tell him you didn’t want to do this anymore, he would simply stop. No questions asked. He would never force you, or make you feel like your opinion was stupid. That realization hits you with such intensity that you’re drunk with it knowing that Frankie would always give you that power. Because it was yours.

You stop your movement, while still clinging to frankies’ shirt. You look up to him and your eyes are pleading. His brown eyes are blown wide and he nods - slowly pushing you backward toward the bed. His eyes never leave yours as the back of your legs make contact with the bed and you sit down. Frankie kneels before you… His hands are on your thighs, lightly rubbing up and down the soft material of your leggings. Your hands grab his cheeks and you pull him back to your lips— Tasting him again before you run your hands down his neck and inside the top of his t-shirt. You lightly graze his collar bone and he growls, his hands leaving your thighs to start shrugging off his jacket. Your hands find their way back to his hair and you pull slightly, bringing him forward so he is eye level with your heaving chest —something that has also increased in size since you last saw each other. You’re wearing a thin long sleeve charcoal gray top that has a scooped neckline that covers your growing bust, but would be very easy to move aside.

He leans forward and is kissing your neck again. Going slow, but very obviously making his way down your chest to the top of your shirt, he looks up at you and gives a greedy smile before turning his attention back down. His right hand has also been slowly making its way higher. Fingertips lighting a fire up your side until his large palm is lightly groping your breast —testing the weight in his hand… “God your tits are perfect,” almost to himself, but you heard him loud and clear.

“Frankie!!” You shriek in surprise at his choice of words… You’ve never heard him talk like that before and you feel your cheeks heat while something else churns in your lower tummy. “Sorry! Sorry, It’s uh, been awhile since I’ve.. been with someone. I don’t always think before I talk, especially with you. So, if I say or do anything you’re uncomfortable with, just tell me. Ok?”

“It’s ok,” you giggle at him. You’re not upset in the slightest. “I’m just not used to this. Besides Tom, you’re the only person I will have, um… been with like this.” You’re not sure why, but you can’t stop yourself before saying,

“But you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted like this.”

Frankie gulps and nods, before surging back up and capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. Everything in it tells you that he is going to take care of you. He slowly stands up and leans over you. Prompting you to scoot backward until he can kneel on the bed… His arms are on either side of your head, and you reach up and start running your hands up and down his forearm.

“Look at me,” he says your name and you meet his eyes. “If I do anything you don’t like…. Anything at all, please tell me.”

-“I will Frankie. I trust you.”

At the word trust, he silently loses his mind just a little. He gently caresses your face and pulls you in for another kiss, trailing his hand down your side before following the curve of your belly and resting his palm on top. “It’s not gonna, um, we’re not….” He sighs, not finding the right words. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or the baby.”

“You won’t hurt me Frankie. The baby is perfectly fine. At this stage, sex is completely safe.” You know that Frankie would never hurt you. You needed him to know that it was going to be ok.

“Ok. I’ve never uh, been with someone who was pregnant before.” His face flushes a deep red. “Me neither,” you say. His eyebrows almost reach his hairline and you have no idea where this sudden tenacity is coming from, but you couldn’t help it but to tease him.

“Frankie, it’s ok. I promise. It looks like this is just going to be a first for both of us then.” You smirk at him and he captures your lips again.

His hand starts teasing at the hem of your shirt until slowly going underneath. His hand is so warm and his rough palm feels amazing against your sensitive skin. He reaches up again, grasping your breast and squeezing it lightly, “This ok hermosa?,” Your eyes are closed so you just nod. The feeling is… overwhelming. He continues to massage your tender flesh until he his hand out and tugs down the top of your shirt, revealing your cleavage to his waiting mouth. He kisses the tops of your breasts and drags the fabric down further to expose your bra. It’s nothing special, but it’s functional while also providing comfort. He puts his hand inside, pulling you out completely… exposing your nipple to the cool air, but it is quickly replaced by a damp heat as his mouth completely engulfs the tightening bud.

“Oh my God, Frankie…” Your hands are back in his hair, holding him to you. His tongue starts lapping at you slowly, circling around your now hardened peak. The sensation is so intense, that you feel your arousal gather between your legs, and you shift slightly. Moving your legs together to give yourself some relief.

Frankie takes your movement as a good sign so he pulls you completely into his mouth and sucks, hard. Hard enough that your eyes go up into your head and you moan—the noise coming from you unrecognizable. Frankie just smiles around your nipple, sucking lightly while he takes in your reactions.

After a moment, he feels a little spurt of something in his mouth. He releases your nipple and looks down and you’re leaking. A thin opaque fluid dripping off of your nipple and onto your shirt. You look down when you feel his mouth leave you and you are absolutely horrified to see him staring at your leaking breast. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry…..” You go to sit up, but Frankie stops you.

“What are you sorry for Bonita?”

-“This! I, I didn’t even think about it….” the embarrassment makes you frantically attempt to cover yourself.

“Hey, stop. Stop. it’s ok.. It was just a surprise is all. It’s actually kind of sweet.” He smiles at you as he dips his head back down to taste you again.

Your brain completely short circuits at that so you just let your head fall back and savor the feeling.

Frankie moves to the other side and you are actually whimpering from the feeling of his mouth alone. His hand goes back to work and tweaks the nipple of your now neglected breast while his tongue wraps around the other. He can’t get enough of the noises you’re making and he has to shift his lower body to take some pressure off of his rapidly growing erection that is currently pressed tightly against the front of his jeans.

You bring your hand up to card through his hair. Watching him work you over with his tongue. The sight is probably the most erotic thing you’ve ever seen up until this point and you feel another gush between your legs.

Frankie starts to shift his attention lower to just under your breast and makes his way down, kissing your belly with a look of pure joy on his face. His hand makes its way to the top of your leggings. His fingers play with the waistband before dipping underneath slightly. He looks up to you at this. Another question on his face asking if you’re still ok.

You nod quickly and he keeps his eyes on you as his fingers slowly reach underneath the thin fabric. His fingers lightly move across your hip bone, moving inward. He’s still looking at you when his fingers reach your center only to find your underwear completely soaked through. He has yet to touch you skin to skin, but you’re squirming and desperate for him to add even just a hint more pressure to your aching center. Your hand reaches down on top of his, adding to the pressure you so desperately need. “Shhhhhhh… shhhhhhhh… I’ve got you….”

-“Frankie??” You’re pleading with him to touch you as he moves his face back up to yours. He’s still looking at you as his touch increases, gauging your reaction. The more pressure he adds, the more his mouth opens, ready to swallow your moans as soon as they leave you.

You cry out when he finally pushes his middle finger up against your clothed clit and rubs lightly. Fuck, Tom never gave a shit about your needs when it came to sex. Maybe in the beginning, but rarely. You were always left to take care of it yourself after he passed out. Most of the time you wouldn’t even bother. But this is Frankie… so you let the thought of Tom fall away from your mind and focus solely on him and how he is making you feel.

You’re breathing increases and Frankie removes his hand to caress your cheek again. He laughs lightly at your frustration, your pleas— “No no no… Frankie please, please don’t stop…” make him smile up at you.

He takes his finger and pushes it up against your lips to shush you. “Let me take care of you bonita. I’ve got you ok? Just let me know if I need to stop.”

And at that, Frankie shifts to his knees and makes his way down your body. Kissing down between your breasts, over your shirt to your stomach, to just above the waistband of your leggings. Looking back up as he hooks his fingers into them and pulls down. He leaves your underwear in place —the light pink cotton darkened by your arousal. He rolls the thin material down and slowly takes off your shoes one by one as he removes your leggings completely.

Once your legs are free, he wedges himself between them, kissing up the inside of your thighs starting at your knee. He slowly makes his way up from your right leg, across the top of your underwear and then back down your left. Every touch of his lips on your skin has your hips arching up of their own accord.

“So impatient, Querida.” He tsks. “Trust me, I’m going to savor every bit of you.” You’re dizzy with his words so you just nod and lay back. You do trust him, so you let him take control and try to slow your breathing.

Frankie reaches up and laces his fingers with yours, holding you in place as he finally, buries his face between your legs. He breathes in deeply, and lets out a shaking moan. “God, you smell so fucking good….” the last word ending with a whine. He still holds your hand, but uses his other to gently pull your underwear up between his fingers. Pulling it tightly up against your swollen clit a few times, before moving it completely to the side, exposing you to his hungry mouth.

Frankie said he was going to savor you and he meant it. He is going so painfully slowly, when all you want is for him to put your clit in his mouth. Instead, he is breathing you in, rubbing the scruff of his cheeks against you. The feeling of his facial hair against your over-sensitive skin makes you almost growl.

He’s teasing you, but only to add to the anticipation of what is to come.

Finally, finally his tongue peeks out of his mouth and lightly runs up your soaked seam, from your dripping entrance to your clit. “Oh my GOD….Frankie???” Your pleas turn into whispered praises.. “Francisco, oh… mierda. Si…”

You let out a string of nonsense in English and Spanish and Frankie just chuckles to himself as he continues. Your accent becomes thicker as you lose yourself, that you honestly don’t even realize you’re saying anything. Flattening out his tongue, he gently lays it on your clit and starts moving his head in a circular motion. Dipping down every so often, bringing more of your arousal up to your peak.

Your pussy has him feeling drunk. Your sweet musky taste, like water to his parched mouth. He drinks you in, your pussy already so fucking wet, his head spins with it. He can’t believe he’s getting to taste you like this. He’s known how he’s felt about you for a long time, but to actually be here? With your fucking pussy in his mouth? Fuck, he thinks he could come just from the thought.

Frankie kisses up your seam slowly, kissing every inch and finally leaving a kiss on your clit before sitting back and looking up at your face. You look every bit the mess that you sounded like… Your forehead is damp, your hair sticking to the side of your face. You’re looking at him now with a confused look… Why did you stop? sitting on your lips. —He just smiles and brings himself forward, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. He pulls away quickly and moves back down, hooking his fingers under the band of your underwear and ripping them down your legs.

He takes your right leg and pushes it up, bending your knee so your foot is flat on the bed.

He then takes your other leg and hitches it over his shoulder. You settle your foot on his back, pulling him closer to you. He immediately takes his fingers and makes a V shape, running it from your clit all the way down, squishing your lips together and back up again. He takes a moment and sucks your clit into his mouth at the top of the V of his fingers. You could almost cry at how good it feels.

“More Frankie, please, please…..” You need to feel something inside you… This entire time, Frankie hasn’t breached your entrance, even with his tongue and you’re getting desperate.

He knows what he’s doing, but he wants to hear you tell him. “What do you need, querida? Tell me what you need.”

“Need to feel you. Need you inside me, Frankie please.

“Yes ma’am..” And at that you feel him drag his index finger from the top of your clit, down, down, down until gently pushing into your weeping sex.

“Oh, oh fuck.” Your words come out in a gasp as he resumes his place at your clit, wrapping his lips around it while slowly pushing in and out of you. You are wrapped so tightly around his finger, that he’s hesitant to add another, but your moans of more, more have him lightly testing the addition of another.

The feeling of his mouth on you while simultaneously fucking his fingers into your throbbing core has you almost flailing on the bed. Your hands spread wide on either side of you, your leg wrapping around Frankie’s head, you worry that you're going to hurt him, but he’s humming encouragingly into your pussy so you take it as a sign he’s ok. Finding his head with your hands, you grip his hair and slowly move him up and down. Frankie is just as affected by the action as you are.. “Fuck yes baby, use me,” comes his garbled reply.

If you weren’t so close to going over the edge, his words would have you blushing like a virgin. But if anything, right now it only spurs you on and you shudder against him.

Frankie can tell you’re close, just by your whimpers and how you’re practically grinding his face into you. He curls his fingers up and focuses on the little spongy area there, while sucking your clit into his mouth again, using the flat of his tongue to rub side to side. Your grip on his hair tightens to the point of actual pain, but he loves it - loves knowing that it's his mouth and his fingers that are doing this to you. You arch up and your orgasm hits you hard… Flooding Frankie’s mouth with your slick and almost crying at the intense feeling. Frankie works you through it. Slowly moving his fingers in and out as you come down. His tongue is barely there, but still lapping at you, the feeling adding to the aftershocks and you are shaking with it.

When the clenching slows, he slowly withdraws his fingers. He holds them up above you so you can see your slick dripping as he spreads them in the air. Then he brings his fingers to his mouth and moans as he sucks them clean.

Frankie scoots up, coming to your side and running his hand over your belly lightly. You turn to him and he’s looking down at you, “that ok hermosa? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

You laugh at that, because you’re sure you may have actually ripped out some of his hair. “No Frankie, you didn’t hurt me. That was… mmmmm..” He kisses you and you hum lightly into his mouth. You’re completely sated for the moment, but his kisses are quickly becoming more frantic.

The heat in your lower belly begins to stir and your hands start to wander. Reaching down you just barely lift his shirt, grazing the soft skin of his stomach. You’re still technically clothed from the waist up, but so far the only thing Frankie has taken off is his jacket. You grab the hem and lift up. Frankie helps you by sitting up and pulling his shirt over his head. His chest is bare, save for a little patch of hair in the center of his chest and a line of hair leading underneath his navel down to his jeans. He leans back down and kisses you again, his tongue begging for entrance to your mouth and you let it.

Frankie’s hand trails up and down your sides, reaching down and grabbing a handful of your ass as he pulls you toward him and brings your leg over his hip. He starts to walk his fingers down the back of your thigh, then brings it back up to play with the swollen lips of your pussy from behind.

He swallows your gasp and moans into your mouth, still toying with your puffy lips.

You start to kiss down his cheek, down to his jaw and behind his ear, nibbling on his earlobe a little bit, which gets you a growl of pleasure out of him. He leaves your backside, opting to grip your thigh for leverage as he lets you take control. You slowly move down his throat until you reach the juncture between his neck and shoulder where you lightly suck, leaving behind a couple of bright red spots that you secretly hope he’s able to see tomorrow.

You run your lips down to his collarbone and you take your time there. Licking up and around, before kissing down the hollow of his throat. Frankie is still gripping your leg, tightening his hold and squeezing fingerprints into your thigh with every pass of your tongue. His breathing has increased and when you look up at him, his eyes are on you. His pupils are blown wide and his cock is throbbing, but he wants to see you like this. He wants to see you navigate his body and see what you do with it, without interference.

You take a moment to reach up and kiss his mouth again. His eyes close immediately and he just breathes you in. Your scent is everywhere. In the air, in his nose, on his tongue and subsequently yours. He nips your bottom lip and sucks it into his mouth, before you pull away and tap his nose with the tip of your finger… He tries to bite it, but you quickly pull away only to slowly move it down to his chest. You toy with the soft patch of hair there before lightly drawing lines across him, moving to circle a nipple, then the other. Now that gets a reaction, and his whole body shudders as goosebumps cover his chest. You lightly scrape your nail across his sensitive skin, back to his left nipple before replacing your finger with your mouth, flicking it with your tongue and Frankie groans “fuck, beautiful…. You’re killing me..”

—You just wink at him before blowing slightly, making the pebbled flesh tighten to a hard peak. Frankie huffs a shaky breath, and you are enjoying his reactions just as much as performing the acts themselves. You want to see what else you can pull out of him, so you kiss across his chest and pull his other nipple into your mouth, giving it the same attention as the first. Slowly circling with your tongue and giving it a quick kiss at the tip. His hands move to your hair and lightly comb through it with his fingers. He loves feeling you like this — knowing you’re in control and he’s just along for the ride.

You continue to kiss down his abdomen, his tummy soft, and you start rubbing your nose through the light dusting of hair there before you follow the trail down to the top of his jeans. Your hands have also started their own exploration; running up and down his thighs, moving up to his side and watching his abdomen shake with how sensitive the skin there is. You make a mental note to see how ticklish he is, should you get the chance to be this close to him again. For now though, you want to make him feel as good as he made you feel. You scoot down slightly, and begin trying to work the button of his jeans with your fingers before his hands stop you. Confusion showing on your face as you look up to him; “you don’t have to do this querida..”

—You quickly reach up and put your finger to his lips, “Frankie, shhhhhhh…. I want to do this. I want to make you feel good”. -You were going to kill him with just your words alone. You had no idea how they affected him.

“I want to taste you. Will you let me Frankie? Can I taste you?” — He’s a fucking goner… Frankie is sure he just fucking died and went to Heaven and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

All he does is nod with his mouth slack jawed and his cock begging for attention just underneath your hands.

You slowly start working the button of his jeans, lightly fingering the line of his zipper with your index finger all the way down between his legs —teasing him, purposely trying to torture him, but in the best possible way.

You walk your fingers back up the now very prominent outline of his length, to get to the zipper and slowly unzip him the rest of the way. You do to him what he did to you and you pull his jeans down just a little bit, running your hand over his boxers, but just barely. Lightly running your fingertips from the base of his clothed cock, up to the tip, you scratch the head ever so gently and Frankie actually gasps for air at the feeling. “Oh fuck!”

You feel wetness at the tip and see a small wet spot. Without thinking about it, you reach over and flick your tongue over the top, tasting the salty precum and moaning at the warmth radiating through his boxers.

—Almost instantly Frankie’s hands are in your hair, pulling it back slightly and tucking a stray piece behind your ear as your tongue continues to lick at him. Your saliva only adding to the growing wet patch in the fabric. His breathing quickens and his body is almost shaking.. you finally decide to show him some mercy by ripping down the waistband of his boxers and jeans and enveloping his cock in your wet mouth without warning.

“Ohhhh shit.”

“Shit. shit!! Oh my God baby, fuck… your mouth… fuck, you’re so pretty. Pretty fucking mouth….” — He’s sputtering complete nonsense… half sentences full of praise and absolute filth.. You love it—

You slowly lap at the underside of his cock, making your way down to the base and back up again. There’s another drop of precum at the tip and you want to taste it, but instead you grip him in hand and rub the tip with your thumb— the slick making your swipes smooth back and forth. Now you come up and taste him. His musky scent has your mouth watering, saliva pooling under your tongue. You let it drip from your tongue onto his tip and stroke up and down with your hand. “Holy shit….” comes Frankie’s gravelly voice, unaware that he was still watching you. But you basically spitting on his cock has Frankie looking absolutely feral.. His pupils are black yet again and you think ‘how many times can they do that before they pop out of his head??’

“Was that alright?”

All he does is nod and you smirk up at him before slowly diving back down onto his cock -keeping eye contact the entire time. His mouth drops open, but his eyes never leave yours, his cock like steel in your hand.

You keep up the pace, bobbing up and down slowly, stopping occasionally and licking at the sensitive spot on the underside of his cock that makes his eyes squeeze shut and he moans out curses in Spanish almost every time.

—Your left hand trails up his leg and reaches inward, grazing over the soft skin of his inner thigh before reaching his balls, your touch pulling a hoarse groan and more curses from Frankie. Your right hand is now pumping the base of him that you can’t fit into your mouth while you continue sucking and kissing at his tip.. The words coming out him now make you hum to spur him on. No real train of thought, just praises and whatever is coming into his head at the moment;

—“Fuck…. Fuck baby… Could live with your mouth on me, God…. can’t fucking wait to feel you. Fuck… Want you to ride me… wanna watch your perfect tits bounce while I fuck you…” The words leave his mouth in such a rush, that you’re not sure if he’s truly talking to you or if he’s just thinking out loud. His eyes are still closed and his breathing has increased. You could probably finish him with not much more effort, but you’ve been aching to feel his cock inside of you, so you slow your movements.

Frankie checks in at the sudden shift in speed. You pull your mouth off of him and nod slowly. You lean forward and kiss him, continuing to pump him with your hand. You slowly maneuver your body over him —as easily as you can with your belly at its current size anyway— and position yourself above his cock. The tip red and swollen, weeping precum from how close you had gotten him with your mouth. Frankie finally realizes what’s happening and his eyes shoot open and find your face. “I… are you sure?”

“I’m sure Frankie. I want to feel you.”

—“Come ‘ere…” Frankie surges up and captures your lips. You use the movement to help steady you as you line him up with your entrance. You breathe out slowly into his mouth and you both moan loudly as you sink yourself down onto him. You go slow, to allow yourself time to adjust to his size. Tom hadn’t been small, but Frankie is definitely thicker and you want to savor the feeling of being stretched out by him.

Frankie’s hands are on your waist now, eyes closed and just feeling you as you slowly pull him in all the way until you feel his coarse hairs against your clit. “Oh my… Oh my God Frankie…. Oh…. Fuck.” You start to move, rocking your hips slowly in a circular motion.

—“Yes, fuck, you feel so good. I’m, I'm not gonna last…. fuck..”

Your hips move faster, finding a back and forth rhythm as your hands land on Frankie’s chest… nails scraping down, grabbing for purchase to try to keep your body upright.

His hands on your waist are almost bruising now with how tightly he’s gripping you… moving you, grinding himself into you….

His right hand winds around to your back and he almost sits up, burying his face in your breasts. Your back is damp with sweat, but he holds tightly… putting his right hand behind him on the bed to prop himself up. You hold his head to you and kiss his forehead, wrapping your arms around his neck and moving with him. This angle has him hitting so deep inside you, your breathing is coming in broken moans and your toes are curling. You’re coming almost instantly when you feel him reach between you, finding your clit and rubbing in smooth circles with his fingers. His hips stuttering, trying to find his own release, but wanting you to come again first. There are tears running down your cheeks from the sheer intensity and you cry out. Your walls are contracting around him so hard that it’s only seconds before he’s following you… painting the inside of your pussy with his warm come and panting nonsense into your mouth as you both try to even out your breathing. He’s kissing you again, but slowly… toying with your tongue languidly as he comes back down to earth. His cock softens inside you, and you just stay. Neither one of you ready to pull apart just yet.

—Frankie starts to rub his face against your breasts, pausing to kiss between them. He takes a nipple into his mouth and just holds it there.. his tongue slowly lapping up what you’re sure has been leaking since you started earlier.

You run your fingers through his damp hair, trailing to the back of his neck and scratching lightly at his scalp. His eyes stay closed and he hums, enjoying the feeling. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so relaxed in his life… never more at peace than just holding you like this.

—He never wants to let go.

Before long though, you feel him start to tense slightly, but he’s made no move to break apart from you. You think the high has begun to wear off and the gravity of your situation is hitting him…. As it is you.

Where do you go from here? There’s no plan in place… There’s no straight path from here, that brings you back together again. You know that once you leave this space, leave Him, that there’s no telling when or if you’ll get to see him again. You pull him tighter to your chest as the realization yet again washes over you. New tears fall freely down your cheeks and you just hold onto him. Frankie… who has done so much for you, who has made you feel more like a real person in the short months you’ve known him than you’ve felt in your entire life.

—You pray for an answer, a solution that you desperately hope ends with you being free to be with the other.

You feel Frankie lean down and kiss the top of your belly. The act so endearing to you; What you miss though, is Frankie whispering a prayer of his own. A prayer to keep you safe and a promise that he would find a way to be with you again. Both of you.

—

Taglist: @boliv-jenta @heythere-mel @hnt-escape @harriedandharassed @just-here-for-the-moment @something-tofightfor @readingiskeepingmegoing @bitchwitch1981 @sunnysidekit @littlemisspascal @queridopascal-main @dashavau @imaswellkid @quica-quica-quica @mymo-n @wildemaven @pastelnap @tanzthompson @jb2856

A/N: There are definitely some flow issues with this one, but I kept getting stuck. Hopefully it wasn’t too awful to get through, but I appreciate any and all feedback, just be kind. I also wouldn’t mind an extra beta if anyone is interested, on top of my girl @just-here-for-the-moment who’s been with me through this since the beginning. Thank you all!