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eremikayearner · 1 day ago

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friendship bracelets ‹𝟹 itoshi rin

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ in which you and your best friend, itoshi rin, decide to make friendship bracelets together.

⟡ ݁₊ . rin didn’t believe in such things as friendship bracelets. why should he? why should an inanimate object represent such an invisible thing such as friendship? it was moronic, really. a cheap scam that stemmed from money starved companies to profit off of foolish children and teenagers who so desperately wanted to make something intangible material.

all those thoughts went out the window at your suggestion to make friendship bracelets.

“but why?” rin asked incredulously as you settled down on the bed across from him, a box of string and colourful beads in her hands.

of course, he wouldn’t deny your request. but as your best friend, shouldn’t he be entitled to hear a logical side to your idea? maybe a good reason? he’d even take just for fun as an answer.

you gingerly placed the box down on your soft bed sheets, a small smile lifting your lips as you opened the box. your slender fingers travelled down the dividers in the box before landing on a coil of clear string. you finally looked up at him, and oh he could’ve sworn you were heaven sent - with your eyes settled on him and your glossed lips pulled into a shy smile and your cheeks flushed pink, you really did look heavenly.

“i want a piece of you with me everywhere.” you confessed softly.

the gods must really be praying on his downfall. his supposed-to-be-small crush on you was worsening every day by the hour, and you really weren’t helping out his case. how could you? not when you were sweet, kind, intelligent, caring, funny and beautiful, and everything he didn’t deserve.

the flush that painted his cheeks cherry blossom pink could be mistaken for makeup blush just from how prominent it was. he averted his teal gaze from you, his breath hitching as his heart fluttered in his chest.

the striker who knew every inch of his body and had excellent control over every limb vanished in your presence. instead there was a blushing, nervous, boy who suddenly didn’t know how to calm his heart or where to put his hands or where to even look.

how is my body betraying me right now?

“what kind of friendship bracelets do you have in mind?” he asked, desperate to calm his body and his foggy mind that was filled with thoughts of you.

“i was thinking we could do our eye colours.” you explained, your manicured fingers tipping into a small section of the box filled with gorgeous teal beads. you looked up at him, tilting your head with a small smile. “thoughts?”

he still didn’t look in your eyes, his long fingers going towards the box instead and picking up a bead that matched your eye colour perfectly. he gathered more beads into his hand as you placed a clear string in front of him and a silver heart shaped pendant with your initial on it, affirming, “these match your eyes perfectly. it’s an amazing idea.”

clearly pleased with yourself, you smiled. “my ideas are pretty great.”

rin scoffed, but not without a secret smile of his own.

so the two of you worked on the bracelets diligently, occasionally bickering and giggling, but never looking away from the masterpieces you were creating.

screw all that shit he said before about friendship bracelets being meaningless. now he understood the point of these damn things. it wasn’t to mark a friendship. no, it was to have and to hold a piece of the other person at all times. it was to keep a piece of someone with you, a piece that only you could have. it was to give a piece of yourself to someone, a piece that only they could have. he’d give you hundreds - no, thousands of friendship bracelets so you could have multiple pieces of him with you forever. he’d give you all of him if you wished.

once his masterpiece was finished, he put the clear string between his teeth to hold it in place as he tied both ends of the bracelet together. he lifted the pretty bracelet up, admiring his work and the beauty of your eye colour with the pretty silver shine of your initial, before lowering his hand and meeting your gaze once more.

your beauty would never fail to take his breath away. like an angel from heaven, you looked at him with such hope and warmth, he couldn’t help but fall deeper in love with you. no matter what you did, you destroyed his hopes of keeping this supposed-to-be-small crush small and pulled him into falling irrevocably in love with you.

the small teal bracelet in your hands matched his eyes, the shiny little pendant with the letter R on it dangled prettily.

neither of you knew what possessed you to do this, but you both lifted the bracelets to each other’s faces, admiring the complete match in eye colour.

rin really did feel like he had a piece of you with him. a bracelet with a pretty colour that could only match one girl’s pretty eyes.

rin lowered his hand with yours as his attention went to the shift in your mood, your eyes glittering with something like yearning as you looked into his eyes.

“your eyes are so pretty, rin.” you said softly, as if the words were laced with an intimacy you could never take back.

rin thought he had died and went to heaven. his heart skipped a beat before beating faster than it ever had before, his lips parting in surprise as he tried to take in a breath as calmly as he could. oh my god, now you’d really done it. he really was in love with you.

“your eyes are pretty too, y/n.” he breathed, his voice softer than ever.

“you really think so?”

he was nearly taken aback by your words. was that even a question? of course your eyes were pretty. god, anything and everything about you was pretty. no, you weren’t just pretty. you were every word that could possibly convey a being’s beauty. otherworldly, ethereal, angelic, stunning, gorgeous, beautiful, every word he could possibly think of that meant beautiful. but none of these were enough to describe you in full. there simply was not a word in any language that fully described the angel you were.

but he could never tell you that. no, he was your best friend. best friends don’t think about each other like this. best friends don’t have supposed-to-be-small crushes on each other. best friends don’t fall in love with each other. best friends don’t look at each other like they’re anything but best friends.

then why were you looking at him like that?

“of course i do.” rin said. “i’ve always thought they were pretty.” he paused, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. “i’ve always thought you were pretty.”

oh now he’d done it. you’d kick him out of your room and call him a pervert and then never talk to him again and then marry some idiot like sae and then his whole life would be ruined.

you didn’t do any of those things. you didn’t do any of those things at all. your pretty glossed lips lifted into a gorgeous small smile, glancing away for a moment, before meeting his eyes once more. “good. ‘cause i’ve always thought you were pretty too.”

his world had turned upside down. he didn’t even remember how to breathe. he couldn’t move at all. he could hardly think.

could it be possible? could you reciprocate his feelings?

you gently took the bracelet from his unmoving hands, slipping it over his long slender fingers and sliding it onto his wrist. your shy smile was absolutely heavenly, making the starstruck boy in front of you completely subject to you.

finally, he managed to gain some movement back into his limbs as he picked up the teal bracelet with fingers he willed to stop trembling, and slipped it onto your wrist.

“do you like the bracelet?” you asked, close enough to him to send his heart, body and mind into chaos.

“yeah.”

i like you.

he returned your question. “do you like your bracelet?”

you smiled, the perfect picture of an angel. “i love it.”

#ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊ eremikayearner #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin x you #rin itoshi x y/n #itoshi rin x y/n #rin itoshi fluff #itoshi rin fluff #bllk rin x reader #rin x reader #bllk x reader #bllk rin #bllk #blue lock

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donttxtathebeach · 3 days ago

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Worth waiting for | chapter 1: A Carolina Christmas

word count 2.8K

warnings: fluff :)

masterlist

summary

Christmas morning at Rafe and y/n's outerbanks becahfront home is the perfect blend of warmth, love, and holiday magic.As guests start to arrive, the house is filled with laughter and love. It’s a day for family, fun, and everything that makes Christmas feel like home—especially when you're with the ones you love.

The first light of Christmas morning crept through the sheer curtains of the master bedroom, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. Rafe Cameron, golden boy of the Carolina Hurricanes, stirred from his sleep, his body still heavy with the warmth of the blankets and the comfort of his fiancée, Y/N, curled up beside him. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the sunlight, and then his eyes darted around the room, realizing she was no longer there.

The absence of her was always a quiet weight that hung over him, especially in the mornings. She was always up early, always doing something, creating something, or getting things ready for the day ahead. He sighed, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.

7:30 AM. Too early for anyone else to be awake, but of course, Y/N had already risen.

Rafe pushed the covers off of him and swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes as he stood up. Not bothering to throw on a shirt—because why bother when it was Christmas, and the house was already warm enough—he quietly padded down the stairs, the faint sound of Y/N’s voice drifting up from the kitchen. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips.

As Rafe descended the stairs, the soft sounds of Y/N’s voice reached his ears, low and sweet at first, like a whisper carried on the morning breeze. It wasn’t unusual for her to be up early, but the way she was singing, so effortlessly and with such joy, made it feel like the music itself was an extension of who she was. His footsteps slowed, and for a moment, he just stood at the top of the stairs, listening.

He rounded the corner into the kitchen, the warmth from the oven and the smell of cinnamon and sugar filling the air. There she was, standing at the stove in her festive red sweater with a pair of plaid pajama pants that perfectly matched the holiday season. Her hair, usually neatly styled, was pulled back in a messy ponytail, with soft waves framing her face. The low hum of Christmas tunes played in the background, and she was completely absorbed in the song.

“Santa doesn’t know you like I do

I’ve been there through the good and bad

Know how to make you laugh, kiss all your tears away

Babe, ohh, only I could do that…”

Her voice rang out, rich and smooth, every note hanging in the air with effortless grace. She wasn’t just singing; she was living the lyrics. Every word she sang felt personal, like she wasn’t just telling a story but sharing a piece of herself. The warmth of her voice wrapped around Rafe like a blanket, pulling him in closer, even though he hadn’t moved from his spot in the doorway.

The way she moved in the kitchen seemed to sync perfectly with the rhythm of the song. She flipped the cinnamon rolls onto the cooling rack with a practiced hand, humming the next line under her breath before picking up a spatula to flip some bacon sizzling on the stove. She was lost in her world, unaware of him standing there, mesmerized by her.

Rafe took a slow step forward, unable to look away. His heart swelled with affection as he watched her, completely at ease in the space she’d made their home. He’d seen her in so many settings—on stage, surrounded by fans, and dressed to the nines for red carpet events—but this? This was different. This was her at her most beautiful, not because of how she looked, but because of the love and warmth she exuded in everything she did.

It was almost surreal, how natural it felt to stand in the kitchen of their house, witnessing a moment like this. There was something so intimate about it—about watching the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with moving about the room, humming to her own Christmas album. The soft golden glow of the morning sun filtered through the windows, illuminating the little details—like the strands of twinkle lights she’d insisted on hanging in the kitchen, the fresh herbs she’d been chopping for the brunch they were preparing, and the cinnamon rolls, of course, piled high on the counter.

Rafe’s chest tightened as he realized just how much he loved her in this moment. The chaos of their lives—the travel, the games, the photo shoots, the pressure of being constantly in the public eye—was momentarily forgotten. It was just the two of them, in their kitchen, in the quiet comfort of Christmas morning. He could hear the soft crackle of the fire from the living room, the distant sounds of holiday music, and the gentle hiss of the bacon frying. But none of it mattered. All he could focus on was her.

Her voice, sweet and pure, wrapped itself around him like a gift, and he felt an overwhelming sense of peace. She had a way of making everything feel simple, even in the busiest of times. She wasn’t just singing; she was surrendering to the music, to the moment, to life. And Rafe had never been more grateful to have her in his life.

He didn’t want to interrupt her, not yet. He just wanted to stand there, taking in the sight and sound of her—her smile when she caught a note just right, the way her eyes closed in contentment as she swayed slightly to the beat of the song. It was as if she had become one with the music, the holiday spirit filling her soul, and she didn’t even need to try. It was effortless. She was effortlessly beautiful, and he was completely in awe of her.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity, just watching, listening, breathing in the scent of her and the warmth of the kitchen. She was so wrapped up in the song that she didn’t even notice him standing in the doorway, frozen in place, completely captivated by her. The way she moved with such ease, the sound of her voice filling the space around them—it felt like home.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, he let out a soft sigh and leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. His voice broke the stillness of the room, low and husky, as he spoke the words he’d been thinking all morning.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” Rafe said, his words filled with so much affection that it made Y/N pause mid-sentence.

She turned toward him, her lips curving into a soft smile as she met his gaze. There was something in the way she looked at him—so full of love, so genuine, like he was the only person in the room. The world outside their little kitchen, outside this moment, didn’t exist. It was just the two of them.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” she replied, her voice sweet and full of warmth as she wiped her hands on the dish towel, walking toward him. As she reached him, she didn’t hesitate to pull him into a hug, resting her head against his chest.

Rafe wrapped his arms around her, his heart swelling as he breathed in the scent of her hair, the lingering fragrance of cinnamon and vanilla. “You sound amazing,” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of her head. “Your voice… it’s like Christmas came alive in here.”

Y/N let out a soft, contented laugh, her hands resting against his chest. “Well,have you heard of fruitcake, itI heard that this little blonde chick wrote her boyfriend this album, but it's no big deal right I mean it's not like she is in love or anything,” she teased lightly, looking up at him through her lashes, a playful glint in her eyes.

He smiled, running his fingers through her hair. “I’m serious. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you. You make everything—” He paused, searching for the right words, “—feel like all the planets alliagned in the right order .”

Y/N leaned back to look at him, her fingers brushing against his jaw as she smiled softly. “And you make everything feel like home,” she whispered, before leaning up to kiss him, a soft and sweet kiss that made everything feel even more perfect than it already was.

Rafe wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close, inhaling the familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla that clung to her from baking. He buried his face in her hair for a moment, savoring the feeling of being home, with her. They stood like that for a moment, the warmth of the kitchen and the embrace making the world outside feel a million miles away.

Then, Y/N pulled back, giving him a playful nudge on his chest. “Baby, come on, we’ve got to get the house ready for brunch. Everyone’s coming over in an hour. You’ve been lounging long enough.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “I don’t want to leave this spot, though,” he teased, keeping his arms around her waist.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was no malice in it. “Go change into something nice, babe. You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

He glanced down at his bare chest, the faded sweatpants hanging low on his hips. “I did,” he smirked, enjoying the playful back-and-forth that had become so familiar between them. “Besides, it’s Christmas. It’s supposed to be laid-back.”

She didn’t give him time to protest further, running her hand through his unruly hair��a gesture she knew he loved, and one that seemed to relax him every time. “No. Go change,” she said, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she returned to her work at the stove.

Rafe reluctantly stepped back, stretching his arms over his head. He could hear her whisper-shout from the kitchen, warning him, “And don’t even think about grabbing any of those cinnamon rolls. You ate half of the ones I made last night, so I had to make more today.”

He paused, an exaggerated pout on his face, but then grinned mischievously, his eyes flickering toward the plate of cinnamon rolls cooling on the counter.

“Who, me?” he asked innocently, already eyeing the tempting rolls. But before he could make a move toward them, Y/N turned around, her hand on her hips, a playful but stern look on her face.

“I’m serious,” she warned, crossing the space between them quickly. “I’ll make you help with brunch if you grab one of those rolls.”

Rafe chuckled, his arms crossing over his chest as he gave her a dramatic sigh. “Okay, okay. I’ll go change. But only because you’re so cute when you’re bossy.”

With one last playful look, he made his way back upstairs to get ready, leaving Y/N to finish her baking.

Y/N’s outfit for Christmas brunch was a bold yet playful choice that perfectly blended elegance with a touch of whimsy.

She wore a striking black mini dress that featured a deep plunge neckline, the cut daring yet tasteful. The dress hugged her torso perfectly, its sleek fabric accentuating her figure. The top of the dress was fitted, with delicate spaghetti straps that gave it a light, airy vibe while still holding its edgy sophistication. The plunging neckline added a touch of daring femininity, balanced by the rest of the outfit’s playful elements.

The true star of the look, however, was the skirt. It was a voluminous, black and white fluffy tulle creation that added dramatic contrast to the sleek top of the dress. The black and white combination was striking, the fluffy layers of tulle creating a dynamic movement with every step she took. It had just the right amount of bounce, making her feel light on her feet as she moved around the room, chatting with family and friends. The contrast between the fitted top and the voluminous skirt made it feel both modern and festive, perfect for a Christmas brunch that was bound to spill into an evening of celebration.

Y/N completed the look with a pair of sleek black heels that gave her a bit of height without overpowering the outfit. They were minimalist in design—pointed-toe stilettos that elongated her legs, their simple elegance letting the dress take center stage.

She accessorized with delicate gold jewelry—small hoops in her ears, a thin bracelet on her wrist, and a dainty gold necklace that rested perfectly against her collarbone, drawing attention to the flattering neckline of the dress. Her makeup was soft but glowing, with a subtle smoky eye and a pop of red lipstick that tied into the holiday spirit. Her hair was styled in loose, soft waves, giving her a carefree, effortlessly chic vibe.

As she entered the dining area, the soft Christmas lights twinkling in the background, her outfit felt like the perfect blend of glamour and fun. She wasn’t just dressed for the occasion—she embodied it. The boldness of the dress, combined with the playful fullness of the skirt, captured the joy and excitement of Christmas, and her radiant smile made her look even more beautiful than the outfit itself.

Rafe couldn’t help but stop in his tracks as she entered the room, his eyes lingering on her for a moment too long. There was something magical about seeing Y/N in a setting like this—her glowing beauty paired with the warmth of the season, the promise of a perfect Christmas day unfolding around them.

The house was buzzing with activity by the time brunch was approaching. The kitchen smelled of fresh cinnamon rolls, bacon, and pancakes. Outside, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, casting the bright, Christmas-perfect light across the beach house. Y/N had set the table, placing a festive centerpiece in the middle, while Rafe had gotten himself into a more “presentable” outfit—a casual yet stylish white button-up shirt with a green sweater over it, paired with dark jeans. He had already been warned by Y/N to “look nice” for brunch, which to him meant not showing up in his usual scruffy hoodie or sweatpants.

As he adjusted the collar of his shirt, he heard the sound of laughter from the front door.

“Y/N!” Sarah’s voice rang out, unmistakable and sing-song, as she entered the house with her husband, John B., close behind. John B. was carrying a car seat with their baby daughter, Jaxsen, who was only six months old but already the light of Sarah and John B.’s lives.

“Sarah, John B.!” Y/N exclaimed, rushing over to give her future sister-in-law a hug. “And there’s my goddaughter!” Y/N reached down to tickle Jaxsen’s tiny fingers. “You’re growing up too fast, kiddo.”

John B. and Rafe exchanged a quick hug, before the two men stood back and caught up, their attention mostly on the baby. Meanwhile, Sarah was explaining how Jaxsen had just started babbling and had already managed to grab a bottle out of her hands earlier that week. The sound of their laughter was a welcome backdrop to the busy morning.

Then, just as Sarah and John B. were finishing their introductions, another voice rang out, this one unmistakable in its vibrancy.

“Honey, I’m home!” Sofia’s voice echoed through the house, followed by her boyfriend Barry, Rafe’s best friend and teammate. Sofia walked in, her ever-present energy filling the room, carrying a big bag of gifts and a bottle of wine.

Y/N turned at the sound, and her eyes lit up. “OH MY GOSH!” she squealed, practically dropping the cinnamon rolls she was holding in her hands. Without missing a beat, she ran to her best friend, her face beaming with excitement.

Sofia caught her easily in a tight hug, lifting her up slightly. “Missed you so much!” Sofia laughed, her voice high-pitched with joy.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here!” Y/N grinned, pulling back to take in Sofia’s appearance. Sofia was dressed casually but effortlessly chic in a red turtleneck and denim jeans, with her hair pulled into a messy bun, as if she had just rolled out of bed herself—but still looking flawless.

Sofia chuckled, looking over Y/N’s shoulder. “Is you-know-who here?” she asked, her eyes flicking to Rafe, who was standing nearby, arms crossed and looking completely uninterested in the conversation.

Y/N turned, raising an eyebrow. “Sofia, Rafe literally lives here.”

Sofia shrugged nonchalantly, the playful smirk never leaving her lips. “Just making sure. I don’t want to be stuck in a room with him and his ‘I’m too cool for Christmas’ attitude.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, though the teasing tone didn’t bother him. “It’s called being laid-back, Sofia. Look it up.”

Y/N burst into laughter, nudging her friend. “See? He’s already being annoying. It’s like he’s been training for this his whole life.”

Sofia stuck her tongue out at Rafe, her hand slipping into Barry’s as they moved further into the house.

And just like that, the house filled with familiar voices, laughter, and the warmth of family and friends. The Christmas celebration had officially begun.

Rafe smiled to himself, feeling a rare moment of peace. Christmas wasn’t just about presents or parties—it was about the people you shared it with. And he was right where he belonged, surrounded by the ones he loved most.

#rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smau #nhl!rafe cameron x singer!reader #rafe cameron x singer!reader #singer!reader

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skyward-floored · 1 day ago

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For iau requests, Legend or Twi being emotional support animals when one of their brothers is sick or injured?

Wind and Legend are a little younger here, just for reference. This is set a bit before Hyrule comes along :)

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Wind had been driving Legend crazy.

Legend didn’t know what his problem had been lately, but it seemed like every time they’d crossed paths they’d ended up in some kind of stupid argument or fight. And Legend knew Wind hadn't started all of them, Legend had begun at least some of the fights, but it wasn’t his fault Wind was being so infuriating.

Which was why he’d decided to just avoid Wind today.

It had actually been weirdly easy, even though it was Saturday and there was no school. Wind was usually clingy and annoying as could be, especially lately, but Legend had barely seen him all day. And if Legend heard Wind coming, he just hid under the closest piece of furniture as a rabbit, and Wind never saw him. It was nearly dinnertime now and Legend had had a perfectly Wind-free day, and he’d enjoyed every second of it.

Legend trotted happily down the hall, wondering if he could keep his streak up after dinner and maybe even into tomorrow, when he heard an ugly coughing sound.

Legend paused, and poked his head into the bedroom he’d been walking past. His mom was sitting on one of the beds, a pinch to her brow, and there was a lump of blankets next to her, messy blond hair poking out of it.

Legend scowled when he noticed it was Wind, but before he could keep going, more of the ugly coughing rang out, and Legend realized it was coming from Wind. He looked miserable, and Malon hummed worriedly.

“Well you don’t feel warm, but that’s a nasty cough you’ve picked up, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” she asked, and Wind pressed his face into his pillow.

“My throat hurts,” he rasped, words barely legible as they crackled from his throat. Legend winced. His voice sounded terrible.

“Goodness honey, don’t talk if it hurts then,” Malon said worriedly, smoothing Wind’s hair out of his face. “I’ll get you some water, then I’ll take a look, okay?”

Wind nodded, looking miserable, and their mom stood and walked out of the room. Legend hesitated as she walked past, then poked his head in the room, and Wind groaned, pulling his pillow over his head.

“G’way Ledge,” Wind croaked, but Legend ignored him and came closer, looking around.

“I’m just here for my book,” Legend said huffily, and Wind didn’t reply, only burrowed himself more deeply under his pillow.

Legend rolled his eyes, and kept looking around. He really had left a book in here he wanted. It still counted as avoiding Wind, this was just a small break.

Wind let out a raspy whimper, shifting in his blankets, and Legend’s steps faltered, a tiny little worm of guilt wriggling in his chest. So what if Wind was sick? Apparently that had been why it had been so easy to avoid him today. Legend didn’t care. It made his job easier.

Wind coughed again, the sound rattly and dry, and Legend paused, flicking his eyes over to the bed. Wind made another miserable-sounding noise, and Legend stepped a little closer, studying him.

A single blue-green eye peered at him from under the blankets, and Legend pointedly didn’t meet it, going back to searching. He looked around and under the bed for his book, crouching down and searching all around it. He finally found it wedged between the bed and the dresser, and he straightened, hesitating as Wind kept watching him. He really did look pretty miserable.

“Ledge?” Wind rasped, and Legend crossed his arms.

“What?”

Wind hesitated, watching Legend in silence, and then he rolled over and curled up into a ball.

“...Never mind,” he whispered.

Legend stayed stuck in his spot, wincing as Wind coughed again, and he looked down at the book in his hands, considering.

Then he sighed, setting it on the bed, then jumped up and turned into a rabbit in the same movement.

Wind peered at him in surprise, and Legend settled himself in next to his brother, pulling his book over so he could read while he was here.

“You’re staying?” Wind croaked hopefully, and Legend huffed, opening to the first page.

“The lighting in here is best. That’s the only reason,” he grumbled, ignoring how Wind rolled closer so he was snuggled against him. A hand snaked out to pet him, and Legend pretended not to notice, focused on finding his place in the book.

“Thanks,” Wind whispered, fingers trailing through Legend’s fur.

Legend sighed, but wiggled closer to him anyways. “Whatever. Stop talking, you’re gonna wreck your throat.”

Wind nodded and didn’t say another word, staying quiet as he petted Legend. Legend grumbled to himself, but he couldn’t help relaxing into the pets as he read his book.

He could go back to ignoring Wind tomorrow.

#siblings amiright #younger brothers especially lol #answers from the floor #anon #incredibles au #incredibles au fic #iau wind #iau legend #writing from the floor #fic

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fuzzyduckduckyfuzz · 3 days ago

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after all this time I still found you Timebomb part 8

Summary- months after jinx’s “death” Ekko had gone into a spiral, making everyone around his worried. He can’t stop the feeling that maybe she’s still out there, and it’s only when he finally goes looking for her that his dream and nightmare comes true

warnings- hella angst, some fluffity fluff, uh oh curse words, also mentions of depression and alcohol abuse.

Once again, Ekko found himself literally sprinting through the undercity, manoeuvring his way through bustling streets as he ran towards the fire light base. He was happy he had finally opened this place up to the public, happy him and his allies didn’t have to make a difference in silence anymore. He smiled fondly as he remembered vi and Caitlyn’s reaction to the news.

flash back

“What?!?” Vi exclaimed jumping up from her chair.

Caitlyn grabbed her by the shirt and tugged her back down to sit, a warm smile on her lips

“that’s a lovely idea Ekko. Opening your services to the public” she says kindly

“damn right it’s a good idea!!” Vi explained. A proud grin on her face as she crossed her muscular arms over her chest “I’m proud of you little man…but how exactly are you guys gonna pull that off?”

“wellll…i was thinking…with your guises help?” He says, his voicing getting higher pitched as he goes on. He knows it’s a large ask especially after…everything. But this is something he new he couldn’t do without there help.

“oh! Well…” Caitlyn trails off, she shifts her gaze to vi and then to you. Vi looked at her with a pleading puppy look that made Ekko snicker, and Caitlyn told her eyes “fine fine…we can help you out Ekko” she says, a fond smile in her lips

vi jumps up again and pumps her fist in the air “Hell yeah!!” She pauses when she notices one of the maids of the kiramman estate looking at her. She was unaware she had even walked in.

vi clears her throat and sits back down, feigning a calm persona as she clears her throat. “Ahem.i mean, yes Ekko that sounds great”

the maid quickly walks away from the awkward situation and Caitlyn and vi burst out laughing, but at the back of Ellis mind all he can think is “jinx…powder, would’ve loved this”….

end of flash back

Ekko chuckles to himself at the memory, but quickly shakes his head. He can’t dwell on the past when he has such an important mission to take care of. He soon reaches the entrance to the base and sprints inside, passing by other firelights quick so they don’t try and start a conversation, stalling his plan.

he must have looked like a goddamn crazy person, practically tearing the base apart trying to find this stupid clue from jinx, with literally no explanation from him to the other people in the building. When he finally thinks he thought of the wrong goddamn place, he remembers. His room! He hasn’t checked his room!

He raced through the building, making a b line to his room. He practically kicks in the door as he enters and he immediately starts tearing his already disastrous room apart even more. He has to step over clothes and empty booze bottles as he frantically looks around. He glances in the direction of his bed and, he had to admit, his bed looked extra comfortable after being out since the last night and the sun now almost fully risen.

he was having no goddamn luck finding this clue. Non at all. He lets out a frustrated huff and slams his fist into the desk, causing the area and surfaces around it to vibrate, and guess what falls on his head in that very moment. You guess it! The fucking clue! He lets out an annoyed grumble as he picks up the tin monkey.

“this is getting old.” He mutters as he takes the piece of paper from the monkeys hands. He unfolds it and reads the next clue

“haza! Haza! You found the damned clue! The next one my friend is rather close to you. A friend of mine and yours both very close bonds, holds the next clue that defines the odds”

he reads it am immediately knows who this person is but isn’t any less confused. Vi? How? Was she in on this? Did she know jinx was alive??

he continued to ask questions in his mind when he glasses at the window and sees…a peak of blue hair from the other side…that was without a doubt jinxes hair.

“jinx?!” He cries, running over to the glass door. He frantically opens it but just as he does, her hair disappears out of sight. He looks around in absolutely every direction calling out her name…nothing.

“…I think I’m starting to go fucking crazy…”

#jinx and ekko #timebomb #ekko arcane #ekkojinx #ekko league of legends #arcane fandom #arcane league of legends

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backseatsoldier · 3 days ago

Text

"Broken", Not Stupid - 9

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unsual omega!CO (13)

CW: Omegaverse; cult-like situation; dehumanization; selling children to cults

Author's Note: Check out 13's new ask blog! @ask13-cod and I do apologize if this part is rough, I promise I'm trying c':

Something soft and warm nuzzles against my cheek. It tickles so I srunch my nose and open my eyes.

Bright blue feline eyes stare back at me and I blink slowly.

Where am I? Salvation doesn't allow pets...

The cat, black fur shiny and smooth, nudges its nose against my cheek. It meows loudly and paws lightly at my shoulder.

"Selene, hush. She's trying to rest," a vaguely familiar voice calls quietly from beyond the cat.

Selene.

Simon and Selene.

Once I recognize Selene and Simon's voice I sit up and look around. The smell of bacon drifts towards me and my eyes drop back to Selene.

"Good morning," I greet her gently and scratch sleepily under her chin.

Simon appears in my doorway and sighs softly when he sees me sitting up.

"Did she wake you up? I'm sorry. She's been pawing at and meowing at you for the past twenty minutes. I tried to lock her out of the room but she nearly bit me over it," he huffs and sends Selene a half-hearted glare.

"It's alright, I don't mind," I assure him groggily. "What time is it? Did I sleep too late?"

"What do you mean 'too late'? It's barely 8 in the morning."

His eyes suggest he's confused but I begin dragging myself out of the bed-

No. No this is my nest.

The events of yesterday and last night finally return to my exhausted mind and my eyes widen.

"I don't... have to be up at a certain time every day anymore," I whisper as a smile pulls across my face.

"Well, not really, no. Are you alright, 13?" Simon shifts in my doorway, like he's uncomfortable.

I stand and stretch my arms over my head, still smiling.

"I can't remember the last time I slept like that," I say after a yawn and lower my hands to pet Selene. "I feel great! Are you cooking? I thought I smelled bacon."

Simon nods slowly and steps toward the direction of the kitchen.

"Yeah. Figured I'd make breakfast. Try to make you feel more comfortable," he mumbles as I step past him.

He's studying me closely as I make my way into the kitchen and snag a piece of bacon off the counter.

"Holy shit," I groan through the mouthful of bacon. "I haven't had decent bacon in actual years! Great idea, honestly."

Simon's head tilts slightly to the side, still observing me closely as he steps back up to the stove.

"You're not allergic to cheese are you? I didn't see any mention of in your information, but figured I may as well ask," he asks as he holds up a larhe block of cheese.

"Thankfully no," I assure him with a smile. After a moment of thinking, and watching him beging grating the cheese, I ask, "What all did they tell you about me? Did they just give you a massive info packet and tell you to sign on the dotted line?"

His hand slips, nearly dragging his knuckles across the cheese grater. Then he sighs and sets the block down.

"Do you want to discuss this now? Or do you want to wait until you've at least had some food?"

I frown, thinking again. Food before getting into anything to do with Salvation would probably be the best. Especially after my reaction to trying to order food last night.

"Good point," I say finally. "Tell me about you instead."

Right after I make my request, Simon's phone begins buzzing on the counter in front of me. The caller ID says "Dumbass".

"Well, that's not very nice," I tell him as he picks up the phone.

"It's affectionate. Also accurate. Alright if I answer?" Simon asks as he holds up his phone, waiting for my response.

Snagging another piece of bacon from the counter I nod.

"Don't mind me. Can even go in the other room if you need."

"No. Stay there," he says before answering, "Johnny."

I can just barely hear a deep but energetic voice on the other line.

"Yes, she's awake." He pauses. "I haven't had a chance to say anything to her yet, Johnny," he sighs. "No, she's not been up very long. I'll talk to her about it and text you her response."

With that he ends the call and starts cracking eggs into a frying pan.

"I assume 'she' is me," I start slowly then take a bite of the strip of bacon between my fingers, "so who is 'Johnny'?"

"My best mate and co-worker," Simons says without turning to me. "I planned on taking you to the shops today, get you clothes that actually fit you, and... he's wanting to go with us."

"Are you comfortable with that? Aren't you alphas supposed to be like... super territorial or something? And we're not, y'know, mated."

My line of questions and statements sound awkward. I'm not against meeting the guy, especially if he's so close to Simon. It's only natural that I'd come across the guy eventually. I just don't know that Simon, my apparent alpha, is comfortable with that.

Omegas are supposed to take that into consideration, right?

"You can say no," he says flatly, back still to me.

"I'm not against it," I frown. "I'm just... trying to be considerate of how you feel about the situation."

Simon's entire body goes still for a moment before he glances over his shoulder at me. Then he goes back to cooking.

"Stop eating bacon or you won't eat the eggs," he mumbles. "I trust Johnny with my life and more. If you want to meet him, that's fine. He's just overexcited, as per usual, and has no patience. Since you and I met not long ago, I wanted you to have say in this," he explains stiffly.

I want you to feel comfortable in the situation we put ourselves in.

Pretty sure that's what he meant, and I do appreciate it. I appreciate it a lot, actually.

"Yeah, I'm good with it," I tell him and resist the urge to pick up more bacon.

"After we eat, I'll get you fresh clothes. They'll still be mine-"

"Simon, your shoulders aren't earrings. Relax the and get them, away from your ears."

"What?" he asks, finally turning to me. But his shoulders are still pushed up and tense.

I give him a half-hearted scolding look and step closer to him. Then I reach up and rest my hands on his shoulders, pushing them down gently.

"Better?"

His eyes are wide and he seems frozen in place for a moment. But he nods.

"Yeah," he mumbles then turns back to the eggs.

He insists on making us each a plate then guides us into the sunroom to eat at the table in there.

What a strange man I've found myself tied to.

Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | Part One

Tag List: @lucienofthelakes @lostintransist @demothers-empty-blog @scaredyspooks @tessakate @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @nerdyphantomtheorist @gazsluckyhat @peanutismynickname

#backseat soldier #rhi_writing_adventures #call of duty #cod #original character #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x oc #simon riley x oc #simon ghost riley x oc #cod omegaverse #omegaverse #don't drink the kool aid #it was actually flavoraide but that's not the point

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inkieflame · 23 hours ago

Text

I Need an Anchor (God, I Want to be Satisfied)

A Wild Life Etho fic, featuring the Gs :)

Content warnings: none

2000 words

Aka, Etho doesn't know his self worth, so he tries to prove himself to his new alliance. They assure him they care about him even if he is washed up

Author's note: this was supposed to contain Cletho and that never happened, oh well. Maybe another day

Etho isn’t running away.

He’s not abandoning anyone, he’s not betraying them or leaving them behind. He’s not doing any of that.

He’s just taking a quiet exit.

Because he might drown if he has to stay with Bdubs and Tango one more day. He thinks they can feel it too. Something is wrong with their alliance. Something is inherently broken.

They fight each other more than their enemies. They steal, they mock, and when one of them is injured they’re left to pick themselves up on their own.

It's just not how an alliance is meant to work.

And Etho needs out.

He picks through this chest, looking for whatever valuables he has left. Minimal iron and even fewer diamonds. He manages to scrape together some building supplies and food. Hopefully this will be enough. Hopefully, hopefully.

He doesn’t know what to expect. He wants to seem useful. He wants to be necessary to a team. Indispensable.

Because if he’s not, they might neglect him too, just like Tango and Bdubs. And gosh, it hurts to be neglected by people you love. Etho can’t take it anymore.

He ducks out of his tower, backpack full of supplies and his new beloved trident in hand. Distantly, he can hear Tango and Bdubs bickering about something. Etho avoids them, and makes his way through the woods to the other base.

The late summer sun falls through the leaves overhead, making him squint as he approaches the wheat fields and walled in building where his new friends live. He swallows, and then wanders to the gate. He can hear the soft chatter of people within the base. Etho’s heart swells with jealousy. They are so friendly with each other.

“Etho?” He sees Pearl lean over the top of the wall, “Hey, we can see you lurking how here.”

“Oh. Hi.” He says. “Can income inside?”

Pearl turns back to talk to someone behind her. Etho can hear Scott’s voice. She turns back to him, “Yeah, come up over the wall though. Scott says Impulse just trapped the gate.”

Etho nods once, relieved that he hadn’t let himself in only be blown to bits. He towers up and Pearl helps to pull him over the last bit of wall so he standing on top of the stone next to her.

She jumps from the wall and hurries back over to where Cleo, Scott and Impulse are chatting on the front porch of the building.

Etho lingers awkwardly behind her, dropping down and following.

“Hey guys, hi. I brought some supplies? I hope they’re enough.” He says. He turns to rifle through his backpack, pulling various things from his inventory. “I’ve got a bit of iron? Two diamonds if anyone needs a new sword. And some cooked cod if anyone needs food-“

He is cut off by Scott waving him over and gesturing for him to sit with them, “We’re all good on supplies right now.” Scott says, “But join us! I’ve been wondering when you’d be over.”

This makes Etho’s stomach churn uneasily. They don’t need anything he has to offer. He’s not giving anything, he’ll just be a drain on supplies here.

Okay, so fix it. You have a problem, analyze it and fix it.

He hovers near the group, not sitting down. His eyes dart around the group, trying to fit pieces together. What can he do?

Pearl is still wears some pieces of iron armor. So is Impulse.

“Etho?” Cleo echoes, “Aren’t you going to sit with us?”

Etho bites his lip. He can feel the Scar there underneath his teeth. “No, I, uh, I forgot some things at my base.” He lies. “I’ll be back.”

He ignores how Scott looks disappointed and how Cleo sighs when he turns away.

Etho doesn’t come back until he has enough diamonds to get both Pearl and Impulse a new piece of armor. He jumps the wall again, and then he drops down into the small walled in area.

Scott is the only one outside, tending patiently to the flowers around the building.

“Oh, Etho, there you are.” Scott turns to him, “We thought you’d left us!”

Scott laughs, but Etho can’t help but hear an accusation. Traitor.

He hurries to seem useful, to be a good teammate, “I went mining.” He blurts, “Got some diamonds so y’all can get some better armor.”

Scott stares at him blankly for a moment, confused. “That’s. That’s very kind of you. The others are inside if you want to say hi.”

Etho nods, “Of course.” He shuffles backwards, then turns and makes his way to the door.

Pearl and Cleo are inside, sitting around a small pool in the floor with a few axolotls swimming around it. Cleo is sitting on top of their storage chests, sprawled out over two of them. Pearl sits by the edge of the pool with her bare feet in the water and her boots laying next to her.

“Etho, hi!” Cleo smiles at him, “I was wondering if you’d drop by again.”

“Hi Cleo.” He turns to Pearl, “uh, I got you some diamonds. Make yourself some new armor?” He holds out half of the diamonds for her to take. “I also have some for Impulse.”

Pearl takes the diamonds, “Ooooh!” she turns them over in her hands admiringly, “Very nice!”

Cleo gives Etho a strange smile, “Don’t you need new armor too?”

He shakes his head, “I’m alright. I’d rather put my new team first, be a good teammate and all.”

Cleo’s smile turns to a frown, but she doesn’t say anything else.

When the sun goes down, Etho quietly dismisses himself to his old tower near Tango and Bdubs.

Bdubs is pacing the outside of his own tower, muttering to himself. When he sees Etho, he snaps to attention, “Hey! Where have you been all day?”

“Uh, just out.” Etho shrugs.

Bdubs fumes, clearly in a bad mood, “Likely story! We had that whole list of things to do today, remember? Nothing got done!”

Etho tilts his head, “Didn’t you work on it at all?”

“Well! I just! You!” Bdubs splutters, “Very freaking funny! You need to work on it too! I can’t be doing everything around here!”

Etho nods, “I’ll take a look at the list tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bdubs huffs, “Time to shreep.”

The next time Etho is with his new alliance, he is itching for something to do.

The five of them are all laying around outside, just enjoying the sunshine. Scott and Impulse sit in the grass together, while Pearl is perched in the pale oak tree that grows inside the walls. Cleo sits up on the edge of the wall, overlooking the group.

Etho sits a small distance from Scott and Impulse, watching Scott teach him how to weave a flower crown.

He can’t help but think how lazy this is. No one is doing anything productive. They just sit together, like they have forever. Like they’re not going to face their encroaching death soon.

They didn’t even have a to do list for Etho to check. If they did, he would be out, being productive. Instead he’s stuck nervously following around other members of the alliance hoping to help with whatever they’re doing.

But none of them are doing anything.

And Etho is failing to smoother this feeling of uselessness.

“Etho, are you alright?” Cleo asks suddenly.

Etho glances up at her, “Yeah, I’m alright.”

Scott shakes his head, “No, Cleo is right. You’re acting odd.”

“Uh, I guess I’m just a little antsy.” Etho shifts uncomfortably, “I was hoping to do something useful today.”

Cleo and Scott glance at each other. Etho wishes he knew what that look meant. And then they both look at Pearl, who nods, and he feels even more lost.

“You seem stressed, man.” Impulse says, “I think a day of rest would be good for you. Take a break.”

Etho sighs. Impulse get up from his spot near Scott and comes to sit by Etho.

“I don’t need a break.” Etho says, “I just want to be a good teammate.”

Because he needs this. He needs someone to tether him down when he can’t find a direction to go. He needs an anchor.

Scott scoots over until he’s seated on Etho’s other side, “Etho. You don’t need to be a good teammate.” He says, “We don’t care if you bring nothing to the table. You’re part of this group now, so you belong here no matter what.”

“But I still need to be productive.” Etho insists, “Otherwise, why am I on this team?” Scott hesitates to answer, and Etho panics, joking nervously, “It can’t be my irresistible charm?”

“Your pathetic wet-cat energy.” Cleo offers.

“Yeah yeah, that.” Etho’s says, “I’m washed up.”

Impulse sighs, “Man. We want to hang out with you even if you are washed up.”

Etho doesn’t believe him.

Etho makes it to the late afternoon before his restlessness gets the better of him, and he finds himself getting ready to go back to his tower. At least there he has something to do. He could work on Bdubs’ list, or try to finish his tower.

Scott watches him out of the corner of his eye as he makes his way back up the wall, and prepares to drop down.

“Etho.” He calls.

Etho hesitates, looking out at the forest beneath the wall. He turns back, “yup?”

Scott pulls himself up onto the wall next to him. He eyes the rest of the group, and drops his voice to a whisper.

“Stay?”

Etho frowns, “It’s getting late, I have work to do.”

Scott seems disappointed, “I know you wanted to keep this alliance on the down-low, but…” He doesn’t finish.

“Bdubs will be wondering where I am.” Etho says. It’s a lame excuse, but not untrue. “And I have to go home sometime. Get some rest like everyone has been saying.”

Scott sighs and steps back, “Alright.” He says. “But know you can stay here too, if you ever want. You’re always welcome here.”

When Etho gets home, to his own cold bed, alone in his copper tower, he can only stare at his ceiling. He knows that somewhere Scott and Pearl and Cleo and Impulse are all going to bed together. They will fall asleep to the sound of each other breathing.

Etho will fall asleep to the sound of Tango pacing next door, restless.

“I brought food.” Etho says next time, because despite the constant reassurances he can’t help but feel like an addiction to the team instead of a part of it.

He has to prove himself, he needs to deserve this.

The fish are cooked on an open fireplace, while the group sits around it, enjoying the fire and the food. The base smells like warm fish, and bread that Pearl made, and the herbal tea in Scott’s mug.

Etho smiles, watching them chatter.

He’s glad to have given them some sort of substance, and a moment of peace away from the start of next session tomorrow. He feels useful and needed.

He ignores how Bdubs blows up his communicator with messages about preparing for tomorrow. Etho will deal with him tomorrow. Today is for his alliance.

“Stay?” Scott asks again, as the sun comes down and after Bdubs is long asleep.

Etho thinks about his cold bed, and his copper tower, and Tango’s insomniac pacing. He thinks about all the yelling he’ll wake up to in the morning if he goes home, verses to prospect of bread and tea if he stays.

“yeah.” He says softly, “I’ll stay.”

Then he falls asleep that night curled in the bed between Cleo and Impulse, like maybe he was still at home with her in Secret Life, or with him in Limited Life. Nearby Scott and Pearl are breathing steadily, drifting into sleep.

And he can’t help but think he is the luckiest person here. Because he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but they want him here anyway.

Etho thinks he’s beginning to trust them. He knows they will be here, a firm constant in a ranging sea. Something to keep him grounded.

His anchor.

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beholdthebangs · 3 days ago

Text

Stress Reliever

Kent x F!Reader / Sam x F!Reader

~ 18+ ~

Synopsis: Smut - Sam invites himself and Kent over to your house for dinner one night, seemingly an opportunity to get to know your boyfriend’s father better after his recent arrival to town. Things take a turn when you try to give Kent some ideas to relax, Sam having his own thoughts on the subject when he offers you up as a solution. Only under his supervision, of course.

Warnings: Drinking, brief references to PTSD, affair, indirect(?) incest, creampie, unprotected sex, rough sex, free use, daddy kink, dirty talk, praise, vaginal sex, oral sex, light choking

A/N: There’s not enough Kent smut to go around so this is my contribution.

—————————————————————————

Sam

2:43 AM: My dad and I are gonna come over tmrw nite for dinner

2:44 AM: Wear something I like 😜💦

2:51 AM: and make sumthing good plz 🥺

—————————————————————————

Kent had returned to Pelican Town only a few months ago and you’d had few interactions with him since, limited to a brief introduction and exchanging of pleasantries when you stopped by 1 Willow Lane to see Sam. The older man had always been standoffish, understandably so given everything he’d gone through in his time away. Still, it was difficult to find some way to relate with him, something you desperately wanted given your relationship with his son. It was discouraging to have such a poor relationship with the man who may one day be your father-in-law. Sam had assured you that he was always quiet, even with his family.

Sam rarely talked about him before he came back, and Jodi seemed just as stressed out as she was when she was acting as a single mother. The family didn’t seem to change dynamics at all with Kent’s return; it didn’t adjust to make room for him. It’s like all the gaps had been filled when he left and there was no space now that he was back. You hadn’t been around before Kent had been deployed. Sometimes you’d ask Sam what things were like back then, but he would shrug it off, telling you he didn’t remember that far back. Sure, his brain was crowded with hyperactive tendencies, but you knew he also didn’t want to open up. You tried not to jump to conclusions but it was hard having nothing else to draw from but the blond’s abnormally clouded demeanor.

You stir a pot of pasta sauce absentmindedly as it simmers, the pasta waiting in a colander in the sink to be added. Three chicken breasts are sizzling in the cast iron pan in your oven, nearing temperature. It seems like the end a recipe always feels the most chaotic, everything timed to finish at once. You have to pull yourself out of your head to focus on not burning anything. You brush a piece of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. 5:45 pm on the clock in the living room; perfect.

You pull the chicken out, allowing it to rest while you combine the pasta and toss together the salad comprised of veggies you’d picked this morning. You set out the blueberry tarts along with a bowl of roasted hazelnuts, your most overt plea for friendship with Kent as he’d mentioned once how much he enjoyed them.

Once the pasta is dished out, chicken cut into strips and placed neatly on top, you set everything at your dining table and take a step back, leaning in to fix silverware placements and adjust the flower pot in the center of the table. You also grab the boxy bottle of fancy whiskey Pam had gifted you last winter and pour a small amount in each short glass set at the table, leaving it in the middle as you’d surely need seconds to calm your nerves. In fact—

You take a quick sip from the bottle before replacing it on the table, smoothing your sweaty palms over your thin skirt, hem resting above your kneecaps. The alcohol content will clean any germs you leave behind, right? The way your body begins to buzz only a minute later feels like assurance of that.

As you finish cleaning up your kitchen, you hear the door close and look over. Sam has his hands stuffed in his jean jacket, hair pushed up as if he’s been running his fingers through it. Kent is behind him in a light brown corduroy jacket and dark jeans. “Hey!” you greet, hurrying over. “I can grab your jackets.”

“Hey,” Sam smiles, shrugging his off and handing it over while leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Smells good, huh Dad?”

Kent grunts. As you look over at him, he gives one nod as he pulls his own jacket past his broad shoulders and holds it in his hand. You take it from him, turning and standing on your toes, reaching up to hang both on the coat rack by your door. “Thanks for having us.” As you turn, both men’s eyes snap upward to yours, a twisted expression on Kent’s face and a nervous one on Sam’s.

“Of course! Come sit, everything is ready.” You press your lips together, rubbing in the pink gloss placed on them. Your fingers toy with the end of your shirt, glancing down at yourself as you try to pinpoint what they were looking at. Maybe you’d gotten a bit more messy than you thought while cooking.

You allow the men to walk ahead of you and take their places at the rounded table before filling in the empty spot between them. They dig in without hesitation, talking more to one another than to you. Once in a while, Sam will say something to bring you into the conversation like, “Y/n is great at that. Tell him.” It allows you to talk about yourself for a moment, often getting nothing but a nod in response. To be fair, Sam carries the conversation between the two of them as he babbles on, so you try not to take it too personally. The way he speaks without leaving enough pauses between sentences to truly converse reminds you of the way he acted before you started dating. He’d let his racing brain take full control of his mouth and he never shut up until you kissed him. He never shut up until he got comfortable and lost his nerves… It makes you wonder what he might be hiding now. Maybe it’s just the pressure of the night, and he wants it to go well as much as you do.

As you’re finishing up the last of your pasta, you hear Kent say, “Roasted hazelnuts?” Your attention snaps up to him and you nod.

“Yeah! I thought you might enjoy them.”

“I love them.” He grabs a couple and pops them in his mouth, teeth crunching down on them. After he swallows, he says a quiet, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. There’s more where those came from.”

Sam grins, leaning back in his chair. “I told you how caring she is.”

Kent stiffens a bit. “Yeah, you did.” He grabs another handful.

With your last bite of food in your mouth, you stand and clear the plates from the table, setting them in the sink. Sam pours himself and his dad another glass of whiskey while Kent excuses himself to the bathroom. As you scrub at the dishes, Sam stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder.

“Thanks for making dinner, baby. So good.”

“Thanks Sammy.” You lean your head against his for a moment.

“I like your skirt,” he comments as his hands begin to slide down the fabric covering your thighs. You clench them together, his tone mixed with wandering hands all too familiar.

“We can’t do this right now,” you whisper, barely audible over the sound of running water as you scrub the dish.

“Just a little, baby.” You don’t move. “Please?”

He waits for protests, but receives none. His hands slide back up your thighs, this time pulling your skirt with them. His fingers loop themselves around your panties and pull them down your legs, letting go of you to lean down and grab them as you step out of them. He stays on his knees, spreading your feet apart and coaxing you into a wider stance. You lean over the sink just slightly, your hole exposed and positioned toward your boyfriend. His tongue licks a strip from your clit back to your pussy and you shiver at the contact, the metal of his tongue piercing providing extra sensation you had grown especially fond of.

You try desperately to focus on the dishes, sudsing up the sponge as you press it against each plate and lather it up while Sam rubs his tongue expertly along your clit, a finger snaking into you and curling at your sensitive spot. With great focus, you manage to finish cleaning and washing off each dish while he works on your wet pussy. You throw the sponge in the sink, excited to be able to just grip the counter and enjoy him. Just as you start to give in, the bathroom door opens from the other side of the room and Sam quickly pulls back, fixing your skirt for you before Kent walks out. You turn in time to see Sam tuck your panties in his pocket, unable to protest as his dad sits on your couch only feet away. Sam winks, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm and walking over to join him, whiskey glasses in hand.

You take a breath, reaching over to grab a dishrag and dry off the plates, setting them back in the cupboard one by one. You manage to regain your composure rather quickly; the times you’d spend at Sam’s had trained you to get your fix in where you could but stay on edge with the threat of his mother walking in always looming over the two of you. The dynamic had yielded a… unique sexual relationship between you and Sam. Him having such a high sex drive had you bending to his will, metaphorically and often physically, any time he wanted it without so much as word.

After you put away the dishes, you join the two men on the couch. They’re holding their glasses, yours already refilled and set on the coffee table in front of you. You take it, sitting carefully in the spot between the two of them. Your back is twisted slightly toward Sam and you’re almost positive he saw your ass in the process, still naked from his assault on your clit minutes ago. Stealing a glance, his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, eyes lingering at the edge of your skirt.

“We’re just talking about how my dad’s been since coming home,” Sam explains, reaching forward to put his palm on your thigh, rubbing his thumb along your skin casually.

“I imagine it’s hard getting back into a routine,” you say as you turn your attention to the gruff man in front of you. You’d noticed Kent’s inconsistent patterns, often coming across him staring out at the river in front of his home in the morning or in the saloon at night.

He nods, eyes trained on the brown liquid in his hands. “You’d be right. I don’t remember having a free moment before I left. Now, I got far too many.”

“I can’t imagine how hard it must be. Now would be a good time to pick up some hobbies,” you offer, though the advice feels a bit shallow considering the magnitude of emotions he must be going through.

“I’ve tried fishing, jogging, drinking… none of it eases my mind like it used to.”

Sam squeezes your leg. “Why don’t you tell him what we do to destress.”

You look back, shooting him a confused glance. Sam twists in his spot, positioning himself to lean against the armrest of the couch, his chest parallel to your back. He places his hands on either side of your waist, pulling you toward him. “Sam,” you snap quietly behind you, but he doesn’t stop until you’re sat on his lap, your legs stretched along the couch toward Kent. As much as you want to tuck yourself in, you fear doing so would expose too much skin to your boyfriend’s father.

“Tell him how you deal with stress,” Sam repeats in your ear.

Your mind spins with Sam’s affection in front of his father; you’d never dream of sitting on his lap as you share a couch with his parent. Still, you wrack your brain for answers. “Visiting the beach, walking in Cindersap forest or the mountains… the spa is always nice after a long day.”

Sam chuckles lowly. “Remember what we did last time we went there?”

You laugh nervously, patting his knee. “Yep. What else…”

Sam presses a kiss to your neck, lips still curled into a smile as he reminisces in your late night escapade in the steamy pool last winter. You’re frozen, unable to pull your gaze from Kent, his eyes intently looking over you. Your face is surely bright red now, unsure how to process anything going on at the moment.

“That night is more along the lines of what I was thinking, baby,” Sam admits, hot breath on your neck. “My dad and I were talking about how I manage stress, and… well, I told him.”

“You told him?” you repeat in a quiet voice, quirking an eyebrow upward.

He nods. “I told him about our arrangement.”

“What arrangement?” Your tone is harsher now; surely he isn’t saying what you think he’s saying.

Sam moves his hand from your waist down to your inner thigh, pressing it hard enough to part your legs despite your physical resistance. His fingertips glide over your clit, still wet from your previous encounter, the obscene sound filling the room much to your embarrassment. Kent has a straight view to his son’s hand working you.

“The one where I have free will with your body… any time, any place, any way I want it…”

“Sam,” you hiss, squeezing your thighs together around his hand.

“Y/n,” he replies, matching your tone mockingly. He hastily pushes your thighs back apart as if annoyed at the inconvenience you’d caused by closing your legs. “I’ve been talking you up to my dad for weeks. I told him how much it’s helped me. I think it could help him too.”

Your mind is swirling. You can’t get the fact that Kent can see straight up your skirt as his son touches you out of your head. The way his eyes won’t leave you makes your skin burn. The knowledge that your boyfriend has fully divulged your sex life to his dad over the course of the month is too much to process in the moment. “What are you suggesting?”

He breathes in deep, nose pressed to your hair. “I’m suggesting… my dad can make the same arrangement with you… the only stipulation being my approval.”

You look between Sam, trying to appear confident and powerful with his nerves seeping through the cracks of his facade, to Kent who can hardly bear to make eye contact. “You have a wife!”

Sam scoffs. “You think she has enough time left in her day to let him free use her like you let me?”

“But you love her.” You’re trying to appeal to Kent’s soft spot, if he has one.

“I do,” he agrees, finally speaking up. “But this isn’t a problem she’s equipped to fix. Because I love her, she can’t help me.” You shake your head, beckoning him for clarification. “I can’t…”

“Use her,” Sam finishes his thought, finger flicking at your clit as the words leave his mouth.

“Can’t use her,” Kent confirms. “Sam says that’s your area of expertise.”

He hums. “And you can keep a secret, can’t ya?” Sam reaches around, pulling the neck of your shirt down along with your bra as he exposes one of your breasts. He toys with your nipple as the pad of his finger strokes your slit, messy sounds emanating from it despite your conflicted feelings. “Baby,” Sam coos gently against your ear. “You need to turn your brain off. It’s not doing you any good.”

A part of you wants to fight him. This is a weird situation and you’d be right to kick them both out right now. At the same time, a more submissive version of yourself is clouding your judgment. Sam tends to flip a switch in your brain; it’s like your body is physically attuned to what he needs, and it’s your mission to deliver it to him no matter what. You’d spent a large portion of your relationship doing anything he could ask, so much so that it had become the expectation that you would let him take you in whatever way he needed and you would allow it with a smile. And every time before this, you had done that.

He begins to leave kisses down your neck, nipping at your ear. His hands sneak around your ass, managing to unbutton his jeans and pull them down his thighs just enough to retrieve his hard cock. He strokes it, the feel of the soft, hot skin meeting your back with every thrust against his palm. Sam finally lifts you up, setting your hole just above his entrance. Slowly, he lets you down until your ass is back in his lap, cock now nestled deep inside you. Your head rolls back, falling onto his shoulder as you moan, your walls stretching to take in his cock. His tip almost immediately finds the spongy spot inside you that seems to short-circuit you. That special part of your brain reserved for Sam is taking over. You watch Kent through droopy lids as Sam manages small thrusts into you, him studying your body intently.

“Look at her,” the blond chuckles. “She just melts around a good dick.” He presses his cheek against your hair once more. “So what do you say, baby? I just need one little ‘yes.’”

You study the man before you. Kent looks so much like Sam but more mature, chiseled. If that’s what waits for you in your future with his son, you would happily accept it. His broad shoulders on display as he leans back against the couch, arm stretched over the top, fingers twitching like he’s fighting himself from touching you. His legs spread open, you can’t help but look at his groin and view the tented fabric there, your legs squirming as you do, heels dragging across the cushion separating you from him as you bring your knees toward yourself.

Your voice feels like it will surely get caught in your throat, but you squeak out the word anyway. “Yes.”

You can practically feel Sam’s lips twist up into a smirk and he looks over at Kent whose eyebrow is quirked upward, a small smile on his face too. He slowly lifts his arm, reaching forward to place his palm on your shin and rub it soothingly.

“Good girl,” Sam purrs. He pats the side of your ass, helping you off him. His cock slides out with a quiet pop as you lean forward, pulling your legs back toward you to fold them beneath you as you move off Sam’s lap and wait for further instruction. “She’s all yours,” Sam says to his father.

Kent reaches over, running his fingers over your side as he takes on his role. “On your knees.” His voice is quiet but strong, though the intonation of his words is less confident than you’d expect. You do as he says, never one to make a man wait.

You look up at him through your eyelashes, hands on his knees as your legs fold below you on the floor. His expression is stoic as always, and you can’t read him no matter how hard you try. Sam is easy— his lip is always between his teeth when you’re in this position with him, hand roaming through your hair as he waits for your hot mouth to please him. Kent hasn’t moved an inch.

You glance nervously between father and son, and Sam is the one to give you an encouraging nod. “Help him get his cock out, baby.”

You slowly reach forward, toying with the metallic button on his jeans. You take your time, giving him the opportunity to stop you but of course he doesn’t, only focusing intently on you. You pull the zipper down and he finally moves, helping you tug his jeans down his legs and discarding them on the ground off to the side of the couch. All that’s left is the thin fabric of the tight black boxer briefs he sports.

His jeans, made of thick denim, had given you a hint as to how he may have been feeling, but with less fabric, it’s evident. You can see the shape of his twitchy cock so clearly now that you could trace the outline of him from his pelvis down to his upper thigh; and you do. He breathes in sharply at first contact, fingertips once again shaking at his sides like he wants to grab you and take control. Sam has never shown restraint like that, always handsy.

The younger man snaps his fingers from the other side of the couch and you pull yourself out of your thoughts, running your hand down Kent’s toned stomach and underneath his boxers. You hold the thick length in your hand, hardly able to get your fingers all the way around it. Admittedly eager, you free it from the constraints of his underwear and sit back on your heels to admire the way it throbs and bounces against the brown hair sprinkling his stomach.

Kent questions, voice low, “Too big?” You shake your head hesitantly. “Good. Show me you can take it.”

Kent grabs his length and holds it toward your mouth, seemingly having found some confidence. You lean forward, sucking on the tip, only able to put as much of him in your mouth as he allows with his hand blocking access to much of his length. Your tongue swirls around the big head, greedily swallowing the precum that rested there moments ago. It’s salty but subtle, only a teaser of what he has to offer if you can satisfy him. Gradually, he moves his hand further down his length and you take more and more in, lips smacking against the side of his palm with each head bob. “You’re teasing,” Sam tsks, directed at Kent. “She’s used to having dick down her throat.”

“‘Cause you can’t last long ‘nough to do this?” he replies, not even gracing Sam with a glance over.

You look at him in your peripheral, propped up on the couch with one leg bent, his hand stroking slowly at his own cock pulled out from the waistband of his boxers as he watches you. His eyes roll in silent response to his father.

Kent asks you, “That true? Just want it down your throat?”

You nod around him, humming in agreement and sending a wave of pleasure through his cock. He concedes, removing his hand and tangling it into the hair on the back of your head. Without warning, he shoves you down and helps you meet the skin of his pelvis with a sharp thrust of his hips. You gag at the sudden intrusion, but you can also feel your slick begin to drip down to your inner thighs.

“She can take it,” Sam reassures him. “Do it again.”

Kent does. Once, then another, until he’s throat fucking you and all you can do is keep your mouth open and let him abuse it. Your drool is spilling down his thick cock, and by the time he finally pulls out, a long strand of spit keeps you connected to his tip. You’re still slack jawed from the force of it, drool running from your mouth to your chin as you catch your breath. “No complains?” Kent questions, leaning forward to run his thumb over your wet face and gather more lubrication.

“No,” you manage to get out.

“Good girl.” He motions for you to get back on the couch, helping you kneel in the spot between him and Sam. “Been too long since I got to use a sweet li’l mouth.” Kent rests a hand on the nape of your neck, bringing you back to his groin. You lick along the underside of it as it rests against his stomach while he reaches back, running his middle finger along your spread slit. A low groan comes from between his barely-parted lips. “You really fuckin’ like this, huh?”

You take him in your mouth, in no rush as you bring his tip to the back of your throat while using your tongue to tease over the throbbing vein running along the underside of his length . As he continues to run his digits over your core, you set an even pace on his dick.

You can’t help the moans and whimpers escaping your throat as Kent’s fingers glide effortlessly around your clit, and you can tell by the way his muscles constrict that he can feel it reverberate around his cock. A thick finger slips into your cunt and despite the quick fuck Sam had provided you just a few minutes ago, Kent grunts at how your walls suck his digit in and collapse around it. “She ever taken a cock this big before?” he asks Sam.

“She’s taken mine.”

Kent uses his free hand to brush your hair over your shoulder, exposing the side of your face to him as you suck on his cock. “Nev’r had such a thick cock before, huh, doll?”

You know you’ll upset one of the men no matter how you answer, so you just look up at Kent the best you can and give him a good view of his dick sliding up and down your tongue. Your foot, pressed against Sam’s leg, wiggles just enough to let him know you haven’t forgotten him. He grabs it and gives it a quick squeeze. You can feel the wet of his precum mixed with the slick of your pussy left behind on his member coating his hand as he does so.

“Her cunt takes it better if you make her cum first,” Sam says.

“She’ll take it fine long as she’s horny,” Kent argues. “‘Nd she is.”

“Which one of us has fucked her?”

“Fine,” Kent says with a roll of his eyes. “We’ll do it your way. But next time, I’m doing it mine.”

Next time.

Before you can ruminate too much on the statement, Kent adds another finger to your slick cunt and begins fucking in and out of you faster. His thumb reaches around to continue attacking your clit with harsh circles. Sam’s hands join in, groping at your thighs and hips, squeezing and stretching your delicate skin.

You find yourself getting distracted with all the sensations, mouth hanging open. Kent’s cock twitches and it falls from between your lips, slapping his stomach before bouncing back up to idle in the air, pumping blood keeping it at attention. His free hand grips at your jaw, forcing your mouth open and he shoves himself back inside, holding you to the base of his length. “I know you got better manners ‘n that.”

Sam’s palm makes sharp contact with your ass. “Apologize.” As soon as Kent releases you from his cock, you choke out an apology, trying to catch your breath and soothe your gag reflex all at once. He strokes your cheek with his thumb, directing you back to his cock with a gentler touch.

Kent’s fingers, thicker and rougher than Sam’s, stretch at your tight walls. His thumb, though a secondary concern to the digits pumping in and out of you, is still quite skilled. He catches the right spots of the sensitive nub, applying enough pressure to have you rolling your hips in time. As your moans grow louder around his cock, he picks up his intensity.

“You have to ask before you cum?” Kent inquires.

You pull off his cock to answer, holding it to your lips as you stroke the hot, thick flesh in your hand. “If Daddy says so.”

“‘Daddy,’” he repeats. You don’t need to look up at him to know he’s smirking over at Sam. Your cheeks flush red, mouth returning to work.

“She calls me that sometimes,” Sam says. You wonder if he looks as embarrassed as you imagine him to be. He clearly didn’t think that part important enough to divulge earlier.

“You already like fuckin’ daddies, huh, darlin’?” You nod hesitantly, still refusing eye contact. “Let’s see how ya like the real thing. Gotta cum first.”

You prepare for the finger fucking to speed up, but instead, Kent pulls out. Your eyes quickly snap up to his while his hands grab your sides, helping you to your knees to straddle his lap. Kent bunches the fabric of your skirt up around your stomach before pulling your shirt over your head. He makes quick work of your bra, unhooking it with ease and tossing it away. His eyes are locked on your breasts in front of his face, nipples hardened as they’re exposed to the cool air.

“Isn’t she pretty,” Sam coos. You look over at him still palming his cock at the other end of the couch. “Lips all red and puffy and used.” He’s turning himself on as he takes in the sight of you and your instinct is to reach over and help him, but Kent seems intent on having you to himself right now. His cock has nestled its way between your swollen pussy lips, dripping in your spit and the wet leaking from your cunt. He humps against you, his shaft running along your pussy and his tip snagging your hole just enough to make you jump, the threat of his length entering you present each time he repeats the motion.

“Gotta ask before you cum on Daddy’s dick,” he instructs over your whimpers. Kents lips wrap around your nipple, teeth giving it little nips as he sucks it into his mouth. If not for his forearms on your back, hands curled over your shoulders to keep you down on his throbbing length, you’d have collapsed as the knot in your stomach grows unbearably tight, head foggy with lust. You can’t believe you’re grinding on your boyfriend’s dad’s cock in front of him, but even more, you can’t believe how much you’re enjoying it.

“Gonna cum,” you cry out, head rolling as your back arches, tits pushed further into Kent’s face. He gives your nipple a quick bite.

“Ask.”

“Please!”

He scoffs, not letting up on his thrusts against you. “Try again.”

“Please let me cum,” you whimper, fingernails digging into Kent’s thighs below you, eyelids sealed tight as you try to hold back your orgasm.

“Haven’t taught her any manners?” Kent directs at Sam.

The younger blond narrows his eyes at you, and you meet his gaze through hooded lids. Your lips are parted, sucking in shallow breaths as your hips buck involuntarily with the stimulation to your core. “Don’t fucking embarrass me,” he hisses. “Ask Daddy if you can cum.” Your brows furrow. He nods pointedly to Kent, as if to clarify which of your daddies he’s talking about. “Look at ‘im.”

Your eyes latch onto the older man’s beneath you. His hips snap to yours a little harsher now. “Daddy,” you breathe, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lip, spurring you on. “Please, Daddy, let me cum. Feels so good! Please!”

The way Kent pushes down on your shoulders has your pussy pressed down on his dick moving between your sweet lips, and with a little upward movement from the man’s hips, his fat leaky tip fits snugly into your hole, plugging you and teasing you just enough that you feel the knot in your stomach tighten one final time before promptly beginning to undo itself. You look frantically at the rugged blond, and thank Yoba he gives you permission as a moan fights its way from your throat. “C’mon, baby girl. Let go.”

His hands move to your hair cascading down your back, tugging on it and lifting your chin upward. He continues to thrust, maintaining the angle to keep his tip inside your spasming hole without entering any further. You feel the duality of being empty whilst having the sting of his fat head stretching your opening and all you want is for him to shove inside you and fuck you through your orgasm. Kent clearly knows it from the look on your face and the way your hips move on top of him, but he doesn’t allow you to take what you need from him. His tongue flicks your other nipple as you ride it out, your fingers finding their way into the hair at the back of his head and tugging gently at the dirty blond strands.

You finally drop down, burrowing your face in his neck. He smells like expensive cologne and whiskey, a hint of smokiness you can’t place marrying the two distinctive scents. Before you can relax, Kent finally angles his hips further down, just enough to push his heavy dick inside you. His hips meet yours as he bottoms out. Despite your orgasm and the abundance of wet between your thighs and coating Kent’s dick, the stretch still shocks a gasp out from between your lips. He holds you there for a moment, allowing just a second to adjust before pulling most of his length out and bullying it back in.

Each rough thrust earns a breathy moan until he sets a lazy pace, rolling his hips with every meet of your hips. The motion directs the head of his cock into your g-spot and you feel so full, so good. Kent wraps his hand lightly around your neck, squeezing just enough to increase your lightheadedness and pull you closer to him. Your eyes meet, faces only inches away. He licks his lips hungrily before leaning forward and pressing them to your swollen ones. It’s slow at first, trying to pick up one another’s rhythm. Your tongue grazes his bottom lip and he quickly opens his mouth to you, shoving his own past your lips. His hands grow grabby, fingers burying into the fat of your ass to help you meet his deep thrusts.

Kent has managed to maintain a rather stoic, dominant appearance thus far, but the mask begins to slip. He groans into your mouth, chest heaving under your palms, maneuvering your body to get himself off. As he pulls back to catch his breath, you whine, “Feels so good, Daddy.”

“Yeah, baby girl,” he agrees, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Glancing over, you notice Sam’s hard expression, clearly not having enjoyed watching the two of you make out the way you’d enjoyed doing it. Kent follows your gaze. “Think your boyfriend is jealous.”

“I think so too.” You stick your bottom lip out, looking at the younger blond through your lashes as his dad fucks your slick cunt. “What’s wrong, Sammy?” The look on his face tells you that you’ll have a punishment to face after this is over. Being patronized in front of others never sits well with him, and his father is far from an exception in any scenario.

Kent pats your hip. “How ‘bout you kneel down and give him some attention.”

You slowly climb off his length, the void of his cock from your pussy almost paining you as you’d been well on your way to your next orgasm. Kent directs you to the middle cushion of the couch, your face at Sam’s crotch. At some point, he’d stopped playing with his cock and when you pull it back out from his boxers, it’s only half erect. With Sam, it never takes much to get the blood flowing to his dick and you love running your fingers over the silky length, watching it begin to throb and grow with minimal contact. Precum begins to pool in the tip again, leaking out onto his stomach as he gets hard and creating little strings of fluid connecting his cock head to his abdomen as his cock throbs in front of you. You feel the couch dip behind you, Kent kneeling as he positions his cock at your hole and reenters, filling you so good.

You take Sam’s cock in your hand, swirling his red tip around your tongue. You love to run it along the ridge of the underside of his head, Sam always so sensitive and responsive there. He lets out a deep breath, hand resting instinctively on the back of your head. You take your que, opening your mouth and letting his dick enter as Kent begins toying with your clit.

You’re not sure if it’s on purpose, but Sam and Kent set near identical paces on each hole. You feel so stuffed with Kent’s fat cock filling all the space in your pussy, walls clenching desperately around him each time he forces his way in, while Sam’s long dick reaches the back of your throat and forces drool to spill from your lips and down his shaft as he pushes your head down. His free hand grips at your neck; he loves to feel the head of his dick through your skin as he fights to get himself all the way into your mouth. The constant push and pull has you taking the full length of both cocks, no other option left with the men on either side of you both looking to bottom out inside you with each thrust. Fully used for their pleasure, and you love it as much as they seem to.

Deepthroating Sam for so long has his cock twitching wildly, raspy moans coming out with no control. “Gonna make your Daddy cum, baby,” he whines. He secures you by your hair, thrusts growing deeper and slower until he’s holding himself in your mouth with shallow little bucks of his hips. Your tongue licks the underside of his cock as you wait for the thick white strands to shoot down your throat. As he releases, he whimpers your name. It’s a sound that always brings you to the edge and tonight is no exception, cunt clenching around the cock inside it as you swallow up Sam’s cum, pulling off with a smile and a lick of your lips.

“So good, baby. C’mere.” Sam tilts your head upward as you lift yourself onto your palms, accepting his kisses while his father continues to fuck you. One hand rubs at your clit still while the other gropes at your waist, pulling you back onto him with each thrust. “Getting close?” Sam knows you so well, he can pick up on these things just by the sounds you make. You nod fervently. Kent grabs your tit, pushing your torso up quickly so your back hits his chest. He continues to pound you as his fingers toy with your clit and one of your nipples, fully on display for Sam. He climbs to his knees, running a thumb over your cheek so sweet while he studies your face twisting in pleasure, so close to your peak. The way Kent gropes you, you think he may be getting close too. “Don’t finish in her,” Sam says, receiving an irritated grunt from Kent.

“That’s her call.”

Sam gives you a pointed look. You know you should agree with him, but you’re not one to say no, especially when you’re this close to cumming and the last thing you want is to clench around nothing as you hit your peak. You skirt around giving a straight answer. “Whatever Daddy wants.”

Sam glares over your shoulder and you’re sure Kent is returning the gesture as he begins to fuck meanly into your cunt. He leans his chin on your shoulder, whispering, “Cum for Daddy.” It only takes moments before you can follow his order, your hands clinging to Sam as you bury your face against his neck, unable to hold back loud, high-pitched moans. Sam holds you, running fingers through your hair as you’re fucked through your second orgasm. As you begin to come down, Kent delivers a few quick thrusts, hands tight on your hips as he bottoms out in you. A spurt of cum coats your cervix and you think he’s ignored Sam’s ask until he suddenly pulls out and sprays the rest of his load over your puffy wet lips. Sam seems to think he’s won, still not happy with the location of Kent’s cum but willing to accept it over a creampie. You stay quiet, sneaking a glance back at Kent as he strokes the last of his cum out of his cock, who gives you a subtle wink as he acknowledges his secret slight to Sam. The sound of his hand rubbing over his sticky cock fills the room, growing quiet as he finishes and collapses back to the couch. Sam dismisses you to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

When you return, still feeling the squish of Kent’s cum threatening to spill out of your pussy, the men are fully clothed. You grab your shirt from the floor, throwing it on without your bra. Sam begrudgingly hands over your panties he’d taken earlier and you slide those on, readjusting your skirt and joining the two on the couch. “So…” you say, “do you feel better?”

Kent chuckles, placing his hand on your bare knee. “I do. Sam was right about you.”

The younger man slings his arm over your shoulders, pulling you close and pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. “Don’t get used to it. I have first dibs.”

“You don’t mind sharing,” Kent says.

Sam grunts. “Actually, I think that’s the last time I do anything nice.”

“Really? I liked being nice,” you smile innocently.

“You won’t like it later tonight,” he assures, confirming your theory of an impending punishment. “I’m going to clean up. You should probably get going, Dad. It’s getting late and Yoba knows Mom will freak out if you’re not home after Vincent goes to bed.”

Sam heads off to the bathroom, leaving you two alone as Kent pulls on his jacket near the front door. “That was… really nice,” he reiterates as you walk toward him to see him off. “Thank you. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did,” you blush.

“I mean what I said earlier.” You rack your brain, the recent events all blurring together right now. He leans in closer, voice dropping to that familiar tone that stirs something in your stomach. “Next time, you’re not cumming until my cock is in you. I don’t care if you take it better. It’s a waste to be doing that when I’m not inside you to fuck you dumb.” You bite your lip, looking up at him as you fidget with your fingers. “And next time, I’m not pulling out.” The sink in the bathroom begins to run, alerting the two of you to the closing gap of time you have alone. Kent leans in, stealing a long kiss that has you moving closer, not wanting to break away. He grins down at you, clearly satisfied with the way he’s able to lure you in now. “Thanks again, darlin’. See you soon.”

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